‘Well, I imagine you never been on the Coldmarch before,’ Split said, looking away, his fingers scratching harder at his leg. ‘And also you’re not allowed to look at me, girl. Not for the whole trip. That’s got to be part of the deal.’
Shilah raised an eyebrow.
‘May I have a cup of water, please?’ I asked Split with a blank face, even though my heart was pounding.
‘More water?’ Split asked, glancing at the Khatclock. ‘You think I’m made of Wisps?’
‘You did destroy our supplies with an arrow,’ Cam said. ‘And you’re a High Noble. Which, as we both know, comes with a weekly stipend from the Pyramid. So technically yes, you are made of Wisps.’
‘Just water, please, Split,’ I said, shooting Cam a disapproving look. ‘No Cold.’
Split went still and then grumbled something about a well behind the shack. Grabbing a bucket coiled with rope, he barrelled through the front door and kicked it closed behind him.
I went to open my mouth, but Shilah cut me off. ‘You sure you want to show him what our machine can do?’ She pointed to the nook in the centre of the floor, a haze of smoke still rising. ‘You can’t trust Droughtweed.’
‘You still have that knife?’ I asked.
Shilah tapped her thigh.
‘I trust you to keep us safe,’ I said. I tried to stand up, but I was still a little woozy. ‘Keep it close.’
Cam came over and helped me to my feet. ‘What do you think of the name Mordechiah?’
Maybe it was the lingering Sobek poison, but I couldn’t follow. ‘Mordechiah?’
‘For your fake name,’ Cam said, peeking through the healing box on the table. ‘It still starts with an “M” so it’ll be easy to remember.’
The old me would have laughed, but all of a sudden the pain in my wrist was extraordinary.
‘No!’ I spat, my stomach stewing with something thick and sour. ‘No.’
Cam’s head dropped. ‘Sorry, I just—’
‘No,’ I said, holding up my wrist. ‘It’s just really painful. And I think I’ll stick with Spout.’
‘Spout’s a nickname, though,’ Cam said, lifting his eyes just a bit. ‘What if he asks your real name?’
‘Clearly Split is a nickname too,’ Shilah said. ‘But I think that kind of stuff must have been common on the Coldmarch. Fake names and disguises.’
Cam shrugged, a bit of colour returning to his cheeks. ‘So you think Split’s going to faint when he sees the Ice?’
‘Maybe,’ I said, looking around again at the bareness of the shack, nursing my wrist against my chest. ‘What do you think he used to peddle?’
Shilah was over by the Khatclock now, tapping at the glass. ‘Probably Droughtweed. Lots of profit in addiction.’
Cam gestured around at the bare walls and decrepit ceiling. ‘This shack doesn’t exactly scream Cold.’
Shilah continued to tap on the face of the Khatclock, the glass nearly silent against the calloused pads of her fingers. ‘You think this leads to some secret tunnel as well?’
‘Just think,’ Cam said with a smirk, pocketing a vial of groan salve. ‘When Spout figures out how to fly, we won’t need tunnels. We can just fly Jadans to Langria. We’ll call it the Coldfly.’
I gave him a warm smile. ‘The Coldfly.’
Shilah gave a light snort, reaching for the latch on the glass face.
Just then Split burst in, boiling water sloshing over the rim of his bucket. ‘Hands off that clock, girl!’
Shilah didn’t startle, but she slowly took her hand away and folded her arms across her chest. ‘My name’s Shilah. Not girl.’
Split’s face went blank as he turned away. ‘Fine. Whatever. I don’t want you to leave your scent on the glass.’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘Because of the hounds.’
Shilah bared her teeth, giving a low growl.
I knew she was joking, but Split looked poised to pick up the crossbow.
‘Split,’ I said. ‘I’ll just take the whole bucket of water if you don’t mind.’
Split looked to Cam, who was still lingering by the healing box, the Pedlar’s eyes narrowing. ‘You going to pay me back for all this Cold I’m wasting on your Jadans?’
‘You can’t waste Cold on Jadans,’ Cam said with a scowl, crossing his arms over his blouse. ‘And by the way, you should prepare yourself for quite the opposite.’
Split shook his head with disdain, even the stubble on his cheeks looked a bit darker. ‘You get bit by a Sobek too, boy? Crawled in your ear and nibbled on your brain?’
I gestured for the bucket.
The Pedlar grumbled, thrusting it over. The steaming water sloshed onto my foot, but since the underground water always ran cooler than in the boiling rivers, it didn’t raise blisters.
‘Close your eyes,’ Split demanded. ‘All of you.’
‘Sorry?’ Cam asked. ‘I thought that was just Shilah who wasn’t allowed to look at you during the March.’
Split was redder than any alder paint now. ‘I don’t want you to know where my Cold is hidden, boy! In case the Vicaress catches you and tortures you. Damn the damned Khat, he doesn’t need my Cold. A man should always die with a few secrets.’
‘Like I said, I don’t need Cold,’ I said, letting the anticipation build. ‘I have what I need.’
Split sighed, rubbing his temples. ‘A mad flock. And I thought two boys was going to be obstacle enough.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Cam asked.
Split huffed, wiping away a little leftover grey ash from under his nose. ‘You obviously don’t know much about the Coldmarch, Tavor.’
‘Never mind that.’ I asked the Pedlar as seriously as I could, ‘What do you believe?’
Split’s beady eyes narrowed even further. ‘In regards to?’
‘Everything,’ I said simply.
‘A mad flock,’ Split muttered again, rubbing the sides of his head.
‘We’re the best flock you’ve ever had,’ Cam said, still indignant.
Shilah tapped at the Khatclock glass once more.
‘Don’t do that!’ Split chided.
Shilah turned around with a glare. There was a plan in her eyes.
I waved my friends off, needing them to be still. This was going to be the first time a stranger witnessed what my machine could do.
‘What do you believe?’ I asked Split softly again, holding my palm over the bucket, the Abb ready to fall in the water. I didn’t relish the idea of wasting a full golden bead, but the Pedlar’s trust and obedience was equally as important.
‘About the World Cried?’ I continued. ‘About the Khatdom? About the Jadans? You don’t call us slaves, not like most High Nobles. What do you believe?’
Split paused, gathering a huge breath in his ruddy face. Everything inside the shack went quiet enough that I could hear Picka braying gently outside in the stable, knocking