Coldmyth

Chapter Eight

‘Cam knows what the Khat looks like,’ Shilah whispered. ‘I think.’

I shifted back and forth on my stomach, the white stone tiles on the roof still blistering from the day’s heat.

‘I don’t think he does,’ I said. ‘He’s never mentioned it to me, at least.’

Shilah didn’t fidget. She remained flat on her stomach and chest, her eyes focused. Her braid sat heavy against the roof, pulled down by an unnatural weight, the outline of a blade sheathed in locks.

There were a few flash explosives in my boilweed bag – the kind Leroi had used to help us escape the Tavor manor – which would allow us a getaway if need be. Although Leroi never showed me the exact proportions for the weapons, I’d watched him tinker enough of them to know the basic ingredients.

Essence of Yitzhun and crushed Golem Grease were rare, but Dunes found me some in one of the apothecaries. Since the Nobles had abandoned the city, I’d been able to raid any shops I’d like, and I would have bet that my wares had now become more impressive than any tinkershop in the Khatdom. Ironic that for the first time in my life I had access to unlimited tinkering materials, but still couldn’t find the answer to Flight.

‘You don’t think he looks like Cam, do you?’ Shilah asked.

‘No way,’ I said. ‘I’ve heard that evil poxes the skin. Which means that the Khat’s face probably looks like melted candlewax.’

‘Evil poxes the skin, huh?’ Shilah gave me a funny look. ‘What about the Vicaress of Paphos? Some said she was the most beautiful Noble in the Khatdom.’

‘Fair point. But she eventually got poxed by five hooked blades in the chest.’

Shilah reached over and scratched her fingers through my hair. ‘Never thought we’d grow up to be doing this, did you? Trying to defend a city against the Khat himself.’

‘No. No I did not.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Do you want to talk about Cam?’

Shilah turned forward again, watching the stage. The flames around the perimeter glowed a deep red. The kindling would have had to been sprinkled with murr-thorn to get such a menacing colour.

‘What about Cam?’ Shilah asked.

‘You know what.’

‘I hardly think now is the time, Micah.’

‘I’m not angry or anything.’

‘I said—’

‘Seriously, I’m not upset. I thought I might be at first. Maybe not angry, but sad, or lonely even, but I’m past that. I just want you to be happy. And obviously I see the appeal in Cam.’ I paused, making sure I sounded sincere. ‘I want you happy and alive.’

Shilah let out a long sigh. The expressionless mask tumbled away with the deep breath. Her shoulders went slack, and suddenly her back loosened to match my own.

‘I don’t know when it happened,’ she said, blindly feeling for my hand. She eventually found my fingers and gave them a gentle squeeze.

I squeezed back. It was a relief to hear her admit the truth.

It was also a relief for me to admit it.

‘I’m just happy to have you both in my life,’ I said. ‘At times like this, you appreciate the things that matter.’

Her hand went towards my cheek. She had to roll awkwardly to make contact, but eventually her palm went flat on my face. Her skin was throbbing with the roof’s heat. I flinched.

‘Sorry,’ she said with a quiet laugh.

‘No it’s fine.’ I smiled, taking her fingers and pressing them tighter. ‘It’s good.’

Horns sounded. The night’s entertainment was about to begin.

The Khat had arrived this morning, his chariot was one I hadn’t seen before. It was expansive and heavy, nearly crushing the two dozen Jadans backs on which it arrived. The bejewelled base and white tent top were big enough to shelter half of my original barracks.

The Nobles had exploded with awe and jubilation. They chanted and bowed and dropped to their knees, fraying their expensive silk garb. They waved freshly purchased copies of the Khat’s Gospels – bound in tanned camel leather – while shouting choice verses from the pages. They wore smiles the size of the Great Divide, dripping with conceit.

Shilah and I had been watching the development throughout the day from different vantage points, taking in the spectacle. With the arrival of the Khat, the Nobles had become feverish in their expectations.

Closed Eye necklaces were waved. Chills were set on pedestals and kissed. Communal swimming pools were dug out and lined in clay, with the Nobles luxuriating within a mixture of floral potions and dissolved Shivers, wasting Cold and shouting about what a day to be alive.

