Origins: A Deepwoods Book - a Collection of Deepwoods Short Stories (Deepwoods Series 0) (14 page)

Beirly’s workshop was not quite what Fei had imagined it to
be. For one thing, it didn’t have just a smithy in it, but also carpentry
tools, leather working tools, and a few others that he couldn’t put a name to.
There were hooks lined up along the wall where some things hung, but others lay
strewn across several work tables along with partially finished projects.

“After three years of having to drop things with sometimes
only a day’s notice, I’ve given up trying to clean up or put things away
mid-project. So excuse the clutter.” Beirly gestured him to a stool next to the
main table that dominated the center of the room.

Taking it, Fei took a better look around, breathing deeply
to appreciate the scent of leather and wood shavings. It mingled nicely in the
air. “Do not mind me. I am not known for my organizational skills.”

“That right? Neither am I, most days. Grae’s our organized
one. Now, fortunately for us, we don’t have to quite start from scratch.”
Beirly went to the furnace in the corner and stoked it up, getting a hot fire
going. It was only then that Fei noticed that the far side of the room,
dedicated to smithing, had a solid sand floor. It had been several years since
he had forged anything himself, but he suddenly remembered being told that if
molten metal ever hit anything with moisture in it, it would result in an
explosion. Carrying molten metal over sand was a safety precaution every smith
took.

Anticipating what Beirly would need next, Fei fetched the
mangled hand off the worktable and carried it over. Beirly gave him a nod of
thanks and dropped it into the crucible. “We’ll let that go for a while. Now, I
have sand molds for the hand over here.”

“Sand?” Fei repeated. This was the first he’d heard of such.

“Have to use sand molds for iron,” Beirly explained.
“Nothing else works.”

Fei made a mental note of that even as he followed Beirly
back to the table and examined the molds more closely. “It looks like there
are…ten pieces?”

“Right you are. The cup that holds the main bar, that piece
there, is actually made of leather. I discovered early on that it had to be
flexible.” Beirly rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Believe it or not, Wolf’s
muscles are strong enough to bend iron. Just flexing. I watched him do it,
because I didn’t believe him when he told me that, and even after watching it I
still only half believe it. So, leather. Now, this main bar here? That
stabilizes the next section, which is the palm of the hand. You can see the
thumb is three main parts, and the fingers are divided into three main joints.”

Fei counted, then counted again, and frowned. “I see two
fingers?”

“Two,” Beirly confirmed. “First real model I had, it had all
four fingers grouped together. And that worked well for the shield. But I discovered
that he couldn’t hold much else that way. Splitting the fingers into two groups
like this gives him the option of picking up and holding smaller things, like
mugs.”

The three joints now made more sense. “So each joint gives
him more options of how small an object he can grasp.”

“ ’xactly so. The thumb can extend and lock over both
fingers. It’s quite strong. I had him test it for me and the latest version I
made could lock onto two hundred pounds.”

Fei’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Two hundred pounds?”

Beirly’s chest puffed out a little in pride. “A little over,
actually.”

“But even though it’s that strong, he can still break the
hands?”

The craftsman abruptly deflated. “Curse the man, he does it
on average every three months.”

This didn’t actually surprise Fei. Wolf could take on a bear
and Fei would feel sorry for it. The bear would not have a chance. “If you do
this so regularly, do you just repeat what you did the previous time?”

“No, I make improvements as I think of them. This time, I’m
going to take the rod all the way through the palm, I think. Usually I stop
about here,” Beirly gestured to a spot an inch in, “but really, it will give it
more stability if I go all the way through.”

Fei imagined this in his mind’s eye, trying to think of how
the hand would function in real life. “Wouldn’t that mean having to bend the
elbow more? As the palm cannot tilt in.”

“Have to do that anyway,” Beirly observed. “The hand can’t
tilt in on its own and it would be unstable if it did.”

That was a very good point. “Any other changes?”

“Not a one. Don’t have the time for it, anyway, as we’ve
only got a day. So while we’re waiting for that iron to melt, let’s make up a
new sand cast for the main rod. It’s a good opportunity to show you how to make
a mold anyway. Then we’ll get to pouring.”

