The Langria tinkershop was the real paradise.
We’d had to go down quite a few tunnels and carved staircases to get here, as it was kept at a distance from the bulk of Langria. Sett said it was both for the noise and in case there were any accidents.
I could see why.
The whole place was alive with preparation. It was as large as the Coldmarch cave under Jadans’ Rise, but this one wasn’t mostly empty stone and sleeping space. Sett’s tinkershop didn’t have to worry about watchful Asham, or a sparseness of materials. It was uninhabited and served a singular purpose.
To create weapons of war.
When we arrived the place was in full swing. The sounds of tinkering filling the space, echoing with power and purpose. Clanging metals. Grinding wood. Squealing glass. There were ten or so Jadans working inside, so focused on their tasks that barely any of them noticed our arrival. A few wore boilweed strips over their mouths to protect them from heat and fumes. They presided over glass containers filled with bubbling concoctions, smouldering and grey, one swallow probably able to send even Slab Hagan to the black. Smiths pounded out weapons in smelting chambers, resulting smoke pouring up a series of small tunnels dug into the stone above. Bronze and iron weapons were being heated down and pounded sharp. There were spears and axes and arrowheads.
There were also small cages filled with animals. Skinkmanders hissed about behind bars of iron. Sobek lizards stuck to the sides of enclosures. Sandvipers slithered in the bottom of glass tubs, their tongues flickering through the holes in the top. One container was filled with water and enclosed a small population of slimy creatures that I recognized as Hotland Newts. I’d only ever seen the tadpole versions in person, and I hadn’t imagined the adults would have so many fingers.
Along the edges of the room were dozens of Cold Bellows. Piles of Wisps waited in buckets beside them. It was nice to see that the Langrians used the same Bellows design that I did; the kind with the spin top and grating gears. It reminded me of the one I’d fixed for Mama Jana, making me feel less out of place.
Sett clapped her hands and called something out in Langrian.
All the tinkershop workers stopped at once, turning to Sett. The ones that weren’t holding blazing hot metal or dangerous mixtures made the gesture of two fingers down the cheek. Everyone else bowed.
Sett pointed to me and said a few more things I couldn’t understand. But from the reaction from the tinkershop workers, she might have been saying: ‘Don’t kill this stranger. He’s with me.’
‘This is called the Battle Room,’ Eli whispered to me, looking a bit uncomfortable.
The workers started up again, although a few eyed me suspiciously; I got an especially nasty snarl from a broad-shouldered woman smelting an axe.
Sett gestured around the place. ‘This being reason we hold off Asham for a hundred years of eight.’
‘It’s incredible,’ I said. My fingers absently clutched the fabric of my shirt, flexing the bronze fingers Eli had given back. I wanted to grab tools and start tinkering, but I had to repress my instincts. I was a guest here.
‘Tell me plan,’ Sett said.
I glanced around the tinkershop, taking it all in. This would be more than enough. I’d already spotted hamsa wood and boilweed and plenty of metal. I hoped they had the waxy paper.
‘Where did you get all of this?’ I asked. ‘It can’t all be found in Langria?’
‘Shepherds having once bring things with them,’ Sett said. ‘As gifts and tribute. Is enough for plan?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I hope.’
Eli smiled, pulling out a wad of some dried leaf and stuffing it under his lip. ‘You have a lot of hope I think. This is probably a good trait in a saviour.’
‘I’m not a saviour,’ I said, although ‘Spout’ kept echoing in my head.
Eli shrugged, his eyes going soft. ‘Well, could you be our saviour, please? Langria’s had a few rough years and it’s about time we had one.’
I felt a swell in my chest.
‘I can try.’
Eli cracked his knuckles. ‘Good. Because if I was the one to find the saviour, then I think Lop will be most impressed.’
I gestured towards Sinniah and her warriors, asking Sett: ‘How’s their tongue of the enemy?’
‘Is enough,’ Sinniah answered for herself.
I nodded, turning to the warriors behind us. ‘We’re going to need a lot more Asham tears, please. I need you and your warriors to bring back as many Asham as you can.’
Sett stepped in between us, moving faster than I’d ever seen. Her eyes were ablaze.
‘Just because I say you no spy, you are no Melekah! You give no orders here, boy!’
Sett’s voice was seething and the muscles in her neck were coiled tight.