The Nobles hadn’t brought too many Jadans with them, perhaps a hundred in total, but their dark skin was easily visible. Taskmasters kept dragging groups of them on top of the stage, still alive. Then they would laugh as they hurled our kin face first into dead-carts waiting below, piled high with rotting corpses.

Chants of ‘Fall’ erupted near the stage while the horrified Jadans scrambled off the carts and desperately tried to rub away the blood and ichor. Many vomited, although none was given any boilweed with which to clean themselves up. The Nobles laughed and ate camel cheese. I couldn’t imagine what was being done to the Domestic Jadans in private.

The Khat had yet to come out of his chariot, and the anticipation had only grown throughout the day, the armies and High Nobles gathering tighter around him, confident in his divinity.

In a similar way, the Flock had become even more reverent of Shilah and I. They gathered around the Sanctuary, hundreds strong, and offered gifts and songs and dances created in our honour. They chanted ‘Meshua’ into the endless hours of night, thanking us for preemptively saving them, unfazed by anything other than their own irrational optimism.

The ‘Beggars’ had a different outlook.

That was the name Shilah had given the faction of Jadans who huddled by the front gates of the city. They beat their fists, shouting their apologies to the Nobles on the other side. The gates remained barred regardless of their pleas, and the Nobles hurled spoiled food and rocks over the walls at them. There weren’t as many Beggars as the Flock, but their numbers were still great.

Night had fallen, and Shilah and I had made our way down to the bottom plateau in secrecy. We’d shrouded ourselves in cloaks and Khatberry juice, finding a Cry Temple near the gates to hunch down on top of. We were supposed to be back in the Sanctuary, having promised Dunes and the Five that we wouldn’t come out at night without their protection, but we couldn’t stay away.

A black tent had been erected on the outskirts of the armies. The Vicaress had been seen dragging Jadan children inside the tent, cuffed and chained, brought in from the surrounding cities with the caravans. The Vicaress was going to use the poor kids for some grand display tonight. Whether it be by blade, or fire, or wool hat, she was about to send another message to Shilah and I.

Shilah squeezed my hand again. The sound of horns doubled.

‘We could go back and keep tinkering,’ she said. ‘We don’t have to stay and watch.’

‘Of course we do.’

She nodded, heaviness falling on both of our shoulders. I was going to make it a point of performing a Jadan burial for those children. We wouldn’t have their bodies, but hopefully I could float a few seeds and songs into the black on their behalf.

‘I’m glad it’s just me and you,’ Shilah said. ‘I don’t think anyone else would understand.’

A figure strutted up the stairs to the stage. He opened his arms wide for the buzzing crowd. Thousands cheered. Swathes of Nobles fawned like he was the Khat.

His face was covered entirely by a mask, a long beak protruding from the portion around his mouth. His eyes were covered by mesh netting, with a velvet casing wrapping around his hair. The mutilated skin at his neck and along his arms gave his identity away. I hoped the scars burned.

The Vicaress arrived next.

She walked with jerky movements, stiff and unsure. She reminded me of a clay statue halfway between moulded and dry. Her eyes were as dull as sand. They barely caught the fire from her dagger, the same kind all the Vicaresses carried. Deadly metal wreathed in flame.

She lurched her way onto stage and the crowd gave a respectful cheer. She waved for quiet and then gestured to the taskmasters in front of the black tent. A part of me wished the heat within the fabric had been too much to bear, and the children were already gone. It might have been a mercy.

‘You going to be okay?’ Shilah whispered.

‘Yes,’ I lied.

‘I’m right here. I’m still with you.’

One of the taskmasters handed the Vicaress a cone clearly made of Glassland Purple – which amplified sounds – and she set it to her lips. It allowed her to speak much louder, but did nothing for the stuttering. ‘We are h-here to w-witness t-truth! We are here to w-watch j-justice! Praise be-be the K-Khat!’

‘Praise be the Khat!’ the massive crowd answered.

The voices at the outskirts were delayed, proving the vastness of the armies. The Nobles of each city stuck together, their different fashions apparent, with those of Paphos getting the closest spots to the stage. It struck me as significant that Nobles, who had everything they could possibly want, still found ways to posture over each other.

