Master Ilman cleared his throat. “Since we’re all in agreement, let’s get what sleep we can and meet at the bridge at dawn. We’ll be long gone when the herders reach the road. They’ll have no idea we learned of their plans until they arrive in Korisan and find us already there.”
The other masters chuckled and broke up to return to their homes. Master Kireh embraced Dari and dragged him inside. Josiah and Sar headed back to the Mother’s Hall.
Sar was his usual placid self, completely unaffected by using the Mother’s power for something that normally would have been forbidden. Josiah, despite pleasure that his plan had worked, was troubled. Had this really been a good idea? If he’d thought longer and harder, might he have come up with a way to get the farmers and herders to cooperate without deceiving them? Just because the Mother had been concerned enough with Tevenar’s fate to exempt him from the Law didn’t mean he couldn’t have found a better way to achieve the same result. He might yet be called on to pay a terrible price for her dispensation.
He shook off his fears. Today was a victory. If at some point in the future he must deal with the consequences, he’d worry about it then.
Nine
Meira nodded to Sachiel and Jaron. “All right, you two. Clear out.”
Sachiel returned her nod and headed toward the mine entrance. Jaron hesitated. “I don’t suppose you’ll change your mind.”
Meira gave him a stern look. “How many times have I told you? The Miners’ Guild awarded me the contract to develop this mine. I reap the greatest rewards if we’re successful, so I take the greatest risks.”
Jaron scowled. “A master is supposed to teach her journeymen all aspects of their craft.”
That was a new argument. She was impressed; she’d thought Jaron had exhausted every possible tactic to persuade her. “And so I have. I’ve taught you everything I know about the blasting powder. You know how to light the fuse; you’ve practiced plenty with dummies. But as long as I’m in charge here, I set off the real thing Anyone who disagrees with that policy is free to return to Shalinthan.”
She could read his discontent in the hard set of his jaw, but he inclined his head. “Yes, Master.” He set off after his husband toward the circle of daylight at the mouth of the shaft.
She sighed. She’d been pleased when the young couple had applied to join her expedition. She’d worked with Sachiel and Jaron since they’d all been apprentices, so she knew they were both excellent miners. They’d been as discontented as she’d been when Master Abron had taken over Shalinthan’s gold mine after Master Noadiah’s death, so they’d been willing to sign on with a master only a few years older than themselves. Both of them had skills she needed. Developing the new mine would take at least three years; she had no desire either to split up couples for that long nor to have her workers distracted pining for a distant spouse.
Sachiel had proved everything she’d hoped, but Jaron had a disturbing tendency to challenge her authority. There was no malice in it; he was ambitious, not rebellious. Undoubtedly he’d be a wonderful master miner someday. But for now he chafed under the restrictions imposed on a journeyman. She guessed he’d thought a young female master would give him the freedom he craved, or at least be easier to dominate than the gruff Abron. She’d been forced to demonstrate his error almost every day of the three months they’d been here.
She watched until both journeymen reached the entrance and vanished. She turned back to the carefully placed pots of blasting powder and checked one last time that everything was in order.
When she was satisfied, she knelt, opened her lantern, and touched the end of the fuse to the flame. Once she was sure it was burning steadily, she closed the lantern, rose, and walked calmly through the narrow dark tunnel to the entrance. She’d designed the fuses herself, with help from a candlemaker who’d adapted his wick-making process to her specifications. The thick cord burned at a slow, predictable rate. She’d measured this one to give herself three times as long as it usually took to walk the length of the mine.
She emerged into the sunlight and went to join Jaron and Sachiel where they waited with the rest of her team of journeymen miners in the safe area well back from the entrance. Her mine was tiny compared to the huge gold mine in Shalinthan that had been in production for more than five hundred years. Just a single short shaft. But they’d cut it in a fraction of the time a similar length would have taken by hand. If her calculations were correct, this blast would take them into the main body of the gold vein she and Ravid had discovered nearly three years ago. There had been traces of gold in the rock they’d removed after the last blast. This time they should start hauling up the ore that would make all their hard work and risk worthwhile.
The mental countdown she’d started the moment she lit the fuse reached the halfway point. Meira’s eyes roamed the area around the mine entrance and the wooded mountainside above. She’d experienced how destructive the blasting powder could be. She employed extreme vigilance to ensure no one would be harmed by her use of the explosive. But she was achingly aware that it was impossible to control every variable perfectly every time.
She spent the long minutes of waiting consumed with doubt. Would this be the time someone died because of her negligence? Was she criminally reckless to keep using the powder that had killed its creator and so many others? Were any precautions sufficient to mitigate the risks inherent in manipulating so much raw power? How arrogant was it to believe she was knowledgeable and skilled enough to harness this wild, untamed force and make it her servant? To dare try to control what the rest of the Miners’ Guild had rejected? Maybe the blasting powder really was unnatural, as Master Abron maintained. Maybe its existence really was an affront to the Mother. Maybe she should have buried Master Noadiah’s notes with his body and allowed his deadly invention to be forgotten.
Each time she used the blasting powder, for the brief interval after it was too late to stop the explosion but before she knew its results, she let her fears run loose in her mind. When the shock of the blast slammed her body, she rounded them up and locked them away again.
