Steering the Matty away from my friends nearly broke me.
I had dozens of good reasons to return to Jadans’ Rise, but unfortunately, I had an even better reason to stay away.
We couldn’t risk being seen. If the Khat or any of his sieging army spotted us flying through the air, towards Paphos, he’d send warriors and Khatfists and taskmasters back in our wake.
The Pyramid would never again go unguarded.
I was desperate to steer the Matty right to the top plateau and shout for my friends until my throat bled. I wanted to wake up every enemy in the camp with my yelling. I wanted to thunder my presence until Cam and Shilah were again in my arms.
But I wasn’t a child anymore. I was a leader.
And being a leader meant sometimes accepting the hard choices.
Sett and I passed the city by a wide margin, away from any of the Khat’s roads. There could have still been Asham arriving to see the Second Fall, and we had to keep a distance.
Heart in my throat, I watched the city fade through the Farsight.
The walls were still being sieged, which flooded me with relief. If the Asham were still outside, it meant that there hadn’t yet been a Fall. I hadn’t yet failed my people. Shilah continued to thwart the Khat in my absence, and I felt a heavy wave of pride.
Sett put a hand on my shoulder, smiling over her mask. I nodded back.
We checked our supplies and prepped the weapons in silence.
Paphos was smaller than I remembered.
All the different parts of the city seemed to have shrunk. The walls around the Garden Quarters, which in my mind were once the size of the Great Divide, now looked laughably breachable. The Cry Temples, with roofs too high for a younger me to climb, now looked like caravan carts without the wheels. I used to think the Market Quarters here were so vast that they must have sold everything in the World Cried, but now the few streets looked measly and sparse. The biggest thing about the city, besides the Pyramid, appeared to be the slave barracks on the outskirts. I never realized how many of us there were, how much space we commanded.
I hadn’t been gone from Paphos that long, and it was possible that the city looked reduced because I was approaching it from unthinkable heights, but I had a feeling the difference was in me rather than the place.
It hadn’t been just the streets and temples and barracks of the city that had served as my walls. Rather it was the system itself. The ruthless culture. The terrible lies. A lifetime of being tortured by the Sun and still living in darkness.
We’d been flying all night, taking turns resting and navigating. The Sun would be up in a few hours. The Crying had ended, and we didn’t need to worry about any falling Cold taking out our sails, but I wished I could have witnessed the phenomenon here as well. To see Drafts and Shivers and Chills falling, and maybe even a Frost, all from above. It might have given me a hint as to how high up the Cold came from.
All four Mattys had crossed the Singe and were now heading straight for the Pyramid. I tried not to think about a specific Jadan barracks off near the eastern dunes. I certainly did not look in that direction.
I turned my body away as well as my eyes. The memories were too painful.
I nudged the cap tighter over the Desert, and the Matty began to descend. The other Mattys did the same. Our caravan of the sky drifted downward as one.
Sett’s face was a beacon of hope, casting one of the brightest smiles I’d ever seen. She rubbed her arms. Her hair looked less grey and her face looked younger. Her wrinkles had even smoothed.
‘I never be thinking air could be so Cold up there,’ Sett said. ‘Is the second best thing I’ve ever felt.’
‘What’s the first?’
She winked. ‘One day you find out. But not from me.’
I laughed. ‘Just think, when we get the Khol, the whole world can be just as Cold and wonderful. The Sun will be powerless.’
Sett smiled even brighter, brushing against the railing.
‘This Paphos,’ she said, looking out over the different quarters.
I couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement.
Far below were the rooftops I used to crawl. The streets I used to bleed upon. The alleyways where my back had tasted whips and my feet raced across hot stone, running for my life.
Now everything down there seemed weak. Fragile.
How had I ever really thought this was everything to know?
How could I have been so blind?
I began to envision planting Khol in the deadlands at our back. Of turning the dunes into vast new Cry Patches. Of making Jadan houses of worship, where we could sing our songs, the ones we would write. Of digging Jadan swimming pools in which to laugh. And planting Jadan gardens where we could grow knuckleberries as big as our fists.
I could feel our return to grace.
I could feel our chains crushing to dust beneath my fingers.
Bloodlust flooded my heart. I went to take a deep breath, but stopped myself. I wanted to feel the aggression. The hate.
