170
Cutters, Covers
Rigel watched the column of wagons and mounted units go by. Under Eldon’s leadership and inspiration, the morning routine of getting started had become a disciplined drill. The beginning days had been difficult; twice along the road to Scout Valley there’d been no choice but to leave the whole column strung out along the road, a string over a kilometer long that had made Rigel feel vulnerable – and coming out of Scout Valley Eldon had found it necessary to split them into three files instead of two; the splitting hadn’t been hard, but the getting back together had taken until after lunch. Now, every wagoneer and every soldier and all the rest knew their positions and maintained them. Additionally, each unit had a number, and was learning to respond to orders by number groupings, whether ordinal, odd/even, or more complex.
“Here comes the caboose!” Austin called out. When they’d first started out from Cavern Hold and Rigel had seen the two coaches for the first time, when they fell in at the tail end, he’d reportedly muttered that the train had a caboose; the name had stuck.
“Not for long.” Rigel’s observance wasn’t a happy one. His unhappiness was shared by Tanner, who for the last day and a half had faced little choice in having to spread his command to cover not just the massive “Far Trek Train”, as some wit had dubbed it, but the twenty-six massive timber haulers slowly converging to meet them. Now, far to their right, those were coming out of the hills. He tried to estimate where they’d meet, and wished he were taller: the timber haulers’ orders were to go straight south as possible; Rigel’s wagon caravan would aim for an intercept. Another minute of watching, and he sighed. Tapping his heels to Tornado, he headed out into the territory between the two columns.
Unbidden, Earon fell in with him, with an escort of a dozen. Insisting he didn’t need them hadn’t made any difference, nor had ordering them away. Looking out of the corners of his eyes at the banner the self-appointed bearer carried, Rigel didn’t bother to conceal a grin: it was barely more than a pennant, and between Tanner’s forces and Sir Patrick’s, forty or fifty pennants could be seen flying on various lances and poles. The small victory came from two arguments: that no one here needed a banner to find him, so until there were other people around, flying the great banner was just a way to wear it out; and that if Others came along, well, he didn’t know if they understood what banners were, but just in case, the first thing he’d do would be to knock it down so he could command the battle and not be the target of every one of the Foe. And then for four days they’d had something to argue about: how much did the Others understand humans? It had made the klicks pass, anyway.
“Conal’s coming”, Austin announced. He didn’t have to look; he and Titanium could identify all the regular mounts by hoofbeats.
“Greetings, leftenant”, Rigel called over his shoulder without turning, when the slowing of hoof beats told him the rider was joining them. “What’s the word?”
“Dunstan’s added a carrier, lord. They got nearly cut off by a slide. To relieve stress, he ordered crews to topple trees while the carriers made their way around the end. The wheels are sections of a large trunk. The frame uses parts meant for repair.” Conal didn’t sound approving.
“Then Lord Ortiz-Escobar gets an extra load of trees”, Rigel decided. “Tell Dunstan I appreciate the initiative and creativity, but when we pass that castle ahead, those parts are to be just parts again.”
“I understand, lord.” He hesitated. “You should come see what else they have done.”
Rigel caught the tone. “A surprise? Better than watching time go by. Come on, all – let’s make some holes in the turf!”
Rigel laughed. “The result of boredom! Actually, Dunstan, that’s brilliant.” He shook his head at the sight of a timber carrier, the inner rows of logs cut out and turned into roof and battlements. “So long as the customer is happy.”
“Worry not. The logs atop were weakest, aimed for small boards. We have but – how does Wizard Ryan say it? ‘jump-started’ the process?” Dunstan seemed more concerned about getting the idiom correct than about logs cut into shorter sections.
“Are you doing that to all?” Austin asked, standing on his saddle for a better view.
“Not at all, lad. Five of these are enough all my crews may shelter in them, and fight, should any of these Others come along. They won’t be just catching us to chew on.” Dunstan looked proud. Rigel decided it was justified.
“Five fortresses on wheels”, he said. “What weapons?” He felt like a fool for not having worried about it – though he wouldn’t be surprised to find that Eldon had.
“Crossbows and spears. Master Aengus has been giving bows of wood to lumbermen. Half those who came bear them – I would have no fewer,”
Rigel smiled. “Aengus is a treasure. All our breastplates are laminated wood. They’re a lot lighter than steel, almost as strong – and they don’t rust.” That had been something he and Tanner had agreed on enthusiastically, which had relieved the Smithcrafthall leadership: making enough steel breastplates for this little army would have impoverished everyone else. He’d most likely have had to give up four cannon to get that many breastplates.
“Shields and helmets, too”, Austin added.
“Marvels”, Dunstan agreed. “For a woodsman, gear that rusts not is a great gift.”
“I’d say you’ve given us a great gift”, Rigel stated, pointing at the fortified timber hauler. “Major Tanner will be relieved – if you get attacked while you’re west of us....” He shuddered.
“Will be holding quite fine”, Dunstan affirmed, “until himself arrives to end the matter.” Rigel worried that such confidence was unfounded, but then he was remembering battles where Jadriano Escobar and his men had been outnumbered so far there was no counting, even in the memories. Escobar and his men had been hardened, skilled, wily veterans by then, though, and while they had plainly actually attacked against groups of Foe with five and ten times their numbers, the only ones Rigel had who’d even seen them were the small band who’d ridden to the rescue of Lord Kevin MacNeil. He had no illusions that his present force would all stand fast if they faced anything near those odds. So for his part, he was hoping and praying they’d meet a party about the same size as that first one – something they’d outnumber, and be able to grind through, gaining confidence.
“The future comes as it comes”, Dunstan said softly. “We shall meet it as free persons.”
Casey had a fire going when Cristobal came limping into the clearing with Oran. “I won’t be able to walk in the morning!” the ex-Quistador exclaimed with a groan.
Scout Three laughed. “No, tomorrow you’ll be sore and stiff, but you’ll run almost as good as today. The morning after, that’s when you’ll wish you never heard of legs!”
“And still I will run?” Cristobal wanted to know, his voice containing anticipation and dread both.
Oran grinned as most of their companions laughed. “Yeah, you’ll run – you’ll love it. And the day after that, it won’t hurt so bad. But the time we’re out of here and chasing Lord Rigel, you’ll be close to keeping up.”
“I thought we were already chasing him.”
“Kind of”, Casey answered. “But we don’t move real fast here. Too many trees, too many drop-offs, too many holes. On the savannah.....” Oran wanted to hug his friend for the light in his eyes: early on, Casey hadn’t been that big a fan of running, though he had fun just being able to keep going. But he was coming to love running for its own sake, the celebration of Life it was. “On the savanna we fly!”
