A/N: I've made some changes to chapter 3 which don't affect the storyline, but clarify some details of history between the Old Kingdom and Ancelstierre. If you don't feel like looking back, I will summarise: a Civil War took place during the rule of Berillan's father, during which Ancelstierre was founded as a country independent from the Old Kingdom. So far the Chief Minister has been a member of the Royal Family (like Berillan's brother Prince Orrofin), which kept Ancelstierre strongly allied to the Kingdom.
As you can tell by the title, this chapter features our Wallmakers. Enjoy!
Trowels and Mortar
It was a very hot, very dry day. Flies were buzzing about in little clouds, and small dust-devils whirled over the stretch of bare trodden dirt that bordered the Wall. That dirt was churned up to ankle-deep mud during the winter, but during the longest days of summer that seemed almost preferable. There was very little breeze stirring the air, and Wallmakers went about bare-backed or in their shirt-sleeves, hair sticking to their foreheads with sweat as they laboured under the unforgiving sun.
Nehima flung her braid over her shoulder as she supervised the work of her team of Wallmakers. Under a tattered sheet lashed between two trees, some of the younger Wallmakers were making mortar out of water and ground lime, mixing it into a smooth thick paste. Still others were shaping chunks of stone into exact blocks. The rest of the team was constructing the Wall itself: two men and two women perched on wooden scaffolding as they lifted blocks and spread mortar with their gleaming trowels.
"Water?" Nehima turned to see Felio, and accepted the proffered waterskin. Poor, pale Felio was really suffering from the sun, and the back of his neck was bright red. Nehima couldn't help but feel a little smug that skin like hers always tanned. It must have something to do with her northern blood.
"The last group of Wallmakers checked in this morning," said Felio as he took the waterskin back, pouring a refreshing stream over his burnt neck. "People aren't too happy with us right now."
Nehima answered with a wry smile. The Wallmakers had been recalled from the rest of the Kingdom to work on the Wall, having finished off their other projects. The Charter Stones were complete, weapons had been forged, and now all that was left was to finish the Wall. Of course, over the many years since Ghidreth had founded the Wallmakers' Guild, their services had been called upon by the citizens of the Kingdom. Already protesters had shown up on the Old Kingdom side of the Wall, demanding that the Wallmakers return to their forges in the towns and villages.
Even more vocal in their objections than the Kingdom citizens were the Ancelstierrans. Sir Tralusan was gaining enormous support, and his more extreme followers had started protesting on the other side of the Wall. They were a damned nuisance, in Nehima's opinion, and a few of them had even interfered with the work. She just didn't understand this behaviour, as it was for the good of Ancelstierre that this Wall had been commissioned in the first place. Already they were forgetting that the Ancelstierrans had wanted the Wall built in order to protect them from Free Magic creatures, and other "unusual" things that were associated with the Kingdom.
"I'm going to go speak with some of the protesters," said Felio, looking grim." Why don't you go help your team on the Wall? You go crazy if you're not busy."
Nehima nodded. "Good luck with them," she said, glaring at the rag-tag group of villagers who had shown up to brave the summer heat and demand the return of their beloved Wallmaker, whoever he or she was.
"By the way," Felio called over his shoulder. "Happy birthday, Nehima."
Quite contrary to a normal pleased reaction, Nehima frowned in irritation. She had certainly not told anybody that today she was turning fifty. Trust Felio to remember something like that. She glanced around, desperately hoping that none of the Wallmakers had overheard him, but a few of them seemed to be grinning. Of course, they could be smiling at something else – they weren't even looking at her – but she was suspicious nonetheless. As she strolled by a couple of young Apprentice Wallmakers who were having a mortar-fight, she snapped, "Stop that! Get back to work, the pair of you!" They ducked their heads in chagrin as she swept by.
Nehima reached the Wall and skilfully scaled up the wooden scaffolding, avoiding the stone blocks that were being hauled up to the platform. Her palms were slick with sweat, and her forehead dripped with moisture before she reached the top. Once safely on the platform, she pulled her trowel from her belt and got straight to work spreading the goopy mortar over the tops of the stones. "Good afternoon, Master Nehima!" her Wallmakers greeted her. It was incredibly hot, and most of them had draped their leather vests over the wooden railing.
"Your birthday today, isn't it?" added Kagore, an irritatingly cheerful young woman. "How old are you this year, Master?"
"Forty-something, right?" chirped Quessam, scrunching up his forehead in exaggerated thought. Globs of mortar dropped off his trowel and onto his boots. Nehima hoped they would cement him to the floor.
"Nah, I thought it was fifty," said Kagore, shooting Nehima an impish grin and receiving a death-glare in return.
Quessam's face cleared. "That's it! Well, that's quite a milestone, Master Nehima. Happy fiftieth–"
"You finish that sentence and I'll stick you into this Wall here," Nehima hissed. "I could do it! I'm not kidding!"
