institute for artists or a church or a museum. It’s incredible.
But once you get past the surface, it’s a regular horse barn, I think to myself—until I see the menu.
Bash basically told me before that Narwari don’t eat hay. But it’s one thing to know that and another to see Narwari lunging at carcasses hanging from meat hooks in each stall.
“Creeepy ponies,” I mutter. But colorful ones, just like he said. Every shade you can imagine, with vibrant bioluminescent markings on their gleaming scaly coats.
“I’d offer to let you ride one,” Bash says, “but we have enough of a struggle obtaining trustworthy cart animals. There are some Gryfala who keep riding animals in their collection, but there’s no point training them as riding animals here when their purpose is to pull.”
“That’s okay, really.” My voice is a little weak, but I absolutely mean it. “I have zero interest in climbing on anything that jumps up and tears it’s food right off of something else’s hoof, you know?”
CHAPTER 19
ISLA
We head back outside.
“Back to my question from before. The horses have to haul wagons up to this?”
“Not stone, like you’re thinking. That goes elsewhere. They only have to haul their feed and bedding up the rise, otherwise, the walk up the hill with emptied wagons is the last work they do before they rest.”
“‘Hill?’ That, sir, is a small mountain.”
“And this is a canyon.”
I realize he’s turned. I look to see he’s sweeping out his arm to indicate everything now below us.
He’s led me to a canyon drop off.
I stare at the fall-away of the whole world, awed. And I cry, “Oh my land this is where you shove me off, isn't it?”
“You believe I’d waste time luring you all the way here to rid myself of a nuisance? I could have ended you a dozen different ways right in the quarry if I’d wanted you gone.”
I nudge him, which makes his spines flick upright. Implying that you don’t want me gone. “Good point.” I send him a cheeky grin. My attention wanders back to the landscape. We’re overlooking the quarry that I work in, although it’s on the far, far end. From here, it looks like a giant bowl has been carved into the earth, showing purple and red and yellow along the sides, chunks and slabs cut out of it. It’s literally a rock pit and it’s an amazing view from up here. Somehow, it looks even more massive. You just can’t get an appreciation for the dimensions when you’re standing in it. It’s magnificent. “What happens when you finally chisel all the rock out of this place?”
“We start a new place. The old quarry is not far from here.”
“The other side of this mesa will offer you another opportunity to shove me over the edge, right?”
Bash spares me a faint smile. “That’s right. What all have you seen of this place?”
“Not much.”
“That’s a shame.” He sweeps his tail out to indicate the rolling valley below. It looks like small towns ring around the quarry. Gryfala rookeries stand out tall and proud from everything else; they’re like bird aviaries built from stone and mortar. Each rookery houses one Gryfala and her service of hobs. Occasionally, a Rakhii guard is included in the setup too.
I squint, trying to bring a series of rookery-like buildings into focus. “Hey! Is that our village?”
Bash glances at me. “Yes. Each abode is a miniature of a Gryfala’s rookery, but built with more floors and stairs, taking up the tower space that would normally offer an open area for flight.” His tail rises, separates a blade from the others, and uses the flat of it to scratch along his bared forearm just under where he’s rolled up his sleeve. “Loads of stone are mortared into walls almost as fast as you humans can collect it. There are six abodes that should see themselves finished in the next handful of rotations, and the large one, your leader’s castle, that one’s frame should be done by the end of the season.”
“How cool!”
He grunts. “Hobs are being routed to work on the roofs of the first row of near-completed rookeries. They lay the tiles,” he explains. “And for aerial tasks such as that, their assistance is inordinately welcome. If they lose their balance and tumble off the roof, unlike a Rakhii, they won’t plummet to the hard ground below.”
“Hmm. Maybe you should stop shaking them then. You need their brains and wings in working order, and so do they.”