The Hanging City (20)

“An almanac.”

My breath catches. My father had almanacs. I already know what lies within—

“It’s old, but it dates the seasons, sunrise and sunset, the like,” Wiln explains, unable to hear the whirring of my speeding thoughts. “Also includes the night, of course. Star charts and comets, if you’re interested.”

“Yes. Yes!” I hug the book to my chest. “Oh, yes, thank you! I’ll copy everything I can out of it and return it to you.” A passing human glances at me—I hadn’t realized how loud I’d been speaking. “I’ll take good care of it.”

Wiln is about the same age my father would be, and when I realize that, a sudden image comes to me. Not of sitting, invisible and quiet, in a shadowy corner of the immaculate office of my father, Ottius Thellele, waiting for his gesture to shrivel a man, but of sitting on that little stool in front of me, handing Wiln the tools he needs to build or fix or invent, sharing quiet jokes and warm smiles. Hearing his advice and talking about almanacs. The very idea raises gooseflesh on my arms.

Wiln chuckles. “I’m sure you’ll be kinder to it than I have.” He spies someone over my shoulder. “Is it working?”

I step aside to see a man of about forty approaching with a pocket watch. “It was until I dropped it.”

“Let me take a look.” Wiln extends his hand, and I retreat, allowing him to work. I thumb through the almanac, finding a cluster of information on the heavens near the back. Anything I can learn from this, anything at all, I will cherish forever.

I should probably make my way back; there’s little to explore here. But I don’t get far before I hear my name.

“Lark.”

It’s cool and calm as autumn wind. I turn and see Colson leaning against one of the piles supporting the roof. A boy stands near him, likely in his later teens, though he’s small in stature.

“Hello.” Colson’s chilly disposition douses my enthusiasm, and I hug the almanac a little closer.

He dips his head toward his companion. “This is Etewen. How are you finding Cagmar?”

Colson’s question gives me hope that he’s warming up to me. Not everyone accepts strangers as easily as Ritha and Wiln have. “Well enough. I still use a map to find my way around. And I’m getting the timing of the shift changes as well.”

“Good.” Colson folds his arms across his chest. “You’ll need to know how to rearrange your tasks to avoid a whipping.”

My spine turns cold. “Whipping?” I think of his bruised face days before, though the markings have nearly faded.

“I heard what Wiln said,” he goes on. “We’re not slaves, sure. But they have a task force ’specially for monitoring us. Keeping us in line. Make sure we’re contributing. If we’re not contributing to their liking, we’re reminded of our place. They have prison cells here for a reason, though some trolls just like to remind you they’re bigger than you.”

I hadn’t been told about this. I glance at Etewen. “Truly?”

“You think I’m lying?” Colson pushes off the pile.

“Grodd is the worst of them,” Etewen murmurs. He shifts uncomfortably, like he’s hurt, and I wonder if he’s been beaten recently. The name on his lips makes my stomach sink.

“The big gray one?” I say. “Montra?”

Colson looks surprised. “So you’ve met him.”

Only briefly, thank goodness. “Only in passing.”

Colson considers me before shrugging. “It isn’t all bad. On fifth days we congregate in the back of the schoolyard and catch up. Play a few games we remember from . . . before.”

Etewen scratches his cheek.

I perk up. “Today is fifth day.”

Colson offers a small smile. It makes him look so much more approachable, and I find myself relaxing. “It is, if you want to come. Some of the trolls don’t like it, so we have to start late. Around the twenty-second hour.”

I’m usually in bed by then, to ensure I’ll get plenty of sleep for my shifts, but the longer I’m in Cagmar, the more I ache for a friend, a confidant. The more I wish for someone like Finnie or Andru. “I’ll be there.” I pull out my map and search for the school.

Etewen and Colson exchange a glance. “I guess you’re still new,” Colson says, and points east. “Four levels down that way, right of the X, which sits just below the Mid-divide. Eastmost side.”

“I’ll find it.” I can’t hide my grin. I’ll be able to introduce myself to so many others, and possibly find comradery with Colson, since we’re close in age. “Thank you. I’m excited to get to know you all.”

He looks up, and I follow his gaze to a clock on the ceiling, its gears exposed. He curses. “I have to go. See you tonight.” He pushes past the throng, making his way for the exit. Duty in the mines, no doubt.

To Etewen, I ask, “Will you be all right on your own?”

He shrugs, then winces. “I’ll be fine.”

Thinking of Grodd and this task force, I take the same path Colson did. I’d better get back. Make sure I know all my shifts for the week. Practice the drills Unach gave me. Perhaps the real reason she’s worked me so hard is that she knows how crucial it is that I fulfill the role given to me. My appreciation for Unach is renewed, as is my excitement for tonight. I’ll meet more people, learn more names, and reunite with my own kind.