By noon, Aedelbert had the first arch block roughed out but not separated from the slab. He wanted to eat and rest a little before taking on that task. They drank small beer and ate sausage rolls as they rested by the small fire. Ehric poked the fire with a thin stick, then sat up straight. "Oh, I almost forgot sirs. Master Wassa asked me to ask you to watch the streams as we go back and forth. There are complaints about the water in the Iron Stream and the Gar before they become the Wimdere—farmers sayin' they are mine-soured. Master Wassa says it is spring dirt in the streams, same as every year, but the farmers say no. Master Wassa wants us to tell him or one of the miners when the streams this side clear out."
Caedda shrugged. "Could be a little of both, but Scavenger's Son says that the Iron Stream's been brown ever since before the mines opened. That's the way it is."
"True, but there's a difference between water with dirt and water that miasmas passed through or rocks pissed in," Aedelbert reminded him. "I think you and the Son have the right of it, and whatever comes from the mine is too little to be worth fussing about. 'Specially after it settles and they take the rock piss out at the end of the moat to use for paint. But farmers have to fuss."
Ehric grinned. "Mistress Godgifu told Master Paegan that if farmers didn't complain, they'd build up steam like a sealed pot and boom," he flung his hands apart. " 'S why they always complain 'bout too wet and too dry, harvest so bad they'll starve, harvest too good and prices will drop, animals doin' poorly or too well so they're likely sick..."
The men both nodded and smiled at the familiar litany. The miners did likewise, although they also complained to trick Radmar and keep Him from turning the Wheel on them. Not that any man dared complain inside the mine, unless all knew it for a jest. The Scavenger did not appreciate having His generosity and hospitality taken for granted.
"I'll tell someone when we see the change, if we see a change. I suspect the spring rains will do more than the mine for fouling the river. They've been cutting trees and brush for charcoal and building all winter, and if someone failed to pay attention," Caedda swept one hand down and away. "Soil goes into the stream, with the hillside to follow if a man's been careless."
While Caedda directed Ehric to work on freeing the smaller pieces from the first slab in order to cut them into two-hand-width blocks, Aedelbert freed the first arched stone. The top end came free easily, but then the stone balked. It wanted to break straight, and he could not permit that. He chiseled and sawed a little at a time, matching the curve on the outer face and making certain that the inner face did not split or crack. He'd gotten the block free by the time the sun passed their time-marking tree, and felt as if he'd run from Garmouth to the smelting site and back four times while carrying stone on his back.
Caedda and Ehric smirked. They'd managed six blocks freed and now stacked and hidden away from casual passers-by. Aedelbert debated being angry. Not worth the energy. He'd rather sleep than fume or argue. More muscle, less gift tomorrow he warned himself. Otherwise he'd end up asleep on his nose on the slab, and that never boded well for the larger work.
He ate something when they got back to Garmouth, and slept. His hip warned him the next morning that he'd best not sleep so well in the future, lest it lock and leave him crippled, or perhaps he'd awaken to discover that his hip and leg had downed tools in the night and departed. He moved the joint, still wondering what exactly he'd done to it. Caedda must have stepped out already, leaving Aedelbert to groan and snarl in relative peace. By the time he returned, Aedelbert could walk and had pulled on his boots. Caedda handed him a very hot loaf of bread, followed by two filled water skins. "Caught the apprentice on his way to the first delivery."
Someone had put meat paste and something green inside the loaf. It tasted... Aedelbert chewed. Not bad, but not something he'd buy if he had other options. "Not sure about the green."
"Me either. Supposed to be the first greens of spring, for health. Don't think they like being baked."
That would explain it. Even he knew that you cooked the first greens quickly in hot fat, or not at all. Still, it wasn't bad-bad, just more bitter than he preferred in bread. He finished the loaf and gathered his tools, the water skins, and followed Caedda out the door and down the stairs.
They glanced at the water as they passed streams, but they all seemed the usual spring color. Did anyplace have streams that didn't turn color for at least one day when the snows melted and spring rains came? Aedelbert had never been in such a place, but perhaps those grasslands to the east that the merchants talked about, perhaps there the streams always ran clear.