As they worked, Fei learned more about the tools he’d need,
some of how to make his own tools, which type of sand molds worked best, and so
forth. Some of the tools Fei recognized, such as the steel stir rod and tongs. Some
of it was a little foreign. There was of course heating and cooling periods,
where the different parts would need to sit in a hot kiln for several hours.
Beirly told him that it would be necessary to come down and check the
temperature on the kiln at midnight, to make sure that it didn’t dip below
eight hundred degrees, and rebuild it to twelve hundred.

The workroom was in the back of the guild hall, cut off from
any real light, so Fei lost track of time completely until there was a knock at
the door. Siobhan popped her head in and informed them, “Dinner will be ready
in a few minutes. We about done in here?”

“Just need to pour the iron into the molds and set them in
the kiln,” Beirly informed her over his shoulder. “Give us twenty minutes.”

“Will do.” She popped back out as suddenly as she came in.

“Fei, how steady are your hands?”

“As sure as a mountain.”

“Then I’ll let you pour the main rod, here. You know to only
cross sand?”

“I do.”

“Good, good. Then put the mold there, that’s a good lad,
it’s the safest place near the kiln to pour. Put this apron on, and these
gloves, as we don’t want any burns. Now, slowly, and mind that it doesn’t
splash you.”

Fei followed every instruction to the letter, moving slow
and steady, as he had no desire to burn himself. They closed up the mold and
placed it carefully into the kiln before proceeding to the next one. It really
only took twenty minutes for them to pour everything and shut the kiln door.

Satisfied, Beirly nodded to himself. “Good work. Went faster
with both of us doing it. Fei, you’ve got a talent for this.”

Inclining his torso in a slight bow, Fei fought back a
blush. “I am honored by your praise.”

Beirly grinned and led the way out of the room. “You didn’t
get a chance to take any notes or make any drawings what with all my yammering.
If you want to take a stab at that over dinner, I’ll watch over you and make
sure you’ve noted it all down right.”

A good thing, as Fei was absolutely positive he’d forgotten
at least half of what the man said. “I will do so.”

“Fei!” came a call from the kitchen. Siobhan sounded
somewhat vexed. “This doesn’t taste right!”

Fei had explained how to cook the dish to Siobhan as they
had shopped for all of the ingredients, but experience was the best teacher.
With a quick nod to Beirly to excuse himself, he slipped out of the workroom
and into the kitchen.

Siobhan had a wooden spoon pointed toward the skillet in an
outraged posture. “It tastes bland. I did exactly as you said.”

Fei took the spoon from her, dipped it into the sauce, then
dropped a little onto the back of his hand before licking it. Hmm. Yes, it was
bland. “How much seasoning did you put in?”

“A cup, like you said.”

“Before or after you let the vegetables simmer?”

“Before…?” she trailed off, uncertainly.

“It works best if you do it as they simmer. The vegetables
have a chance to soak up the sauces that way.”

“Oh rats. Does that mean this is a loss, then?”

“No, not at all.” Fei tested the temperature of the skillet
itself, found it to be quite hot, and moved it off the eye. Then he dumped in
the rest of the mixed up seasoning and stirred it in. “Does this have a lid?
Excellent. Set it on top. We’ll let it sit for a few minutes and just steam. It
will be more favorable that way.” Eyeing the empty bottle, he added, “We should
mix up more just in case. That way, we can season again to our own
preferences.”

Even with all of that, it didn’t taste
quite
right
but it was more than edible, so Fei counted it as a win. They had a lively time
over dinner, which was a foreign thing to him in this land. Here, in their own
Hall, the guild was more lax and dropped all pretense of a ‘professional
demeanor.’ They joked, poked at each other, laughed, just as much as any family
would have. Just as much as his own family did. Fei realized during the course
of the dinner that Siobhan’s words to him earlier were not an exaggeration. The
guild truly did think of each other as family and acted as such. It was far
more obvious here than it had been on the open road.

It gave him a great deal of food for thought. How many
guilds were actually like this, only he hadn’t realized it, because he had
never seen them when they let their guards down? He went to the bed that night
with the thought hovering at the edge of his mind, wandering about without an
answer.