Shilah’s hand returned to my back, and I was glad for her comfort. Then I realized that she was reaching into the boilweed bag, scavenging for a flash explosive.

‘You shouldn’t,’ I said. ‘We’re too far away from the stage, and if we attack them first, the Khat can justify storming—’

She cut me off, putting a finger to her lips. ‘In case it’s really bad.’

‘Unbearably bad,’ I whispered. ‘Then yes. We can use them.’

She nodded. ‘Unbearably bad. And if so you’ll throw one too?’

‘Right at Ka’in’s mask.’

After a few moments, shrouded figures began walking on stage. They all wore ominous beak masks as well, and each had a different High Noble Crest embroidered on their robe. They were silent and held long metal rods in their hands. The rods were rounded at the ends, not sharp. They were for bashing instead of stabbing, and I wished I could have somehow snuck the Jadan children some Grassland Dream. They should have been numb for this.

Once the stage was fully lined, Ka’in took off his mask, strutting over to the Vicaress. His mutilated face became visible in her flame.

Gasps filtered through the Noble ranks.

Ka’in took the purple cone, his voice instantly loud enough to for Shilah and I to hear clearly.

‘Beautiful Nobles!’ he shouted. The burned skin of his face was glossed over with salve, making his skin appear to ooze as he spoke. ‘Honoured sons and daughters! My fellow chosen! Welcome to the event of the centuries! A little of this, a lot of that, and even more of that. Praise be the Khat!’

The crowd echoed, ‘Praise be the Khat,’ although it came out quiet and unsure, clearly still reeling from his disfiguration.

‘The Second Fall!’ Ka’in shouted, a wet rattle in his throat clogging up the words. ‘When the evil in the World Cried comes crumbling down. Did you even think you’d live to see such wonder? What a beautiful even-ing.’ He rested the mask on the top of his head, the beak casting a shadow over his grotesque nose. ‘This is indeed my face. Can we all see?’

Ka’in walked to the front of the stage. He gestured impatiently for the Vicaress to accompany him, and she stumbled forward, one stiff foot at a time. Firelight from her blade added to the horror of his face.

Ka ’in tossed the mask aside and then slapped the glass cone, eliciting a high shriek to get everyone’s attention. ‘Can we see!’

The crowd murmured.

Ka’in’s face turned murderous and pinched with rage. All the burned skin contracted, like his mouth had become a sinkhole. His eyes went darker than when he’d been wearing the mask.

‘CAN WE SEE?’

The crowd finally assented with a loud bark.

Ka’in laughed, long and high. It was a cackle more than anything else. The cone distorted the sound to an eerie texture that made me press my palm harder against the hot stone.

‘The Khatdom has gathered,’ Ka’in continued. ‘Lovely skin from Paphos and Belisk and the Glasslands. Mirrlah. Marlea. All those sky cities. The Hotland Delta, and even some folks from the Shocklands! Ba-zow! And a very special welcome to the Khatmonks from the southern Cry Temple there in the back. Bow low, old holies!’

The Khatmonks didn’t flinch. Dressed in beige robes, their faces were hooded, blank in the dim light of torches. They kept rigid, hands stuck in a prayer position.

Ka’in shrugged and made a dismissive gesture. ‘Anyway. What a special night! I am Ka’in of House Erridian and this is, welcome to, behold the Second Fall. The despicable Jadans have once again spat on our mercy. They saw our mercy and they said no, we don’t wan’t that mercy! Take our ungrateful spit! They said we don’t believe in your Crier. We don’t believe in your Khat! We’re going to take the Cold for ourselves and burn your face, Ka’in! CAN WE SEE?’

The crowd bristled, waving necklaces at the city.

‘They did this to me?’ Ka’in gasped, pointing to his face. ‘Sunspawn. The purveyors of all that is evil and greedy. So here we gather once again, ready to show them why exactly their kind is unworthy. The Khat is talking with the Crier right now! Seriously! Right this second! Listen. He is asking our Creator to once again show these Jadans why they are unworthy. Can we hear?’

A hush fell over the land.