Kraw-haw! Krak-haw! The bird's shriek would wake the dead and deafen the living. Other birds complained in response. Aedelbert agreed completely with their protests at the harsh sounds.
"Reminds me of Goodwife Nilssen," Caedda winked.
"I could have done without remembering her. It is a rare woman who less deserves the title of good wife." She'd had a face like a hatchet, the figure of a laundry bat, and a voice that made squeaky, rusty hinges flinch at the sound, which probably explained why her husband had gone to look at a piece of property in the countryside and never returned. Aedelbert had managed to avoid her attentions, but she'd set her cap for Caedda and they'd ended up sneaking out of the town the morning after they finished their contract, even before the curfew lifted. Aedelbert still wished the guard well for letting them go before official gate opening.
"Master Wassa asked when we'd be ready to start on the smelters. I said two eight-days, Scavenger willing."
Aedelbert nodded. "Scavenger willing. And we find wagons and get at least some of the blocks up to the site."
Ehric groaned. Neither man scolded him. Carrying rocks up a trail ranked very far down their list of preferred tasks. The road felt a little soft underfoot. Not boggy soft, just moist, and Aedelbert wondered if snow had piled in this part of the little valley. He looked over at the sides of the road. No, the plants did not seem flat, but the sun had not yet reached the ground. Shadow probably explained it. Without heat to cure the soil, it remained raw and soft. What would be needed to ripen this dirt into rock? More sun than reached it, that had to be part of the problem. Perhaps Korvaal and Gember had declared that this would remain soil. Or was it just a lot of dried rock piss, like that miner had claimed?
Kraw-haw!
Caedda mimed choking the bird with one hand. Ehric nodded, an eager expression on his face.
"Not unless he scares the great-hauler. Then have at, so long as you don't ruin the feathers past selling."
Caedda and Ehric both bared their teeth in nearly identical not-smiles.
7
Smelter Foundations
Tunk. Not the sound Aedelbert wanted to hear as his mattock grazed a rock. Be glad the soil is thick, he reminded himself, and you are not digging a slag channel through stone. On the other hand, how he'd lost the toss and ended up digging in the dirt instead of levelling the site, well, he still had a little suspicion. Caedda was not above trickery when the opportunity arose. He was Scavenger Born, after all.
Two lachter farther and he'd be done and they could start building. And Turold did not want a precisely sloped and lined channel. A trench in the dirt, deep enough to take melted rock but not so deep as to carry hollow logs for water, sufficed for the slag channel. The workers would pull the slag out farther away from the smelters and keep the channel clear. Except some of it they'd re-heat to see what came out. Aedelbert had heard the words but not all of them made sense. He bent over, wiggled loose the offending rock, and set it aside.
"It's level enough for Turold," Caedda announced, joining the digging. Ehric carried slabs of clay and baskets of rocks to the site from the piles. Next they'd set him to softening the clay. "I drew the rough outline and marked the fire pit and the edges of the chimney."
"Good." Together they finished the trench and set the dirt aside to use to level the second smelter if they needed it. "I want to get the first course set out today, so th
ey can rest in overnight."
Caedda didn't answer until he'd finished draining his water skin. The sun wanted to make up for her absence during the winter, baking man and soil both. Perhaps Rella of the Lights felt that she had been cheated of her due season. The snow had disappeared from all but the top of the greatest peak, and even there the white hooded-cape had shrunk into a gleaming skull-cap. "Good."
Aedelbert studied the outline of the first smelter. It would be larger than the other two, with a chimney in the eastern end and the open mouth to the west in order to take in wind from the valley. The tiny tickle of breeze confirmed his doubts about the wind being strong and steady enough to feed the smelter fire. He'd include bellows holes, and if Winfrith fussed, well, they'd just leave them covered over. With that in mind, Aedelbert found two small sticks and planted them at south and north, opposite each other by the fire pit. No, a finger-width northeast would be better, and he moved that stick. Caedda handed him two hand-sized oblongs of gritty stone. Aedelbert knelt and used a half-trowel to dig out soil inside the line Caedda had marked. Lord of Stone and Darkness, master of metals, look with favor on our labors, if it is Your will. He set the first stones in place. Ehric brought more, and Caedda began working on the opposite side.