The Khat had stolen everything. His line had hoarded the seeds to paradise and lied about the plague they’d forced into the land. The Pyramid would likely be empty, but I hoped some vile Asham was foolish enough to try and stand in our way.
Sett came to my side.
‘I knowing that look,’ she said. ‘Is blood hunger.’
‘You going to tell me we should pray for peace instead?’
‘Yes, always pray for peace.’ Sett made a fist. ‘But always prepare for battle.’
‘I’ll remember that.’
The Matty continued to drop. Sett adjusted the blades to line us up with the Pyramid.
‘You know what “Meshua” mean?’ she asked.
‘Spout,’ I said under my breath.
She laughed. ‘Shaman Eli tell you this?’
‘Yes.’
‘He not tell full truth. Spout is empty thing. Spout only be important when something meaning pouring through.’
‘And what am I supposed to pour through? Peace?’
Sett shook her head. ‘Peace beautiful. One of best things in life. But just like spout, is empty thing. Peace only being important when allows something meaning pouring through.’
I smiled, nudging my foot against the Coldmaker.
‘Cold?’
She shook her head, turning around to look at the closest Matty, the one carrying Sinniah. It was dropping quickly, tightening the gap between us.
‘One day you know,’ Sett said. ‘And I be proud seeing different look in you eye.’
It didn’t take long to reach the Pyramid.
The Monument Quarters had plenty of impressive buildings, even other small pyramids honouring later Khats, but the First Khat’s Pyramid was truly a sight to behold. A massive tribute to all that was unholy in the world. The stone tip loomed over the city, like the presence of the Khat himself. The steep sides were slick and smooth, the stones having been mortared tight and well maintained over eight centuries. This was thanks to the labour and deaths of countless Jadans.
But the Pyramid had a glaring weakness.
Something the Khat never would have had to worry about until now.
Balconies.
The platforms with ornate railings were visible even from our height. There was one balcony each side of the Pyramid, which allowed the Khats to look out over all of the lands they’d killed. And they were big enough to hold groups. The current Khat often held banquets and celebrations on the balconies, the High Nobles and Priests consuming fine foods and drink, while far below were the cracks of whips and thumps of Jadan bodies being tossed into the dunes.
Sett and I had discussed the plan with the other warriors before we left. Each Matty was to head for a different balcony. I didn’t know if they’d be big enough to land the Mattys on, but at least we could use them as a way in.
I aimed for the North balcony.
The other Mattys began to split off behind us and head around to their marks.
We had to angle just right, and descend with perfect timing, so I took over from Sett at the blades because I’d had more practice landing the craft.
I smiled beneath my mask, thinking of my father.
Drop the bucket.
We were going faster than intended. I needed to concentrate. I nudged the covering off the Desert to slow us down. The Matty buckled upwards, but it wasn’t quite enough.
We were dropping too fast and the angle was wrong. The craft shook, the dome-sail wanting one thing while momentum wanted another.
We were going to miss the balcony.
I went back to release another Noble tear, with the plan of spinning the craft around and coming in for another landing, when there was the sound of a metal spring and the flash of rope.
The end of Sett’s spear shot across the gap, the hook expertly grabbing the railing of the balcony.
I nodded and then slid the covering off the Desert to give us a bit more lift. Sett propped the spear under the railing so it would catch. The Matty rose quickly and then stopped abruptly as the rope went taut. The railing groaned, threatening to break, and Sett grabbed the spear for extra support. The muscles in her arms flexed with deep lines, and I was impressed by how she handled the strain.
I closed the cap on the Desert. She pulled on the rope. Together we brought the Matty down to the balcony, which looked just big enough to fit the craft. Slowly we descended, the dome-sail creaking as the fumes and heat died out. I spun the glider blades faster to push the craft over the flat surface below, the craft pivoting, and as if practised, we touched down gently.
I snapped the Desert cap, threw off my mask and put a hand on Sett’s shoulder.
‘We make a good team.’
‘This exciting,’ she whispered in my ear. ‘Thank you finding Langria.’
I looked down the side of the Pyramid, immediately getting a sense of unease. We were far closer to the ground now than when flying, but standing on something solid somehow made it feel like a longer way to fall. The sloping stones looked hungry, ready to break every bone in my body on the roll down.
