“You don’t sound happy about that.” I pick at a piece of flatbread.
“I would prefer a straight steel connection to the canyon wall.” He shrugs. “Cables are better than nothing, but they’re also easy to besiege.”
I consider this. “Is Cagmar at risk of besiegement?”
He glances at me, his eyes warm. “Humans are not the only threat.”
I think of the aerolass raiders, of the monsters below.
Azmar finishes his food first. Before he rises, I ask, “Azmar, why are you kind to me?”
I can tell the question takes him off guard, for genuine curiosity limns his usually carefully guarded features. “I don’t think I am, particularly. Unach and Perg are also kind to you.”
I shake my head, looking down toward the city. “Not in the same way. Unach is . . . reasonable. She sees use where there is use. And Perg . . . Perg is so desperate for belonging, for understanding, that he would be kind to anyone who was first kind to him. But you, Azmar, you’ve always been kind. A little blunt at times . . .” I remember our first meeting. “But always kind. You’ve never scowled at me or ignored me the way the others do, even from the beginning. Why is that?”
I peek through loose strands of hair at him. He regards me in a way that makes him look younger. He looks out across the length of the canyon. Enough time passes that I think he won’t answer me, and my question will be left hanging. But then he speaks.
“All trollis must enroll in military training for seven years, from ages twelve to nineteen.”
I don’t see what that has to do with my question, but I remain quiet and listen to the cadence of his voice.
“When I was sixteen, I was in a raiding party that attacked a human township,” he continues, his voice low, like he doesn’t want to be overheard. I lean closer to hear him. “We were a small band, overconfident, and most of our numbers were youth. I suspect a scout from the township saw us coming, because the humans were prepared for us when we arrived. The battle was brief but intense. One of the men picked up my fallen comrade’s sword and ran me through with it.”
“The scars,” I say before I can think. I pinch my lips closed.
Azmar regards me and nods. “I fell, and the others retreated. I was headed for the eternal black.”
I presume that’s their name for the afterlife, but I don’t ask. Later.
“But I didn’t die. I woke up in a house, on a pallet on the floor. Someone, a widow, I believe, had taken me in. I didn’t understand it. She took no risks. My arms and legs were securely tethered to the floor, not that I could have moved anyway. My injury was deep, but her husband had been a surgeon and taught her most of what he knew.”
Quietly I ask, “She told you this?”
“Yes. She knew I was young. Felt bad for me, being left behind. I couldn’t fight her. I could barely move, and half the time I was unconscious from whatever she gave me for the pain. I spent a week and a half there, slowly healing, and I learned that not all humans are savage ‘troll’ haters. We’re taught that your kind ravage the world like roaches and breed like feral rabbits.”
My skin warms. “Only partially accurate.”
His lip quirks, but somberness quickly overtakes it. “My band returned with reinforcements and completely brutalized that village. They killed her, the woman who took care of me. Aleah, her name was. They didn’t ask questions, just came in and killed her and took her supplies. Dragged me out, burned the house.”
My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh no.”
“In our culture, women and men both train as soldiers. It is not so with yours.” He looks to me as if to confirm. Mortified, I nod. “I protested. I tried to fight—she’d taken off my restraints by then. But I was still too weak. And, admittedly, I feared them seeing my weakness. I feared losing my caste.” He pauses, looking down into the canyon. “I was happy to take the demotion when I became an engineer. I’d lost my taste for battle.”
It takes several heartbeats for me to digest all of this. “You were Montra.”
“Both my parents were, so it passed down to me. But, Lark—” He shifts toward me, and in that moment he is more human to me than ever before. “I learned much of your kind during my stay in that house. I took many truths for myself, which I’ve kept close to my heart. Even Unach doesn’t know that story. She just thinks I am hard to kill.”
I search his face, feeling both comforted and anxious at the same time. “Then why trust it to me?”
That soft, barely there smile resurfaces. “Because you asked. Come.” He stands and holds out a hand. I take it, and it’s barely any effort on his part to lift me to my feet. “We’ve work to do, and Unach will find it funny if you return red.”
I touch my shoulders, which indeed have begun to pink with the heat of the sun. My time in Cagmar has stripped the protective tan that had built up day after day, year after year in the sun. Azmar lifts me back to the bridge, and I unbind my hair for some protection.
We get back to work, taking measurements, surveying rust, sketching damage, but all of it feels different now. Azmar moves, and in my mind’s eye I see the silvery scars beneath his shirt, a permanent reminder of a kind soul lost. I wonder if I somehow also serve as a reminder of the human who’d taken him in, and whether or not he wants to be reminded.
For now, it appears Azmar does not mind my company, and I certainly want to stay in his.
Chapter 13
My usefulness soon runs dry, but I’m loath to return to the city if I don’t have to. I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to be outside. It’s odd; when I ran between townships, all I wanted was a roof over my head. Now that I’m settling into Cagmar, all I want is the open sky.
In time, I’ll be trusted enough to come up here on my own. Perhaps after this whole thing with Grodd passes, though I’m not sure how long that will be. I certainly won’t be attending any caste tournaments in the meantime.
I consider introducing myself to Tartuk, the new trollis head of the human task force, and seeing if she’ll befriend me.