Her Wallmakers just laughed, damn them. After years and years, her threats did not seem to be working anymore.
"Hey, look!" called Kagore, pushing black bangs out of her eyes. "A pack of Ancelstierrans have come to visit us!"
Nehima looked over to where the young woman was pointing, and spotted them. Wonderful. Now they had people protesting on both sides of the Wall. There were about twenty Ancelstierrans, men and women of all ages, and they had brought signs painted on pieces of wood. She read the largest one: "Tralusan for Chief Minister."
"Charter help us if Tralusan is elected," she muttered under her breath, spreading mortar with more force than usual.
Kagore overheard her. "Elections are this week," she pointed out. "All of the Lords and knights and other noblemen are going to Corvere to vote in the Moot. And they say that Sir Tralusan is the favourite."
"Tralusan is Anti-Wall," puffed another Wallmaker, Hingon, as he and Quessam pulled more stone blocks up to the wooden platform. "He doesn't understand Charter Magic. He thinks the Bloodlines forced the Bright Shiners to give them power, and that now we want to use them to make the Wall. It's crazy! Anybody who's seen a Bright Shiner would know that nobody could force them into anything."
Nehima accidentally hit her finger with her trowel, and cursed. "I don't like the sound of this Tralusan fellow at all," she grumbled, sucking her finger.
"I read one of his pamphlets," said Kagore as she grabbed a waterskin. She gargled a mouthful of water before spitting it over the Wall onto Ancelstierran soil. "He wants to stop the building of the Wall, and begin a new age devoted to science. He wants to give grants to the Ancelstierran alchemists, astronomers, and philosophers."
"Then Ancelstierre is shaping up to be a pretty boring place," Hingon remarked as he and Quessam placed blocks of stone on top of the mortar. "Tralusan's not even a Charter Mage. He won't want anything to do with the Kingdom if he is elected."
Nehima said nothing as she scooped up some fresh mortar in her trowel. Some people were very strange. In fact, she had heard that some of the Ancelstierrans who lived in towns and villages further south did not even believe that the Dead could rise. It went against all reason, but people could be foolish.
"Princess Farelle is betrothed." Nehima raised her head, relieved at this interjection. Her thoughts lately had become quite bleak, and Felio was right – inaction drove her crazy. She needed to keep her hands and mind occupied, and gossip was always an enjoyable distraction.
"I heard it from my cousin, who is a maid in the palace," continued Kagore. "Apparently there was this very important ball, with officials and nobles from all over the Kingdom. And what does the Crown Princess do? She goes right up to the Captain Javen of the Royal Guard, who is standing at his post, and asks him to dance!"
The Wallmakers exclaimed with surprise at this serious breach in decorum. "What did he say?" Eima asked, not noticing that the ends of her hair were dipping into a bucket of mortar.
"He refused of course!" said Kagore. "He was on-duty, wasn't he? But then you know what the Princess did? She ordered him to dance with her, right there in front of everybody! So he smiled and took her hand… and they started to dance. My cousin says that the King looked furious! Fit to eat his crown, rubies and all, he was."
"That is so romantic," sighed Eima, clasping her hands in rapture.
"What is?" Quessam teased. "Eating the crown?"
"And the wedding date is set." Kagore finished her story looking very pleased. Nehima did not know what to think. She knew that the Princess was awfully young, for one thing. And Dantalion obviously disapproved of the match. Although the idea of marrying outside of one's rank was romantic, Nehima was not a woman who was carried away by flights of fancy.
"Will all the Royal Family be attending?" asked Eima, no doubt envisioning the wedding.
Quessam snorted. "By the sound of it, not the King. And not the Prince, neither. Didn't you hear? He passed his exams to become Lieutenant, and on the first try too."
Nehima had to speak at this. "But that hardly ever happens!" And from what she had heard, Prince Andromis was not a scholar.
"Our Prince is a bright young lad," Hirgon said proudly. He settled another stone into place, and the Wallmakers started to spread mortar atop the new layer. "He'll probably become General of the Army when his sister's Queen."
"And what of young Princess Sitri?" asked Nehima, swatting at a fly. "We've delved into the lives of the other Royal children. What have you heard of her?"
The Wallmakers exchanged glances. "I haven't heard anything," admitted Quessam, hitching up his trousers. "We all know she went to live with the Clayr two years ago. And they're a strange lot, living up in that glacier by themselves."
"It isn't right, a group of women living alone," said Hirgon, frowning.
Kagore laughed. "They're not alone! They have visitors all the time. And they visit Belisaere quite a bit, too. Isn't one of them there now?"
"That's right," said Eima, wiping her hands on her skirt. It did not do much good, because she was splattered from head to toe in mortar and covered in dust. "I can't remember which one, but she is with child now by a lord at court. And there is this huge scandal, because the lord is married."
