‘Cam, stop babbling and talk to me,’ I said carefully.
Lifting himself away from the wall, I thought he might start dancing. He threw his arms wide. ‘Spout, you’re going to change Sun-damned EVERYTHING! And I get to help you!’
‘Keep it down, idiot,’ Shilah snapped at him, pointing to the door.
Cam gave an embarrassed nod, his chest rising and falling with incredible speed.
‘I would have thought you were a true believer when you took us in, Camlish?’ Shilah said with an eyebrow raised, standing in the centre of the chamber with her arms crossed over her chest.
‘Why am I the only confused one?’ I asked. ‘What is the Coldmarch?’
‘I’m surprised you haven’t heard the stories,’ Cam said, standing straight and grabbing at the end of his Opened Eye necklace. ‘I would have thought it would have been pretty common lore in the barracks.’
I shook my head slowly.
‘The Coldmarch,’ Shilah said, stepping up to me and putting a hand on my shoulder. ‘There’s a reason I kept bugging you about leaving the Manor. There’s already a path to Langria.’ She paused, considering something. ‘Or there was.’
‘Hold on,’ I said, needing a moment. ‘Just stop. We don’t know what’s down there. Just … hold on. This tunnel goes all the way to Langria?’
Shilah pointed back up the stairs with an impatient look. ‘Like she said, the Vicaress has her ways of getting information, and I don’t want to be near that clock if the hounds track our scent to the shop. Now come on, I’ll fill you in as we walk.’
‘You told me dozens of stories before we went to sleep on those cots.’ I suddenly felt a tad betrayed. ‘Why wouldn’t you tell me about an existing path to Langria?’
‘Like I told Mama Jana, I’m a girl of my word.’ Shilah kissed her finger and waved it at the sealed entrance in some foreign gesture of gratitude.
Did I really know anything about this girl?
She grabbed the lantern, holding it at arm’s length as she traipsed down the passageway, forcing back shadows.
Cam wiped his single tear from his cheek and held it out towards the Coldmaker, his excitement dipping. ‘I wish you could use it to make Ice. One day the Crier will forgive me.’
I had no idea what to say to such a thing.
‘Maybe one day,’ Cam said again with a hopeful shrug. ‘Maybe I can be chosen, too. A Jadan, like you both.’
Even the finest Inventor in the World Cried couldn’t tinker with someone’s blood, but still I said: ‘I’m sure.’
Shilah kept quiet, but I could see what she burned to say.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘We have to hurry.’
Cam took both the supply bags, the dirty clothes and the basket of figs, not seeming to mind the burden, leaving me to carry only the Coldmaker, which I clutched dearly against my hip.
Shilah led us through the tunnel and I followed last in line, my head swarming with visions and possibilities.
‘The Coldmarch,’ Shilah said, only loud enough for me to get a trace of her words, ‘is a web of stops, stretches, and people along the path North. It’s a journey, not necessarily a place. There were hidden chambers like these run by Jadans and Noble sympathizers all across the Khatdom, set up so they could usher people in secret. Obviously no one could dig out a tunnel all the way from Paphos to Langria, as that would take all the Builders in the world thousands of lifetimes.’ She looked back with a wink. ‘I thought you were smarter than that, Spout.’
The way she said it, playful and wry, didn’t seem to connect, and I had no joke in response. I wasn’t in the mood to joke anyway.
‘Some brilliant Inventor could have come up with a digging machine to do all that work,’ Cam said. ‘I’ve seen some pretty impressive things in the tinkershop.’ He looked back over his shoulder, beaming. ‘That your next invention idea, Spout? I have to say, you’ll need something rather big to follow up’ – he gestured with his elbow to my bag – ‘a miracle.’
‘Flight,’ I said without pause. I expected a pang to strike my heart like a battering ram, but nothing shook. I thought back to my time under Thoth’s wool hat. I wondered what Matty might say if he could see me now, protecting something that could change the world, walking through the dark veins of myth. ‘Flight is next.’
Cam smirked. ‘If anyone can do it, I’d bet my Cold on you.’
‘What Cold?’ Shilah whispered with a scoff. ‘You don’t have any claim to the Abbs.’
‘I brought you the Frost!’ he said.
‘You mean the one that your father stole from the hardworking Patch Jadans?’
‘Wait.’ Cam suddenly stopped short, and I nearly crashed into his back. ‘This is wrong.’
I looked from side to side for talons or teeth. A drunken Levi had once assured our barracks that hounds’ eyes glowed red before the beasts pounced.
Cam shook his head, pressing himself flat against the side of the cave wall. ‘You go in the middle of us, Spout.’
‘Why?’
‘Just do it. You deserve to be in front of me.’
‘No, it’s okay, I can—’
‘Just. Please,’ Cam insisted, pressing himself harder, his face squished against the cool rock.
‘Why?’ I asked.
Shilah sighed from up front. ‘Boys. Hounds.’
‘And maybe worse,’ I said under my breath.
Cam tried to angle his way behind me, sliding along the smooth walls, his loose shirt and bags dragging. I tried to stop him and we did an awkward dance, both of us shimmying backwards.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
‘You’re the most valuable of us,’ Cam said, not meeting my eyes. ‘You stay in the middle. Just in case.’
All of a sudden the Coldmaker felt very heavy.
I didn’t say anything, letting Cam filter around in front of me. He was still balancing the basket of figs in one hand, and I snatched one, shoving it in my mouth and biting down hard, hoping some food might help me feel more normal.
‘Let me at least take the bag of dirty clothes,’ I said between bites.
‘I need to carry them.’ Cam craned his neck so he could see Shilah. ‘This is also for you, you know.’
Shilah kept walking, her back straight as the edge of a knife. ‘Drop the dirty clothes, Camlish. Mama Jana just needed them out of the shop.’
I was surprised how authoritative Shilah could sound. Cam gave a conceding shrug and did as commanded, tossing the bag aside and giving it a frustrated kick as he passed it.
We followed the corridor around a bend and found that the ceiling sloped lower and the walls pinched closer. I’d never had a problem with tight spaces before, but something about being underground made the musty air – cool as it may have been – feel as if it was going to suffocate us. My chest felt tight, and I dug my thumbs into my ribs, trying to loosen the knot.