I took out the Farsight. There wasn’t much light to go by, but I didn’t see too much movement down by any of the many Pyramid gates. Then I touched the lid of the Coldmaker. The bronze was Cold.
‘Next time I see you,’ I said to the machine, ‘I’ll have you working.’
A gust of wind caressed my cheeks. I faced the stars and smiled. Maybe it was an empty thing to do, but maybe not. Sometimes hope is everything.
Sett loaded up with one of every kind of weapon we brought. Then she attached pouches of the Chossek powder to her belt, for darkening our skin. She gave me a nod, her expression ready and focused.
I touched my lips and then held them out towards the sands.
I decided to bring a crossbow. That left me a hand free, and I grabbed an oil lantern, keeping it dark for now. I wished it was a Sinai, so I could adjust the light, and I told myself I would show Sett my design if we made it out of this alive.
‘Okay,’ I said, gesturing to the balcony door. ‘Lets just hope the others landed without issue.’
Sett tightened her grip over the sword with the rotating end, which I decided to call a ‘Swing Sword’.
‘They did,’ she said. ‘Is sure. We meet them inside.’
‘From the rumours,’ I said. ‘The Khat keeps the Khol down at the very bottom chambers, behind all sorts of defenses. Guards. Hounds. Traps. We need to be ready for anything, and be fast. If we don’t get out before the Sun rises, someone will surely look up at the Pyramid and see the Mattys.’
Sett nodded and we left the craft behind. The balcony door was unlocked.
We entered a dark room with a stale smell, but with Cold lingering in the air. The whole Pyramid was likely constantly cooled at all times, and I ground my teeth thinking about how much Meesh-Dahm was being wasted on lifeless rock.
Sett took the lantern and lit the fire, slowly feeding it oil.
‘Khol,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Right over there.’
I dropped to my knees, nearly dropping the lantern.
I gasped. ‘Tears above, it is a Khol!’
It was right in front of us, sitting on a pedestal in the middle of the room. A bed of silks were folded underneath, carefully arranged so they wouldn’t obstruct the three lines at the Khol’s centre.
We were saved.
I gasped, dropping my supplies and rushing over.
At first I thought it must be a trick; that guards were waiting in the dark corners of the room, running their thumbs across their sharp blades as we rushed into their trap. But there was no one else in the lavish room. Just us and the Khol.
Sett rushed at my side, victory sounds on her lips. They were almost growls.
‘I can’t,’ I said, reaching out and my hands on the Khol. ‘I can’t believe that – DAMN IT!’
Sett jumped into a defensive stance. Her blade was up before I could finish shouting. ‘What is it, Meshua?’
Damn the Khat.
Damn them all.
‘It’s fake,’ I seethed.
My palms were flat and tight around the curved sides of the Khol, trembling from anger.
‘What you meaning?’ Sett asked, pointing her blade at the dark corners of the room. ‘I never being seen Khol before, but from scrolls and carvings—’
I picked up the imposter Khol and smashed it against the ground.
The sphere smashed into a thousand glittering pieces. The crash made me cringe, but thankfully the sound was more delicate than violent, like the ringing of small bells. I couldn’t tell what the fake Khol was made of, but it was utterly convincing.
The jagged shards spread across the floor, scattering beneath golden-gilded chairs and fancy glass statuettes.
‘Real Khol are Cold to the touch,’ I said, clenching my teeth. ‘And a real Khol doesn’t shatter.’
Sett nodded.
Then it truly dawned on me how difficult this mission would be. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves in to. The Pyramid was going to be a different world entirely, one with which none of us were familiar.
A door across the room flew opened.
Sett turned, blade ready.
I ducked, going back for my crossbow.
Zeekah and Bear shot into the room. Zeekah wielded two short whips with blades at the end, ready to slice through the air. Bear lumbered through with her huge spiked hammer, the weapon above her head. They both relaxed when they saw that Sett and I were the source of the crash. Bear pointed the hammer at a patch of the shards. For reasons beyond me, she didn’t topple over from weight of the weapon.
Sett said something in Langrian. There was a bite of reproach in her tone. Bear started to answer but Sett shook her head.