Fear was good, in its place. It kept you careful. The trick was knowing when to listen to your fears and when to ignore them. Being able to tell when the thing that terrified you was real, and when it was only illusion. And when it was real, as the danger from the blasting powder certainly was, knowing how to direct your fear to sensible caution instead of unreasoning panic.
She would never let her fear of the blasting powder’s potential for destruction deter her from using it. It was a tool like any other, able to both help and harm. No different from a pick that could delve into rock or slice into flesh, or fire that could cook or burn, or words that could convey kindness or cruelty. She’d spent the last year learning how to manipulate it for constructive purposes. Now her hard work was finally paying off.
From the direction of camp, cheerful voices broke into her thoughts. She whirled.
Zagan was walking along the path by the stream, holding Dobon and Ravid’s hands. His son was eagerly asking him questions about everything he saw, which Zagan answered with his usual patience.
“Smash it!” she cried. “What are you doing? Go back!
All three looked up. Zagan frowned, puzzled. Dobon scowled. Ravid yanked free of Zagan’s hold and ran toward her. “Mama!”
Meira raced to meet him, blind terror screaming in her head. She snatched him up and threw herself toward Zagan. “Get down! I just—”
The shock of the explosion rumbled under her feet, accompanied by a dull boom. She stopped, panting. Zagan looked back and forth from her to Dobon, then over toward the mouth of the mine. She followed his gaze. Clouds of smoke and dust billowed from the opening.
“Oh,” Zagan said apologetically. “I forgot you were blasting today. But we stayed clear of the dangerous area like we always do.”
Of course he had. Meira shook her head to clear it. They were standing well down the slope from the safe area. They’d n
ever been in any real danger. But the sight of Ravid running unrestrained toward the mine had triggered her deepest terrors.
“I told you to stay in the camp,” she said, her voice hard and angry.
“I remember now. But the boys were restless. I thought a nice walk by the stream was just what they needed.”
Ravid squirmed against her tight grip. She loosened it, but didn’t set him down, even though he twisted and kicked. “How can I trust you to take care of my son if you ignore what I say?”
Zagan drew back, frowning. “Why are you so upset? No harm was done.”
“This time!” She buried her face in Ravid’s shaggy hair, then glared at Zagan again. “How many times do I have to say it, to all of you? The blasting powder is dangerous. If we let ourselves get careless, even for an instant, it could end in disaster. I’m responsible for every life in this camp. I won’t let any of you get hurt or killed. Even if that means sending you back to Shalinthan.”
Zagan bristled. “There’s no need to threaten me. I thought you were pleased with our arrangement.”
She breathed deeply, forcing her hammering heart to slow and her tense muscles to relax. “I’d hate to disrupt the smooth running of the camp. But I can’t have you treating my warnings as unimportant or my rules as optional.”
“Of course not.” He inclined his head formally. “I beg your forgiveness, Master Miner.”
Her ragged breath evened out. “You have it, Master Cook.”
“I’ll be careful not to repeat my error in the future.”
“See that you are.” She gave him a formal nod of dismissal. For a moment she hugged Ravid close, then set him down. “Go play with Dobon, Ravid. I’ll see you at the evening meal.”
“Bye, Mama!” he called, running off to join Dobon, who was picking up pebbles and throwing them into the stream. Zagan went to supervise. Meira watched the three of them for a few minutes before turning and walking back uphill.
Bringing Ravid with her had been a mistake. She should have accepted her mother’s offer to keep him in Shalinthan. But she’d been unable to contemplate being apart from her son for so long. After she found Zagan she’d been sure she could make things work. The cook’s wife had run off to Elathir with another man, leaving their four-year-old son in his keeping. Like Meira, he needed someone to share the split schedule customary for parents of children below apprenticing age. In the mornings she cared for both boys, while he worked to prepare a hearty midday meal and an evening stew that could simmer untended through the afternoon. In the afternoons he took over the children while she labored in the mine. For three months the arrangement had worked well. Zagan truly enjoyed the hours he spent with the boys, and Ravid adored him.
But she’d been a fool to bring children on such a hazardous expedition. She hadn’t considered anyone else for her team who had children or who might have them during the three years she’d asked them to commit. She’d never have picked Zagan if not for her selfish desire to keep Ravid close. But doing so had put Dobon at risk as well as Ravid.
The journeymen had been joined by Harova, the expedition’s master carpenter, who led a donkey laden with lumber. After her experience with the cave-in following Master Noadiah’s first use of the blasting powder, Meira never allowed anyone into the mine after a blast until Harova had thoroughly inspected the old bracings and constructed new ones in the opened areas.
Meira gestured to the older woman. “After you.”
They’d done this many times and were comfortable with the routine. Harova led her donkey into the mine, raising a lantern to closely check each set of braces. Whenever she found a crack or questionable spot she pointed it out to the miners, who reinforced it with new boards. Meira had insisted that everyone who came with her be open to cross-crafting as necessary. She couldn’t afford to bring enough people to allow miners to shun woodworking and carpenters to refuse to touch rocks. She set the example by throwing herself into whatever work needed doing.