Ka’in’s face went soft and he began swaying from foot to foot. ‘My brothers and sisters and lovers and future lovers. How lucky is our generation, to feel the glow of the Crier’s love? New Ziah will burn and we shall bask in the cleansing light. Just watch. New Ziah will burn. And then the nasty, evil, plague of Jadans will Fall.’

Ka’in turned around and signalled the other Nobles on stage. They removed their masks, and Shilah and I both gasped, recognizing one of them instantly.

The crest on his robe should have given it away sooner.

Lord Tavor beamed, holding two rounded rods just like the rest of the High Nobles. He lorded over the crowd even from the back of the stage, sneering and standing tall. The similarities between father and son were uncanny. Cam had the same eye-wrinkles. The same golden hair. The same strong chin and fair skin.

‘Not a word of this to Cam,’ Shilah said. ‘He doesn’t need to know.’

‘Agreed.’

Ka’in held his hands up for quiet. ‘The Khat has agreed to let me start this very special occasion with a something also special!’ Ka’in shouted. ‘Would you like that? A demonstration of what exquisiteness our Noble people can coax out of a dark world?’

This was not going to be pleasant.

The only thing I could hope for was that it was over quickly.

Ka’in reached into his pocket and unfolded a different mask. This one had a shock of golden hair fastened to the back. The streaks of paint at the cheeks were colourful and happy, with expressive eyebrows painted over bright eyes. Somehow it was even more unsettling than the mask with the beak.

The Vicaress signalled over to the tent, and the taskmasters began ushering the Jadan children through the flap. They couldn’t have been more than five or six years old, all of them dressed in crisp slave uniforms. Chattering and smiling, they were unaware that their lives were about to end, which made my heart shatter.

They rushed up the stairs of the stage without any sort of prodding, and lined up in rows behind the Vicaress. The girls had their hair done up and their faces scrubbed clean, Rose of Gilead petals decorating their hair.

They looked so happy.

‘Are we ready?’ Ka’in shouted into the cone, through mask lips painted vivid red. ‘Can we hear?’

‘You okay?’ I whispered.

Shilah said nothing, her own mask returning.

I took a flash explosive of my own out of the bag, feeling its weight in my palm.

Only if it’s unbearable, I reminded myself. You can’t give the Nobles reason to storm the city.

I never thought myself capable of sitting idly and watching Jadan children get slaughtered. Watching Matty die had provided more than enough of that for a lifetime. Yet here I was. I had to let some Jadan children die in order to save the Jadan children in our Flock.

This world was much more complicated than expected.

Lord Tavor’s eyes gleamed with a sick hunger.

The Vicaress staggered down the rows, her dagger high and flickering. She bent over and whispered a few things to the different children, who reached out and touched her silk sleeve.

‘The prayer,’ Shilah whispered. ‘I think you should say it.’

I nodded, willing it up from my chest. ‘Shemma hares lahyim criyah Meshua ris yim slochim.’

Shilah’s hand found mine once more, and we waited for the nightmare to begin.

‘Are we ready?’ Ka’in shouted to the teeming masses.

A booming cheer resounded.

‘Here we have a new generation of Jadan children,’ Ka’in shouted, gesturing to the group. ‘Good Jadan children that know their place. Good Jadan children that are going to give us a good gift.’

I clenched my jaw so tight my teeth felt like they were going to shatter.

Ka’in gestured to the other High Nobles who stepped up behind the rows of children and lifted their metal rods high.

Then the children began to sing.

Here are we

At the Fall

He can see

At the Fall

Eyes are Closed

At the Fall

And He chose

Let them Fall

The High Nobles hit the metal rods together with resonant tings, all in rhythm. The sound was somehow lovely and soothing. Everything appeared rehearsed, and my jaw dropped.

What was this?

The children swayed in a coordinated dance as they chanted. The Vicaress jerked her blade through the air, matching the sway of the notes. Her thin lips were pulled wide in a smile that appeared oddly genuine.

They will learn

At the Fall

It’s their turn

At the Fall

They will yearn

At the Fall

Let them burn

Let them Fall

The children ended their song with bows and fancy twirls. The High Nobles on stage clanged their rods with hearty approbation. They cheered and yelled, and the children broke ranks, each going over and kneeling before a respective High Noble. I thought this might be where the killing would happen, but the Nobles began pulling candied figs and sweet breads from their pockets. The kids reached up and received treats and Wisps, and they giggled and stuffed gem candy into their cheeks. They laughed and bowed and then rushed off the stage, shooting towards the black tent.