"That sounds like something the Clayr Gressa would do," remarked Nehima.
Kagore shook her head. "I don't think it's Gressa. She doesn't leave the glacier much. It's probably one of the twins – they do a lot of travelling."
"No offence to the twins, but they're getting old – almost as old as you, Nehima." The Master Wallmaker glared at Quessam, who ducked his head to hide his smirk.
Hirgon scratched his chin. "It's probably Saranim, then," he noted. "She's had a lot of children. Seems like Tirelle passed on her habits to her descendents, if you know what I mean."
"Yeah," Nehima muttered. 'At this rate, the population of Clayr will grow like jackrabbits."
Their laughter faded away when they saw two figures approaching them from the direction of the Wallmakers' huts. Nehima immediately knew that one of them was Felio. And the other…
"Wallmaker!" The Craftsmen dropped their trowels and waved exuberantly at the old woman who was being helped along by Felio. Nehima walked over to the wooden railing and leaned over.
"Yes, hello, hello," said Ghidreth, raising a wrinkled hand in acknowledgement. "Working hard?"
The Wallmakers all nodded their heads. They obviously had a great affection for the old woman, and Nehima hid her smile. "Get back to work, you lot," she snapped over her shoulder, and with some good-natured grumbling the four Craftsmen turned back to the Wall.
"I've just talked to Neryl through my silver square," said Ghidreth. Although old, her voice was still strong, and she wore her leather vest even in the burning heat. "According to the visions of the Clayr, there is little left to be done. There are mainly persistent visions of the Wall."
"That's good to hear," admitted Nehima. "And now we've got all the Wallmakers here, and our other projects are done."
"Not quite," Felio cut in. "Some of them are running a little late, and brought their work with them. But everything should be done within a year or two."
Ghidreth was staring up at the Wall rather absent-mindedly, and Nehima exchanged a worried glance with Felio. He nodded in encouragement. "Ghidreth?" she asked. The old woman blinked and turned to her. Nehima took a deep breath. "Ghidreth, everything's under control at the Wall now. Felio and I have been talking about this for some time…"
Felio stepped in. "We think that you should get some rest, Ghidreth. Take a break from the Wall for a while. Nehima and I can manage things all right, and you will be needing your strength when… in the end, I mean."
The Wallmaker was silent for a moment. Then she grinned, and placed a veined and wrinkled hand on Felio's shoulder. "You two are quite right, as usual. And I've always wanted to return to the Long Cliffs."
Nehima was relieved, and she could see that Felio was too. They had been worried that the Wallmaker would insist upon staying and supervising all stages of construction. This sojourn would do her good, they had no doubt.
As Felio and Ghidreth continued their stroll along the Wall to talk to the various workers, Nehima turned back to her own stretch of Wall. The first thing she noticed was that the Ancelstierran protesters had moved even closer. There were marks on the other side of the Wall where they had thrown clods of dirt.
"Just ignore them," Kagore coughed, waving a hand in front of her face to clear the dust.
Nehima worked along in silence for a few minutes, before – thump! A dirt clod hit the Wall just below her, throwing a spray of soil into her face. Nehima glared stonily at the protesting Ancelstierrans. "Wallmakers," she said out of the corner of her mouth. "Load your trowels."
They stared at her, but obeyed with excited whispers.
"Arms back," Nehima instructed. "And… fire!"
Five globs of mortar sailed through the air. Two smacked into the wooden "Tralusan for Chief Minister" sign, and the other three splattered amongst the alarmed protesters. Wallmakers all along the Wall cheered.
"Ha-haaaa!" crowed Nehima, brandishing her trowel at the Ancelstierrans as if it were a gleaming sword. "And that was without magic!"
"You scoundrels!" a woman shrieked, shaking her fist. "You cannot treat us like that!"
"Yes I can!" Nehima shouted from her position on the Wall. "Because today is my birthday! And in the spirit of celebration, I have half a mind to set your ridiculous signs on fire."
The Ancelstierrans held a rapid hushed discussion before withdrawing, shooting many an angry glance at the blond-haired Wallmaker. The Apprentices, Craftsmen, and Masters who had witnessed the exchange broke into applause and whistles, and Nehima took a bow. She dramatically stuck her trowel into her belt before jumping back down onto the platform. Her Wallmakers gathered around to congratulate her, but she waved them off. "Enough, enough. Now we can work in peace."
Nehima cleared her throat before raising her voice, which carried along the wall in the still summer air: "Show's over, everyone! Now let's get back to work!" The chattering Wallmakers turned back to their labour. Men and woman set about mixing mortar in tubs, shaping blocks with chisels, and raising the Wall stone by stone.
A/N: Man, it would be fun to be a Wallmaker… except for the actual manual labour part, of course. In the next chapter we will meet a new character. Well, not exactly new, but we haven't officially met them in the story yet. Want to guess who it is? Reviews welcome, as always.