“She’s probably right.”
After Fierral and the squad trudged up the trail to the ridge, both Nylan and Huldran took a break, for some water and other necessities, before they resumed. As they sawed, Ayrlyn and Saryn came and trudged up to the stables to feed livestock, along with Istril, who was worried about the mounts.
When the three returned, Nylan and Huldran had only finished five more sections.
“You two are slow,” jibed Saryn.
Nylan took his hands off the saw-and Huldran staggered again, almost toppling into the snow-and gestured. “You want to take this end?”
“Ah … no, thank you, Nylan. I’m working on finishing those dividers for the fourth level.”
“I thought we were out of wood for that sort of thing,” said Huldran, leaning on the now-immobile saw.
“They were rough-cut eight-days ago. The finish work is what takes the time,” answered Saryn.
“What about you, Ayrlyn?” asked Nylan. “Room dividers?”
“Healing. I’m worried about this rash little Dephnay’s got. It keeps coming back. And Ellysia’s having trouble nursing, and there aren’t any milk substitutes here.”
“We need a few goats or cows, you think?” asked the engineer.
“We need everything.” Ayrlyn shook her head as she left with the others.
“Ser, if you stop to talk to everyone, this trunk’s still going to be here by the time we plant crops.” Huldran cleared her throat. “Arid I did ask if you’d let me know when you stop sawing. Twice.”
“Sorry.” Nylan looked down at the slush underfoot and used his boot to sweep it away from where he stood. “All right?”
Before the next interruption, they managed almost a dozen more cuts, leaving them with most of the first trunk cut into lengths to be split. Despite the gloves, Nylan couldfeel blisters forming on his hands, and the soreness growing in his arms and shoulders.
They were halfway through yet another cut, one that would leave only a few more cuts to finish the second trunk, when the horses reappeared on the ridge, dragging more fir trunks-two each-down the not-quite-slushy packed snow of the trail toward the tower.
Fierral and her squad were laughing by the time they reached the causeway and stacked the six trunks up.
“You two are so slow.”
“Do you want to do this?” asked Huldran, without slowing her sawing.
With grins, Denalle and Rienadre shook their heads.
“We’ll just bring in the trunks, thank you,” added Fierral. “Has Kadran rung the triangle yet?”
“No.” But as Nylan spoke, Kadran came out and rang the triangle for the midday meal.
“Good timing,” added Selitra.
Huldran let go of the saw, and Nylan stumbled forward and rammed the saw handle into his gut, so hard that he exhaled with a grunt.
“So sorry, ser.” She grinned.
“All right,” Nylan mumbled. “Next time I’ll remember.”
“What was all that about?” asked Kadran.
“Nothing,” answered Nylan. “What are you serving?”
“Venison, your leftover venison, spiced with pine tips, a few not quite moldy potatoes, and a handful of softened pine nuts. The bread is more bitter than ever, but the healer says it’s edible.”
“It’s better than starving.”
“Not much,” commented Berlis, as she followed Denalle and Rienadre into the tower.
Fierral, Selitra, and Weindre did not go inside, but led the horses back up to the stables.
“More wood will help,” said the cook. “When will you have some split?”
“Mid-afternoon,” Nylan guessed.
“I’ll send Hryessa and Murkassa out for it. They can takethat kind of cold.” Kadran paused. “It’s not really that cold anymore, but they think it is. Flatlanders!” She snorted.
“You can tell she’s from the Purgatory Mountains,” said Huldran as Kadran left. “Let’s finish the last cut before we eat. Fierral and the others will take that long to get the horses settled anyway. Then we can try splitting what we’ve sawed when we get back.”
Nylan took up his end of the saw once more.
After the midday meal, Nylan picked up one of the axes and looked at the sections of trunk. “I don’t know.”
He lifted the axe and brought it down. The axe head buried itself in the wood, which creaked, but did not split. He lifted the axe, and the wood came with it. So he brought wood and axe down on the frozen ground together. It took him two more attempts before the circular chunk of wood split into two unequal sections.
“I think sawing is easier.” Nylan panted as he half leaned on the axe handle.
“Let me try.”
“Be my guest.” Nylan handed the axe to Huldran.
Her first attempt also stuck in the larger log section, but the second effort split that section in two. “Only took me two.” The blond guard smiled at Nylan. “Splitting’s easier.”
“You were working on a smaller section. Try one of the big ones.”
Huldran shrugged and lifted the axe again. It took her two attempts to split the log chunk. “It’s tough. Maybe we don’t have the technique.”
“Green wood is harder, I think.”
They alternated efforts, slowly improving, until they had reduced the sawed sections into chunks of stove and furnace wood. The guards who passed the wood-splitting avoided commenting after a quick look at Nylan’s face.
About mid-afternoon, as promised by Kadran, Hryessa and Murkassa peered out from the tower door, some time after Nylan and Huldran had returned to sawing another green fir trunk.
“We’ve got plenty there for you,” said the engineer.
Hryessa stepped out quickly, then stopped by the pile of split wood, looking at the open jackets and the two sweating figures. Her breath formed a faint white cloud as she spoke. “It’s still cold here. It is not as bad as before, but …” She shrugged. “Yet you are hot.”
“It’s so cold up here that you’d think the lowlanders would leave us alone, wouldn’t you?” asked Huldran, not stopping her sawing.
Nylan just kept moving his end of the saw.
Murkassa, stooping to fill her arms with split wood, shook her head sadly. “They are men.”
“It is sad, in a way,” added Hryessa, as she struggled back into the tower, leaving Huldran and Nylan to their sawing.
“I’m not sure it’s sad being a man,” Nylan puffed as he kept the blade moving.
“It is if you’re as hidebound as the locals are.”
“The women have it much worse.”
“For now,” pointed out Huldran.
“Point taken,” Nylan said. “Let’s take a break.” As he slowed the saw, he glanced to the west where the sun hung just above the Westhorns.
The tower door opened, and Murkassa and Hryessa trooped out again, this time accompanied by Jaseen and Kadran.
“They said you had a lot of wood here,” explained Jaseen, glancing over the pile. “You two make a good team.”
“True,” said Huldran. “I don’t like taking breaks, and he won’t quit until the job’s done.”
“I need something to drink,” Nylan told Huldran. She nodded, and he walked into the tower and then out through the north door and through the archway, where most of the ice had slowly melted, leaving the split stone floor perpetually damp. He made his way to the laundry area where both tubs, full of clothes and chill water, stood with no one nearby. Nylan held out a hand toward the stove. It was warm.
He shrugged. With little soap, soaking helped. He wondered if some of the recently cut and split wood had found its way into the bathhouse warming stove. Why not, now?
The water was beginning to flow more regularly, and Nylan drank from the laundry tap, trying not to spill too much on the floor, then used the jakes. As he walked back, he passed Siret, carrying Kyalynn, as he started through the north tower door.
“You have the laundry detail?” he asked.
“Yes, ser. It’s better that way now that I’m so far along. I still do my blade practice and exercises, though.”
Nylan shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Letting the water warm to room temperature probably helps get things cleaner, too.”