first, turning back to look at Cego suspiciously. Cego didn’t say anything, he just looked at Knees and kept his golden eyes steady.
For every step Cego took, he put slight pressure with his hand on Knees’ same-side shoulder, also using his outstretched arms for support.
After a circle around the perimeter, Knees turned back at him and nodded—he understood. Knees placed his hands on Shiar’s shoulders and did the same thing.
Cego looked back at Samot and got his attention to the front of the line, where Shiar now had his hands on Dozer’s broad shoulders. Samot looked like he was about to pass out, but he grabbed hold of Cego’s shoulders.
Soon, the entire rope line was running in sync. No boys crashed into one another. Their legs moved in rhythm. They were using the entire group’s momentum to move forward like a giant centipede.
Cego could see Ozark watching the crew, his eyes darting back and forth calculatingly.
“Halt!”
The rope crew came to a stop, the boys panting.
“Weakness! You scumlings aren’t fit to my task, so you’ve decided you need to cheat, to hold each other’s hands. Will you have each other to hold on to in the Circle? When a Grievar is on top of you, smashing your face into a pulp, where will your friends be then?” Ozark spat into the dirt. “I will not tolerate such weakness. Sloth carries. Now!” Ozark screamed.
The crew was on the brink. They were nearly broken.
With a malicious glint in his eye, Ozark paired Weep with Dozer for the sloth carry. The frail boy clearly could not support Dozer’s weight, not even for one second. He tried futilely to get under Dozer, heaving with his shoulders until he fell to the ground helplessly underneath the bigger boy.
Cego had Knees as a partner again—he lowered his base and was able to hoist him fairly easily, although moving with him on his shoulders was tiring this far in.
Ozark walked to Weep’s side, looking down at him. “Stop crying, boy. Your mammy isn’t here to patch you up.” The Tasker prodded the boy with his boot. Weep rolled over onto his back, the side of his face wet with tears.
The anger swelled in Cego again, seeing the man standing over Weep with his boot against his rib cage. He dropped Knees to the ground and shot across the yard toward Ozark. Don’t let the pot boil over.
“Let me show him how to pick Dozer up.”
Ozark looked down at Cego, at first surprised to see him out of position and then seething to see him challenging his command. “Oh! If it isn’t the champion himself! Just because you’ve won a few fights, you think you’re a Grievar Knight. You think you can do my job for me?” The Tasker’s eyes narrowed. “Get back in line and do your task, you little larva. Run, fight, and shut your mouth.”
Cego’s golden eyes gleamed; even under the dull light of the room, they burned with a strange luminescence. For a second, looking into the boy’s eyes, the Tasker seemed taken aback, even fearful.
“If Weep can’t pick up Dozer after I show him how to properly do it, I’ll take Dozer on my back every day from now on.”
Tasker Ozark eyed Cego suspiciously, clearly thinking he was trying to outsmart him. Ozark then looked down at Weep, still heaving, barely able to get himself off the ground, let alone lift a boy more than twice his size. Ozark nodded his head in agreement. “Okay, little champion, you’ve got it.”
Cego knelt at Weep’s side. “You all right?”
Weep wiped the snot from his nose, looking up at Cego with watery eyes. “I’m OK.”
“I’m going to show you how to do this,” Cego whispered. “It’s as easy as standing up.” Cego could hear the old master’s voice again as he said the words.
Weep nodded obediently. Ozark watched from the corner of his eye as he yelled gratingly at the other boys to keep moving.
“First, breathe out. You’re trying to take in too much air but you’re not letting enough out. Breathe out first; get rid of it
For every step Cego took, he put slight pressure with his hand on Knees’ same-side shoulder, also using his outstretched arms for support.
After a circle around the perimeter, Knees turned back at him and nodded—he understood. Knees placed his hands on Shiar’s shoulders and did the same thing.
Cego looked back at Samot and got his attention to the front of the line, where Shiar now had his hands on Dozer’s broad shoulders. Samot looked like he was about to pass out, but he grabbed hold of Cego’s shoulders.
Soon, the entire rope line was running in sync. No boys crashed into one another. Their legs moved in rhythm. They were using the entire group’s momentum to move forward like a giant centipede.
Cego could see Ozark watching the crew, his eyes darting back and forth calculatingly.
“Halt!”
The rope crew came to a stop, the boys panting.
“Weakness! You scumlings aren’t fit to my task, so you’ve decided you need to cheat, to hold each other’s hands. Will you have each other to hold on to in the Circle? When a Grievar is on top of you, smashing your face into a pulp, where will your friends be then?” Ozark spat into the dirt. “I will not tolerate such weakness. Sloth carries. Now!” Ozark screamed.
The crew was on the brink. They were nearly broken.
With a malicious glint in his eye, Ozark paired Weep with Dozer for the sloth carry. The frail boy clearly could not support Dozer’s weight, not even for one second. He tried futilely to get under Dozer, heaving with his shoulders until he fell to the ground helplessly underneath the bigger boy.
Cego had Knees as a partner again—he lowered his base and was able to hoist him fairly easily, although moving with him on his shoulders was tiring this far in.
Ozark walked to Weep’s side, looking down at him. “Stop crying, boy. Your mammy isn’t here to patch you up.” The Tasker prodded the boy with his boot. Weep rolled over onto his back, the side of his face wet with tears.
The anger swelled in Cego again, seeing the man standing over Weep with his boot against his rib cage. He dropped Knees to the ground and shot across the yard toward Ozark. Don’t let the pot boil over.
“Let me show him how to pick Dozer up.”
Ozark looked down at Cego, at first surprised to see him out of position and then seething to see him challenging his command. “Oh! If it isn’t the champion himself! Just because you’ve won a few fights, you think you’re a Grievar Knight. You think you can do my job for me?” The Tasker’s eyes narrowed. “Get back in line and do your task, you little larva. Run, fight, and shut your mouth.”
Cego’s golden eyes gleamed; even under the dull light of the room, they burned with a strange luminescence. For a second, looking into the boy’s eyes, the Tasker seemed taken aback, even fearful.
“If Weep can’t pick up Dozer after I show him how to properly do it, I’ll take Dozer on my back every day from now on.”
Tasker Ozark eyed Cego suspiciously, clearly thinking he was trying to outsmart him. Ozark then looked down at Weep, still heaving, barely able to get himself off the ground, let alone lift a boy more than twice his size. Ozark nodded his head in agreement. “Okay, little champion, you’ve got it.”
Cego knelt at Weep’s side. “You all right?”
Weep wiped the snot from his nose, looking up at Cego with watery eyes. “I’m OK.”
“I’m going to show you how to do this,” Cego whispered. “It’s as easy as standing up.” Cego could hear the old master’s voice again as he said the words.
Weep nodded obediently. Ozark watched from the corner of his eye as he yelled gratingly at the other boys to keep moving.
“First, breathe out. You’re trying to take in too much air but you’re not letting enough out. Breathe out first; get rid of it
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