When they reached the blast area, they switched places. Jaron fetched the rest of the donkeys, and the miners piled them with load after load of broken rock. They used their picks to square off and smooth the jagged surfaces left by the blasting powder. When they’d cleared another three feet down the shaft, Harova went to work building a arching brace to support the walls and ceiling.
Meira was pleased with the amount they’d accomplished by the time she called a halt for the night. The new calculations she’d made had produced very close to the results she’d wanted. The broken area was straight and nearly symmetrical, deviating from the direction she’d intended by only a few degrees. She was getting much better at understanding how flaws in the stone channeled the force of the blast. They’d work for the next few days clearing out this section. If she found as much gold as she expected in the rubble, she’d design the next blast to open a good-sized room at the end of the shaft.
She was nearly to the entrance, deep in thought about what size charges to use and where to place them, when Sachiel exclaimed and stooped to pick up a chunk of stone from the end of the shaft. Even from so far away Meira could see the gleam of reflected lantern light. She held her breath as Sachiel carried the ore into the waning sunlight for all of them to examine. A ribbon of gold twisted through a translucent band of quartz.
“We did it,” Meira said, staring at the fulfillment of years of hoping and planning. “We found the vein.”
If only Ravid were alive to share this moment with her. She and her husband had discovered this little valley together. He’d shared her excitement when glimmering flakes of gold had appeared in in their swirling pans and when they’d traced the stream to where it emerged from this outcropping of stone. She suspected their son had been conceived during the celebration that followed. They’d planned to spend their lives here, working together to free the precious metal from the earth.
A bandit’s arrow had ended that dream. Meira shook her head to dispel the memories. “Good work, everyone.”
Jaron grinned at her. “I think this calls for breaking open that cask of Master Torin’s best I know you’ve got.”
“What do you think I’ve been saving it for?”
They walked down to the camp. Zagan had the pot of stew off the fire and was dishing out generous servings. The boys were busy digging in the patch of dirt that was their favorite place to play. Meira smiled at them. She’d overreacted earlier. Zagan was right; no harm had been done.
She went to claim her bowl. “This smells delicious, as always,” she told Zagan. “I don’t know how you make dried meat and old vegetables taste so good.”
He grinned at her. “Guild secret.”
She returned his smile. “I’m sorry for my harsh words earlier.”
He shrugged. “I shouldn’t have neglected what you told me. I’ll pay more attention next time.” His expression took on a note of wariness. “Assuming there is a next time?”
“Of course. What would I do without you?” She dug out a big spoonful of stew, blew on it until she hoped it wouldn’t burn her, and put it in her mouth.
“Good.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’d hate to have to leave, especially now that we know the mine will be profitable.” His expression softened. “I’d miss you, Meira.”
Smash it, he’d deliberately chosen a moment when she couldn’t cut him off the way she usually did when he tried to steer the conversation in this direction. She chewed on a chunk of meat that, though tender, was too big to swallow quickly.
Zagan went on, watching her closely. “I don’t know if you realize how much I admire you, Meira. Your dedication to opening this mine has been inspiring to watch. The way you’ve turned Master Noadiah’s invention into a practical tool is amazing. You’re a strong and fair leader. And all while being a devoted mother to Ravid. I can’t imagine any woman more—”
She forced the half-chewed meat down her throat. “Stop, Zagan. You know I’m not interested.”
“Why not?” Zagan put down
the ladle and drew her aside. “I like you very much, and I get the impression you like me. Why not consider the possibility that we might become more than friends?”
Meira grimaced. She’d been avoiding this conversation almost since they’d arrived in the valley. “I’m sorry, Zagan, but no.”
His voice was frustrated. “You won’t tell me why?”
She took a deep breath. He’d asked. “Frankly, Zagan, I’m not attracted to you. Not that way.”
He winced, but took it with better humor than she’d hoped. “I know you loved your husband deeply. But it doesn’t always have to be like that. Sometimes people get together just for companionship. For a warm body next to them at night. For someone to keep the loneliness at bay. If that’s all you could give me, I wouldn’t ask for more.”
His offer tempted her more than she would have thought possible. She was lonely. Her bed was terribly empty and cold, even when her son snuggled next to her. She longed for companionship. Ravid had been dead for nearly three years. He wouldn’t want her to remain alone all her life in his memory. She knew she’d never again share with any man what she’d had with him, but that alone wouldn’t have stopped her from considering Zagan’s offer.
But she’d loved two men in her life. Ravid was gone, but Elkan was out there still.
She didn’t owe him any sort of fidelity. He’d made it abundantly clear he’d never agree to a relationship, even though she was almost sure he’d felt as strongly about her as she did about him. He believed he couldn’t have her and wizardry both, and he’d chosen which he wanted more. She knew he’d never change that choice. So she was a fool to reject other men for no better reason than that they weren’t him.
She had no hope of ever seeing Elkan again, let alone anything more. But because of him, she knew it was possible for her to love another man as much as she’d loved Ravid. She wasn’t willing to settle for Zagan or anyone else who didn’t stir the strong reaction she’d experienced with each of them. Between the two of them they’d ruined her for anything less.
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