The Girl and the Stars. Mark Lawrence
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nobody stormed off in a temper. The wind would cool you down quicker than you liked, and if your anger took you out of view then you might never find your way back.
Thurin shrugged. ‘I have things to prove before they let me back.’
‘Back?’ Quina went to take a sleeping place not far from Thurin’s.
Thurin said nothing, only lay down and turned away. Maya went to take a place near the door.
‘Not that one,’ Kao said, looming over her.
Maya moved to another, and Kao scowled at her retreat. Yaz watched, wondering that someone so large would feel the need to push a small girl around. Kao could have made an issue of Thurin laughing at him, if he wanted a fight, but there was something haunting that one’s eyes that might give a mad dog pause.
Taking a pallet a good distance from Kao’s Yaz settled herself down. ‘I’m going to find my brother and rescue him from the Tainted.’ She said it with more confidence than she felt and looked through the gloom at the shapeless heap that was Thurin.
‘If you see him you should run,’ the heap replied.
‘Arka told me that the rest are not as bad as Hetta,’ Yaz said. ‘They don’t eat people.’
‘Let them catch you and you’ll wish they had eaten you.’ A long silence. ‘Theus is worse than Hetta. Much worse.’
It was as if Thurin were daring her to ask. She held her tongue. She wasn’t sure if it was pride that kept her lips sealed. Or maybe it was just knowing that since she had to go after Zeen it was better she didn’t hear anything which might make it harder to leave.
Thurin told her anyway. ‘Theus has a plan. He leads them. All of them. Even Hetta is scared of Theus. He’s looking for something in the black ice. Been looking for it a long time. A very long time.’
‘Who is he? What tribe? How old is he?’ The man had taken her brother. Yaz found herself needing to know, however bad it might be.
Thurin didn’t speak for a while and the barracks seemed to hold its breath, as if the others were listening too and feared to betray themselves.
‘Theus is as old as the body he wears. When I first saw him he was wearing Gossix, a boy I used to know.’
‘Wearing?’ Yaz shuddered. She could only think of a flayed skin, just as the Ictha wore the skin of mole-fish, the hides of tuark, and seal furs traded from the Triple Seas far to the south. ‘None of the tribes would—’
‘Theus is not of the tribes.’ Thurin’s voice fell to a whisper, haunted with memory. ‘He comes from the ice itself.’ He seemed about to say more but the door burst open and light flooded in, chasing shadows to the corners.
‘On your feet, drop-group!’ Pome stood, revealed in the light of his own star.
He watched, hard-faced, as they stood, Thurin last of all, favouring him with a dark look.
‘Inspection time.’ Pome strode in between them. ‘Let’s see what sorry excuses we’ve been given this time.’
Maya shrank away from the star as Pome waved it past her on the end of its iron rod. Pome swung back to Kao by the doorway. ‘Big fellow, eh? Golin?’
Kao nodded.
‘I should have been leader of this drop-group,’ Pome said. ‘But Tarko has his politics to play. In the end though, drop-groups aren’t here or there. You come sit with us sometime, down at the Green Shack, and I’ll tell you how things are under the ice. The Broken are listening to me these days and they like what I’m saying. Tarko has me marked for great things.’
Kao nodded and Yaz found herself starting to nod too. She stopped. There was nothing she liked about this young man: not his attitude, the things he said, or the way his gaze slid over her, and yet somehow his words had been carrying her along with them.
‘Get out, Pome.’ Thurin spat. ‘Take your pretty lies with you.’
Pome curled his lip in annoyance and strode towards Thurin, thrusting his star before him. ‘Was that you talking, Taint? Or did you let a demon take your tongue again?’
Thurin backed from the starlight, shielding his face as if it were a fierce heat.
‘See?’ Pome looked back at the rest of them. ‘The Tainted can’t stand the stars. The light is what keeps us safe.’ He glanced at Kao. ‘Never go where it’s dark, boy. Not down here. They’ll have you in a moment.’
‘Yessir.’ Kao gulped and nodded.
Pome turned and jabbed his star at Thurin, who was pressed to the back wall now. The light made him gasp as if in pain, forcing him to slide into the corner on his rear.
‘Stop that!’ Yaz found herself moving forward. However convincing Pome’s words felt, she didn’t like what he was doing one bit.
‘Or you’ll stop me?’ Pome swung round, thrusting his star at her chest.
Yaz squinted down to where the star blazed against her mole-fish skins, brighter even than before. It was just light though, no heat, no pain. The star gave off a faint sound, like the strains of a distant song, with a rapid beat beneath it. ‘You should leave.’
Pome frowned and jabbed the star against her. He looked puzzled.
‘Pome!’ It was Arka at the doorway. ‘Get out here.’
Pome’s face tightened. He forced a smile over gritted teeth and left without saying anything more.
‘Are you all right?’ Yaz tilted her head, not sure if she should offer Thurin her hand to help him rise. Outside, Arka and Pome’s raised voices diminished into the distance.
‘Fine.’ Thurin got to his feet, not looking at Yaz or her half-offered hand. He brushed himself down and went to his bed.
Thurin didn’t speak again until they were all settling to sleep. ‘People think Pome’s special because he can withstand the stars, but that’s not why he’s dangerous. He’s dangerous because his words get under your skin. Listen to him too long and you start believing what he says. And if he doesn’t manage to hook you that way then watch out for the ones he does hook.’
Sleep took an age to find Yaz. Imagination chased her through her exhaustion. Strangers’ eyes watched her from tainted faces, laden with malice. At last she turned her thoughts from Thurin’s words only to rediscover the unsettling warmth, the dampness in the air – something she knew only from the Hot Sea – the irregular splat of meltwater drops falling upon the roof, the distant groaning of the ice always on the move. All of it conspired to keep her dreams away and instead her mind replayed the events of the pit and the screaming rush of her fall, over and over.
Yaz lay in the gloom staring at the roof above her. In her whole life this was the first time she had tried to sleep anywhere but within her family tent. She needed the constant complaint of the wind against the hides. She needed her father’s growling snore building to the familiar snort then temporary silence. She needed the cold and the knowledge that Zeen and her mother pressed her, hide-wrapped, to either side. Yaz thought of her mother then and a tear ran from the corner of her eye. What must it be like in the tent now with just the two of them in all that space? Father, grim-faced, hands in fists upon his lap, knuckles white. Mother, proud, her face carved by the endless wind, iron in her long dark hair, eyes as pale as the wastes. Four years ago she had two sons and a daughter. Now they were gone. Would her pride still carry her over the ruin of her family? A second tear rolled after the first.
Finally Yaz dozed, woken periodically by a gnawing hunger, not helped by regular gurgles from Kao’s stomach. Hunger reminded her that however suicidal her mind might have been in throwing her down the Pit of the Missing, her body intended to live and was demanding that she look after its needs or things would go hard on her.
When a dark shape crept past her Yaz imagined that whoever it was was heading for the distant