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Her brow lowers. “What does it look like?” She rolls her eyes. “It’sfood, human.” And she starts walking again.
I turn the disk over in my hands, hurrying to catch up.Thisis food? My stomach tightens and rumbles, so I raise it to my lips. It smells oddly floral and doesn’t taste like much, slightly sweet with a mildly bitter aftertaste. But it’s edible, so I chew and swallow, chew and swallow, until my jaw hurts.
We walk down a narrow corridor that isn’t stonework like the council room or the prison, but solid stone, carved out of the cliffside itself. The corridor gives way to a short wood-and-metal box, which Unach steps into. There’s a pulley inside, and after I join her, Unach tugs on the rope and lifts us up, her biceps bulging impressively. Her clothing appears to be mostly leather, with some fur, covering her shoulders but leaving her arms exposed, save for two leather straps that meet a leather cuff. Bony nubs, roughly the size of coins, protrude from her forearms. I wonder if she catches me staring, for when we reach the next level, she gives me a chiding look and walks even faster than before.
I hurry to follow her, nearly tripping over myself as I take in my surroundings. The short, narrow passageway opens into an atrium lit by sconces and other lights I can’t identify. I assume that the dark holes in the ceiling are flues of some kind to let out smoke. Carefully mortared stonework, concrete, and metal beams are ever present, but here an artful array of iron and wood composes my surroundings, not unlike the architecture of a bridge.
A gleam of starlight falls through a large window ahead, and I look up, catching a glimpse of the constellation Swoop, the spoon. It’s before midnight, then. My hands tighten on the disk in my hands. Swoop is the constellation of harvest and bounty. It seems to say,See? I’ve fed you.
Down toward the shadowed canyon below me, trolls call out to one another, but I can’t understand them. The canyon distends from the city, impossibly deep and dark, but Unach allows me little time to gawk. I glance up and catch sight of one of the Empyrean Bridge’s girders. We are well and truly below the bridge, then. I see nothing else through that sliver of a window, only the bulk of city above me, nearly as dark as the canyon below. Human settlements tend to spread out like an open hand, but Cagmar is long and deep, like a tooth.
My fascination is almost enough to quell my apprehension.
Up, up, up, I’m led, then down again. Unach pushes me through a winding tunnel, past a few watching eyes. No one asks what she’s doing. I wonder whether it’s because she’s unfriendly, or if there’s a different reason. We take another lift and walk a darker corridor before she finally slows at a door. Under the maze of beams and arches, Unach pulls out a heavy key, shoves it in the lock, and turns it.
“Don’t touch anything,” she says. “And stay out of the way. This is only temporary.”
I don’t think she cares for a response. I don’t blame her for her rudeness. Aside from having a stranger cast upon her without warning, humans and trolls have a history. No human township would treatherkindly. Indeed, they’d likely kill her. I’m merely gratefulI’mnot dead.
The door opens, and I’m surprised at the apartment within. I was expecting something coldly constructed, like the rest of the city, but it looks rather ... homey. A fireplace fits snug against the far wall, and two braziers smolder on either side of a decent-sized main room. They give it light, though little warmth, and the chill of Cagmar burrows into my skin, almost making my teeth chatter. Furs and woven rugs take up much of the floor, and an enormous, overstuffed pillow—to be used as a chair?—sits near the fireplace. On the other side of the room is a tall table and a narrow kitchen with a strange-looking sink, cabinets, and shelves. Everything is a little too large, made for the use of a troll. The room curves in the back, toward the left, to somewhere I can’t see. Pastthe entrance to the small kitchen, there’s a door on the left and a door on the right, both closed.
“You’ll not have a room to yourself. There isn’t the space.” Unach shuts the door behind her. She sets her shoulder satchel on the table and strides to the far wall. “You’ll sleep on a pallet there.”
Trying not to feel small, I follow her and peek around the corner. A short, mortared hallway ends at a dark space with folding doors, little more than a closet. Within lies a bin of soiled laundry and a washtub.
I glance at the hard floor. I’ve slept on worse. And Unach had mentioned this was temporary. I can handle temporary.
“You’ll contribute to housework and run your own errands,” she continues, kicking a half-spent piece of coal into the fireplace. “And you’ll cook for yourself.”
I nod. I want to ask for water, but Unach is a taut band, ready to snap.
The door on the right—now my left—swings open, and a troll steps through. I guess him to be a few inches over seven feet, and the emerald shade of his skin is a little richer than Unach’s. His dark hair is longer, too, corded and held back with a thick tie. His tusks are shorter and more slender, but his torso is notably wider. He wears clothes made of hide and a woven material I can’t identify, but his arms are bare and, like the others’, notably robust. “Unach, who are you—”
And then he notices me.
He doesn’t react at first. At least, I think he doesn’t. I’m hardly practiced at reading trolls. His eyes have the same topaz sheen as Unach’s, though his take on a darker, more amber hue. They could almost pass as human. His heavy brow furrows. “Who is this?”
“Wayward human who convinced Qequan she’d do well as monster fodder.”
I frown and meet the new troll’s gaze, trying to act resilient. I’m still not used to the way they look, the way they talk, the way they regard me. “Unach is kindly showing me the ropes.”
Unach snorts and folds her arms. “Next time a summons comes to my door, I’m not answering it.” She rubs her head. “She has to stay here until they can accommodate her.”
The male troll looks at her. “Can she not stay in the enclave?”
Enclave?My earlier interaction with the council confirmed that I am not the first human to seek shelter here. How many more live within the city?
“It’s already overrun.” Then, to me, Unach repeats, “Don’t touch anything.” She disappears through the other door, which I presume to be her bedroom. Unsure what to do in her absence, I offer a shallow bow to the other troll.
“I came looking for work,” I explain. “I won’t be a bother. I’m sorry to put you out.”
He seems confused by this admission. “You’d do best to stay out of the way.”
I guess I shouldn’t expect much in the way of friendliness. But I’ll take safety over friendliness any day.
Unach emerges from her room and chucks a blanket at me. Or rather, a badly skinned hide with a few holes where the knife cut too close to the fur. I’m not sure what animal it comes from. “Make up your pallet. It’s late.”
The space allotted to me isn’t long enough for me to stretch out, but I’m in no position to complain. In truth, this is all very dreamlike, as though my mind has not come to terms with beinginCagmar, speaking totrolls. And I’m going tostayhere. I notice a slit in the wall just above the short hallway. A window. It’s grown utterly dark outside, so it blends in with the rest of the stone. If I stand on my toes, I can see a few distant stars that don’t belong to any constellation. But surely they aren’t without meaning. Cosmodian belief says that the gods watch us still, but they can communicate only through the night sky. Rich, poor, male, female—it doesn’t matter. The gods made all of us. If only I had a teacher, or a book on the stars, I might be able to sort out what they are telling me now. Until then, I’m grateful for any slice of the sky, however meager.