They dug out the outline of the smelter's body and snout, setting stones into the depression. Once they'd created the outline of the smelter, Aedelbert compared it with Winfrith's numbers and plan. It seemed proper, so he and Caedda set about deepening the foundation and the fire-pit and metal-pit. Winfrith had said that for this one, the metal would flow out of the smelter by stone and clay channels. Then men would gather the first-run slag and gangue and heat them again to remove other metals. Winfrith had sighed, "If we had more kupferschief and less lead, we'd not need three smelters. And if schaef had more sense, they'd knit their own scarves." Aedelbert had heard the words, and had decided that either metal workers spoke in a different tongue entirely, or Winfrith knew something about schaef Aedelbert didn't.
They stayed the night at the site, in a shelter built for the smelter workers. After they ate, Aedelbert sketched out the smelter seen from the side, using a thin piece of charred wood. "We've set this course," he pointed to the bottom layer. "We need to deepen it and both pits. That's tomorrow's work in the morning. Then we'll set the second and third courses, then cover them with clay." He looked to Ehric. "Why clay?"
The boy's eyebrows pulled in, and he wrinkled his nose. "Ah, well, since the wall is not dry fitted, to keep out air Master Turold doesn't want, sir? And to keep out the rain."
"Yes to both, but there's something more with a smelter or chimney of any kind." Aedelbert used the twig to point to where the fire would be. "Hot air from the fire, and the flames themselves, will drive so much heat into the rock that it dry-rots and crumbles. The chimney will be almost two lachter high. Do you want to replace this rock," he pointed to the third course up from the foundation, "and try to keep everything from falling on your head at the same time?"
Ehric considered the drawing. "No, sir. Because that's when something else would shift, or the wind would push the chimney before you can get the rocks back in and set, and they have to be more exactly shaped in order to fit the hole." He looked at Aedelbert. "Nothing good or easy would happen, sir."
"Exactly right," Caedda chimed in. "So the clay keeps the water and air out, the rocks tight, and if it bakes too much and crumbles, it is easy to replace. And less costly."
Aedelbert drank some tea. He'd rather have a good beer, but he needed a clear head and they'd have to carry the beer barrel up from town on their backs. "Clay protects the stone from the heat, except for the crucible stone." He drew in the arched block. "However, this is thicker, it will have clay on the under side, and the true crucible on top will pull some heat out of the stone, softening the effects of the flame. If we build it right, and if the smelter men do their job right, the fire will never touch that stone directly." Aedelbert set the stick down. "The copper smelter is different, but lead is less ripe than copper, or so it sounds to me."
"And these are simple compared to smelters for iron, gold, and silver. Here iron's waste because there's so little of it and it's got a rot in it from something else." Caedda shook his head. "I like stone. Stone makes sense. Metals... too complicated and touchy."
Aedelbert agreed. "So, once we have the courses laid for the foundations, we build up the walls, with the crucible stone set here, arch side down, depression on top. The top of this portion is to be curved, although some of that will be clay. And not just any clay." He looked Ehric in the eyes to emphasize the point. "Some clay will take the heat, like pottery clay but not as fine. Others just shatter, or crumble as they dry if they have too much sand in them. You have to have the proper stone and the proper clay, or it is a lot of repair work all the time and not worth the labor."
Ehric nodded. "Yes, sir. Proper stone for the job. What about the holes, sir?"
Adedlbert drank more tea before answering. "Ah, that's a little different. We have to leave small holes, so if the workers need to use blow-tubes to feed the flame more air, they can slide them in."
"Tuyeres," Caedda interjected. "Winfrith calls them tuyeres. Heat-resistant tips that slide in to add more air for more heat, bellows to work them. Not like the glass-makers who do it with breath."
"Whatever they are called, at least one of the smelters must have them." Aedelbert pointed to the rear wall of the chimney. "The chimney has to be tall enough and big enough to pull air well, or the smoke pools in the furnace and puts out the fire, even with extra air. Too tall and it falls over, especially since we can't anchor it to a house wall."