Oran took over. “Cristobal, stretch.” He dropped his ground cloth and kicked it open, then landed on it. “Rigel’s been managing about six kilometers an hour – not bad with all the wagons and stuff. We’ve been managing almost ten. He can’t use daylight as thin as we can, so he’s gone almost forty kilometers most days. We came sixty-five today.” He sat and caught Cristobal’s eye. “Tomorrow I’ll be happy if we do fifty – you’ll spend more time walking and stretching than jogging.” He watched the ex-Quistador Scout mouth the word. Quistador Spanish just didn’t have a word for any thing between walk and run, so the word their world’s premier runner knew had become Scout terminology, though with a twist – they had walk, stride, jog, canter, and then run. “The day after, I’ll settle for forty.” He scowled back at the scowls, but already had a peace offering of sorts. “We’ll be in new territory, so I’ll want counter-rotating perimeter patrols.”
Rielsi, an older teen from the Siol Tormod whose build was something not far from a cross between scarecrow and skeleton, grinned. “A most superb word, that is”, he declared. “Rotating, and rotating the other way – ‘counter-rotating’, two bands of happy Scouts making circles. Except we don’t run in circles, because we’re moving forward, but we stay in a circle, and the circles turn, opposite to each other.” He grinned wider, over toward Cristobal. “When we meet, if all’s calm, we sometimes slap hands in passing.”
Cristobal almost looked sick. “Apologies, Scout Rielsi. Running right on ahead is enough for me. Enjoy your circles. When one night I come cantering into camp, wishing Scout Casey had gone just another hour before choosing our place of rest... and find in the morning my legs are already moving, and I must break fast and break camp so I might catch up with them – then, tell me again about these happy circles.”
It was the longest he’d held forth on anything since they’d begun. From two spaces farther from the fire, Scout Lowan, an orphan of the Aurilae, gave him a serious look. “I hope you won’t be after talking so long every time you travel hard”, he declared solemnly. The others held their breath.
“I suppose not”, Cristobal answered after nearly a quarter minute. “Not with an audience like you.”
Oran let them whoop and laugh more than a minute. “Okay – down time. Timmon, you’re up.” Wishing for a Healer, he shrugged, and went to do what he could for Cristobal’s muscles as his Scouts smoothly transitioned from fun through warm dinner to bed.
Rita grinned at him without turning her head. Rigel was trying very, very hard to not turn to see what Earon might be doing with the banners. They were close enough to the castle of Ortiz-Escobar to make out people on the battlements of the one complete tower; the question was whether Earon considered that close enough to unfurl Rigel’s “grand banner”.
“There’s no point”, she heard Conal advise softly. “Until you can tell an arm from a body, they won’t see enough to even be sure there’s a banner.”
“Chen could”, Earon objected.
“Chen’s bloody not up on that tower!” Conal exclaimed, but still soft enough Rigel could pretend he’d heard nothing. “Though”, he started to reconsider, “but no – we were here, and someone would have found a real Scout.” He raised his voice just a notch. “The time to raise the Lord’s banner is when you can tell a face from a helmet”, he asserted, his sideways look daring Earon to contradict.
“Or if they raise a special one”, Rita added. “That’s one way of saying they want to know who we are.”
“Two of these?!” exclaimed Luiz Ortiz-Escobar. “Lord Rigel, that is a wealth of logsr!”
“Yes, two – and I’m leaving you five horses. One’s a mare”, Rigel answered.
“But–“
Rigel waggled a finger. “No ‘but’. You came here to be my vassal, correct?”
“Yes” – a hint of a grin tugged at Ortiz’ face – “but tribute flows from vassal to lord.”
That earned him a laugh from Austin as well as Rigel. “I don’t need tribute.... yet”, Rigel amended as he looked out over rolling ground that could host a thousand of the Foe. “But remember the oath: it is the duty of the lord to guard and protect the ones sworn to him. Out here, you are far from aid. In the first timber carrier there’s a semaphore kit, and somewhere in this herd I’ve brought is a team to help get it built and show you how to use it. On a clear night, you’ll be able to signal Scoutgate Tower, and maybe Hills’ Edge Hold. More towers will come, to fill in so you won’t have to wait until night. That means you’ll be able to talk to us up north. But often enough, you’ll want to send a man with a full message. It can’t hurt to be able to move around here quickly, for that matter. So to strengthen and guard you, two timber carriers and five horses is only a small thing.”
“Twenty horses”, Austin chimed in impishly, “and two cannons, that would have been something!”
“Cannon.” The way Landon said the word caught interest enough to keep anyone else from speaking as they waited. “Don Luiz, the thunder here – it rolls across the land?”
“Clearly, ap Sukhanov.” They’d been introduced; the caballero had been skeptical of the use of a bard outside of stories. Landon had been pleased that the Escobars knew of bards.
“Drums!” Landon exclaimed. “Don Rigel, semaphores need sight, and sight is easily foiled. But sound – with the right drum, I could set a beat here for those at Hills’ Edge to dance to!” He spun in a circle, the colorful cape he’d acquired flaring behind him, and stopped with hands on the rail where one day there would be a parapet. “Here I could stand, and hear a rumble! Drum, or thunder? A bard’s ears would know! And a bard’s ears would read the drum, and know the message as fast as it came – and at need, reply”, he ended, turning back to lean against the rail, hands on it still.
“Drums.” Rigel chewed on his lip. “Darned big drums. And you’d want a code, one that would carry lots of information. Morse or something as backup. Okay, I can see it”, he decided, nodding. “Except what are you going to make big drums from?”
His self-appointed Bard grinned and tossed his head over his shoulder. “Logs, m’lord. The ends of many will serve for naught but firewood. Do not break them; instead, hollow them.” He shed the dramatic flair. “I can guess at the proportions – the Wizards and Engineers and translators – with them, I can get it right. I’ll give you a drum to signal the Springs!”
“And I’ll unite the world and we’ll all live happily ever after”, Rigel replied sarcastically. “Okay – borrow what helpers you need. Make a start at it. But I’m not leaving you here.”
Lord Luiz was shaking his head. “Drums. I have three musicians; each can make drums, but one, I think, understands them. Bard Landon, ask what help you need. A semaphore I understand, but drums – those I feel!” He pounded fist to chest with a smile. At Rigel’s nod, Landon sprinted off.
“He can go from dignified to dashing about just like that”, Austin observed. “And everyone takes him seriously.”
“Probably a Bard gift”, Rigel joked.
The Rider galloped right to the last. The display made Rigel decide he needed some lessons; horsemanship was getting ahead of him. “Hey, Rider”, he called when their speeds were matched, “what news?”
