“I have a leg!” the man at the front of the line called.
“Quicker!” she shouted.
They worked harder. Touraine realized she was passing her rocks to Jaghotai. She nodded. Like everyone else, she wore her scarf up for the dust, and like everyone else, her eyes were red rimmed. Dust mingled with the gray hairs in her dreadlocks.
A voice tunneled from the rocks. “Shāl is merciful,” it said, over and over.
Touraine gave a relieved laugh as two men pulled up the last massive rock enough for a man to sit up.
“His legs are broken!”
“Carry him!”
“Healers!”
The last was a reflex, and it met a solemn hush. There were no more healers. They were all in Cantic’s—in Luca’s cells.
Another pair of Qazāli pried the man out of his crevice. Onlookers cheered.
Touraine clapped with them, but her mind had already moved on. She went to Jaghotai. “We need to figure out our next position. Attack or retreat, is there somewhere we can set up a defense—”
Jaghotai frowned incredulously. “What is wrong with you?”
Touraine should have known that Jaghotai of all people wouldn’t want to work with her. If Djasha had been here instead of Jaghotai, they would have had a plan already. Instead of answering, Touraine circuited the excavated parts of the collapse to the far edge, where a Qazāli woman worked with a Sand. Noé. He always managed to get body duty. He tapped his forehead in solemn salute. He’d been one of the Sands who’d joined the rebels in the chaos the night the Grand Temple fell.
They’d found another body in a black coat, its skull half-flattened. While everyone else looked pointedly up and away, Jaghotai looked over the Balladairan coldly.
Touraine pointed with her head. “Put him with the other dead.”
Noé and the woman pulled him out of the wreckage and carried his mangled body to a growing row. Touraine’s stomach turned. She wretched, barely able to swallow the vomit, burning, back down her throat. Sky above, she’d gotten soft.
Jaghotai pulled her away, white-dusted fingers gripping Touraine’s biceps hard. “Go home.”
Touraine pulled away. “It’s a bit late for that—”
Jaghotai shook her head wearily and held her palms up. “Not what I meant.” She started to walk away from the wreckage, away from the people digging up answers in the shape of flesh.
In a low voice, she continued as they walked. “Half the council is dead. Our temple is in ruins. My city’s still smoking. You’re not gonna fix this right now—doesn’t matter how many orders you give.”
Touraine scoffed. “I’m not stupid. We have to prepare.”
“Prepare? Ha! If they come for us now or they come for us next week, what will they get?”
Touraine looked over, eyebrows tight in confusion.
“Everything. All of it. Anything they want,” Jaghotai said. She stepped closer. Tentatively, she put a hand on Touraine’s shoulder. “You’ve been out here since they brought it down. Take some time. Clean yourself up. It won’t make any difference.”
Touraine looked down at herself. Her trousers were splattered with blood, pale with stone dust. She put a hand to her sweaty forehead and wiped at the grit.
“Go wash in one of the channels. The crocodiles don’t usually wash up so far inland.”
The darkness Touraine had been avoiding lurked at the side of her vision, crept at the edges of her limbs, and threatened to weigh her down. She tried to fight it.
“What right do you have—” To care? To give her orders?
“Every right.” Jaghotai headed back to the temple, leaving Touraine no dignified choice but to walk away.
Touraine followed her anylight.
“Touraine…” Jaghotai warned.
Touraine kept marching back to the mess she’d made, to something she could do. Jaghotai flung her arm out to catch Touraine in the chest and shoved. Touraine pushed her back and stalked on, back to the rubble.
“Are we really doing this?” barked Touraine over her shoulder. “We’ve got work to do.”
“Touraine—” The other woman tried to grab her in a bear hug, but Touraine spun, breaking the grip with an elbow. She hooked a punch into Jaghotai’s jaw.
Jaghotai went sprawling. It took a second before either of them registered what happened. As she rubbed her jaw, Jaghotai’s eyes went dark. She bared her teeth, and Touraine saw blood streaking them. Her hand was still clenched in its fist. It hurt to ease her fingers apart.