‘Do you know if the baby Sobek bites can have lasting effects?’ Cam asked.
‘How should I know?’ the gruff voice asked. ‘If you’re smart, you avoid the damned things.’
I blinked again, wiping the water off my face, and three bodies came into focus above. Shilah and Cam were pressed against each other, vying for the spot closest to my side. Cam smiled, giving me a rather sheepish wave. He still hadn’t changed out of the loose fluttering robe and blouse and looked like a green cloud. Shilah was straight-faced and standing tall, but her hand was resting gently on my ankle.
My arm was now covered in a waxy cotton, soaked red all the way through. I imagined Split the Pedlar wasn’t nearly as proficient with needle and gut as my father, whose stitches almost never leaked.
I felt a wave of nausea, and my body spasmed under the weight of falling memories. I whimpered once, but disguised the next sound by sitting up and coughing, keeping my eyes averted. I pressed down hard over the cloth on my wrist and doubled the pain shooting up my arm. This flushed my mind of anything other than pure physical agony.
‘Don’t do that, kid!’ Split demanded. ‘You’ll ruin the stitches! You think this house is made of needle and gut?’
I didn’t listen, pressing even harder, digging my fingernails through the cloth. It was working. After a few more fake coughs my composure returned.
The first thing that I noticed was that the shack was rather dull for a Pedlar. The bare walls were decorated with splinters and flecked paint, and the empty shelves were stocked only with dust. The bed was a simple boilweed mattress, with no sleeping sheet. This was unlike the lavish silk accommodations I imagined all High Nobles slept on. A healing box sat open on the counter – recently rifled through – but I couldn’t see any food in the kitchen.
The one oddity that struck me was the wooden Khatclock in the corner, smaller than Mama Jana’s, but equipped with the same time-locked hands hanging over the Closed Eye face.
Hands that pointed North.
I gave the broken clock a nod, as it told me we were at least in the right place. ‘Are you still a Pedlar?’
Split grunted. ‘Hmm? What’s that?’
‘It’s pretty empty in here.’ I worked my jaw and lifted my face enough finally to get a good look at the man. ‘Did you sell everything you own?’
He crossed his hairy arms, tapping his thumbs against his soft chest. The stout man had the look of someone who could have once picked up his camel, but was now more likely to pick up a plate of cheese. Fair and flabby skin hung loose around his neck, and his belly protruded over his waist. A receding hairline tugged back the top of his head, which was bald and burned red from exposure. Beady eyes were sunken in beside his crooked nose, and his waxen face was chiselled with a deep frown. He wore a hollow sort of sadness I’d seen only once before.
‘I peddle big piles of “you’re alive thanks to me”,’ Split grumbled. ‘So stop asking dumb questions that don’t matter, and get off your ass and let’s get going.’
I had a feeling my friends had yet to show him the Coldmaker.
Cam scowled. ‘Spout is alive because Shilah got so much of the venom out. You even said so yourself.’
Shilah’s cheeks flushed just a little bit darker.
Split waved a dismissive hand. ‘I said she helped. Your sweaty friend here would be a blathering pile of useless meat if not for me. Now let’s cut the chat and get my section of the March over with, before the hounds eat all of our faces off.’
‘Lovely,’ Cam said. ‘Now hold still, Spout, let me check that burn.’
He leaned in and wrapped a hand around the back of my neck. Forehead to forehead, he whispered so low that only I could hear. ‘Don’t use your real name.’
I pondered for an instant and then nodded, deciding it was probably wise. ‘It’s fine,’ I said at normal volume. ‘It doesn’t hurt any more.’
Cam stood up and gave Shilah a secretive wink.
‘I thought you said there was no such thing as the Coldmarch,’ I said to Split, testing the waters.
Split went red. ‘Listen, kid. I don’t know what you think you know, but you basically just left the womb. Maybe you were a really good errand boy in the city, finding colourful parasols on sale in the Market Quarters for ungrateful Nobles’ – he did a fancy twiddle with his fingers and then pointed to Cam – ‘or rushing towels to his bare-butt relatives in their baths, but you’ve never been outside Paphos. This is the Drylands, boy, this is where stupid young Jadans step on baby Sobek lizards, and then they die.’
Cam looked as if he was about to melt under the heat of his own fury, but I found myself drawn to Split, especially after seeing the Droughtweed pit cut into the middle of his floor. The ashes within the charred grey leaves were still smouldering. A small part of me wished just a bit of the smoke would waft my way and help ease both the burning in my throat and the stabbing in my wrist.
Split followed my eyes, his face getting even darker. ‘You going to judge the High Noble who just saved your life? You know what, I don’t care if you knew the sacred words, or that you were picked by Mama Jana, I don’t have to—’
I waved him off with a bleak smile. ‘I’m not judging. You and I are kin. Broken kin.’
Split huffed, but his face softened a bit. Tiny red lines cut the whites of his eyes, and his fingers absently scratched at his thigh. I never got so dependent that I scratched, but I knew plenty who did.
‘How’s your arm, Spout?’ Shilah asked, cutting in and gently holding the back of my hand.
‘I’m okay,’ I lied, the whole left side of my body throbbing. ‘Is the Coldmake—’
Shilah shook her head, cutting me off. ‘Yes. The World Crier has been watching over us.’
‘World Crier,’ Split said with a huff, and then clapped his hands. ‘Yeah, there’s a chuckle. Now let’s get this over with. And I hope you know I’m only in charge of taking you to the next stop on the March. Did Mama Jana tell you that? The flock always get passed to another Shepherd at Gilly’s, so I’m not responsible for you once we get there.’ Then he grumbled under his breath. ‘Just letting you know now, there ain’t going to be any other Shepherds left. But that’s your problem, not mine.’
‘You’re still a Shepherd,’ Cam pointed out.
Split kept scratching, the other thigh this time. ‘You forced my hand.’
I brought my wounded wrist against my chest and pointed to the Coldmaker bag in the corner, looking at Cam. ‘I assume you waited to show him our supplies?’
‘You sure he needs to know about our supplies?’ Shilah asked pointedly.
Cam nodded. ‘Up to Spout. It’s his miracle.’
Shilah tensed up at the declaration, her face turning sour.
Split looked about as confused as you could get, his thick face going red. ‘What miracle you blathering about? Miracle that you’re alive? That’s not a miracle. That’s a decrease in my healing supplies. Which Mama Jana is going to pay for, by the way.’
‘He should know about it,’ I said to my friends, deciding to take the gamble. Our secret was too powerful to hide anyway. I wanted the world to know. I wanted every Jadan and every Noble to know the truth that would set us all free.
Cam hesitated before reaching into the bag, and then he tossed me one of the Abbs.
‘S’that gold?’ Split said, finally a hint of interest in his face. ‘You know it’s customary to give something of value to your Shepherd.’