Veda Loor pushed past Senta into the wagon. Sounds of pots and pans being tossed about drifted in with her. Maella used the canvas to cover her head and peek around Veda Loor. Sunlight poured its heat on the desert sand, creating harsh shadows and harsher tempers.
A crowd of people surrounded a canvas-covered box of a wagon. Most were purple-skinned tower workers, but the one who stood on the wagon’s bench was a fair-skinned man with burly arms and a dark mustache. He shouted in a garbled sort of Rathe that muffled the endings of the words so that a newcomer to the language like Maella found it impossible to understand, but it looked like he was yelling at the tower workers to stay away from his wagon.
“We cannot run,” Veda Loor said.
More people with skin stained purple were headed for the wagon as if the sounds drew them like a moth to flame.
“They’ll ransack it next,” Sethlo said. “I saw them do it to another wagon yesterday. Even the rumor of licatherin is enough for a swarm to form.”
“But most of them are still well enough to walk,” Maella said.
“But not for long,” Sethlo said.
Veda Loor pointed a gnarled hand at Maella. “Go tell the other torchlighters a krokosod mob is coming.”
Sethlo brushed past Maella. “I will go.”
“Stay,” Veda Loor said. She pointed at Maella. “You go.”
“She should stay,” Sethlo said. “I will—”
“They are coming here next,” Veda Loor said. “Clearly you fear they will recognize her for some reason. She cannot be here and there is no time to move this wagon far enough away that it would not draw their attention. So it is Maella who should go.”
Maella exchanged a glance with Sethlo. Veda Loor was right. The group had torn the other wagon apart and supplies were strewn across the sand. The wagon’s owner was sitting cross-legged in the sand, but otherwise unharmed. Most of his supplies were being carried away in the arms of other people. From the cries of the crowd, it did not sound like much licatherin, if any, had been found.
“If you want her to stay undiscovered, then send her off quickly,” Veda Loor said. “And make sure you hide all the licatherin you bunch of thieves have stolen or it will not be yours for much longer.” Veda Loor cackled at the surprised looks on their faces. “I am old, but I am not blind. I am no stranger to krokosod. It has been plenty of days and while all of you are sick, you are not sick enough.” She hobbled to the wagon door. “Sethlo and Tomi will remain to help me protect the books. Get your other friends here quick to help and I will not reveal what you are hiding.”
The crowd had bloomed into a larger mob and was searching for a new target. Maella ducked back inside and collected their licatherin bottles. Stepping out, she used the wagon to block sight of the mob and adjusted her hair covering.
“Go fast,” Sethlo said from behind, pushing against her back to get her moving.
Maella picked up her heels and kicked sand out of her way, racing to the last place she had seen the wagon that Dev and Deep had commandeered with the other torchlighters—but it wasn’t there. Her heart jumped in her throat and sweat tickled under her hood. The torchlighter wagon had been traveling close to the Library of Souls. There had been much going back and forth and changing up of drivers over the last few days, though Veda Loor let no one inside the Library of Souls wagon itself unless it was Maella, Tomi, Senta, or Sethlo, or unless she had personally seen a torchlighter wash their hands.
The first wagon she came upon was smaller than the Library of Souls. Its top was canvas and its wheels and boards were not carved. A decrepit-looking camel chewed from a pile of hay thrown at its feet. Two women weaved strips of cloth together. Their hands were a light brown with no sign of purple in them.
Maella kept running, searching the landscape for the right wagon. Other wagons, the wrong ones, dotted her vision, spread out as a form of protection from one another, while still close enough together to ward off any cycle bandits that might look for easy targets. The sand was both soft and gritty underfoot. The next wagon she passed was large. Its back end was open and displayed boxes of various trinkets, bobbles, and household items for sale. The trinkets hung from the wagon spines, sat on shelves, were stacked on boxes from floor to ceiling of the enclosure. A ring of five tower workers sat together in the shade of the wagon, purple in their hands.
One of the men stood and hobbled over for a drink of water. He was still able to walk. They were not too sick yet to join the mob.
“When doormakers mess with the doors we all pay the price.” One man said this while looking glumly at his empty plate after tipping the food scraps into the fire.
“I am glad the tower fell,” another said. “It deserved to be destroyed.”
“My friends died in that tower!” a woman cried out. “And for what? Now my cousins will starve without my wages. Where will we find work?”
“If only the Klylup had eaten the doormaker before she did this,” another said in response.
“Hush. Be thankful the debt lists are gone and the Circle too. Your life is now your own again.”
And then Maella saw the torchlighter wagon. Herren was on the driver’s bench, dozing. A half-dozen other torchlighters sat against the wheels on the shaded side. Maella waved to get their attention.
