"Are you still not done? I'm not going hungry tonight!"
Nail's voice comes out all cracked and dry. Our water ran out six hours back. I scrape up another handful of coal and drop it in the basket. My arms are shaking so bad they don't feel like mine.
He's glaring at me, but I know that look. It's the same one he had every night by my bed when my fever wouldn't go down.
Nail grumbles something, then dumps half his coal into my basket without looking at me. "Faster," he mutters.
The small sun is already going down. Maybe, with his help, we'll beat the big one.
"That's why I told you to stay home. Why don't you ever listen?"
I want to bark back at him, but all that comes out is a cough. I don't want to be dead weight no more. Nail's looked after me as long as I can remember. Never knew my parents, and it never bothered me. Nail was all I needed.
But I hate how he's looking at me right now, like I'll break if he so much as yells.
I grab another handful of coal. It's still warm, and it leaves black marks all over my hands. I'd do better if the stuff didn't crumble so easy. I figured swinging the pickaxe would be the hard part, but I was wrong. Every chunk I hit turns to dust, and breathing it in wears me out worse than the swinging.
"Sorry. I'll be faster tomorrow, I swear."
"I'd sooner tie you to the bed than drag you back here. What if you get sick again? Those herbs for your sickness cost more every time."
That hurts worse than the dust. He don't mean it like that, I know. But he ain't wrong, neither. I let it go. Fighting with him won't help. I still want to work tomorrow, and the day after. I just got to keep showing Nail I can keep up.
By the time the big sun hits the edge of the sky, both our baskets are full. Time to get paid.
The taskmaster sits under a ripped-up cloth at the mouth of the mine with a scale on his knees. He don't look up when we come over. I don't think he ever does.
He weighs Nail's basket first. Then mine. His lip curls up at the dust leaking out the bottom.
"Half of this is powder," he says.
"It's coal, Spike," Nail says back. His voice is flat, but his jaw is tight.
Spike grunts and drops a few copper coins in Nail's hands. None in mine. He don't even look at me.
"Half work, half pay," he says, smirking.
Nail shoves my share into my black hand. The coins are warm from his fingers. Only five coppers, less than his. Fair enough, though, since half my basket was his coal anyway. But put together, it might get us bread and soup tonight.
I stare at my money, then give it a sniff. Smells like metal. Course it does.
Bad idea. The coal dust on my fingers goes right up my nose, and I spend the next bit wheezing into my sleeve.
Nail lets out a big sigh. "Did you just smell your money?"
"...No," I whisper.
"Who's he?"
It's Spike. Guess my coughing finally got him to notice me.
"Ash. He's with me."
"The weak kid?" Spike looks me up and down. "Look at you, all grown up. Never thought something that flimsy would last this long."
He cackles, holding his belly.
My face goes hot. Next to me, Nail's squeezing his coins so hard his knuckles go white.
I tug on his torn sleeve. It ain't worth it. We're both hungry and thirsty, and picking a fight with the taskmaster only ends one way. I don't even want to think about it.
"Let's just go," I say, quiet.
Nail don't answer. He turns and walks off, and I hurry after him. Behind us, Spike's laughing follows us all the way down the path.
The dirt road down from the mine is skinny and full of loose rocks. It's bad enough in daylight. In the dark, it's a busted ankle waiting to happen. Nail walks fast, and I can barely keep up.
"Hurry up. The shop might close before we get there."
Down below, Brimhaven spreads out across the valley. People call it a town, but it's really just a big village playing pretend. Crooked huts sit here and there across the valley like tired workers, their roofs patched with whatever junk people could find.
Up on the hill, far from the dust, sits the lord's big house. Its windows are already lit up. He owns the mine, the land, and near every coin in Brimhaven. Whatever we earn, he always finds a way to take most of it back.
Nothing grows here. The dirt's too dry and too black. Our food comes from the merchants passing through, and they know we got no choice. Their bread's stale, their soup's got no taste, and everything costs twice what it ought to. Still, bad food beats no food.
The big sun drops behind the mountains. It gets dark fast, and I trip on a rock I didn't see.
Nail grabs my arm before I fall. He don't say nothing, but he don't let go, neither.
Real careful, we finally make it to Goldtooth's place.
There's no line when we get there. Makes sense, since me and Nail were the last ones out of the mine. There ain't much left, neither. Just bread so dark it looks like the coal from earlier, a pot of what I guess is soup, and a few other things Goldtooth sells. Still, we made it before he closed. That's lucky enough.
"Thought you died," Goldtooth says.
"Got held up. Brought Ash again."
"Alas. Well, what'll it be?"
Nail does the talking. All I do is stare at the man who must be Goldtooth's guard. He's standing real still outside the open window where Nail and Goldtooth are talking. He's got a pointy hat and a brown leather robe. There's a book hanging off his rope belt, and in his left hand he's holding a wooden staff almost as tall as he is.
I've never seen anybody dressed like that before. But I've heard stories. Nail used to tell me about them when I was too sick to sleep. Mages. People who can pull water out of dry ground, split rocks without a pickaxe, or call up a wind strong enough to knock a man down. I used to ask Nail if they could make fire too. He'd just laugh and tell me to go to sleep.
I can't stop looking at that book on his belt. It's old and worn at the corners, and something about it makes my fingers itch. I wonder what's written inside. If only I could read.
"Need something, kid?" the robed man says. Guess he caught me staring.
"Are you a mage?" I ask. He probably won't get mad. He talked to me first, after all.
"Should be obvious." He tips his hat.
"What kind?"
He taps the front of his robe. "Brown, kid. Earth."
I don't get what the color's got to do with anything, but before I can ask, he nudges the dirt with the end of his staff.
"
Ta,
Kheper
," he mutters.
The dust swirls up in front of his staff and packs itself together into a jagged little ball. Then it drops right into his palm.
My mouth falls open.
He flicks the stone at my feet and goes back to standing still, like nothing happened.
I stare at it. Just a little lump of rock, rough and black like everything else in Brimhaven. But a second ago, it was dust.
My heart's pounding so hard I can hear it. I want to grab it, turn it over, ask him a hundred questions. How'd he do it? Does it hurt? Could somebody like me ever...
"Ash."
Nail's voice snaps me back. He's holding a bigger loaf than usual under one arm, frowning at me.
"What're you gawking at?"
"Nothing," I say quick, and make my face go blank.
While he turns to pay Goldtooth, I crouch down like I'm fixing my boot and slip the stone into my pocket. It's still a little warm.
I don't know why I hid it. Nail wouldn't care about some dumb rock.
But I keep my hand wrapped around it the whole way back.
As we get close to home, I notice something's missing.
"Where's the soup?" I ask.
"We're five coppers short. Work faster tomorrow, and maybe we can afford it."
He don't say it straight out, but I know what it means. I can come back tomorrow.
I smile and rub the rock in my pocket. Today was a good day.