Coldmaker(12)

I kept my head down and watched the parade of fancy Noble feet pass under my eyes. I spotted shoes with fine glass clasps, shoes with polished leather, shoes decorated with petrified scarabs, and even a large pair I could have sworn had a few Wisps concealed in the heel.

Wisps.

My mind shot back to the Idea. If I could have turned around and slammed my head against the wall to banish the thought, I would have. Pursuing such a thing would be like begging for the Vicaress to pierce my innards with her fiery blade.

As the day passed, Arch Road had become filled with hordes of High Nobles, all looking for ways to rid themselves of their fortunes. Purses swung low with amounts of Cold which could keep my entire barracks alive for weeks. Jadans ran about too, keeping themselves pressed against the city’s walls and alleyways, their errand tokens raised above their heads. The three taskmasters stomping along the end of Arch Road kept their heads constantly raised, looking out for any breaches of Street rules.

Bell four rang out, and right on cue my Noblewoman began approaching. I recognized her by her pudgy ankles that didn’t quite fit into her rare mahogany sandals. That extent of her girth was a sign of status so high I assumed she might be on speaking terms with the Crier himself.

I wanted to puff my chest out with pride, having earned her exactly what she wanted. And not only that, but I’d acquired the fan by doing something I would normally have begged to do.

I could already hear Jadanmaster Geb’s praise in my ears.

Until the strangled feet stopped under my nose, and the legs went stiff.

‘I said red, you little shit! Red! Red! Red!’ the Noblewoman screeched, voice shriller than nails on glass. ‘Red! Are your eyes as worthless as your people?’

I seized up, nearly dropping the fan. My stomach tightened, knowing what I was in for. This was one of those Noblewomen.

‘Taskmaster!’ the woman yelled, spinning side to side, pudge on her neck jiggling. ‘Taskmaster!’

I fumbled in my pocket for the parchment she’d stained with the lip grease, keeping it in my hand for proof. I knew better than to argue, but I could still hope that Jadanmaster Geb would get here before a taskmaster, and see the truth.

Her ankles disappeared further out onto the street, leaving my line of my vision. ‘Taskmasters! Right now! This Jadan has wronged me! Tears to my ancestors, I’ve been wronged!’

I tried to swallow away my fear, but my throat was too dry. Foot traffic in the street slowed as many of the Nobles readied themselves for the entertainment. The jangle of Closed Eye necklaces reached my ears as onlookers held the shut lids in my direction. The three taskmasters began to race down the street, excited to get to play with their whips, but they were all stopped short.

‘May I ask what the problem is, madam?’ Jadanmaster Geb’s green shoes stepped into view.

‘You don’t look like a taskmaster,’ the High Noblewoman said after a pause, a sneer in her voice.

‘Ah. This truism resonates well, as I am a Jadanmaster,’ replied Geb calmly. ‘And I am in efficiency and disciplinary charge of the slaves on Arch Road.’

‘You look more suited to be in charge of pretty sun-dresses.’ She tittered. ‘Although with skin that dark, maybe Jadans do suit you even better.’

‘I can assure you, madam, that I am High Noble. Now again, what seems to be the problem?’ he asked, ignoring both slights. There was a distinct crispness to his tone. Geb was quite adept at recognizing those who threw fits just to stave off boredom.

‘I told it to get me a red one!’ Her words were full of self-righteous pain. It was almost as if I’d stolen her child and tried to raise it as a Jadan. ‘Does that look like red to you?’

Geb’s shoes turned towards me. I couldn’t plead my case, so I made sure to hold the parchment stain-side out.

‘On first viewing of this parchment I find that the stain is clearly pink,’ Geb replied, understanding my intention. ‘And exquisitely matches the colour of the fan. A magnificent find.’

‘I know, but I said—’

‘The stain is decidedly pink,’ Geb repeated calmly. ‘Is this parchment what you gave Spout as a basis for the errand?’

‘I don’t know where it got that!’ The lie was delivered with such force that for a moment even I almost believed her. ‘Now I want punishment. Get me a real taskmaster with a whip!’

The three taskmasters inched their way forward, but Jadanmaster Geb outranked them, and when he gave them a halting raise of his palm, they stopped. He pulled out a piece of parchment that I recognized as a writ of return. ‘I’ll have Spout exchange it at once.’

‘No.’ The High Noblewoman’s feet waddled my way and the fan and token were snatched from my hands. The impatient Sunlight smashed into my face. ‘I don’t have time for that. The ball is at bell six and I need it now. This Jadan leech has wasted two of my Shivers!’ – another lie – ‘And if I have to suffer for its idiocy then so does it. Punishment.’

A pause and a sigh. ‘What is it you wish?’

‘I want him in the Procession.’

Dread flooded through me, making me go weak at the knees.

‘The Procession is only for Jadans who break one of the first three Street rules,’ Jadanmaster Geb said with calm authority. ‘This … infraction doesn’t qualify. How about a more appropriate punishment?’