"So, this going to the mine?" the teamster beside Aedelbert inquired.
"Aye. Blue Cliff. It needs to ripen before use."
The burley man looked over at the load, then back to the road. He wrinkled his nose above his thick brown mustache. "If it smells like the potter's clay, the miners might want you to move it to Grey Cap."
Aedelbert grinned and shook his head a little. "Not so bad as pottery clay. This has a wetter nature than pottery clay, so a good freeze ripens it and drives out any little stones and grit. It will keep fireplace stones from drying too fast and cracking."
"Huh." With that the men fell silent. The road began to rise and the birds leaned into their harnesses, not fighting the load but not trotting along on a pleasure stroll, either. The back of Aedelbert's legs stretched, and his thighs started to warm as the slope changed. The bath-house would be a treat once they finished this. Wassa and Turold had better have the shelters ready for the clay, or Aedelbert would have no qualms about Caedda giving both men a piece of his mind preceded by a crack to the head with a stoneman's hammer. They'd not labored so hard to have rain and snow melt their work!
Turold met them at the apron of waste rock just below Blue Cliff. He had two young laborers with him and together the eight men made short work of unloading the wagons. The teamsters hurried their beasts down from the exposed face, leaving the stone workers, smelter overseer, and his aids with the clay blocks. "I've five skin-and-stick back frames," Turold stated. "Two blocks per frame?"
Caedda looked at the contraptions as Aedelbert considered the blocks and his own strength. "Two for now, sir," Caedda agreed. "We'll see how it works. Better to make a few more trips than break the frames or our backs and have to carry in arm."
The darker of the two young men pulled a face at the idea. "Not good, sir, to carry in arms on these slopes. I've heard tell that the zwurge think it fun to trip the careless."
"That and there's still vulpen here, hunting in the uplands." Turold pointed into the heart of the mountains with the head of his walking staff. "They've been well fed in the summer, and tend to leave men alone. A man on his own, in the cold moons, or a man carrying a load in arms and out of sight of others?" He shrugged, or at least his shoulders moved up and down. "Up at the site's safe. Two charcoalers working already while the weather holds."
Aedelbert looked to Caedda and smothered a groan or sigh. Caedda appeared equally tired. Then they each took a frame and eased two blocks of clay into them. The chunks fit with a little patting and molding, and the frames did help ease the load, placing some of it on the hips as well as the shoulders. Aedelbert checked the straps and tugged a little fold of material straight under the strap. Carry-baskets might be better, but so much weight on a steep trail with rough footing? Not again, thank you. Broken bones healed, but not if a man fell twenty lachtern down the mountain with weight on his back.
They made one trip up to the smelter site before it grew too dark to be safe. "We've food, shelter here," Turold told them, pointing to a little house-like building. "Not going down again before dawn."
"No." Aedelbert set the clay in a row within the rough shelter built for it, then went to find a bush. He washed his hands in a cold stream and returned in time to watch Turold breaking sandy clay off of what proved to be a tree-jumper. The clay took the hair and outer skin with it.
"Been bakin' all day in the coals," Turold said. "Never let the fire die if I can help it, not with so much open space around."
The meat tasted dark and nutty. The little beasts had been feasting on sweet eich nuts. Hadn't one of the woodsmen said something about the more twisted the krameich, the sweeter the nuts? Aedelbert tried to recall, then gave up the effort.
After they ate and disposed of the bones with proper respect for Yoorst, Turold sat back in the shadows. Aedelbert noticed that the former miner never came closer to the fire than he absolutely had to, even using other sticks to push wood into it rather than feeding them in as most men did. He used tongs to move pots or dig out the cooked meat. "So, news. Bergmeister Sithulf, Speaker Colar and the others are going to certify a new working tomorrow. Wulfric found it just before you left to get the clay. Rumor says they're only going to give him six lachtern, not seven, because the lords have not claimed their shares in so long that they are forfeit." He sounded pleased.
Caedda added some wood to the fire. "How long is a miner's lachter, sir?"