I bowed my head, falling into my old slave stance. I grew terribly afraid and mortified.
‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have presumed—’
Sett took a step forward, bending down to look me in the eyes. Her teeth were bared and she looked like she might strike me.
I cowed, flinching into myself.
Sett growled something Langrian, loud enough for the rest of the Battle Room to hear. Her eyes were like diamonds and her words like steel.
The workers halted their tinkering.
There was a heavy pause.
And then Sinniah began cackling at my back, the other warriors following suit. Then the whole room was rippling with laughter. Sett sputtered for a moment and then joined in. Smiling wildly, she stepped away, running her hand through Sinniah’s hair, whispering something into her ear. Then she grabbed Sinniah’s hand and kissed her knuckles.
Sinniah’s face flushed and in return she ran her hand through Sett’s hair, which was much thinner and grey. Sinniah nodded to the warriors and the group took their leave.
I turned to Eli and whispered. ‘What just happened?’
Sett gestured for me to come closer, her face still alight. But I saw something else in her face. I think there was some truth in her words. ‘Just joke. Free Jadans being good with joke. Now come, tell me plan.’
‘I’m sorry again—’
Sett waved me quiet. ‘You bird. I wanted see if you show claws or lay egg.’
My cheeks steamed with embarrassment.
‘Talons,’ Lop said, stepping in. ‘They’re called “talons” in the common tongue. For birds.’
Lop flashed me a curious look. Eli stepped closer to her, putting his hand around her waist.
Sett nodded. ‘Yes, is right.’
‘So the plan,’ I said. ‘First we—’
I was cut off by a group of warriors storming the Battle Room. I thought it was a dark cloud at first, since they still all had Chossek powder covering their skin; it turned out to be a group of five men and woman. They were bloody and torn up, gasping for air, but still stood tall.
The older woman up front – who was shorter than the rest and completely bald – barked something in Langrian, holding two knuckles in triumph. She had eyes that could make a taskmaster drop his whip and run for the dunes.
The Battle Room cheered. Other new arrivals at the bald woman’s back stormed into the room and went straight for a barrels full of arrows, loading up their slings. The bald woman gave Sett a respectful nod and asked something, her eyes flashing to me. Sett nodded and drew two fingers down her cheek. The short woman gave me a swift bow and disappeared into another tunnel, this one guarded over the entrance by a statue of a creature I didn’t recognize. The animal had a fearsome face with triangle ears and a sleek body; sort of like one of the Khat’s hounds if it had been stretched out.
‘Rivvy and her sect have a group of Asham cornered,’ Eli explained, still possessively clutching Lop. Zizi had returned to the grower’s shoulder, although from where it had scuttled I couldn’t say. ‘They have taken two of their numbers already, and the others have been driven into a ravine where they can’t climb out.’
‘Yes,’ Sett said. ‘Is glory today. Come, Meshua, we talk in Clock Chamber.’
Sett maintained the saviour term with a bit of playfulness, which I much preferred to all the heaviness my Flock heaped upon the words. She led us down the same tunnel the short woman had disappeared, and I took in the animal statue as we passed.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘Is called “Jaguar”,’ Sett explained, rubbing a fist against her chest. ‘Is in my Meesh-Dahm.’
So that’s a jaguar, I thought, wondering if Dunes actually knew what they looked like. Then I shot Eli a perplexed look as we swept down the smooth clay tunnel.
‘Meesh-Dahm?’ I asked him. ‘But what do jaguars have to do with Cold?’
‘The Jaguars disappeared after the Great Drought,’ Eli explained. ‘Along with hundreds of other animals. In Langria, we believe that the missing animals and plants will return when Cold returns. For now, the world is too hot, so they have retreated inside of us, in our Meesh-Dahm where there is Cold. We keep their spirits alive inside of ours.’
‘How does Sett know that she has the Jaguar?’ I whispered.
Eli thought about it for a second. ‘Have you ever seen your mind?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think that’s possible.’
‘But you know you have one,’ Eli said with a point of his finger.
‘Yes, but that’s also because everyone has one.’
‘Yes, but you have an Inventor’s mind. Not like everyone. Just like I have a grower’s mind. And neither of us has seen those things inside of us, but we know they are there.’
I big my lower lip, following the logic. ‘I guess.’
Eli shrugged. ‘Sett has the spirit of the Jaguar inside of her, and it’s where she gets patience and leadership.’