Understanding bloomed on Ehric's face. "Ah, that makes perfect sense, sir. It stands like a little tower, so it has to be thick at the bottom, thinner above, and round so the wind can circle instead of shoving."
"Right. There are places with different smelters, larger ones made of baked clay bricks with stone as well, but those are all in the north, where they are smelting bog iron and the fires must be hotter and last longer. These will move when the fuel is gone or the mines run out of ore." Aedelbert suspected that charcoal shortage came before the mountain running dry, since they'd had to move smelters twice since Garmouth was founded. Men dug faster than trees grew. And any fool who used good timber instead of krameich for making charcoal deserved whatever fate Radmar and Korvaal hit him with.
With that, the three stone workers banked the fire and went to sleep.
The next morning, Aedelbert and Caedda leveled the foundation of the first smelter again, just to be certain, and finished deepening the pit and connecting it to the trench. Caedda added one layer of stone while Aedelbert and Ehric brought more from the stockpile. Aedelbert them laid a course while Caedda brought stone and Ehric moved the clay to the mixing trench. Once the layers rose three high above the ground, the men triple-checked the base of the chimney before showing Ehric how to soften the clay to the proper consistency. "You need to be able to smooth it flat like plaster, but not pour it. This isn't paint or floor-clay," Caedda worked water into the slab of aged clay as Aedelbert poured a little more water in. Caedda offered a small hand-full to Ehric. "Here. Feel this, work it with your hands, get used to the texture. Remember that we can always add water, but we can't wring it out. And if the batch is ruined, you will have to go to the clay pit and dig more."
That threat inspired the proper caution on the apprentice's part, and he handled the clay with more care than some bakers worked their dough. Aedelbert approved of the care. He and Caedda shifted the crucible stone into place, then gathered the first batch of creamy grey clay and began working it onto the three rows of stones already in place. Caedda worked inside and Aedelbert outside, pushing clay into the gaps between stones, smoothing it with small wooden paddles to get an even surface. Bumps might cause hot spots that over-cooked the clay. They used more clay to lock the crucible stone into place over the pit and end of the trench, then started on the base of the c
himney.
"Heyla, what's with the gaps?" Turold demanded, stomping up to see what progress they'd made. "There's no gaps on the plans Winfrith left."
Aedelbert straightened up. "No, but Radmar turns the Wheel, and if the wind up the valley fades, how will you get air into the smelter?"
"Winfrith says it won't fail." Still, Turold looked west, down the valley to the plains and the far-distant sea. He rocked from foot to foot, as if weighing the hope for Radmar's blindness against Winfrith's knowledge. "You don't trust Winfrith."
"I trust him, but I also trust Radmar to have His say. And they will be plugged with clay unless Winfrith decides they are needed, then they can be opened with an iron tool or rod." Aedelbert folded his arms, keeping clay-coated hands away from his rolled-up sleeves.
Turold scowled more deeply, turning his scarred and reddened face into a hideous mask. "Point." He looked down at the low walls, out at the valley, and grunted, "Leave the holes, but cover them for now and I'll tell Winfrith only if we need them."
Honor saved and satisfied, Aedelbert relaxed. "Yes, Master Turold."
He returned to work and Turold clomped up the slope, calling to someone, "Easy, we need charcoal, not powder!" No, no charcoal powder. It burns but not the right way. Or it refused to burn and caked everything in black that smeared and got into every crack and wrinkle of skin, clothes, stone, and food. Chunk charcoal the size of a child's fist burned the best.
"More water, Ehric. Yes, just that little bit, now work the clay." Caedda almost tripped as he called over his shoulder, returning to the smelter with a basket-load of the stuff. The men set another course of stone, added clay, two courses, and brought the smelter walls to knee-height by the end of the working day. Ehric mixed the last batch of clay for the day, then carried more stones and stacked them beside the smelter, and fell asleep with food in his hand. Aedelbert woke him, made him finish eating, then let him collapse in the corner of the shelter. The boy certainly worked hard enough to suit Aedelbert's needs.
Miners and Empire Page 9