“Two riders approach from behind. Sir Chen believes it to be Druids.”
“About time. I expected them yesterday.”
Austin laughed. “No, lord, you worried about them yesterday – and stressed, and fretted.”
Rigel knew there was no benefit in arguing the point, mostly because Austin was right. “Which I did because I expected them.” He waited for Austin to remind everyone that Rigel had talked about the two the day before that, but his squire just sat there grinning. Annoyed for some reason, he stood in his stirrups and turned, as though he was going to see something far back behind a kilometer-long string of wagons and its parallel column of timber carriers – of which, he was thankful, there were five fewer than when they left the hills. He knew there was no accounting for how Druids kept schedules, and also knew he shouldn’t begrudge Anaph time with Hedraing, his first real student – not to slight Eraigh, but Hedraing had been to the Stone and counted as a full Druid.
“Race you to meet them”, Austin challenged.
Rigel snorted. “You could strip and stick your dick in the ground and start getting up when I started riding, and Titanium would still beat me. Tornado would lose just because it’s Titanium.
Austin looked serious, shaking his head. “No. They take racing too seriously. It’s a joy, and not doing their best ruins the joy. Titanium’s fast enough we’d still beat you – fasted horse ever.” His eyes widened. “Fastest horse ever... Rigel, are our horses bigger than Lord Escobar had?”
The bearer of that worthy’s sword closed his eyes and let memory flow. Touching the Sword, memories became three-dimensional as Rigel lived them. He began nodding his head before he opened his eyes. “Yeah... Titanium’s a good two hands higher than Corredor, and he was bigger than average. Tornado’s bigger than Corredor, not as much. What are you thinking?”
“If Lord Escobar had been riding Titanium”, Austin replied softly, “and all his knights on horses as big as ours, would you have found his sword and be wearing it?”
“Oh.” The picture sank in of those beleaguered few, caballeros all by gallantry and valor. Charges drove home, sending Foe reeling.... “No – he’d have lived. Frak, the whole war would have been different! Every victory easier, fewer men lost.... Wow.”
Austin picked it up. “More still alive to see that last battle. Maybe not even a desperate charge. And still in the saddle when that final Druid set off the energies. Lord Jadriano knew what he was doing, putting the horses upstream from the LifeGem. When the bold ones stand at the top of the Falls, they’re right over it. So every generation, they were stronger, bigger, tougher, faster.”
Rigel knew his squire was right. “He still would have started that herd. He still would have built Refuge, except he would have been there to do it himself. But Refuge wouldn’t have been for fighting, it would have been like the Valley: a place to nurture strength, and then carry the fight to the Foe.” He grinned a little. “Thanks, Austin – that’s a perspective I hadn’t considered.”
“It’ll go well in your speech to the Council.” Austin grinned.
Rigel pretended to swat him. “You and Rita! All I want to do is deliver these investigator types, spend a little time with Osvaldo, and get moving again.”
“Speaking of moving....” Titanium reared briefly, nowhere near his full height, and spun, Austin laughing in delight staying on without thought. It was a salute to Gloaming, whose close relationship with the First Druid had slowly brought greater strength and speed, and thus stature.
Gloaming timed his stop to end up right by Titanium. Anaph chuckled, recognizing that human priorities were being trumped by equine ones. Two heartbeats later, a gray stallion joined them: Mist, his rider Hedraing looking patient. “Rigel – want to hear something good?”
“No ‘good news’ and ‘bad news’?” Rigel teased.
Anaph shrugged. “Okay, some bad news: there’s a migration up along the edge of the hills. It’s those wolf-rat things we ran into on our starting trek. Oran and Casey are up there, and they’re going to run right through them.”
Hedraing twirled his staff almost absentmindedly. It was impressive. Rigel noticed the Druid also wore a sword. “I will go aid them”, the man who was effectively Second Druid declared solemnly. Then he smiled. “And I will alter some wolf-rats, to be more like foxes. I like foxes.”
“That’s some of the good news”, Anaph cut in. “Remember I brought foxes here for the chieftains, when I was working to make a king? They’re thriving. And – Hedraing, tell him.”
“Lord Rigel, the Snatcher is aiding those creatures. It has multiplied them beyond Nature.”
Rigel looked properly amazed. “How ‘beyond nature’?”
“The females littered once out of season, large litters. They will litter again soon, also large litters.” He smiled again. “I told the Kenkaed perhaps they will be able to hunt them in actuality, not just stalking, sooner than Drûdh-ri Anaph hoped.”
“Sweet! Hey – what about your new animal types out here?”
Hedraing glanced to Anaph before speaking. “This is more of good news: the new types thrive also.”
Anaph grinned like a kid who’d just hit a home run. “We spent time reaching out to find them. They’re too far away to really examine, but they’re there. It helped me understand better what he’d done – so I thought maybe we could change more. Hedraing agreed, so there are a few more of each now.”
A sort of proud edge to Anaph’s voice got Rigel curious. “Okay, how big is this ‘few’?”
“About three gross.” Anaph looked extremely pleased, as did Hedraing; Rigel nearly expected them to do a high five. “And I’ll do more when we’re down into the original range.”
“All females”, Hedraing added, “which will breed true.” He frowned just a bit. “I could not change males so they would breed true. Drûdh-ri Anaph said Wizard Ryan could explain it, if I wished.”
Rita broke her quiet listening. “There’s one piece of the instructions inside them that only goes with females”, she offered. “You must have gotten some very important instructions on that one. Without those, the piece of instructions that says to be a male can’t pass on the offspring the instructions to be that kind of creature.”
Hedraing looked extremely thoughtful. “I think I grasp this”, he decided with a nod. “But friend Anaph, your people surely are not like that.” It sounded a little accusing.
Anaph looked embarrassed. “I joked they’re like me”, he explained, mostly to Rita, who was started to chuckle. “If your mom was a Jew, you’re a Jew. But you’re right, Hedraing – Jews aren’t different enough from other humans for it to work that way.” His eyes went wide. “And no, don’t even think of experimenting on people to see if you can make a new kind!”
Hedraing scowled. “I am not Urien. Shall we tell of our other good news?” he asked, plainly and bluntly changing the subject.
Anaph nodded, sorry he’d blurted that out. “Definitely! Rigel, Ryan’s going to be happy: the second night after I reached Hills’ Edge, Hedraing and I grabbed Guide to Tools and Machining, by that Templeton guy.”
Austin threw a mock snowball. “That’s Lord Templeton”, he insisted, doing a good job of pretend scolding. “And if you’re not nice, I won’t be nice to you when I’m Lord Templeton.” He and Anaph both laughed.
