Page 82 of Kingdom of Rot & Ruin
“Aren’t you happy to behome?” I joked.
“Hardy har,” she quipped back, nostrils flared with irritation.
I wanted to argue I didn’t need her with me, but it would be foolish to deny help when freely given. The archives hadn’t been helpful in dispensing much knowledge of the people who lived in the mud quarter.
I needed Shava.
“Fine,” I conceded. “Just?—”
Shava strode past me, her back straight and chin held high. I stuffed down my irritation at her presumption, recognizing the necessity. She knew these streets, and I did not. She knew the people, and I did not.
In front of me, the Seat loomed a distance away, through the other quarters atop its high wall of stone. It looked far more intimidating from down here.
“Are you coming? There is a curfew, and the sun will set in a few hours.”
I shook my head and hurried alongside her. She frowned at my feet, still covered in my leather apprentice sandals.
“No one here has sandals. Let me?—”
She reached for my feet and I backpedaled, scowling.
“I amnotgoing barefoot like some sort of?—”
“Mud boy?” she interrupted coyly, one dark eyebrow raised.
She had me there.
Lips pursed, I took my sandals off with ill grace, and shoved them deep into the inner pockets of my robe, thankful that I was a scribe. Our clothes were tailored with deep pockets in order to fit books, after all.
I tried not to grimace as my bare feet touched the dirt.
“Keep your eyes on the ground at all times to avoid the sharper rocks. Or any rocks, since I doubt your feet are tough like mine.”
My face twisted to argue, but as she lifted one foot and I examined it, I couldn’t. She had a tough layer of skin on the soles and platforms of her feet that I did not.
“Fine.”
Apparently, that was the only thing I could say to her today.
She led me out of the tunnel and into a dark, cramped alley lined by giant rocks. Eyes warily watched us from underneath the larger ledges, dirty figures and bodies slumped over that twitched now and then, or simply didn’t move.
Shava ignored them, pressing forward.
The hard rock underneath my feet gave way to flat sand, not unlike the desert that was just outside the walls. Instead of stone walls, rough mud huts squatted up against each other, crowded wherever they could fit. The dusty dirt turned into thick, sticky mud that congealed in between my toes and smelled of rancid vegetables and only the gods knew what else.
“Does everyone live in these … houses?” I said, just barely managing to not say ‘hovels.’ I knew there was a reason it was called the mud quarter, but I hadn’t expected it to be quite so … literal.
“Get that look off your face. That’ll earn us more trouble than anything else.”
Resisting the urge to glare, I tried to rearrange my face into something neutral. Again, I had to trust Shava. This was her domain.
“There’s a reason we let the Fireguards take us away from here during every reaping.”
Her face darkened as we continued.
“OY! They kick you out of the Seat already? Knew you were only good for one thing.” The voice came from inside one hut, low and guttural.
Shava stopped. “I’d slap you P, but it’d be animal abuse.”
