Tomaaz laid the girl near Half Hand, at the mercy of the crows and rats. He slipped the waterskin out of her shirt and under his jerkin, waving flies off the girl’s face. Yesterday he’d been horrified at the flesh pile, but now, seeing and smelling death felt normal.
It scared him. He was losing himself.
The tharuk at the rat pile laughed when Tomaaz turned up. “Dumb human. No shovel. Forget to feed the beast? It will be hungry. Might eat you.”
Hands full of rats, Tomaaz traipsed back along the valley to see Ma.
The beast was deep in shadow and ignored the rats he threw at the cave mouth. Tomaaz shrugged and went to Ma, wiping his hands on his filthy breeches. The eye was watching at the hole in the wall. Once again, it winked, then the beast’s chain rattled and it moved away.
Had it really stood guard over Ma the whole time he’d been gone? He must be going crazy.
He managed to rouse Ma, sitting her against the cavern wall. Softening the bread with water, he fed it to her and gave Ma clear-mind to counteract the tainted water. Then he ate his own bread.
“How are you feeling?”
“A bit better, but still tired. Thank you, Tomaaz.” Ma’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ve failed Zaarusha. I never found her son.”
§
Standing near Tomaaz above the ditch, a littling was scraping loose dirt into a pail with her tiny hands. Her efforts were pathetic—she dropped more than she filled—but if she stopped work, she’d feel the lash. Slack-jawed, a woman with one ear watched the littling. Her mother? It was hard to tell when everyone’s faces were grimy and their eyes gray.
Tomaaz swung his pickax, hitting the dark dirt of the latrine pit. Sewage gushed into the ditch. His gut roiled. He was never going to get the stench out of his throat.
Suddenly, the littling was hanging over the sewage ditch. Her fingers scrabbling, she slipped lower. Tomaaz lunged for her arms, but the littling slithered through his hands, plunging into the sewage. The muck closed over her head, suffocating her. With a wail, the woman shoved past him and threw herself in, choking as she submerged. Tomaaz reached out, but a whip cracked, biting into his shoulder.
568 towered over him, whip poised for another strike, as the sludge-covered bodies were swept toward the pit.
Tomaaz wanted to snatch the whip off 568 and thrash every tharuk in sight, but Lovina’s family story flashed to mind: her father had died retaliating against tharuks.
If he died now, no one could rescue Ma. He slumped to the ground, forcing himself to let the tension drain from his body. Numb with shock, Tomaaz sat staring until tharuk 568 cracked the lash overhead, driving their crew over to dig the next ditch.
§
Tomaaz thought he was used to death, but the revolting images played over and over in his mind all day—first the littling, then the mother. He should’ve been faster. Should’ve lunged further. Or jumped in. Now they were dead. Gods, he hated this place.
Shoulder still sore, he slurped his evening gruel, spitting out a weevil, and managed to surreptitiously snag another crust of bread for Ma from the mining crew’s lunch barrel. There was a chill in the air tonight. He had to get her a blanket. But how? No one was near the sleeping sheds, so he couldn’t just wander in and get one. And with trackers about, he didn’t like his chances of sneaking out tonight. He gazed up at the gray sky. Was it actually gray? Or was it just that stinking mist coloring the air?
Shambling to his feet, Tomaaz collected his shovel and went to feed the beast.
When he reached the caverns, the beast was at the hole in the wall again, watching over Ma. It gave him the creeps. Was it protecting her or observing prey? Whatever it was, it was intelligent. After eating the clear-mind berries off his spade, it retreated.
He woke Ma. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” She gave him a weary smile.
He passed her the bread and sat quietly as she ate and sipped from the waterskin.
“Bad day?”
He nodded. “The carnage here makes me sick.”
“Zens has gotten worse.”
He nodded. “I have a calling stone. Pa will expect me to talk to him near sunset.” Soon. What if Pa was dead? He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. “What happened to your head?”
“Zens.” She shrugged. “I knew if I didn’t do something he’d torture me to find your identities and kill everyone I loved.”
“So, you took piaua berries?”
“That way I still had a chance of being found.” She squeezed his hand.
“And your arm?”
“I hurt that on the way here.” She winced. “Sometimes, we can’t fix everything, Tomaaz.”
“I know. I wish—” Clenching a fist, he punched the wall. The ache in his fingers felt good. It should hurt, being here day after day, watching people die. “Everything in this forsaken valley is gray. The people, the food, the air, their faces, their corpses … and the way I feel inside.”
Ma chewed on her lump of bread.
“If only I could do something to get out of here.”
“You can,” she said. “Speak to Pa, then I’ll tell you where they hid my rucksack.”
Ezaara
Ezaara and Roberto sped across the orchard on Zaarusha and Erob. They’d just been kissing in the orchard. Forbidden kisses. Still officially her dragon master, Roberto could be banished to the Robandi Wastelands for kissing her.
He’d been banished before, and captured by the Robandi assassins in the Wastelands. She’d gone to save him. They’d come back
