Just one more.She slipped the seed into her mouth, nearly biting down on her own fingers in haste. As the juice burst against her gums, she felt the little sparks of pleasure that seemed to last less and less each time.
She’d just have to take more.
The moon was a bright beacon in the sky, but even its light grew hazy as the tidewind began to pick up. Sylah sat slumped against the ruins of a Ghosting home, the limestone wall shifting in the wind. Across the way was an abattoir. Unlike the other villas around it, this building was in constant use. It was cleaned of blue sand but covered in blood no one could see.
It wasn’t the kind of abattoir used for slaughtering animals, although some people thought of its victims as less than meat. It was the Ghosting abattoir where babies were brought to be mutilated, their tongues and hands dried on sticks and then sent to the Embers to tally with the number of babies born. Embers kept a close eye on the population of Ghostings and made sure none were born without their knowledge. An auditor would make the trip across the river to inspect all newborns and book them for their mutilation within a few mooncycles of their birth. The horrors of the Embers knew no limits. Sometimes she hated the color of her own blood so much, she wanted to bleed it all out.
She forced herself to turn her head, away from the screams of the babies she could hear in her mind.
Sylah knew that she needed to find proper shelter soon, but her limbs were moving sluggishly through her drug-induced state.
“Don’t want to be like ol’ Mugs…” Sylah had once found the remains of the joba dealer who hadn’t found shelter in the night. A vision of their chewed-up remains, torn apart by the tidewind, kept flashing beneath her eyelids. Death by tidewind, yet another cruel way for Dusters to die. It had never been this bad before.
Her hands moved first, splayed wide in front of her eyes as if they alone had the urge to survive. It seemed an age before her feet followed suit.
The street she was on was deserted. Only a few of the houses were occupied, and those that were had their wooden shutters down.
“Hello, will you let me in?” Her banging on the wood was drowned out by the gusts of the tidewind.
—
Hassa knew Sylah was about to die. The tidewind had been claiming more victims recently, and Sylah was next.
It was luck that Hassa had seen her at all. The tunnels under the Dredge opened out in countless places, so when Hassa emerged and saw Sylah slumped against a crumbling wall she knew she had to get help before the tidewind killed her.
Will you help? Sylah’s out there, I need to drag her to safety,Hassa signed to Marigold.
You know it is forbidden. We cannot let them know that we use the tunnels. It’s bad enough that the Warden of Crime uses his minions to crawl around the few routes he knows about. We cannot risk it. She’s a liability anyway, let the tidewind take her.
Hassa wanted to argue, but she had no time. Marigold had never approved of her relationship with Sylah; they thought she distracted Hassa from the true cause. No matter their differences, Sylah was a friend, but she couldn’t drag her alone. Hassa signed at Marigold to let them know where she was going and disappeared into the darkness.
By the time Hassa appeared at Lio’s villa, it was nearly half past eleven, but the tidewind had already picked up. Lio’s tidewind shutters were down, but still Hassa pounded on the door until someone answered.
Sylah’s mother was a fierce woman, she had little time for anyone and even less time for Ghostings. Lio opened the door, just a crack. She didn’t want the sand blowing in to soil her living room. Sylah’s mother looked like she’d been crying. Better than the scorn of disgust Hassa was expecting.
“Hassa?”
You need to help me get Sylah now, she’s in the Dredge,Hassa signed firmly, mouthing her words alongside.
“I don’t understand you.” Lio shook her head, her usual frown growing between her brows.
“Who is it?” Another voice called out from the living quarters of the villa. They appeared in the crack of runelight behind Lio.
“This Ghosting girl that hangs out with Sylah a lot. I don’t know what she’s saying, though, she looks agitated.”
Hassa waved at the man behind Lio. Maybe he’d be more help. He pulled open the door marginally.
“Hello, is something wrong with Sylah?” The man wasn’t tall, but he was built dangerously. Cords of muscle rippled around his bare arms, and his darks eyes glinted, not unattractively. Hassa wondered who he was as she nodded.
“Is Sylah outside? Out there?”
Again, she nodded.
“Oh, Anyme help us,” Lio muttered. “One child back and another child trying to pass into the sky.”
Can you shut up and come and help me?Hassa was pissed.
“I’ll get the metal protector. Where was she? The Duster Quarter?” the man said.