It struck Rigel that they hadn’t been this relaxed with each other since – well, for a very long time. It almost felt like when they’d first arrived – it felt good. “How many copies this time?”
“Five”, the two Druids answered together, then they laughed.
Anaph had more news. “I got a letter from Eraigh, too. This you’ll love: remember how they argued and argued about using brick? Well, the smiths haven’t been able to assign much metal for wood stoves, so the Elders finally got around to approving the use of brick – but only for fireplaces, and only a brick Misfit Village developed; if it goes two years without being used for fires, and gets wet a lot, it starts to crumble.”
Rigel cracked up. “Frak, that’s slow! Aren’t you ever going to change their rules on all that stuff?”
His Druid shook his head. “Not like that. When the Elders or Wise Women come with a question about some rule, I decide about it. I don’t butt in.”
“Like what?” Austin inquired.
“Roads is one. Just spreading gravel was one thing; they could explain it as being like a river deposit. But when Devon wanted to build a railroad bed with a real solid foundation, the Elders and some Wise Women protested he was tearing up the land. I thought about it, and told them that rule had only been until there were Druids again to deal with any great damage. I gave them the rule that the ground can be rearranged – I didn’t say ‘torn up’ – if along the edges and as much as possible, they spread soil and restore that much to being green.” He grinned so wide it looked painful. “So Ryan is annoyed – they’ve been mixing their own waste with kitchen scraps... Eraigh sends student Druids to partly decompose it all... they mix it with straw and sawdust and a lot of sand from the Falls pool, and spread it down the middle of the tracks. The student Druids decompose it a little more, just to be sure none will blow away or anything. So when there’s no real wind, taking the train along the Valley can stink.
“And down the middle of the tracks they’re putting clover and grass.”
“What about the sides? of the embankment?”
“More dirt, but it mostly is dirt. All the sediment from the old mountain-slide after the earthquake the one that made Rockslide Pool, is clogging a lot of the little side streams through the Valley. They’re busy cleaning them out, and the muck and sand settle right into all the empty space in the gravel or rock on the embankment.” He chuckled, along with the grin. “They’re planting all sorts of trees, and Eraigh’s team are telling them not to grow huge. One day riding that railroad will be like going through a decorative garden. I think they’re determined to hide it from view!
“Oh – and Eraigh and the Collegium retrieved the second volume of How Things Work.” Rita’s face lit up at that. “One volume to go, Rita.”
She shook her head. “No point until we’ve got electronics and hydraulic systems and flight”, she replied. “Just the first two volumes are awesome! And the ones the Yankees are asking for will help make it possible to actually get any use out of a lot of what’s in those.” He shook her head in wonder. “We’re getting quite a library.”
Oran grinned. “Cristobal – on your own for a bit. I won’t be far.” With that, he ducked off the trail and seemed to flow into all the living things besides it, vanishing like a wisp of vapor.
“Boo!” he said a dozen heartbeats later. “You’re getting better, guys. Eldredge, how’s the arm? Ah – laminated guard on it. Dinganë, getting used to your destiny? And Gavin – okay, you I’ll ask: what are you doing here?”
The young Scout sighed. “The Lluyd was angered. I was but weary.... He took anger, and cursed me for a tripper over roots, and said I belonged not in the forests. So I am leaving them.” He stood a little straighter. “Beyond the forests I know nothing, so I sought you.”
Oran nodded. “You guys did good – I felt you coming yesterday. After breakfast when I felt you moving, I turned off that awareness. I only was sure of you ten minutes ago. Dinganë, that’s impressive.”
The Yankee Scout shrugged. “Gavin said to flow with the forest the way my hands flowed over his skin. After that....” He shook his head. “This seems like some breezy fantasy tale – I tried, and then all in a moment that was the way it felt, me gliding across the land like my hands graced his thighs. I was aroused...” – he glanced down – “and more. Now I can’t make it stop; just standing here, I feel as though I were rolling naked across everything in sight, and breathing in the scents, and tasting the surfaces... all at once.”
Oran laughed. “Like being drunk, huh? Though if you ever think you’re going to cum from it, you’d better have someone else watching out for you – best to be in one place, and having someone watching out for you.”
Dinganë’s eyes seemed to bulge. “I thought something bad had happened!” he swore, relieved.
“It did”, Oran said with a sigh. “Anything that takes your attention from your job is bad. And in the wrong moment, it can get you killed.” A thought struck, and he grinned. “Or did you ever manage to get head while driving, and cum without messing up the steering?” Not that he had, but the way Austin sometimes talked....
The Yankee Scout blushed. “Um – yes. There was a bet... Yeah. I orgasmed today while running, and it was like tunnel vision, but it didn’t knock me out.”
“Good for you. Hey – if your hands are that good, you can work Cristobal over at next break. Um, just his muscles!” He turned his attention to the fourth member of the little group of newcomers. “And who is this?”
The fourth figure unfolded from the ground. A girl, Oran saw, just shorter than himself, dark-skinned like a serious tan – and more than a little weary. “Call me Newt. My mom named me ‘Nootauah’, which she says means ‘she is fire’ in our language. We’re Algonquin. Dad was Iroquois. I was in communications tech. Then I was a Healer. Druid Eraigh told me I was a Scout, which sounded more fun than spending my time in a Hall playing emergency physician. So here I am.” Boldly she crossed the distance, a quick two steps, and grabbed his arm.
“Hey!” the Scout/Healer exclaimed. “I just wanted to see how you recover so well – but you’ve got tearing! Plop your arse on that log and get quiet.”
>now listen?< Runner’s plaint sparked guilt: pride and determination – and more pride, he admitted – had made him shut off Runner’s concern.
“Okay – will an hour break be good?” he asked meekly.
Newt nodded as she tugged up his shirt and slid a hand in on his abs. “Sufficient. Necessary is just time to make some tea for you. Stars! Did you get cut in two?!”
Oran sighed. “I might as well tell the whole story....”
“Snow.” Rigel sounded disgusted.
Rita laughed. “It’s not a personal insult, O Leader of Astoundingly Slow Expeditions.”
‘It’s spring.” But his tone was lighter.
Lady Escobar touched Rita on the right elbow, asking attention. “Late snows come every few years. Always they mark the years of whirlwinds. Storms of snow and ice crash into storms of rain and thunder. Perhaps two years in a row, and then when winter is gone, its cold is gone. Then, spring is spring”, she concluded, a hint of teasing in her tone as she looked at Rigel.