“Dev!” Maella’s shout brought Dev awake and searching until his gaze landed on Maella.
Dev met Maella halfway across the sand. “What is wrong?”
“Tell Deep and the rest we need to hide the bottles,” Maella said, running for the torchlighter wagon. “There’s a mob.”
“They know about the bottles?”
“No, I don’t think so, but they’re searching for licatherin and they’re headed to the Library of Shadows next. Veda Loor says to come.”
Dev and Maella reached the torchlighter wagon, sharing the news. Deep poked her head out, squinting, and without missing a beat, issued instructions like she had already planned for such an event. “Collect whatever bottles everyone has on them. Four of you get into the shade of the wagon. Maella, help them bury the bottles. Count those bottles twice so we don’t leave any behind, and then sit on the sand like pitch has glued your ass to a pipe!” Deep swung out of the wagon like she was walking the tower pipes. “The rest of you come with me.” She stuck the landing with both feet.
Half a dozen torchlighters sprinted after her to the Library of Souls.
Maella helped bury the bottles while Dev and a few others stood watch. Dev raised an eyebrow at Maella’s half-empty bottle alongside the other, mostly full, bottles that went into the sand. Maella flushed with embarrassment, but Dev did not comment on it and she decided it wasn’t her job to explain herself.
When they were finished, they all sat on the bottles buried in the sand and waited.
“Why didn’t you go?” Maella asked Dev.
“Deep is better in these situations than I am,” Dev said.
“What situation is that?” Maella said.
“Fighting ones.”
The mob had settled at a dozen or so people now. Some had already gone back to their wagons with their finds. The ones who remained were at the steps of the Library of Souls wagon. Veda Loor swung her cane through the air like a sword. Deep and the torchlighters sprinted up. There were shouts and a surge of people toward the wagon but then things seemed to settle and the group moved out of sight on the other side.
Maella licked her lips, wishing there was time for a drink of water but not daring to move from her position on the sand. Something ant-like crawled off the sand and onto her hand. She hoped it wouldn’t bite her. Several years’ worth of wages was buried underneath them. Their future, their health, their hopes.
Dev tried to make conversation as long minutes passed but nobody took the bait. Like Maella, the other torchlighters were grim-faced and tense.
When Deep returned, a torchlighter limping against her for support, she showed a big smile on her face. “Did you miss me?”
“What happened to him?” Dev asked, a wry note in his voice.
“Oh, Chucko here sprained an ankle sprinting in the sand. It is like he has never run on ground before,” Deep said, a laugh in her words.
“I cannot remember ever needing to. I was always running the pipes,” Chucko said, sheepish.
“Then sand should be easy.” Deep helped Chucko to a seat and looked at Maella. “You can go back now. There won’t be any more trouble for a while.”
“What did you do?” Maella said, wonder in her voice. She shook the ant off her hand and it vanished in the air. She pictured Deep and the torchlighters somehow fighting off the entire mob, but there would have been some sort of evidence of a fight and there was only Chucko’s sprained ankle.
“I let them search the wagon,” Deep said, smiling a toothy grin.
“What?” Maella said, shocked. “But Veda—”
Senta came up and collapsed to the ground, sweat dripping down her face. She leaned back into the shade of the wheel. “She only let them in one by one.” The other torchlighters joined her. Closing her eyes, she buried her hands in the sand. “We all stood guard at the door and said anyone could look for as long as they pleased, but that Veda Loor was allowed to use her cane on anyone who didn’t handle the stacks respectfully. The first guy went all right and called out to the rest that there was nothing of value.”
“Veda Loor went off on that one right good. Nothing of value?” Deep mimicked Veda Loor’s voice exactly. “Young man, I will have you know that everything in this wagon is priceless. Absolutely priceless. I demand you WASH YOUR HANDS again before touching that next stack.”
Senta giggled.
“Senta?” Maella said, shocked. “Why are you laughing? Things could have—”
“Veda Loor was amazing,” Senta said, still smiling. She opened her eyes and looked at Maella. “And I am free of the tower and all of it feels good.”
“You’re welcome?” Maella said.
Senta looked at her strangely.
“Sorry, it’s something Claritsa would have said,” Maella said.
“No, you are right. I should thank you,” Senta said.
“But it was the second searcher who really got the piss taken out of him,” Deep continued, as if there had been no interruption. “After he dared to touch a stack of papers before washing his hands, Veda Loor worked him over real good with her cane. And nobody came to his aid because the idiot had been told twice what to do, plus the first guy had already said there was nothing.” Deep leaned back, hands intertwined behind her head and closed her eyes as if to nap. “And after that, things broke up real fast and people went their separate ways.”
“For now,” Senta said, her earlier excitement draining away and returning to her normal soberness.
“For now,” Deep said.