‘Common tongue from now,’ Sett said. ‘So Meshua understand.’
Bear swallowed hard, looking like she’d just tasted a scorpion. ‘No break things, Meshua. We need being shadow and dreams.’
Bear’s common tongue was much worse than Sett’s. Her words sounded like they were covered in sand and ground under a boot.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ll be better. But I doubt anyone’s here anyway.’
Zeekah’s head jerked, her ear perking up. ‘Coming.’
Four more figures stormed into the extravagant chamber. It took me a moment to register that the dark bodies were the rest of the Langrian warriors. They all arrived covered in Chossek, with weapons at the ready.
I felt soured by the fake Khol, but having these fighters around me made things much more bearable. The Khat would have his traps, but he wouldn’t be expecting a force like ours. Sinniah stepped over the shards without care, putting her forehead against Sett’s.
‘What happen?’ Sinniah asked.
‘Khol not real,’ Sett announced. ‘Real Khol is having Cold touch.’
The warriors around the room nodded, taking in the information.
Zeekah wrinkled her nose. ‘Paphos smell of poison.’
Sett spat on the ground. ‘All Asham poison.’
‘Come,’ Sinniah said. ‘I think seeing way down.’
We filed out of the room, and the hallway split into four directions. Ellora kept at the back, looking sullen and mournful. Everyone else was poised and buzzing for battle. Fighting was probably like breathing to the Langrians, and Ellora was the only one who didn’t seem like she belonged.
The warriors positioned themselves so I’d be in the middle of the pack. I wanted to be at the front where the danger was, but they were all much faster on their feet and I didn’t have a choice. Bear was the closest warrior to me, her giant hammer raised with menace.
One of the hallways slanted downwards. That would be our path.
‘That one,’ I said quietly, pointing. ‘On the right.’
Sett and Sinniah stormed down the hallway without hesitation, weapons at the ready. I followed behind trying to keep my crossbow tip from skewering any ankles.
The tunnel thinned out, so much that we had to file through one at a time.
The walls were even cooler here, smooth and tight. I felt the weight of all the stone around me, enough to shallow my breathing and cripple my speed. The Langrians reacted differently, moving through the tunnel like it was leading them to a banquet instead of deeper into an enemy fortress.
We swept along without speaking. Sett made small hand signals as the tunnel rounded corners and became stairs. Sinniah relayed the commands back with Bear whispering things to me like ‘soft your step’ and ‘low your face’ as rough translations. The warriors moved as one, with me carried by their force.
The Pyramid apparently wasn’t all sprawling chambers, but more of a solid piece with spaces carved out through. The Inventor in me knew a design like this would be easier to keep standing over time. The nervous side of me felt trapped by the oppressive amount of stone. There wouldn’t be any quick ways of escaping, should trouble arise.
Bear and I rounded another corner and found Sett pressed with her ear against a doorway, her thumb rubbing the hilt of her Swing Sword. We gathered tight in a group, and Sett made a few hand signals for us to stop and be quiet. Bear pressed her lips against my ear, giving me a start.
‘Two Asham,’ Bear whispered. Her breath was thick with heat, voice barely discernible. ‘Sett and Sinniah being first. You stay. No follow.’
Sett and Sinniah fell into another kiss. Their lips pressed against each other with feverish desperation, yet silently. I imagined their feelings for each other were intensified constantly by battle, never knowing if they’d make it out alive.
I understood the sentiment. My heart ached to be home.
The warriors smeared some of the Chossek powder on their skin, offering some for me as well. I smoothed a single layer over my arms and face to be polite, although my skin was already darker than theirs. I probably didn’t need it, but it made me feel like a part of the group.
Sett and Sinniah picked up their weapons. Sett loosened the disc on her Spin Sword. Sinniah took a glass Javelin off her back, the weapon veined with something black and smoky down the middle.
Sett snuffed the lantern and handed me the weapons bag. Then she stalked through the door like a silent wraith, keeping tight to the left wall. Sinniah was right at her back. Through the closing gap, I could see the distant image of the two Asham standing in the middle of the next hallway. One of them carried a Sinai, the dim glow not quite reaching the walls. Their conversation continued like nothing was wrong, clearly unaware that death came at them from the shadows.