Most of the Nobles in the crowd seemed just as confused as Shilah and I.

‘What in the Sun-damn blazes was that?’ Shilah asked.

‘I don’t know, I thought … I thought.’

‘Me too.’

Once the Jadan children were all safely back inside the tent, Ka’in threw off the colourful mask, revealing the marred skin and singed scalp of his true self.

‘A tingly song! Makes you feel all tingly!’ Ka’in said, clacking his teeth. ‘Written just for you beautiful Nobles. You see, this just goes to show that we truly are deserved of our title. Even when the Jadans inside of New Ziah spit at the Crier and kneel before the Sun, and curse our mercy, we are shined and refined. They are ungrateful. Unworthy. Beneath us!’

‘Damn right they are!’ someone shouted.

‘But the good Jadan children will breed a cleaner slave race,’ Ka’in continued. ‘They will know their place!’ He picked up two of the rods, clanged them a few times for no apparent reason, and then went back to his cone.

‘We reward those who are loyal to the Khatdom!’ Ka’in shouted, the clatter in his throat more apparent than ever. ‘Those Jadan children are the future gatherers of the Khat’s Cold. They’re the future weavers and builders and cooks and Domestics.’ Ka’in gave a happy shiver. ‘Such fun. They will know their place!’

The crowd grumbled a bit, but a good portion nodded their agreement.

‘Praise be the Khat!’ A few of them shouted. ‘Praise be his mercy!’

‘And the good children will tell their good children will tell their tiny good children all about what happened here at the Second Fall!’ Ka’in exclaimed. ‘They will share stories about how loyalty is rewarded. About how the faithless are destroyed!’

Ka’in grabbed his bird mask and dusted it off before returning to the spotlight.

‘Speaking of the faithless,’ Ka’in said. ‘There are those in New Ziah who clamour against the walls and beg for a way out every hour, every day. You have heard them. Wah, wah! We’re sorry! We have sinned but we don’t deserve punishment!’

The High Nobles on stage retrieved the beaked masks at their feet, strapping them back over their faces. They picked up the musical rods and crossed them over their chests. This also looked rehearsed.

‘Over the next few weeks,’ Ka’in said, his voice getting grave and serious, ‘the Crier will allow his brother Sun into the very land itself, and you will see with your own eyes the city of New Ziah burning. No one will be allowed in or out. The land will become so unbearable that all those dirty, sinful Jadans will have no choice but to jump off the southern cliff and die. Our people soar like the birds of old, and they plummet like stones.’ Ka’in bobbed his head. ‘Okay, I lied. We did let some of those whining Jadans out. But for a purpose. What say we get the festivities started a little early?’

Ka’in held up an open hand and signalled to some unseen faction.

Then the sound of rattling chains.

A long group of Jadans was led towards the stage, bound at the ankles and wrists. I recognized a lot of faces; Beggars who chose not to join the Flock. They had boilweed shoved in their mouths so they couldn’t make any sound.

Ka’in strapped his mask over his face and pretended to kiss the Vicaress’s face with a few pecks. Then he took the fiery blade from her hand.

I couldn’t watch.

A large hand grabbed my ankle.

I stifled my shout, my heart leaping into my throat as I turned.

‘Apologies,’ Dunes said, keeping low and flat on his stomach. ‘But you two shouldn’t be here. I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are.’

‘Sorry,’ I whispered, swallowing hard. ‘We had to watch.’

‘Sorry, Dunes,’ Shilah said. ‘It was my decision to come.’

‘Neither of you have to explain, it’s just that I wish I could have told you sooner. We found one.’

My body gave a worse start than when he’d grabbed my leg. ‘You did?’

Dunes nodded, his chin bobbing against the hot tiles.

‘It’s real?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ Dunes said. ‘And it’s as terrible as we feared.’

Shilah and I exchanged a glance.

‘Where?’ I asked. ‘Where did you find one?’

Dunes shuffled backwards and gestured for us to follow. ‘They put it in the ground.’