Turold leaned forward. The red of the fire turned his face into a nightmare, scar-twisted and taut. No wonder he avoided visiting Garmouth unless he had no choice. "Fingertip to fingertip, hand held like so," fingers relaxed, palm slightly cupped. "Arms straight at the shoulder."
"Ah." Caedda nodded. "Stoneman's lachter's five times elbow to wrist, unless it is a Cartertown lachter. That's five times elbow to finger-tip. We carry our measures with us for contract." Caedda sat back, moving into the shadows.
Turold sniffed. "Man'd have to, the way you travel. Ah, that's the other news. Great Northern Emperor's coming south, first to the Free Cities, then farther south if needed."
"Really?" Aedelbert had heard stories about a Great Northern Emperor, and knew that people sent tax money to the north. No one from any imperial or royal court had appeared in at least five—or was it seven?— generations, not that he'd ever heard. He had more faith in seeing the Scavenger's rats carrying stones for him than the Great Northern Emperor still existing. But a wise man knew better than to say such things aloud.
"So one of the merchants said. The new mine's more important, if it proves solid. Looks to be lead, maybe silver." Turold sounded as skeptical about the silver as Aedelbert felt about the emperor. From what he'd heard about the mines in the region, lead, copper, and vitriole brought far more silver into the country than the miners brought up from the ground.
Either way, it meant that there would be lots of custom for the smelters. Good. He liked being paid on time and in full. Aedelbert banked the fire and the men slept.
Four days later they finished moving the clay up from the mine to the smelter site. "Aught we need to do, sir?" one of Turold's helpers asked.
"Make sure heavy rain doesn't wash it. Otherwise let it sit, just make certain every few days that it's still there." He doubted that any of the local potters would come all this way to carry off some. However, stranger things had happened.
As he and Caedda made their way down the mountain, his assistant nodded to a heap of loose rock that had fallen from a small cliff. "How long until we start the stone work, sir?"
"Three days. Tomorrow's Eighth Day and I need to wash. Then buy supplies and visit the iron-smith to get our tools inspected. I'm not certain about the long bar anymore."
Caedda nodded. "Good. One of the charcoalers said that the priestess of Gember told people to hurry the harvest as soon as it is dry. Hard cold is coming this year, then wet, then hard again if the signs prove true." They walked half a mile or so before he added, "I like the prospect, but not working in the cold and wet."
"What's good for work isn't so good for working in." Aedelbert's hand ached in anticipation. Someday he was going to find a city that needed stonemasons, a place where he could live in a snug house near a good bath house and inn and not travel in winter. And someday the sea would eat the land this far to the east of the western coast, and schaef would grow wings and fly while great-haulers learned to swim.
"I'm not certain the lords of Aldread will accept the Bergmeister's ruling that they no longer have any claim to a seventh of the mine," Caedda opined just before they reached the city's wall.
Aedelbert shrugged. It was not his problem. Cutting stones and building the smelters were his problems. That and getting the white clay out of his clothes, if he could.
3
High Water and Stone
"Good call." The smith studied the large iron bar, his eyes unfocused as he ran his hands over the length, then rested two fingers a hand-width above the pry-tip. "Here. There's a weakness here, and this will break s
oon."
Aedelbert groaned a little inside. Damn, but that's not what he wanted to hear. But he'd rather hear the words than the sound of the bar snapping as he tried to move a stone. "What do you recommend, Master Algar?"
"Either I can shorten the bar, start the tip above the flaw, or trade you the weight plus labor and make a new one for you." The short-sighted man peered a little toward Aedelbert. "I have the right material. Some miners use it, since Scavenger's Gift doesn't have fire-air in the stones."
It would be at least three eight-days before he needed the bar. "Trade the weight plus labor. I want the same size, please."
"Agreed." Master Algar spat in his palm and they shook on the bargain. Aedelbert left two coppers as promise money, went out into the street, and considered kicking the corner-curb built into the wall. No, he'd likely tear his boots or break his foot, and then who'd do the work? Instead he took a different route back to the market, stopping by a little chapel and dropping two more coppers into the wheel-shaped box by the door. Radmar watched everywhere, and things had gone well with the clay. Perhaps too well?