‘So is Zizi in your Meesh-Dahm?’ I asked.
Eli laughed, rubbing the barbless Stinger of the Scorpion.
I shuddered. I could almost feel the little thing crawling down my shirt.
‘No way,’ Eli said. ‘Zizi is just my friend. I don’t have any animals in my Meesh-Dahm. I have the Willow.’
‘What’s the Willow?’
‘It was a beautiful tree that stood all along the banks of the Singe, back before the rivers began to boil. It had long branches and was thin and smooth, and it bent like a dancer in the wind. They called it the “Weeping Tree”.’
I conjured up an image and felt a strange pang of longing, even though I’d never seen or heard of a Willow before. Something about Eli’s description resonated.
‘I hope I can see it one day,’ I said.
Lop narrowed her eyes at me, finally speaking up. ‘Are you really Meshua?’
‘Of course he is,’ Eli said. ‘And don’t forget who found him. And saved him.’
‘I thought you tied him up and threatened his life,’ Lop said. ‘Because you thought he was a spy.’
Eli shot me a panicked look, shaking his head.
‘That’s not true,’ I agreed. ‘He was kind and gentle and made me feel most welcome. I would have been lost and probably wandered the sands forever without his help.’
Lop gave Eli an impressed look.
When she wasn’t looking, Eli snuck me a thankful nod.
‘What’s in your Meesh-Dahm, Lop?’ I asked.
‘Rabbit,’ she said.
‘What’s a rabbit?’ I asked.
‘The most beautiful and smartest of all the animals,’ Eli said, quick to jump in. ‘Rabbits were treasured almost as much as Cold.’
Lop rolled her eyes, but she thrust her chest out a bit and found a new spring in her gate. Eli grabbed her hand and squeezed.
‘I wonder if I have anything in my Meesh-Dahm,’ I said.
Eli and Lop exchanged a perplexed glance at my side.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘I thought you knew,’ Eli said. ‘Sett has been telling you.’
‘Telling me what?’
‘You’re the first Jadan ever to fly. You very clearly have an animal spirit in your Meesh-Dahm.’
‘I do?’
Eli gave me an obvious sort of nod. ‘Bird.’
I conjured up an image of a single feather made of metal and string; a present I had once given to Matty, who had been obsessed with birds.
Then I touched the spot on my wrist beneath my thumb.
We reached the end of the tunnel, our group spilling into a new chamber, which was arguably more impressive than the Battle Room. The bald warrior named Rivvy was racing out of the chamber just as we arrived. Sett waved our group to the side so we wouldn’t be in the way. Rivvy was concentrating deeply, holding a long metal box with both hands. She moved swiftly, yet the box didn’t tilt at all. She whispered something to me as we passed, and I didn’t understand the words, but the tone was respectful.
‘This where I be making …’ Sett’s words trailed off as she gestured around the wild chamber. ‘This where I wander the … Eli, what is “Deeyoneh” in tongue of enemy?’
‘Imagination.’
‘Yes,’ Sett said. ‘Imagination. Is right.’
The first thing I noticed about the Clock Chamber – besides the cacophony of tinkering materials and overflowing display cases – was the giant Khatclock in the back. They won’t call it a Khatclock here, I thought.
It was like all the ones on the Coldmarch, only this model was ten times larger. The face took up the entire back wall of the chamber and was done up with a red alder Opened Eye.
I stepped in the chamber. My eyes went watery with wonder and I had to blink. It was too much to try and take in all at once.
Hundreds of hourglasses were keeping track of time, coming in all different sizes. Some were gear-controlled to flip over on their own when the sand ran light. Some had clearly been due to flip for some time, the sand heavy and settled on the bottom. One hourglass swung on the end of an incredibly slow-moving pendulum.
I didn’t spot any Cold-charge urns, but the room was far too full of things to understand at a glance. There were vertical gardens of wicked-looking plants growing in the dark corners. There were locked cabinets, bound in chains. There were more kinds of tools than Leroi had had in his shop. I also spotted a section of the room with highly detailed inventions straight out of the Ancient shops, like music boxes and wind-up toys.
Long ladders made of knotted rope hung off the ceiling of the chamber, leading to higher shelves cut into the stone. The shelves all had their own tinkering materials and cabinets.
And weapons.
There were so many weapons.