He wasn’t looking back, but out at the falling snow. “Every few years.... I think Anaph said there’s a really big ocean to the west. Maybe it has some kind of El Niño pattern. That’s three years or so, isn’t it?”
“Five on average”, Rita answered. “Though scientists thought they were coming quicker. But it was sort of a periodic event. You think there’s some sort of ocean warming pattern?”
Rigel chuckled. “Is that what causes an El Niño? Then that’s kind of what I’m thinking. I just knew it was because of something in the ocean.”
“Well, it’s a good guess”, she replied. “Ryan would know better. I think it’s enough to know there’s a cycle. You can plan roughly for something without knowing the cause.”
“Planning? I’ve been playing it by ear!”
“What do you play with ears?” inquired Lady Escobar. “Is this another of your odd ways of speaking?”
Rita laughed. “Yes, it is. It actually comes from musical in–“
“Lords!” a panting page came careening, yelling, through the doorway. Rigel and don Ricardo Mendez both spun.
“What is it, Paco?” don Mendez asked.
“A collapse, lord! Workers are trapped.” The boy bit his lip. “Lord, one is Rico.”
“My son!” Mendez was away, sprinting.
Rigel was a quarter second slower. “Austin – follow him! Airein – get Master Devon.
“I know where they are working”, Austin replied, grabbing Rigel’s arm, swinging him around and launching him down the hall. You follow him!” Rigel almost asked what Austin was going to do instead, but realized that he trusted his squire enough to not need to ask; whatever it was, it was probably something he himself wasn’t going to think of even if he stood there ten minutes. He ran.
Austin summoned all the dignity and command and authority he could envision as he slowed, then strode into a room three levels below, a level where the castle was being excavated into the hill’s bedrock, the stone taken out to finish for building material. As he’d guessed, his quarry was there with three of Ryan’s junior wizards and a pair of Devon’s engineers. “Mervynn”, he called, “There’s been an accident – with digging. Come – now.”
Mervynn stood, snapping his cutter into its welcoming scabbard with a precision that made Austin uneasy every time he saw it –no man should be that precise without looking! On the other hand, the sight of two opposable thumbs per hand reminded him, Mervynn wasn’t exactly human any more. But the – everyone had adopted Ryan’s word – avatar didn’t come toward the door, arch, but brushed a girl Wizard aside and put his right hand against the wall. Austin decided to give him five seconds; on four Mervynn was turning. “There is a flaw in the stone”, he stated. “Lead.”
The two nearly collided with Devon; in order to doge, Austin either had to shove Mervynn into a wall or wipe out Airein. He chose the latter. “Roll”, he commanded calmly, almost wrapping himself around his squire from behind, doing a shoulder roll and coming to his feet, bringing Airein with him. They grinned at each other a brief moment before sprinting to catch up.
Rigel already had a cutter out. The evidence of his work was a pile of loose stone with very, very clean and smooth surfaces. He heard the footsteps and turned. “Dev – here.” He pulled off the goggles and their built-in ear pieces. “I sliced a bunch of loose stuff out of the way. They’re pulling it out. But I figure you know better what you should and shouldn’t cut.” They moved toward the whole while Rigel spoke.
Devon dropped to one knee and looked in, the better to see above any rubble. “First five meters look – no, make that the first four are fine. I see a crack, and after that a short space where the ceiling is fine. Don Mendez, we’ll need all the bracing material you have.” With that, Devon stepped in. Rigel had been cutting what was close; Devon assessed the heap and cut carefully at what was loose.
Mervynn merely glanced at the excavated opening. As below, he walked to the rock face and set his hand against it. With a shake of his head, he pulled his own cutter. In a surprise to Rigel, the avatar flexed that extra thumb, and the visible tip of the tool faded to nothing – and he plunged the blade straight into the rock. It was no surprise when he put his ear to the stone, pressed hard against it. For a handful of seconds he listened, then took a sideways step toward the tunnel where Devon work. Again he plunged the blade in and listened.
“Don Rigel, what is your man doing?” Mendez demanded.
Rigel shrugged. “Studying the stone, I think. Maybe he’s going to go around the collapse.”
Mendez looked surprised. “I had not though of that. You described these cutters, but I failed to truly imagine their effectiveness until your Master Devon showed me. Perhaps not then”, he finished, pointing to where Mervynn had just sliced a conic shape, “Yet how does he mean....” Rigel’s eyes went wide with don Ricardo’s as Mervynn plunged the cutter into the center; the wine’s pitch climbed and passed beyond the audible. They felt the vibration a pair of seconds before the huge chunk, like the first meter of a tall cone on it side, came sliding out. Workmen, hovering and wanting something to do, dashed to roll and skid it sideways. Mervynn was already working on the next piece, another conic slice.
Rico felt a tug on his ankle. It brought him out of blank terror. Felix had been right behind him. If he was tugging at Rico’s ankle, then he was alive! But how long?
Somewhere in the direction his head pointed, there were sounds. Someone was moving block of stone. Ricardo ‘Segundo’, he told himself, you are a Mendez: it will not do for them to reach you, and you doing nothing for yourself! He tried to call to Felix, only to discover that rock on his head wouldn’t let him open his mouth. Moaning or whining would probably just frighten his friend, so he remained silent – but not inactive.
His right hand was free. Painfully he wrenched it to reach in front of him. The first stone he found was heavy, or had another on it. But it wiggled, however slightly, so he felt at it till he found a grip. The effort to shove it tore at his back muscles, enough that a yell of pain erupted – except it was trapped in his mouth, a thought that would have brought giggles if it hadn’t served up a platter of panic, Panic is like blinders, he told himself, so focus, Rico chico! His mother’s fond but annoyed nickname oddly buoyed his spirits. He focused on the thought that he’d made a start, and reached again, consigning the pain to a mental chest... or at least telling himself he was.
Five rocks later he cause a tumble. He cringed at the vibrations coming through the pile, pulling his arm close to shield it. Joy followed: “I can breathe!” he exclaimed, only then feeling the ache in his jaw from unconsciously trying to open his mouth against the weight of the pile.. Impulsively he tried to clap his hands – and his left arm, pinned so far, moved. He let himself cry for the joy of the small victory. Then the tug on his ankle came again.
“Felix? Can you talk? How bad are you hurt?”
“I have to twist my head – that hurts. I can’t feel my legs. My right arm is stuck. Rico, I’m scared!”
“Yeah – me too. But I got my head free. I’m going to try to get my left arm out. Can you move any?”
“I can lift my chest from the floor. I can move my left arm. I wish I could move it farther – I itch.”
Rico chuckled; they were in danger of being crushed to death, and Felix was worried about itching! “Patience – I’m working, and I hear Father’s men coming.” Or were they that Earl Rigel’s men?
