by Sky Corbelli
Chapter 28
Working Hard and Hardly Working
Apparently traveling on foot was a good deal faster when the ground underneath moved forward too. They reached Southedge around mid-morning. People milled about, tracking their approach with cautious interest while surveying the damage caused by the water-seer the night before. Ezra glanced at the holes in the buildings where the seer had attacked them as Gaav marched them up to the Wellwards' inn.
“Mama! Papa! I'm home!” Kelly broke her grip on Gaav's hand and ran for the inn. Mr. Wellward, obviously still working on getting his ruined business back in order, dropped what he was doing just as his daughter hurled herself into his arms. He threw her up into the air and caught her on the way down with a joyous laugh, holding her tight to his chest.
Mrs. Wellward came down the remains of the stairs and let out a cry, then ran to Kelly and her husband. “Oh, thank you Mother, thank you!” she whispered fiercely, tears streaming from her eyes.
“Well, that's nice. Good to see everything turning out for the best.” Mat nodded sagely. “Looks like we've got a bit of a walk ahead of us though. So, thanks for everything Gaav, it's been a pleasure; I hope to never see you again.” Mat gestured to Sarah and Ezra and casually turned to walk out of town. “We'll just find our own way out.”
Gaav's massive hand clamped down on Mat's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “You said you were here to help people.” Gaav gestured with his free hand around the town. The inn and several other buildings were showing heavy damage from the fight the night before. A makeshift hospital had been set up behind the inn's bar and was full to overflowing with wounded people. The water-seer may have made it out of her scuffle in the bar with barely a hair out of place, but from the look of things she was the only one. “There are people to help right here.”
Mat looked around, taking it all in, then turned hopeless eyes to Sarah. She shrugged and started rolling up her sleeves.
There was plenty of work to be done. Being in the company of an earth-crowned returning a little lost girl was explanation enough for the team's presence, at least as far as the people of Southedge were concerned. Three more able bodies was just too much of a windfall to pass up. Ezra found whole new groups of muscles to exhaust as he carried wood from one place to another, held planks in place for the craftsmen, and generally tried not to make a nuisance of himself.
Sarah began by helping to clear broken glass, until she caught sight of the little forge where new windows were being molded. She watched intently as the craftsman removed the first pane, tisking her tongue at the yellowish tint of the glass. “Lead,” Ezra heard her mutter, “no potassium nitrate to correct it.”
She gave a dramatic sigh and walked over to have a hushed conversation with Gaav. Ezra kept an eye on her while helping to hold stones in place for the destroyed well. Sarah gestured with her hands, indicating a certain size, and Gaav shrugged and put his hand to the ground, closing his eyes to concentrate.
“Carefully now...” one of the workers warned as they brought another fallen stone back to the well. Ezra shifted a bit to get out of the way.
The earth around Gaav's hand rippled slightly as he withdrew several chunks of a copper-colored metal from it. No hole was left behind, and small fragments of the mineral floated freely around his hand. Sarah deftly plucked the rocks from the air, nodded politely to Gaav, and headed to the forge.
“Aahh! Thundering hell!” Ezra was shocked to hear the explosive outburst beside him when he noticed that the stone he had been holding was missing. Ah, there it was... on the cursing man's foot.
The man and his friends gave Ezra some fairly decent scowls as they helped him hobble off to join the rest of the wounded. Ezra turned back to the well only to be spun around, pointed to the crew helping to rebuild the walls of the destroyed inn, and given a firm push. “Looks like they could use your help over there,” the man in charge of the well growled at him.
That really didn't seem to make much sense, what with three of the well workers walking to the little hospital, but Ezra saw that Gaav was moving toward the inn as well. Perfect, he thought smugly, just the opportunity I've been looking for.
He sidled up to Gaav as the huge man effortlessly lifted a support beam and crossbar into place. Ezra quickly jumped up onto a nearby ladder and help steady a connecting beam. The woodworker who had been juggling it along with a hammer and handful of nails gave him a thankful smile as he began securing the rest of the structure. “So, Gaav,” Ezra began nonchalantly, “when did you first realize that you were an earth-crowned?”
Gaav didn't bother to look at him as he answered, “Earth commanded that I see to the needs of the people. I was crowned and went forth to do his will.”
Ezra looked at him sceptically. “Earth? You mean like... the ground, it spoke to you?”
The giant snorted. “In a way, perhaps. I was chosen by Earth himself, lord of the deep places, nurturer of our crops, defender of our...” Gaav glanced at Ezra. “You aren't paying attention.”
“No, no, I am paying attention! But you're making Earth sound like some kind of–”
“No, you aren't paying attention!” the earth-crowned said urgently, gesturing above Ezra's head. He took a step back to see what the big man meant, and promptly fell off his step-ladder. The beam he had been supporting, only partially secured, swung around and knocked the woodworker off his perch, sending him to the ground in a boneless heap. Gaav released the support beam, placed one massive foot on the bottom of the ladder, and caught the loose piece of wood before it could tear free and fall on the downed man. He brought it back in place, grunting with effort as the ground surged up to hold the beam he had dropped before it too could fall. Mrs. Wellward helped the stunned woodworker up and shooed Ezra away.
