Again, I hesitate. I’ve had little opportunity to talk about those deep desires within me, about the heavens that have molded themselves into a faith all my own. “I . . . I met a Cosmodian once. I thought her work was fascinating.”
His brow tightens, and he rubs his chin with the pad of his thumb. “A worshipper of the stars? I thought they’d all died off. Makes me think . . . Well, I’ll check on something.”
Before I can ask what he means, Wiln looks expectedly at Colson, who says, “I work the mines.”
I’m surprised. “They wouldn’t accept me for labor alone.”
Gaze narrowing, he reels back. “Pardon me for not being a scholar.”
My gut clenches. “I didn’t mean—”
“Colson has been here awhile,” Ritha’s voice soothes. “Even grown he can get into places the trolls can’t.”
“Or pick ore from their pebbles,” he quips.
Wiln peeks at the clock again. “You’d best get on your way, Miss Lark. Work shift ends soon, and if you get caught up in the traffic, you’ll never get where you’re going.”
I glance at the clock. It’s nearly the third hour.
“Thank you. And . . . the enclave?”
“It’s full.” Colson’s tone is even more bitter than before.
“Down,” Ritha answers, pointing to a nearby tunnel. “Past military training, just below the divide on the west.”
“Thank you. Even if I can’t join . . . I would like to visit and know you better, if I might.” I glance at Colson. “All of you.”
He folds his arms and averts his stony gaze.
After taking my leave, I check Azmar’s map before hurrying to get as far as I can before the shift changes. I make it up a lift and past the farming walls before it does, but so high in the city, I only need to duck out of the way for trolls a few times. I reach the apartment and am relieved to find it unlocked. Azmar was the last to leave today; he must either have thought ahead on my behalf or isn’t concerned for security.
In the little corner allotted me, I sort through my packages, finding several floral disks in my foodstuff and a clean set of clothes in beige and white, just as the others wore. The clothes measure too wide but fit lengthwise. They can be adjusted with drawstrings, belts, and the needle and thread I have in my few personal belongings. I leave Azmar’s and Unach’s packages outside their doors. I don’t want to presume I can enter their rooms.
I stretch out for an hour, munching on a floral disk, before Unach comes home. She says nothing about her excursion. “Your shifts will be longer in the future. Don’t expect time to laze around.”
To that I say, “Would you like me to cook dinner?”
She pauses, noticing the packages by the bedrooms. “Human food?” she questions with a down-turned lip.
“I can keep it simple. I’ll look at what you have.”
She considers me for a long moment before conceding. Feeling useful, I unwrap her and Azmar’s rations, familiarize myself with the tiny kitchen, and start water boiling over the fire. I’ve got a stew simmering when Azmar returns. He looks tired. A splotch of ink stains his shirt and one of his hands.
Upon Unach’s appraisal, he says, “The council wants the quarter section extended, but I don’t see how it’s possible without building up from the ground. Which is also impossible.”
Unach shrugs. “You’ll make it work.”
Azmar frowns and peers toward me, where I sit stirring the pot. I take in the ink stains, the belt—which looks like it carries a ruler and some other tools—and think of the neat, precise lines of the map he’d drawn me. He doesn’t look anything like the sniveling scholars and scribes so often called into my father’s office.
“You’re an engineer,” I murmur.
Unach folds her arms. “And?”
And . . . I’m not sure. It didn’t fit the idea of trolls painted in my mind. That they value only strength. That they’re a war-hungry people. Yet they have higher education, which is hard to find amidst the townships—
“And,” I say, stirring, “I think that is rather marvelous.” And very much in alignment with Ura, the seventh planet.
Unach throws her head back and laughs. Azmar regards me with a closed expression.
She squares her shoulders. “I am a warrior. Azmar might keep the city up with nails and hammers, but I keep it up by slaying the monsters that would tear it down.”
More to himself than anyone else, Azmar says, “Hardly nails and hammers.”
Unach passes me a calculating glance. “Monster hunting is not a job for the weak. So tell me, Lark. What did you say to the council to convince them you’re not?”
I try not to squirm under her gaze. Changing the subject, I ask Azmar, “Are you not also a warrior?” and pull the pot from the fire.
He takes a seat beside his sister. “We all undertake military training in our youth. It is required.”
Unach scoffs. “She doesn’t need to know.”
“The more she knows, the better she will fare.”
Unach considers that. I try to show my gratitude, but Azmar has lost any interest in me and instead pores over a sheaf of paper in his hands. I spoon the stew into bowls, keeping my own portion small and stowed away in the kitchen before serving them. Though he saw me stirring the pot, Azmar looks surprised at the offer and nods his thanks. Unach eats without comment. Before I head back for my own meal, I glance at the sheaf Azmar placed on the floor, looking over the careful charts and numbers, a smattering of equations at the bottom. He’s calculating forces for what looks like a support system. It’s rather brilliant.
“Does something concern you?” Azmar asks softly.
I meet his tired gaze and gesture toward the equations. “I could finish this for you, if you’d like.”
His brows stitch together. “You know advanced figures?”
“Yes.” My father was a horrid man, but he was a rich one. I had my share of tutors. No use in having you stupid, he once said.
Confusion wrinkles Azmar’s forehead, but he acquiesces, and I take his papers and pencil with me into the kitchen, careful not to spill on his work. He has only a few calculations left, and it takes me a moment to remember the methods. I ran away when I was twelve, after all, and have not undertaken any schooling since. But I manage it by the time Azmar finishes his meal. I don’t know how much time I’ve saved him, since he double-checks every single one of my calculations, but it prides me when he does not alter a single one, and he regards me, briefly, in his quiet way, before retiring to bed.
Chapter 4
Over the next week, I learn more about the trolls’ complicated caste system and, to an extent, how to determine the caste of those I see. Weakness is despised among these people, who adapted themselves to war during the rule of the humans. Humans, because they can breed so much quicker, vastly outnumbered trolls, and even now, years after the drought crumbled the empire of my ancestors, Cagmar holds combat strength in the greatest esteem.