Bear caught the door before it shut completely. We all watched through the crack.
‘Bastard still hasn’t broken yet,’ one of the Asham said. ‘Can you believe that?’
‘He will. Left him with enough to put down a whole Jadan barracks, didn’t we? Damn traitor will go weak soon enough. Did you spit in his food?’
‘Always,’ the other Asham said with a cackle. ‘And more than just spit this time. Made it real Jadan-like for him.’
‘Delicious.’
‘That’s what the bastard gets for keeping us from seeing the Fall. Biggest celebration in our lifetimes and we’re stuck here playing Domestic. It’s lizard dung.’
‘You’re telling me. But you know how it is: can’t trust a Jadan to do Noble work.’
One of the Asham was holding a tray with food balanced on top. The other was tapping something out of a vial into his palm. I could just make out the outline of Sett and Sinniah slinking through the darkness against the wall. They moved without a single sound; for a moment I couldn’t tell if the twisting shadows in the shapes of warriors were real or imagined.
The Asham with the vial brought his hand to his nose and sniffed deeply. ‘We’ll have our own celebration. How much do you want before we hit the stables?’
‘My own stash.’
They both laughed.
A sword and Javelin were raised.
Before Bear could stop me, I burst through the door, waving my crossbow.
‘Wait!’ I shouted.
The Asham spilled his tray, gruel splattering over from a cracked bowl and splashing on his fancy shoes.
‘Shit,’ the Asham said, shaking his leg. ‘Shit.’
‘Who’s there?’ The other vial Asham asked, waving the Sinai in my direction. His hair was dirty yellow, not quite as vibrant as Cam’s.
‘I’m trying to help you,’ I said. ‘Don’t move.’
The Asham with the tray narrowed his eyes. His gaze went down to my ankle.
‘Holy blood,’ he said. ‘That’s a damn Jadan, that is. What are you doing with a weapon, slave?’
‘No anklet on it either,’ the Asham with the vial said, his tone delighted. He ran his finger under his nose, giving a single sniff. ‘Oh, boy, are you in trouble.’
Sett and Sinniah stepped up behind them. They had each taken out a sleek dagger. The tip of each blade found and pricked into a fair-skinned throat, poised to sink deep. The Asham froze in shock.
‘Don’t kill them,’ I called out. Something had been off about their conversation. I needed to know more. ‘These Asham can tell us things.’
The Asham with the vial sniffed again. Now that I was closer I could tell that it was Grassland Dream he’d been taking.
‘Oh, I get it,’ he said. ‘This is an uprising. How droll!’
His friend didn’t seem to find this as funny. ‘It’s an insult to the Crier.’ He gasped as Sinniah’s blade dug out a trickle of red. ‘It’s high blasphemy!’
‘Obviously,’ the one under the Grassland Dream said. ‘Which makes it even more delicious. Taking arms against High Nobility. In the Pyramid. What a story! This is wonderful, Philip. Our friends will come back from the Fall thinking they have all the best stories and—’
‘This Asham poison words,’ Sett said in a lazy manner. ‘I kill now?’
I held up my hand, getting closer.
‘Just hold on,’ I said. ‘No killing yet.’
‘Killing?’ the Dream Asham cackled, his eyes red. ‘This just keeps getting better. You think the Crier will allow you to kill his High Priests in the most holy place. You will be struck with fire and plague before you even load that crossbow, you little—’
Sett jammed the dagger all the way into the Asham’s neck and then ripped the blade through the front of his throat, cutting through cartilage and gristle. A voiceless gasp spurted from the Asham’s severed wind pipe.
Sett let the body fall. She spat into his dirty yellow hair as he spasmed to death, trying to plug his leak. Noble blood fountained into the spilled gruel at his feet.
‘You is so beautiful,’ Sinniah said to Sett, pursing her lips. ‘Do killing mine now. I watch.’
Sett bowed and then gestured to the other captive, giving me a wink. ‘We kill now too.’
It wasn’t a question. I didn’t have time to object.
Set grabbed her Spin Sword, did a manoeuvre with her wrist to get the end piece turning, and then flashed the sword through the air. The end piece expertly sped with its rotation, slicing the front of the other Asham’s throat.
The second body collapsed.