ӜӜӜ

Once again it was only an hour’s trip by path from
Goldschmidt to Converse, and then came the hard part of the journey: The Grey
Bridges. Crossing the bridges was more a matter of timing and luck than
anything. Fei had now crossed them over a dozen times, due to one job or
another, and he dreaded this leg more than any other part. Even using an
unstable path going to Stott was nothing in comparison. A man on horseback
could make the distance easily without facing danger. But a whole caravan
didn’t have that kind of speed. Jacobs realized this, as he had rented extra
harnesses and reinmals from a trader in Converse to help speed things along.
Even with this precaution and extra power, they spent the entire day with
anxious looks at the sky, the sea that steadily creeped ever closer to the top
of the bridges, and the distance to Island Pass.

Fei had the front of the caravan, Wolfinsky the back, both
men walking alongside the wagons. When he heard the quick pace of boots on
stone, he automatically turned, as no one would be running unless it was
important or danger approaching. Grae came up from behind, then passed him,
heading for Jacobs who was sitting with the lead driver.

“Master Jacobs. You’ve noticed that storm front coming in
from the north?”

“I have, sir.” Jacobs peered at it with a dark frown. “Don’t
like the look of either.”

“I’ve been monitoring it and timing how fast it’s moving. I
think it will hit just as we’re entering Island Pass or right after. But my
true concern is, how long will it linger?”

“Sea storms can blow in hard and fast or stay for a visit.
They’re mercurial at best.” Jacob scratched a half-grown beard—the man had not
bothered to shave that morning—and let out a disgusted growl. “What’s your
thought?”

“It’ll strand us tomorrow,” Grae said with conviction. “It’s
not moving fast enough to be the type that blows in and out quickly. If it was,
we’d already be drenched.”

“Afraid you’d say that. So whatever inn we choose, has to
take us in for two nights at least.”

“Yes, precisely. If you wish, my guildmaster says that
she’ll send someone ahead and get an inn for us. We’ve quite a bit of traffic
on the bridge with us, and if we all hit the inns at the same time, it’ll be a
nightmare to find a place that can accommodate all of us.”

“A good thought, that. Who does she want to send?”

“It’ll take someone with a guild crest to get in alone. But
she wants to send in two, for safety’s sake.”

“That means it’s either Man Fei Lei or Wolfinsky going with
her. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer Wolfinsky to stay.” Twisting in his seat, he
faced Fei directly to explain, “Man’s got the strength to hold up a wagon if
something breaks, you see.”

Not to mention that Wolfinsky intimidated people just
standing there and breathing. Fei knew the true reason and was not offended by
it. He did not look formidable, likely never would, and he used that to his
advantage. Fei did not envy Wolfinsky’s strength. It came at a high cost most
of the time, as it brought the man grief far too often. “I do not mind running
ahead.”

“Good, good.”

Taking that as a dismissal, Fei turned and jogged back
toward the end, where Siobhan was riding. He slowed as she came abreast of him
and informed her, “We’ve been asked to go ahead and secure an inn. I will
accompany you.”

“Oh, is that what Jacobs prefers? Fine by me.” Standing in
her stirrups, she yelled, “WOLF!”

The giant enforcer turned and jogged back at her hail, not
that he had much distance to cover. “Did Jacobs agree to the plan?”

“He did. He wants Fei to go with me. You’ve got the caravan,
so make sure that they keep up this pace.”

Wolf’s face was an interesting study of conflicting
emotions. He hadn’t expected this partnership, didn’t quite know how to feel
about it, and wasn’t sure how to react either without getting his guildmaster’s
back up.

Before he lost some internal struggle and said something
that would surely get his head chewed off, Fei intervened. “This is not my first
trip to Island Pass, Wolfinsky-jia, do not worry. Between the two of us, we
should know of several good inns and will be able to sort the problem quickly.”

Those ice blue eyes locked on his. Silently, Fei tried to
convey,
I have her back. Don’t worry.

The message must have gone through clearly as Wolfinsky
settled and nodded to him. “Do that, then. I have things here.”