There were also weapons on stands, on tables and in chests. A lot of the weapons looked familiar in design, but with something small altered. I spilled over with speculations on how everything worked, my imagination straining.
Sett stepped in front of me, blocking my view.
‘You telling plan first,’ she said. ‘Then you see my making.’
I gave an absent nod, flexing my bronze fingers.
Then I told her what I had in mind.
Sett had Eli translate a few words that she didn’t understand, and after I was finished she gave an agreeable bow. She immediately commanded Eli and Lop to start gathering the materials that I’d requested.
Then she began to explain some of her most beloved inventions.
The first was a kind of sword.
The blade portion was long, sharp and sleek, but there was an extended piece attached to the end. The addition was about the third of the size of the rest of the blade. The offshoot metal rested flush with the end of the sword, held in place by an odd-looking disc.
Sett picked up the blade and held it out horizontally. Unlocking the disc, she motioned with her wrist like she was turning a crank. The extra piece of metal spun on the end like a wheel, giving the sword a surprise extension.
‘Is hard to block,’ Sett said, taking a regular sword off a rack and putting it in my hands. She had me hold the blade up and out like I was defending an attack.
‘Lean body back,’ she gestured.
I nodded, holding my arm steady and tilting away.
‘More,’ she commanded.
I obliged.
‘Even more,’ Sett huffed. ‘You want be keeping nose, don’t you?’
I strained to keep the blade as far from my body as possible.
Then she sliced downward. I kept my arm stiff and blocked the blow. The additional piece of metal continued onward over my sword, nearly gouging a line down the middle of my face.
‘Is help,’ Sett said. ‘No good for kill strike but take many Asham eyes. They no expect it keep coming.’
‘We should bring those,’ I said with a nod. Blood rushed through my veins. ‘Definitely.’
Next Sett led me to a table laid out with arrows, vials of materials and metal boxes like the one Rivvy had carried out. The arrows weren’t ordinary arrows. They had bulky glass triangle casings on the ends that were hinged open and empty.
‘These favourites for Langrian warriors,’ Sett said. ‘We make now.’
She picked up one of the vials. It housed hundreds of tiny black needle-things submerged in a viscous liquid.
‘Skinkmander stingers,’ Sett said, shaking a portion of the stingers into the hollow arrowhead. ‘Stingers be growing back, so no kill animal. We no kill animal if no have to. Animals being sacred in Langria.’
‘And the solution the stingers are in?’
‘Eliezah!’ Sett shouted over my shoulder. ‘Chellek shesh “solution” eschut luh?’
Langrian was such a beautiful language. I ached to know more. I wanted to speak with the free Jadans in their own tongue; to feel a part of the place.
‘Mechtuk!’ Eli shouted back, grabbing armfuls of boilweed.
‘Yes,’ Sett said. ‘Solution is from Sobek lizard. Poison.’
I nodded. A charge of dark excitement ran through my body.
Sett picked up a small pouch made of a thin rubber substance and very carefully added in a few drops of what looked like Milk of the Dunai. Then she tied off the pouch and laid it inside the triangle casing, closing the glass arrowhead with precision.
‘Is for boom,’ Sett said, gesturing with her hands. ‘Even if arrow miss Asham, it boom with stinger and poison. Take many Asham lives. Is good.’
‘Let’s make as many of those as we can,’ I said, lust for battle stirring in my veins. I hadn’t felt those sorts of hungers since using the Wraiths.
Then Sett brought me to a table with a few inventions that were round and flat and almost looked like Open Eyes, ringed in blades. Sett grabbed a steel rod and pressed the tip against the metal circle in the centre.
The whole thing snapped together like a biting jaw.
‘For Asham feet,’ Sett explained. ‘We place in Dagon under sand and very good pain for enemy. We use for your plan?’
I swallowed, my mouth tasting heavy of anticipation. The term ‘Foot Fangs’ popped into my head. ‘Can’t hurt.’
The rest of the wares only got more impressive.
My favourite invention was a heavy spring-propelled hook loaded into the body of a spear. She said the spear could shoot the hook up forty paces, carrying a rope behind it. Eli didn’t miss the chance to tell me he’d grown a lot of the plant fibre used to make the rope.
‘Is being for scale rocks and cliffs,’ Sett said, aiming the hook towards one of the high cutouts of stone. ‘When in Dagon, if Asham being trap us, we escape.’