Their blood mixed on the stone floor, and Sinniah spat into the resulting puddle.
‘Why did you kill them both?’ I gasped.
‘Is for luck,’ Sett explained, calmly locking the disc tight back on her sword so it wouldn’t spin. She seemed bored. ‘All Asham poison.’
‘But they could have told us where the Khol were.’
Sett shook her head and then made a gesture with her hand like a mouth opening and closing. ‘No. They just … sliyom.’
‘Sliyom means lie,’ Ellora explained from behind me.
I spun. The rest of the Langrians had filtered into the room without a sound. I was thoroughly impressed at their stealth. Now I understood how these Asham had been taken by complete surprise.
‘Thank you, Ellora,’ Sett said. ‘They just lie.’
I started to speak and then stopped myself, taking a frustrated breath instead.
‘You’re probably right,’ I said, feeling a surge of anger.
Sett shrugged. ‘We try again next one we find.’
One of the Asham was still wiggling at our feet. Bear stepped up and raised her giant hammer.
I turned away, scanning the room, my stomach clenching. When the pounding sound was over, I stepped away from the river of blood.
‘They were talking about a prisoner,’ I said.
‘Many prisoners in Paphos,’ Sett said, picking up the Sinai and giving it a look of appreciation. ‘All prisoners in Paphos. No time for one. You knowing what this make is?’
I nodded, holding out my hand. ‘I do. I’ll handle it.’
It wasn’t the killing that had bothered me. Something about the Asham conversation wasn’t sitting right.
Sett took her weapons bag and wandered to the far side of the room, sweeping the rest of the chamber. There was a single locked door off to the side, and three tunnels out of the place. Only one of the tunnels dipped at an angle downward. I nodded and and we took that one with speed.
After making it around the first corner, I stopped myself.
Returning went against all of my better instincts, but I couldn’t help it. Something had hooked into my mind. I had to know for sure.
‘Hold on,’ I said, letting out a sigh. ‘I’m going back.’
Bear stepped in my way, giving Sett a questioning look.
‘I just need to see,’ I said, ducking beneath her spiked weapon with a speed that surprised myself. None of the others tried to stop me, although Sett started calling my name. Ellora stepped aside, giving me a sad smile as I skirted around her and fled back to the bloody room.
I set the Sinai next to the fallen Asham. I tried not to think about all the fluids coating my arms as I searched their pockets. Eventually I found a large steel key and a smaller brass one that seemed painfully familiar. I shot over to the locked door before the warriors could talk me out of my madness.
The bigger key fit the lock. The door swung open.
I stepped inside, steeling myself for an attack. The Asham could have been guarding some ancient beast for all I knew, like a Firegog or a Sand Golem. Such things were possible in a place this old; a place with this many secrets.
I brought the Sinai in the room, surprised to find all sorts of poisons stacked from floor to ceiling. The room was stocked with crystal bottles of ale, coming in all shapes and sizes. There were also bowls of Grassland Dream everywhere, packed to the rim, the powder nearly spilling over. There were three Droughtweed pipes on a small table, ready to be smoked. Next to them were little brown button-looking plants in a bowl, a pestle sitting at the ready.
Two pale legs stuck out from the shadows.
They were dirty, the skin fair and sallow. And on one was a terrible invention. One that I knew all too well.
An anklet.
The same kind that Leroi had been ordered to make for every Jadan in the Tavor Manor. The type that had Pinion’s acid inside. The type that would burn through the wearer’s leg if the anklet wasn’t wound by a small brass key – the kind now in my possession – every few hours.
I swung the light forward, heart in my throat.
And then I saw the man’s face.
I lost breath. I lost words.
In my life I had created Cold and flown to Langria, but it was this face that shattered all of my notions of what was possible.
He shied away from the light, putting a hand in front of his face.
‘Just leave the food, dammit. No Erridian bastard is going to get the satisfaction of watching me break.’
I began to shake.
His voice was the same low, gritty tone from my past; full of sadness and longing; dripping with ideas. A sob wracked my chest.
It couldn’t be him.
I wasn’t ready to hope for such things.
‘Leroi?’ I whispered, my voice cracking.
His hand slowly came away from his face, revealing the same speckled goatee I had once known. His haunted eyes blinked over and over. His hair was no longer slicked back, but the same grey. He went silent.
