Mama Jana stopped at her giant Khatclock with the Closed Eye for a face. Even though the huge timekeeper was a beautiful display of craftsmanship, I’d never paid it much mind. Besides the giant timepiece being a looming symbol of Jadan inferiority, it was also broken, its two hands forever stiff. The Khatclock only ever pointed in one direction, straight up. Mama Jana had never asked me to take a look inside the machine to see if I could get the gears and cogs working, and so I’d never offered.
‘Wait here,’ she said, eyes already planning her route back through the dark shop. She threw the bag of soiled clothes at Cam’s feet. ‘And say nothing.’
I gave my friends a confused look, which was returned by a helpless shrug from Cam, and a perplexing smile from Shilah.
Mama Jana careened around the room gathering things with the swiftness of a wraith. Darkness nor clutter were able to stop her. She gathered clothes, waterskins, velvet bags of Cold, assorted vials, and a compass. Last she grabbed the half-empty basket of figs, balancing it in the palm of her hand. Another series of horn blasts sounded outside and my stomach seized up.
I ran my fingers against the smooth bronze metal of the Coldmaker, my nails scraping along the engraved Opened Eye I’d carved with a hammer and chisel. The machine was small enough to fit in my arms, but still quite heavy, as it was made mostly of dense bronze. It also walled in a whole Frost, and was filled with salt water, two of the main components that made the invention work. Jadan tears were dropped onto the Frost inside, which caused a visceral reaction at the catch-point. I didn’t know exactly why it worked that way, but the machine’s presence bestowed me with strength and kept me from having a breakdown; so even if it weighed more than a whole caravan cart, I would have found a way to keep it by my side.
Mama Jana reappeared as fast as she had gone, shoving the basket of figs into Cam’s hands and the bags of supplies into mine. ‘Free of charge. My first flock in so long.’
‘Mama Jana, what’s—’
She put a hand to her lips, cutting me off and giving me a stern look. ‘No. Talking.’
I nodded, hearing every rapid beat of my heart in my ears. Shilah looked far too calm considering the circumstances, as if none of this surprised her. Cam at least looked as lost as I did, as he was drenched in sweat, and squirming with a hand over his stomach as if he was about to spew.
Mama Jana pulled back the glass face of the Khatclock and took hold of the spindly hands. Before doing anything else, she gave me a look, as though she’d been waiting on this moment for some time.
‘North.’ Mama Jana nodded, and then spun the hands one full rotation. ‘The March is always North.’
As the Khatclock’s hands completed their circle, the entire Closed Eye face opened with a faint click, revealing a startling display of strange writing beneath the mechanical lid. The whole clock swung forwards, revealing a hidden hole that was lit faintly by a distant flickering light. The dark corridor led to descending stairs not unlike the ones in Leroi’s study, and brought with it a frightful sense of dread, reminding me what had happened last time we took one of these secret passageways.
Mama Jana put a hand on my back and gently nudged me along, handing me the soiled clothes to take with us. ‘Go, children. I’ll seal you in and hold them off as long as I can. It’s airtight, so those foul beasts shouldn’t be able to smell you. Remember, the March is always North. Follow the signs, and when you get to the shack, ask for Split the Pedlar. He probably won’t answer to Shepherd any more. Now, hurry!’
I went to spin around, but Mama Jana’s arms were stronger than I remembered. ‘Wait, what March?’
‘The Coldmarch,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder at the front door.
Cam gasped, sucking in a breath so fast he almost choked. ‘It’s real?’
Mama Jana licked her cracked lips, her eyes feverish and crazed. ‘It used to be real. And I guess it is again. Now take these words with you if you can. Hold on. Okay, let me remember. Shemma hares lah …’ She stopped, her tongue rolling on the roof of her mouth, struggling to find the next part. ‘Shemma hares lahyim her— no, that’s not it.’ She flexed her gnarled hands with frustration. ‘It’s been a while. Let me get the Book of the March.’
I clutched the Coldmaker more tightly against my side and offered: ‘Shemma hares lahyim criyah Meshua ris yim slochim.’
From the look of shock, I thought Mama Jana was about to faint.
‘My father told them to me,’ I explained.
The sharp memories of Abb made me bite down on my tongue, and I might have drawn blood.
Mama Jana composed herself with a sigh, but her words moved quickly. ‘Fitting for such a name. Now go. There’s still a lantern burning, and candles. Take the lantern with you, you’ll need it. Move with caution as there are certain dangers down there. Eat the lizards if you must. You’ll find water eventually. What am I forgetting? Hmm. I was just down there … don’t stop, even if you hear my voice behind you …’ The circles under her eyes deepened. ‘I’ve not broken yet, but the Vicaress has certain ways.’
‘The Coldmarch is real,’ Cam said to himself, looking quite flustered. ‘I can’t believe it. My father always said “If the Khat can’t find it, it’s not real.”’
Mama Jana said nothing, just made another shooing motion, brushing us towards the dark.
I rifled through my bag until I found one of the loose Abbs, handing it over.
She took the Abb gently, holding it up against the bit of light trickling in from the passageway. ‘What it is, Spout?’
‘Put a slice of it in water and tell as many people as you can,’ I said, keeping my voice hushed so she wouldn’t yell at me.
Mama Jana gave me a curious look, but the horn calls were explosive now, even through the walls of the shop. She finally brushed us through the threshold and swung the Khatclock back in place, sealing us away.
Grabbing the lantern from the bottom of the stairs, I lifted it high so we might get our bearings. Glancing back at the Khatclock, I found the space now to be one solid wall, not even a single crack where a horn or a shout might pass through. I knew there had to be a way to slip back into the shop, but I found no sign of a knob or release, and from Mama Jana’s tone it didn’t sound like she intended for us even to try.
Spinning around, I let the light shine down the empty corridor that stretched deep into the earth. The passageway was wide enough to accommodate us if we walked in single file, the walls so smooth they almost looked wet. The air tasted strange in my mouth, and not just because of our collective rosemusk bath. I smacked my dry lips. The air was so much cooler than back up in the shop, but I saw nothing in the way of Cold Bellows. The temperature must have been natural.
The passage took a sharp turn left after about ten paces, cutting off sight to whatever lay beyond.
Cam put his forehead against the clay wall, closing his eyes and taking a moment before speaking. ‘It’s real. I knew it.’
‘You know what this place is?’ I asked, feeling rather childish as nightmare images jumped into my mind. I knew I should be thanking the Crier for the incredibly fortunate fact that Mama Jana had a passageway out of her shop, but ever since childhood I’d been bombarded with stories of haunted holes and cracks in the land. Places where the unforgiving spirits lived, bottled up and angry.
Beneath the ground was where the foul creatures lurked, plotting how they might make it up to the surface