“Ouch,” Marshen whined, rubbing his neck and shoulder, tilting his head left to right. “Let me see,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
He snapped his sharp gaze my way, his pale face turning sandstone red. “Are you fuck—” He glanced at Macy for less than a second, then carried on with piercing my soul with his narrowed eyes. “Are you serious? I stayedputfor hours,injuredmy neck, and this is what I get?” The smile I was withholding turned into a hysterical laugh that had me holding my belly.
What Marshen saw was a very detailed portrait of his face, the size of a date, floating in the gaping jaws of a great white shark—soon to be swallowed.
“Well, at least the portrait’s detailed,” he mumbled.
I handed Macy two pieces of silver, as promised, and she tucked them neatly in her dress pocket.
“Unbelievable! You paid her for it, too. Really, Delia? Isthishow you decide to spend your boyfriend’s coin?” I still managed to end my laugh with lingering giggles before pursing my lips together and swallowing hard.
“You don’t have to be such a di—” I stopped myself from cursing in front of Macy, but she ended my sentence.
“Prick,” she said. Then handed Marshen another drawing.
“Oh, now you’re going to make me feel all guilty,” Marshen muttered, the look of contentment slowly taking over his face. “It’s awesome. Thank you.” He nodded at Macy, then at me. What Marshen saw was a very detailed portrait of his face occupying the majority of the paper, and each corner was decorated with a razor-sharp shark tooth.
“Will you keep it safe for me?” Marshen asked, handing me the portrait. I stowed it in the opposite end of my book, next to his other drawing.
“You should make this for a living,” Marshen told Macy.
“Aren’t I already?” she replied. Her smile turned into a chuckle. So did mine.
CHAPTER 59
It was astonishing, the contrast between Ramel and Jebel. It was as if the two Lands were deliberately built in juxtaposition to each other, just to create a wonderfully diverging scene. Ramel always seemed to radiate that yellowish-brown hue. If you paid little attention, you would notice that there was always a dune, a mesa, a building, or a floor with some shade of yellow or brown. Even the sky at times appeared hued, with the bright sun reflecting the jagged horizon in amber. Whereas Jebel’s tones—whether grey, brown, or maroon—seemed a shade or two shy from being called black.
Jebel was…beautifully gloomy. The canyons, the stacked buildings, even the people were dark. A good number were Earth Wielders, and they utilised their abilities well.
Similar to the Rameli’s, the Jebeli’s powers were not inherited through bloodlines but were selectively gifted by their god, Jeb. However, unlike his brother Amfir, Jeb had continued blessing adolescents with the ability to wield earth and rock.
I wondered what made Amfir stop.
From what I’d gathered from maps, surrounding Jebel was a protective wall of earthen-wielded canyons—an extension of those on the coast of Ramel—that ran along the Brim Sea and ended where the swamp started. From where I now stood, I could see that surrounding Troiya were magnificent rocky mountains and towering buildings stacked on top of each other, some of them as tall as trees.
Deep down beneath our feet were the transport routes. An underground connection system, similar to the waterways. However, these required a trail of Earth Wielders pushing a long line of adjoined massive rock carts from one place to another. This belowground network—where people, food, and goods were transported back and forth between both Sijar and Ramel—was Jebel’s main source of revenue generation. The attack on Ilma was a double-edged sword for the Jebeli. Their profit from the transport routes increased significantly since the waterways were out of order until further notice, however, the Fount was just as depleted as the Wellspring Oasis was. Though at least it rained sometimes in Jebel, whereas in Ramel, the only storms I had witnessed were mostly made of sand.
Macy gave us both a hug before joining her mother and her little sister, who yelled her name and ran towards her as soon as they glimpsed her.
I tapped my foot, often huffing, while Marshen and I queued in the long line for the ticket stall. I was in dire need of a bath, but figured it could wait, considering that the line that went directly from Troiya and ended at the borders of Gaiya and Myrkvein left only once a week. It would be unwise to miss an opportunity that led us directly to Sijar in the short span of twelve hours.
My brows furrowed at the commotion that erupted around us. People cursed, reluctantly scattering away.
“What’s happening?” I asked anyone.
A man carrying a small child turned our way and said, “The line is full. They stopped selling tickets.”
Shit.
“We’re fucked,” I said.
But Marshen snatched me by my elbow and made me follow him behind an unoccupied stand. “Look,” he said, pointing towards the ticket stall.
“Are you planning that we steal the tickets?”
“No, not yet. I think you should go talk to him.”
My brows knitted. “Huh?”