Minutes passed. He cheered when he tugged at a rock, it moved, and a whole miniature slide tumbled over him, and all at once he could get up on his elbows. But with the relaxation came a new problem: he had to pee, and he couldn’t even reach his pants. Pushing to try to pull himself free brought on a rumble of settling rock; from behind, an “Ow!” “Sorry”, he called to Felix. “I thought I could get clear. Did that make it worse?”
“I’m jabbed in the back, now. But I can move the rock in front of me!”
Rico thought carefully. “Tell me if anything moves.” No hesitation! he ordered himself, and did a push-up from the knees. There were a few clicking rocks, but nothing really moved. “Can you send it here between my legs?” The answer came as a bump on his hip. Carefully he lowered his weight. It was a painful spot, but he need it. “Felix, I have to pee. I can’t do anything to not splash on you.”
“I can! Wait.” A scraping sound, then another, told him his friends was shoving rocks forward. While he waited, he let his chest down to the stone floor and snaked his left arm back to undo his pants. “Okay”, Felix called. “But now I have to!”
Rico wondered why peeing on the floor made a humming sound. It was a high-pitched hum.
“Hey!” Felix’ yell was frightened. Rico started to call back, but Felix yelled again first, fear replaced by excitement. “I’m out!”
Someone tunneled – that’s not possible! Or – yes, father said Earl Rigel had a magical cutter of stone. “Am I next?!” he yelled. The voice that answered was familiar, that of do Rigel’s squire, Austin.
“Sorry – Mervynn can’t get you out this way. He says all the rock will just keep falling.”
Suddenly Rico found himself truly frightened.
Rigel didn’t hear Anaph come in. “Rigel – I felt it. There are four trapped.” Lord Mendez turned with a puzzled look.
“There were five, but now they are four”, Anaph informed him softly.
“My son...?”
“Oh.” Anaph stepped around Rigel and took the lord’s arm. “Please stay calm, don Ricardo.” The Escobar lord, to be Rigel’s vassal, Swallowed hard. Anaph knew that the man was half-terrified of Druid powers, so he explained. “Your son’s... life will be much like yours. I am... feeling yours. Wait.” Ten seconds later he sighed and let go, then just stood with his eyes closed. “Your son lives.” A step took him to the wall, on which he set his right hand. “Mervynn has his companion.” The Druid frowned. “He’s in a precarious position – the rock over him could collapse easily.” Seeing the fear and worry on Mendez’ face, he added, “He is not in immediate danger. He can breathe, and has no great injury. If he cannot be rescued quickly, Master Devon can clear a way to the space in front of him, so he can have food and water.”
Don Ricardo stared at Anaph, and licked his lips. “You can know so much from here?”
Anaph nodded. “I feel the life. Even the stone has life, enough for me to understand where things are.” Mendez nodded, though plainly uncomfortable.
“It’s a gift, don Ricardo”, Rigel said softly. “As is Healing”, he added, as Lumina arrived and went straight to Felix whom one of the castle’s squires had just brought out. The boy was sobbing. “I can’t feel my back”, he declared, fear making his voice tremble.
“Hold him”, Lumina instructed the squire. Moments later, Austin slid from Mervynn’s passage and moved to take some of the weight. By then, Lumina’s torc was glowing. Lumina’s lips pressed together, and she shook her head. “Rigel, I don’t know enough. His spine is pinched! I can Heal tissues, but I don’t know how to move them!” She looked appealingly to Anaph.
“Maybe....” Anaph set his staff standing, went over, and dropped to his knees. The Druid froze.
“He’s not breathing”, Lord Mendez said softly. “Is that....?”
“Good or bad?” Rigel asked. “Actually – yes. He needs to feel very carefully, to do anything with something this bad. Breathing is a distraction. But if he goes too long, yes, it’s bad.” Mendez and FItzWin waited. The only sound was Devon’s voice, the occasional sound of a heavy mallet on wood, and the steady cadence of grunts as stone fragments were tossed over a freshly-cut hole to cascade down the slope below. Felix wiggled once; annoyed, Lumina reached to touch his forehead, putting him to sleep.
“She just made him sleep”, Rigel told Mendez, allaying fears before they were voiced.
The castle’s master’s head moved in a combination of a nod and shaking his head. “This is from God?” he whispered.
“From the Lord, the Giver of Life”, Rigel assured him. “Druids speak little of Christ, but they do His work.” He wondered how Dmitri and Tanner would take that.
“Ah.” Mendez sounded as though it was one of those moments of clarity that come occasionally, almost always with surprise. “Then they are monks of the Holy Spirit.” It came out as a conclusion, not a question. It struck Rigel as a sensible definition – and grinned as he realized it might not sit well with Anaph – or Dmitri.
“See it?” Anaph whispered after what seem to Rigel like hours.
Lumina nodded and let go a sigh of relief. “I can trigger the muscles. But I’m not sure of control. So....” She laid a hand on Felix’s thigh, as far as she could reach without moving. “Austin, get his boots off.” Rigel’s squire nodded, carefully lowering the legs he was holding.
“Frak – they’re stuck.” He sighed and looked to Señor Mendez. “I have to cut them.”
Lumina shook her head. “Never mind – it’s not that important. I wanted to try to make his toes move.”
Austin looked at Felix’s left boot, his hands on his thighs. After two heartbeats, he grinned, and squeezed the toe of the boot. “You move ‘em, I’ll feel it.”
Lumina beamed. “Brilliant! Okay – I don’t know how long this will take.”
“Does the delay injure him?” Mendez asked.
“No.” The voice came from behind and to Rigel’s and Mendez’ right. “Only if the pinch gets worse. She wore white, shirt to pants to jerkin to short cape over her shoulders and falling to her waist.
“I forget the ranks – what do those colors mean?” Rigel asked, mostly to distract Mendez from his son’s, and son’s friend’s, situation.
“Dedicated.” She managed to grin and look unhappy at the same time. “First Healer Lumina says I can’t concentrate enough.” She smiled. “But I’ve got a uniform for Pledged. This will be a long journey, true? I think I can get my focus.” She laughed roughly. “She’s correct; my mind always wanders. I could have had perfect marks, but....” She shrugged. “Well, that life was burned. No worrying about marks, here.”
“Vittoria – lend a hand”, Lumina called softly.
“Vittoria Valda Whittaker. Named for her grandmothers, an Italian-French lady whose family immigrated at the time of the Kaiser’s War, and a Swedish doctor who came back with her grandfather from a mercy tour in what had been Japanese Korea.. Both those grandparents and the first grandmother were doctors.” Landon made a slight bow when he finished, since Rigel had turned to listen.