‘It’s me,’ I said, choking. ‘It’s Spout.’
Leroi slowly gathered his leg back, hiding the anklet. His arms began to quiver. He looked through me, unfocused. I couldn’t tell how deeply they’d broken him, and for a moment I wasn’t even sure if he’d remember me.
Then there was a smile. Blood ran down his gums and he was missing a few teeth, but his smile was glowing.
‘Of course it is,’ Leroi whispered.
I could barely speak. ‘You’re alive.’
Leroi paused. He wiped at his face, tears spilling.
‘You should be in Langria, Spout,’ he croaked.
‘I was.’ I laughed. ‘But now I’m glad I’m here.’
Leroi’s face passed through a flurry of emotions. Clearly I was the last person in the entire World Cried he expected to walk into his cell. He eyed the crossbow I was holding and weapons strapped on my belt, his expression getting more confused by the moment.
He looked so feeble.
His arms were sticks; his chest was sunken.
But his eyes were clear.
‘Cam and Shilah are okay,’ I said. ‘They’re in Jadans’ Rise – the City of David’s Fall. But we don’t call it that anymore.’
Leroi went to say something, and then his expression dropped. ‘The Second Fall. But that—’
I reached out my hand.
He stared at my bronze fingers, and then slowly took my hand. His grip was so weak, his fingers thin and spindly. I helped him to his feet, and although he was a head taller than me, he seemed so feeble that I thought I’d have to carry him in my arms.
‘Has it been that long?’ he asked, his hand going to my arm and then my shoulder, checking if I was real. ‘You’ve filled out. I thought you were a guard at first.’
Heat stung my cheeks. ‘I have a lot to tell you.’
‘What happened to your hand?’ The last of the haze drained from his face, and was replaced with concern. ‘What are you doing in the Pyramid? How did you get all the way up here? I thought—’
I wrapped him in a hug, making sure not to squeeze too tight. I didn’t want to break anything in his bony frame. He smelled awful, like he’d been sleeping in a dead-cart. I couldn’t care less, searching out his familiar scent within the foulness. He paused and then squeezed back, his cheek going to my hair. His warmth and odour were both welcome.
It was better than finding a Khol.
‘I missed you,’ I said.
He didn’t say anything. I could tell he was too choked up.
Releasing him, I picked up the Sinai and crossbow, trying to stand tall like Shilah; to show him how far I’ve come.
I knew I couldn’t have my father back.
But I would settle for my teacher.
‘I’m going to tell you everything,’ I said. ‘But right now we have to move.’
‘What’s going on, Spout?’
‘We need Kho – Frosts. As many as we can get. Leroi, they’re seeds!’
‘What do you mean, seeds?’
I pulled out the smaller brass key and fit it into the anklet. I turned it the opposite way of the winding, and the contraption came off with a satisfying click.
‘Frosts make Cry Patches,’ I said. ‘Plant them in the ground and Cold knows where to fall. It’s the secret to ending the Great Drought.’
‘I—’ Leroi swallowed hard ‘but I don’t – how—’
‘I’ll tell you everything. I have so many stories!’ I laughed, grabbing his arm. His elbow felt like the knob of a hammer. ‘I’ve learned so many things that I can teach you. But right now you need to answer two questions for me.’
Leroi nodded, wiping more tears away. He was clearly overwhelmed, but his eyes weren’t glazed over in the way I’d known. He’d resisted the drink or any of the other poisons.
A lump welled in my throat. Leroi was a High Noble, a Tavor even, and yet here he was. Tortured and tempted, bound and locked away in a small closet. No one was safe from the Khat’s terror.
‘How many Frosts does the Khat have here?’ I took a deep breath. ‘And do you know where they are?’
Whispers came from behind me, back out in the chamber.
Leroi kicked aside the anklet, looking over my shoulder. ‘From what I understand, the Khat has more Frosts than we can count. But he keeps them in the deep chambers under the Pyramid, and there are traps down there. I know some of the secrets, but I haven’t been past a certain point. And even if most of the Nobles here have gone to see the Second Fall, I imagine we would need a small army if we were going to escape with any.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Is there someone out there with you?’
I cracked a smile and ran two fingers down my cheek.