The Girl and the Stars (Book of the Ice #1) - Mark Lawrence Page 0,45

The glow from a small furnace pot picked out the topography of his well-muscled chest and arms. But the angles of his jaw and cheekbones beneath a half-wild mop of lustrous red-black hair were what stole the breath from Yaz’s lungs. She understood that the arrangement of some men’s features were more pleasing to the eye than others. Quell had been her friend first before any other attraction grew between them, but when working with the clan on the ice his face drew not just her eye but those of the other young Ictha women. Her mother called Quell handsome. The beauty of the man before her, however, had a magic to it that reached inside and made her ache.

The hammering stopped. Yaz had been spotted. The man offered her a smile, half-shy, half-amused, and beckoned her forward.

“You’re from the drop-group.” Not a question. How else could she be here?

“Yes.”

“Arka’s showing you around?” He looked past Yaz to the door as if expecting more company. “Sorry. Am I shouting?” He lowered his voice. “After the hammer everything seems too quiet.”

Yaz grinned. “We Ictha say after the north everything seems too warm.”

The man frowned. “Ictha? Oh, is that your clan?”

“Yes.” Yaz tried not to let her surprise show. Everyone knew of the Ictha.

“Ah, don’t look like that.” His smile erased the offence she’d taken, making her answer it with one of her own. “I’m Kaylal. I’ve been here since I was a baby. The Ictha must not get thrown down the pit very often!”

Kaylal turned to face her and in a poorly disguised moment of shock Yaz saw that both Kaylal’s legs ended in stumps not far from the hips. Rather than standing as she had assumed he was seated on a high stool.

“You’ve noticed.” Kaylal smiled but pain ran behind it. “You don’t find men like me up there, do you?”

“I . . .” Yaz couldn’t look away. Physical deformity was almost unknown among the Ictha and always the result of injury. “Did it hurt?” She could hardly imagine the creature that had taken his legs. An outsized dagger-fish? A blue shark maybe, or a pavvine risen from the black depths? Harder still to imagine how he had survived the blood loss.

Kaylal laughed. “I was born this way. My parents threw me down the pit when I was a baby. I’ve no memory of it.” His laughter ended and he met her gaze with deep blue eyes. “We’re not all broken the same way, but the Broken look after whoever comes to us. Eular tells me that my parents lived hard lives and made a hard choice. Beneath the ice we make different choices. There are some prices we won’t pay, not even to survive, because the life that demands those prices for continuing loses its value in the paying.”

“I keep hearing about this Eular . . .”

“You’ll meet him soon enough.” Kaylal smiled past her as someone entered the shed.

Another young man joined them, also dark and handsome but lacking Kaylal’s unearthly beauty. He set down his clanking burden and came to stand by the smith, the hand he set to Kaylal’s bare shoulder possessive, his smile guarded. “One of Arka’s group? Well, you’ve met our finest craftsman. Kaylal can fashion an iron snowflake with a ten-pound hammer.”

“This is Exxar,” Kaylal said, reaching to touch the hand on his shoulder. “The best of us. You can trust what he makes and what he says.”

A call from outside broke a moment’s silence. “Yaz?” Arka’s voice.

“I . . . uh . . . better go. It was nice to meet you both.” Yaz made a clumsy retreat, knocking into several of the hanging workpieces and setting them clanking together.

* * *

THE OTHERS HAD joined Arka outside and with them stood the familiar figures of Pome holding his star-torch and Petrick, the hunska boy who had distracted Hetta while Yaz climbed to safety. Petrick pushed aside the unruly black weight of his fringe and grinned at her as she crossed over to them. Pome just watched her from narrow eyes. He didn’t have the size of a gerant or the dark