“And she’s a Healer. Makes you wonder, huh?” Rigel mused.
“Enough that I have begun inquiries”, the Bard replied. “Preliminarily – two-fifths of our Yankee Healers had parents or grandparents who were doctors. Include nurses, and it rises to three quarters. It is”, he concluded, “suggestive.”
Rigel merely nodded, thinking that “Wow”, would sound shallow. But something else occurred to him. “Anyone like Ocean in your group? Intuitively good with herbs?”
“Two. Apothecaries and botanist in the family trees.”
Rigel grinned. “So what’s in your family tree?”
“Stage singer and poet, forester, script writer, and handyman. I fail to find relevance in hotel chef or recreation center manager.” He said it so seriously Rigel laughed. But their attention was drawn back to the Healers.
“I see it”, Vittoria said softly. “Lumina, can you ripple it? I don’t have that much control.”
“Honesty is a virtue”, Austin teased.
Lumina shot him a dirty look. “Start if off”, she ordered. Almost immediately a laugh of delight followed. “Yes! Anaph – can you widen...?” She sighed. “Excellent.”
“What are they doing?” Mendez asked.
“If I may, lord?” Landon asked Rigel, who nodded. “Señor Mendez, I venture that Druid Anaph is applying energies to fight the pinch on the spine, while the Healers first strengthen the muscles there to restore their proper position and second heal the tissues which run from the brain along the spine to command the body.” The Escobar lord looked doubtful. “Don Mendez, I myself have the Druid gift. I can sense somewhat of their doings.”
“So, shall he recover?”
“Yes.” The answer came from a weary Lumina, who let her hands fall away as she sank back on her heels. “I’ll give thorough instructions. If there was a place for him to swim....”
Señor Mendez frowned. “Master Devon suggested baths, after the Roman fashion, but–“
“Rigel, you and Devon carve them out before we leave”, Lumina instructed, in a tone leaving no room for doubt that it was a command with no room for negotiation. “The best exercise he could get is in water. It reduces the risk – oh, by ninety percent. Until then”, she told Felix’ lord, “he stays in bed, flat. Vittoria?”
It was a question for a student to continue, not for help. “He may move his elbows and hands but not lift his arms”, the Dedicated stated. “He may move his feet, but not attempt to move his legs – at all.” She turned her head to look up at Mendez and Rigel. “He should do those things, carefully at first, regularly.”
“Straps, then”, concluded Señor Mendez. “And a stretcher. And now – my son?”
“I can hear him”, Devon called. “Wait.” Seconds later he crawled out and stood, covered with dust. “Señor Mendez, there are two ways I can do this: one, I carve a way around and above, and we dig down to your son; two, we dig through the pile. If we dig through the pile, I need bracing: either a lot of your mortar, which will get thrown away when you clear this, or a lot of wood, which won’t be good for anything but burning afterward.” He glanced at Mervynn, who nodded. “Your plans for this section are gone anyway – Mervynn says the flaw in the rock goes too far. From what I can see, I agree.”
Mendez closed his eyes and took two measured deep breaths. “Which would you do, Master Devon? and... delver Mervynn?”
Devon turned a moment and looked at the rock behind him. He took three steps backward to stand with the two lords rather than turn. “I’d go high and down to him. It’ll take longer, but I think it’s safer. Mervynn, you feel the stone – if we curve up shallow, and brace well, can this whole space be turned into a big gallery?”
Mervynn scowled. A muscle spasm jerked his back sharply. Without looking, he reached back and touched the wall. “With care. Druid Anaph, can you bend a tree?”
“Bend a tree?” Anaph looked confused, but then understood. “How big an arch?”
They learned something else a cutter could do – for someone with two thumbs: Mervynn drew – if flipping something sideways as the scabbard opened itself counts as drawing – twisted the grip and bulb in a way that looked painful, pointed it at the wall, and incised a line. Chips and dust of stone flew. “The greatest, along there.” He scowled again. “It’s not exact. I don’t have the control that my–“ Looking suddenly confused, then frightened, he stopped talking.
“To hold that stone – a meter-thick beam”, Devon judged. “Anaph, it doesn’t have to be a single beam – take five centimeters at a time; we can drill and peg it. You can get perfect fits, right?” He finished with a grin and a teasing tone.
“In my sleep”, the Druid answered, not quite chuckling. “Yes – five centimeter thicknesses, I can help bend. Devon, if you really mean that we’re going to do this, it will take time.” As he finished, he looked at Rigel, who closed his eyes and groaned.
“I know. But it’ll take two days to carve our way back to – Señor Mendez, what’s your son’s name?”
“Ricardo – known as Rico.”
Devon nodded. “Same name. Okay. It’ll take more than a day of steady work to get to Rico anyway, Anaph. If we do this lip first and get a beam in, it won’t take much longer, and I’ll feel a lot better about stability. Lord Mendez, not much of this stone will be worth making building stone from, and I don’t want to go slow enough for that, anyway. So we’ll have to start by turning that hole into a big window. If you have a designer or architect” – a figure lurking back behind the lord raised a hand – “good – mark where you want a window or windows. We’ll frame them with wood, too. In fact I think we’ll frame the whole gallery, like the beams were holding up a regular roof – better to be safe..” He looked around at Mervynn, who didn’t respond, and sighed. “Rigel, just this gallery is going to use up half one of those timber carriers.”
Mendez spoke up. “A small price, for my son. Gendon – mark your windows. Then get the Druid the trees he needs.” He sighed. “Healer, what of my other workers?”
Lumina looked to Anaph, who answered. “One is crushed not a meter from where Felix lay. The last two are safe, farther back. They are partly buried, but in no danger. They’ll get hungry. Though... if Mervynn can punch a hole, you could get water to them – shove a tube through the hole. Mervynn?”
The avatar trembled, shook, and seemed to awake. “Druid Anaph?” Anaph didn’t mention that he’d already stated his question; he just repeated it. “Yes – I can make a hole.” He walked to the hole to the outside and stood looking.
“Okay – let’s get to work”, Devon declared.
“You’re in charge”, Rigel declared.
“Ow!”
“Rico!” snapped Señor Mendez. “Wait until Master Devon says you can move!” Sniffing, he relented somewhat. “I know you want to be free of your stink – and its source. But you have waited many hours – you can wait a few minutes more.”
“Yes, father. But I am leaving my pants here.”
Devon chuckled. “There’s a tub of hot water for you right outside. Your lady mother didn’t want to get a robe soiled to cover you on the way to a bath, so we brought the bath here. Now – put that right arm over your head.” The Mendez son complied; Devon sliced carefully; stone tumbled.