It was a good thing he had an account paid up at the Golden Loaf or he'd be hungry for the next eight days. Wassa had paid for the clay, so Caedda had settled all their bills. He'd also spent a lively evening with one of the professional ladies at the Red Schaef. So long as Caedda used his own wages, that was his business. Aedelbert preferred to sleep.
The next day they rented a cart and loaded their tools in it. Their new apprentice, a lad named Ehric Noneson, came with them. Aedelbert caught a few people looking at them, nodding, and then going about their business. Ehric was known by all. He thought he had twelve years of age, and had been raised by one of the inn owners with the support of the Scavenger's temple. He'd been given to the temple through the baby-door. Caedda had suggested that the boy looked a great deal like the painting of one of the lords of Aldread, but then so did a quarter of the men of the region.
The work site lay an hour's fast walk from the main road south from Garmouth. A small rock fall had opened the face, revealing a nice sandy-stone that had not cracked during the fire tests Aedelbert and Winfrith put it through. Even better, the men rebuilding the city wall did not like it and preferred a heavier stone found on the other side of the ridge from Garmouth. Aedelbert did not enjoy fighting with other stone workers for material. He and Caedda had already cleared some of the brush from the site. Ehric had spent the days while they dug clay clearing more of the area, and Aedelbert nodded as the site came into view. No one had moved anything back, and everything remained as it should be. Ehric'd piled any wood in a neat stack off to the side with a little roof of leaves and grass to keep it semi-dry. Good thinking, and would make life easier for them. Aedelbert approved. Ehric and Caedda unloaded the cart and tied the great-hauler so it could move a little and eat, but not wander away.
Aedelbert walked up the slope of fallen debris to the face and considered the stone. He closed his eyes. Dark Master, Scavenger of all that is used, lord of the dark places, show me what You would have me see. He opened his eyes and let them unfocus, just taking in the rock. There. A line of weakness appeared—a slight difference in color within the rock. He moved closer and studied the stones. Yes, they'd start there, marking the first line, then work back from above. He took a small hammer and chisel from his belt, found the right place, and marked the stone. He moved a step to the left and repeated the motion.
"Master Aedelbert's found the starting line," he heard Caedda explaining. "We drill back from there, freeing the first row, then working down. Once we have the first row clear, we can begin letting Donwah and winter help us, but until then, it is all hand labor."
As he marked the work face, Aedelbert saw the blocks starting to appear, the weak joints in the stone shifting oh so slightly with the force of his blows. There was not a name for his sight, not a guild. Was a strange form of magic or just experience and the Scavenger's blessing? No, not magic, he told himself again. Mo magic ran in his blood, but the scavenger's touch. He turned his thoughts back where they belonged and concentrated on hammer and chisel, striking with mind as well as shoulder, pushing into the rock to crack it.
Once he'd marked a two lachtern length, he returned to his starting place and marked vertical lines. They'd have to take smaller blocks from these initial larger ones, but that came far more easily than freeing the first, large stones. Aedelbert marked a dozen vertical cuts, then picked his way to the far edge of the face and sighted across it. The stone bulged out from the top of the face in a smooth, shallow curve to just above his initial line, then dropped almost straight. Scavenger be praised, once they cut the initial blocks, the water would drip into the line and freeze things more easily, Donwah willing.
"Our turn," Caedda said as Aedelbert retreated from the work face. He'd sharpened the drills and both he and Ehric wore gloves with padded palms. "Put the material over your face." Caedda pulled a hood of very light gauze over his head, adjusting it so the thinnest part hung over his eyes. "Hold the bar straight for now, like so." Caedda set the sharp tip of the drill into the horizontal cut. Ehric braced against the stone beside him and held the bar steady. Caedda tapped it twice with the hammer, nodded, and swung hard. Bangring. The blow echoed a little from where Aedelbert sat, resting. "Good. Now rotate it sunward a quarter. Good." Bangring.