She aimed and pressed the button on the side of the spear. The hook arced onto one of the outcroppings above us, skittering into the hole. Sett yanked the rope back and then twisted her wrist, which made the sharp metal grab on some surface above.
She let the spear go. It dangled in the air before her. Then she pulled it tight to show the sturdiness.
‘Is good,’ she said.
My lips split into a wide smile. ‘So where is the Desert?’
Sett clapped her hands. ‘Eliezah! Sullop!’
Eli and Lop stopped their gathering and sped over to Sett, who said something in Langrian, sending them back into the tunnel.
‘Where are they going?’ I asked.
Sett put a hand on her stomach. ‘I being hungry. Send for food.’
I didn’t realize it until then. I’d been too distracted by all the fantastic creations, but I too was famished.
‘So where is the Desert?’ I said. ‘We can probably get to work.’
Sett gave me an eager nod. ‘Come. Is close.’
She beckoned for me to follow through the room, leading me to the giant Khatclock in the back.
‘This Adaamclock of Coldmarch,’ she said. ‘Is very important of Langria.’
‘It doesn’t work,’ I said, pointing to the hands.
‘Is not for measure time, like hourglass or gear clock. Is for secrets.’
‘Secrets?’
‘Yes. If ever Asham breach Langria, place for Melekah hide. Very strong metal walls inside, no able break out or in. Is once be having food and Cold and water inside. Can live for long time in secrets.’
‘But not anymore?’
Sett shook her head sadly. ‘After spy plant Desert, many of us die, and no able to save food or Cold. Starving and too much Sun everywhere.’
She reached under her shirt and removed a rusted key. Then she slid open a hidden section of the clock’s pupil and fit the key in to a small slot.
‘Now place for me hide Desert,’ she said. ‘So no spy can get. I have only key in or out.’
Then she grabbed the two large clock hands and heaved them up. They seemed heavy in her hands, and I tried to help, but she waved me back. She struggled to get them to turn, but eventually they spun upwards with a series of clicks. She had to stand on her toes to get the hands to point all the way up.
The clock hands fell into position with a muffled thump. A latch behind the face made a sound. Sett grit her teeth and pulled the door open, revealing the chamber within.
It was smaller than I expected. It would only be able to hide ten or so bodies comfortably. The terrible heat hit me immediately.
A giant steel crate sat in the middle of the space, the lid closed and latched.
I coughed. The air was foul and boiling over with heat. And the Desert smell had the same distinct odour I was familiar with.
‘Is bad,’ Sett said. ‘Very secret. Much metal walls.’
‘And you said there’s eight pieces of Desert inside?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘We need to bring them all too.’
Sett nodded, putting a hand on her lower back, her face turning into a grimace. ‘I hurt back. You bring crate out and we begin plan making.’
I paused. The crate looked quite heavy, and I thought maybe I should find a proper mask and gloves before I got too close.
‘Alone?’
‘Yes,’ Sett said, urgency in her eyes. ‘Is not heavy. You bring.’
The heat made my skin sweat and crawl. I stepped into the dark space and a sense of suffocation took over. The metal walls were too close together. Panic rippled in my chest.
‘You know what,’ I said, turning around. ‘I think—’
The clock face slammed, closing me in.
There was the distant scrape of a key into a lock.
‘HEY!’ I yelled, slamming my palm against the metal. ‘SETT!’
The heat inside the chamber was almost worse than being out in the Sun. It was already burning me from the inside.
I tried not to breathe, but my lungs were desperate. The pressure and pain quickly rose. The chamber was all black. My terror echoed.
I could feel the Desert behind me, calling for my death.
I scrambled around the back of the clock for a latch. My palms eventually touched a small hole that was meant for a key. My bronze fingers screeched as I frantically clawed at the opening. I felt around for anything else, praying there was some other release.
I couldn’t get out.
And I couldn’t hold my breath any longer.
My chest burned like hot coals.
I started to see colours behind my eyes, molten reds and sickness greens.
The pressure was too much. I opened my mouth and sucked in a lung full of poisoned air. I choked and screamed for help. I cried out to Eli and Lop. I cried out to Shilah and Cam. I cried out in vain.
I was going to die alone, in this foul place of silence and heat and death.
I’d failed Shilah as a partner.
I failed Cam as a friend.
I failed Abb as a son.
I slumped against the metal and counted my final breaths.