“¡Increible!”, young Ricardo exclaimed twenty minutes later as he emerged, practically carried by a worker and his father, since his cramped muscles couldn’t carry him. The chamber had changed dramatically since he’d gone into the tunnel, a hallway being carved from the rock of the hill: three great windows, the large middle one with its top framed in gleaming wood and the smaller flanking ones framed completely, greeted him where there had been solid rock; to his left, what had been solid wall now showed an arching roof, supported by great laminate wooden beams – matching a curve over his head, which he couldn’t see yet. Not that he gave it even a thought; his attention was on the tub of water with vapor rising from the surface. Once there, he gave a sigh and sank to his armpits – the tub wasn’t big enough to cover him without tucking his knees, and those weren’t obeying.
“Father, how is Felix?” he asked.
The elder Mendez didn’t answer directly. “Ricardo, where ought you have been, when the digging fell?”
Rico looked down at the water. “At lessons”, he answered.
“Where ought Felix have been?”
“With me”, the boy whispered.
“So.” The father delivered the word softly but sternly.
“I got him hurt”, Rico confessed miserably. “Because I thought figures dull.”
Señor Mendez allowed himself a small smile. “So?”
Rico sighed. “So it is my duty to see to him. And you won’t tell me how he is – I must learn that myself.”
Fingers dropped lightly onto his shoulders. “I will tell you some”, Vittoria told him. “If you hold still. First, I tell how you are.” They all waited silently, though since Devon and his workers continued their noisy activities, it wasn’t quiet. “Bruises, a torn muscle, cramps, and skin sores. Keep still and I’ll take care of the torn muscle. Then you’ll be as good as Felix – your body will take care of itself, if you’re careful and follow instructions. He just has a longer way to go.”
“Then he is well?!”
The Healer slapped Rico’s neck. “I said keep still! If he follows instructions better than you, he will be well, just as you will be well – but you aren’t yet. There. Now you can’t make it worse by moving around. But no running! or jumping!” She pulled her hands back and wiped them on a towel, then turned to the father.
“I’ll write full instructions.” With a bow to the two lords, she turned and departed.
“Your Healer’s appearance was timely”, lord Mendez observed with a little amusement.
“Not a surprise”, was the reply. Landon swept grandly into the room and bowed with flair. “I knew Master Devon had nearly freed young Ricardo, so I brought her. I held her in waiting until he was settled in the tub. I waited until she had finished her task.” He grinned. “Now, young lordling, what do you think of the form of your rescue?” With a dramatic sweep of his arm he indicated the vaulting ceiling, and with the other, the windows – out of the middle of which a pair of workmen were dumping a basket of rock fragments. “I hope you find the windows useful – your fouled clothes went out in the last basket.”
Rico laughed. “May they feed the plants below!” Then he turned to really look at the rock where he’d been trapped for most of two days. “Marvelous!” was all he could say for the two great wooden arches supporting an arched stone vault, with crossing arches at seemingly random angles crossing them. The ends of those cross-beams met the centers and quarter-points of the windows, but didn’t run parallel at all back into the hill. “That’s beautiful!” he added, pointing to those cross-beams. “Like branches in a forest.” He bit his lip. “Father, is this because I ruined the plan?”
Mendez looked startled; Landon answered. “You didn’t ruin it – you just happened to be here. The mountain – the hill – has a flaw. This is what Master Devon, Master Gendon, and Master Mervynn agreed could be put here.”
“And all the rock?” He pointed to another basketful on its way to the great window.
“To be gravel”, came the answer. Devon peeled his shirt off and dipped his arms in the tub up to the shoulders. “Lord and young lord, Grand Earl Rigel here and lord Osvaldo want a road here, not just a dirt path. I’ve talked with Gendon about how to build the bed. It will need a lot of rock, so don’t let all that go to waste. You don’t have to break it up, just sort it by size. With that and the rest of the rock scrap you’re making, you can build a hundred meters of road. Yeah, Rigel, it’s not a lot – but it counts.
“Now – want to go see the baths? Master Gendon sent word they’re ready to start filling.”
The rain that had Rigel annoyed – not angry, since he wasn’t going anywhere for the moment – had turned into a blessing. The castle-in-the-making had cisterns to top off, but the present deluge had been diverted to the stone basin that was a third inside an artificial cavern, a third under a hastily-built wooden roof. It was crude, nothing like the baths at Cavern Hold, but speed had been the object, not precision. At the hill-ward end, Anaph lay face down on the bare floor. Not far from him, a figure in the robe of a student Druid stood with his face in the corner.
Austin trotted over to greet them. “Anaph’s pissed at Weylin – he said Urien could do this faster”, he announced with a grin.
“Do what?” Rigel inquired.
“Bring hot water from the ground. He said it’s really deep, but he can get it here”, the squire explained. “It won’t be very much, at least for the whole pool – that’s why Mervynn cut the small pool on the side. What Anaph can bring will get that warm – not like a bath, but not like ‘brr!’.”
Rigel mentally counted to three. “How long will this take?”
Austin laughed. “He’ll keep working till you’re ready to go. Fionn is really good at bending beams, so Anaph can just keep working on the water. He’ll make it better on the way back. Oh – Hedraing was helping, but he got up an hour ago and said he had to get back to Hills’ Edge. Didn’t say why.”
Rigel looked over the great pool and turned to Devon. “I don’t suppose you want to wait to swim in it?”
Devon laughed. “No – and Mervynn and I can finish up above tonight. This can stay rough till later – though the parts Mervynn did are darned near perfect already! We’ll make it all tidy when Anaph improves the hot water flow.”
“Good – Austin, pass the word: we leave in the morning.”
Morning brought a surprise. “You like them?” Rita asked, teasing – the look on Rigel’s face was answer enough.
“Covered wagons”, he marveled. “Who...? How...?”
“Ryan’s idea”, she reported. “He worked it out with Eldon and Eraigh. The covers weren’t quite finished when we left. Everyone’s been cutting and sewing when you weren’t looking.” She chuckled. “Which was most of the time.”
Eldon came riding up. “Sir, we got the most important canopies up first, the moment the rain started. The last were only an hour after the rain, but those covers got spread when the rain started, so nothing’s more than a little damp.”
“You put the frames up from underneath? Tricky”, Rigel said. “And how waterproof are they?”
Eldon laughed. “The frames just tip up – they’re arches. Waterproof? Find out – ride in one.”
Have you published anything for a check yet? I'd hazard to say it would be a comfortable wage you'd haul in.
