“I’m pretty scary, too.”
In the caravan opposite us, an old man peeks his head outside to figure out where the screaming is coming from.
“What if he sends one of these criminals to your place tomorrow morning to threaten you or the others?” Luca asks.
I swallow. Maybe itwasa reckless move. But I need the money for Kahina. He should’ve paid me what he owed me. “I have this friend who is half tree. He’s seven feet tall. He’s made of bark, the sharp kind—”
Luca rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like you thought that through one bit.”
Where does he get off thinking he can act like my father? He’s not exactly responsible, allowing people to kill him all the time. What if something happens, and his head rolls off the stage, but he never wakes up? Does he even know what kind of fire he’s playing with?
But his company is growing on me, and heishelping me, so I’m not going to yell at him. Not over this. Instead, I change the subject.
“Do you want to go into Cartona with me tomorrow afternoon? I know that’s rather early...” I say, holding up the coin purse. “But I have some shopping to do.”
His face darkens. “Is it wise to go into Cartona?”
“Of course it is. I’ve been in plenty of cities before.”
“This far north in the Up-Mountains? They won’t take kindly to someone like you.”
I straighten my mask. Someone like me. Someonedeformed.“I’ve dealt with unpleasant people before. I can handle myself.” I shake my head. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
He opens his mouth to say something and then abruptly shuts it. “Then...enjoy your trip.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
There is a palpable sense of grief throughout the golden city of Cartona. The pedestrians walk as if wandering aimlessly, rather than traveling to a destination. The vendors don’t bother to greet any passersby. Even the apricot in my hand tastes unripe and sour.
The most unsettling sight in Cartona is the colors. Black shrouds cover every door, every window, blocking the sunlight from each home, church and shop. The Cartonians wear all white, which reminds me too much of Blister’s funeral. Strange how Ovren’s disciples associate white with purity and we associate it with death.
Naturally, I am wearing dark clothes and black-and-pink-striped tights, so I stick out like a raven among a flock of doves.
I hurry through the streets, searching for a bazaar where I can find an apothecary. Cartona is a city of gothic architecture and merchants. In what’s considered to be Ovren’s holy city, churches with flying buttresses tower over the skyline. The air smells of humidity, the spices they obtain from Down-Mountain traders and the reek of city dwellers. Everyone here has an exotic item from somewhere far away; everyone has something to sell.
As I pass a vendor showing off mosaic pottery and jewelry, each shard stained a different color and glimmering, the vendor shouts at me, “A necklace for your girl?” It startles me, as everyone else is so quiet. He holds up a massive strand of iridescent glass beads. At first I’m confused, since I’m alone, and I glance over my shoulder to find Luca standing behind me, dressed all in white and carrying a separate white tunic, which he throws at me.
I’m so shocked by the sudden projectile, Luca’s appearance and the vendor calling me Luca’s “girl” that I shriek and fail to catch the tunic. It falls onto the dirty, golden street.
“The idea is to blend in,” Luca says.
With his fair features and white clothing, Luca fits in with the Up-Mountainers in Cartona, but not as much as I would have expected. His hair is much too long. His nose piercing glints in the sunlight. And the smirk on his face hardly matches the somber expressions of those around me. Despite his past and his looks, there’s definitely more Gomorrah in him than I’d noticed before.
The vendor continues to berate us and show off the necklace. I redden and wonder if Luca will say something, but he just ignores him. Did he not hear him? Or is he avoiding giving a reaction to my being “his girl”? It’s useless to overthink something like this, but I like the idea of being somebody’s girl. It makes me sound desirable. Not like a freak with no eyes. And Luca, though irritating, is hardly terrible to look at.
“You’ve been following me,” I say.
“Are you angry?”
“Yes.” I hold up the white tunic. It should cover most of my clothes, judging by its length. It looks to be one of Luca’s shirts. “And also no. Thank you for this.”
“I’m glad I came. Cartona’s archbishops have a reputation for cleansing mania. The white clothes are meant to refer to a person’s purity.” He nods his head to the right, where black smoke billows into the sky. “Vanity burning.”
“What’s that?”
“It means the city is doing one of its cleanses, burning everything from secular books to makeup.” I glance at the women around me and notice for the first time that none of them wear rouge, lipstick or even a hint of glitter. How dull. “I’ve never seen so many in white, though, as if it’s a law now. Something must’ve happened here.”
“I don’t intend to stay long.”