He stumbled backwards, muttering apologies and trying to stay out of the way until he bumped into someone. “Here he is!” Mat's voice boomed out as Ezra spun around. “Just the man I was talking about.” Mat stood with his shirt off, leaning against a wall with a half-finished cup of water in hand. A pretty girl of maybe twenty with reddish blonde hair was giving Mat's chest a wickedly sensuous look, cradling a pitcher of water lightly against her chest. The condensation was doing... interesting things to her rather prodigious bosom. “You should have seen him stand up to that water-seer, staring her down like she was nothing at all.” He finished off his water and threw an arm over Ezra's shoulder. “He pulled out his sword, and growled at her, saying, 'Your days of putting a price on life are over!'”
“He actually said that to a water-seer?” the girl purred, her eyes slowly running over Ezra's body as his face started to heat up.
“Well,” he stuttered, “well, maybe, you know, not quite tha–”
“Right to her face, with the rain whipping around and her snarling at him like a mad cat!” Mat interrupted him smoothly.
“You're so brave,” she gave him the kind of smile that Gal saved for when she wanted to make him blush. It had the desired effect.
“Oh, you wouldn't know it by looking at him,” Mat punched Ezra lightly in the stomach, “but my boy here's got the kind of guts they write songs about. Course, you can't blame him, what with me teaching him a trick here and there.” Mat smiled lopsidedly as he let Ezra go. “And let me tell you, honey,” he handed back the cup and softly caressed the girl's cheek as she turned her gleaming, almost hungry eyes back to him, “I know every trick there is.” Gently, he pulled her forward. She growled and dropped the jug, spilling water everywhere as her arms twined around Mat's neck, crushing her mouth to his.
Ezra blushed even harder and tried to find somewhere safe to look.
The girl released his teammate, slowly and luxuriously bending to retrieve the fallen water pitcher, eyes burning up at Mat's chest from behind heavy lids. She swayed away, obviously appreciating the stares Mat and Ezra were giving her, caressing the edge of the building as she shot a hot look back at them before vanishing from sight. Mat blinked
a few times, then turned to Ezra, who had abruptly realized how thirsty he was, staring forlornly down at the spilled water. “Well,” Mat said, scratching his chin, “guess I need to be more careful with these small-town girls.” He slapped Ezra on the back and laughed. “Enough lollygagging around, Ezra. You're gonna make us look bad!” And with that, Ezra was thrust back into the bustling town.
Mat hung around to help with the manual labor until noon, when he saw the overworked physician attempting to close up a wound where one of the other workers had torn a few crude stitches. Mat scowled and wiped his hands clean with an antiseptic-soaked cloth that he produced from a small pouch on his belt.
With a grunt, he brushed the beleaguered healer aside and deftly removed the remaining stitches, pulling a small tube from a pocket with his other hand. “This'll sting,” he muttered as he squeezed a small line of the substance out into the wound then quickly pressed the sides together. The injured man winced, but when Mat released him he looked down in awe as his skin literally knit itself back together before his eyes. “Get lots of rest and try to stay out of spatial distortions,” Mat rattled off as if by reflex, then caught himself and grinned wryly, “but I guess that won't be a problem for you, huh?”
The physician, once he had recovered from the shock of modern medicine, wasted no time in appropriating Mat to help with the injured, losing himself in Mat's explanations of bone setting techniques and general field knowledge of infections and disease.
The local doctor was studiously watching at Mat's elbow when Sarah whistled Ezra over to the forge. “I need someone with steady hands and a little manual dexterity,” she murmured as she removed a thick pot of glowing liquid from the furnace. She gestured to the other set of tongs, which Ezra promptly grabbed and used to help her steady the load. They carefully maneuvered their cargo to the window molds nearby, where Sarah paused for a moment and gave Ezra a flat look, nodding down at the pot between them. “You mess up even a little bit here, and I will personally make you drink this.” He gulped and spent every ounce of concentration he had on getting the molten glass out of the pot in good working order. And away from Sarah. Getting it away from Sarah was also high on his priorities.
He spent the rest of the day assisting at the forge. He measured out bits of what remained of the mineral she had gotten earlier, after it had been thoroughly baked into a white powder. Potassium carbonate, or pearl ash, as Sarah had called it. He mixed it with the rest of the glass substrate and fed it into the furnace, or helped pull out liquid glass that was ready to be poured. Sarah shouted directions to him every few seconds and generally terrorized him throughout the entire process, taking over any difficult or especially involved part with brisk efficiency.
The sun finally set on a physically and mentally exhausted Ezra, sitting in the dirt, ignored by a crowd of burly, grizzled old men loudly exclaiming over the clearest glass they had ever seen. Sarah stood smiling proudly, her hands on her hips as several of them begged her to marry this son or that cousin. He was eventually hustled into the newly repaired inn and given a bowl of something hot, a piece of bread and some cider. He numbly ate his meal, carefully moved his dishes to the side, and fell face first to the table, fast asleep.