Looking into the stone tired Aedelbert. The little burning sense across his forehead warned of worse to come unless he took care. He ate a sausage bun he'd bought before they left, drank some watered beer, and watched the others. Bangring. Ehric had not yet learned to flinch, and he stood steady, holding the drill well. After a while they'd switch, Aedelbert hammering, Caedda holding, and Ehric moving the chips out of the way and getting the fire ready for the wedges. Bangring. Ideally, they'd have at least one more apprentice and some journeymen, but the wall builders had soaked up every experienced laborer in the district, much as a great-hauler's feathers drew mud.
By the time Aedelbert had cleared the place where he wanted the fire, Caedda had made a good start on the holes. Three holes in a hand-span's breadth now went over a finger deep in the stone. "It's soft, sir," Caedda called over his shoulder as he backed away from the face, then rested the head of the hammer on the ground. "You can set that down. You see why the gauze?"
Ehric nodded with more energy than Aedelbert felt. "Yes, sir. Nothing in my eyes or mouth this time!"
"Right. You need to be able to see, especially if you are on the hammer." Aedelbert walked over and Caedda handed him the hammer, then stretched his shoulders. Caedda said, "We switch. Go start a small fire using some of the brush you cleared."
Aedelbert pulled his own hood out of one of his belt bags and pulled it on, blinking as the light dimmed. Caedda took the drill, checked the tip, and placed it into the next hole. Lord of Darkness, guide my hand, of Your mercy. Aedelbert tapped the drill twice to set the bar, then started pounding. Two blows, turn the drill, two blows, turn the drill. The sharpened end of the iron bar dug deeper into the gritty stone. It felt right. He had no other way to describe it. The stone gave, the cuttings fell out of the hole as the bar turned, and little cracks spread along the greater crack, working with the men. Sometimes the stone seemed to want to leave the face, for lack of a better word. Sometimes it fought.
They worked until midday by sun, drilling a section as long as one of Aedelbert's forearms had been drilled. Ehric didn't strike as hard as the masters did, but neither Aedelbert nor Caedda faulted him. A man had to learn what he could do and still be precise. Far better to take a little longer and make a clean, straight hole than bend the bar, smash your partner's arm and hand, or break your own face hitting the stone and having the hammer recoil. Caedda and Aedelbert had seen all three at least once. They had time for Ehric to learn properly, so Aedelbert set a slow pace. Ehric also needed to grow muscles. He had a start, but not the endurance yet.
When their shadows disappeared, Aedelbert nodded once and ordered, "We eat a
nd then start the split." None of them spoke much, concentrating on food and drinking. After a while, Aedelbert's ears cleared and he could hear birds, and some of the wood popping in the fire as it burned under the water-pot. The spring near the site flowed clear and safe, and they heated a little fresh water to drink. Smart men didn't drink cold water on a hot stomach. It curdled a man inside and weakened him. Once he finished his food, he said, "Ehric, just watch us. This is a different practice from most stone-cutters, and you do not know enough to help with this yet."
"Yes, Master Aedelbert." The boy stayed off to the side, eyes intent, leaning forward a little as the men arranged iron and bronze wedges, sorting them by size and depth. Caedda took four iron wedges and a smaller hammer, and returned to the work face. He tapped the wedges into every other hole, stepped back and studied the line of metal in the creamy yellow surface and nodded. He gathered four more of the larger wedges and put bronze between the iron.
Aedelbert prepared a torch using some of the straighter, harder wood that Ehric had cleared and stacked. Once Caedda finished setting the wedges, Aedelbert carried the lit torch to the face. Mighty Scavenger, Lord of all that is in shadow, aid your servant. He let the flame play over the first iron wedge, imagining it drawing heat from the torch and expanding, pushing against the weakened places in the rock as it heated the rock, softening it. The rock fought a little, unwilling to cooperate, happy to be solid. He pushed harder and the unseen cracks grew, taking the heat as the stone yielded. Then he moved to the second iron wedge, then the third. He finished the fourth and sensed Caedda coming up beside him. Caedda lit a second torch, then they traded. Aedelbert returned to the first bronze wedge and warmed it as well, encouraging the heat to flow from metal to stone, metal to swell with heat.
Miners and Empire Page 3