Over the course of the next week, I focused on integrating everyone into a larger community, and was surprisingly successful. Everything just seemed to fall into place, and regardless of the grudges held by anyone, everyone at least tried to act in good faith.
I was almost convinced that the others actually shared my vision of a brighter future, but that was unlikely. It was probably the more comfortable existence that everyone worked to maintain that eased the tensions.
After a few bad reactions from the newcomers to me wearing my wings openly on the second day, and I ended up putting away my nice dress and putting back on the parka to stand out less. It helped that the parka ended up being more comfortable than the dress, something about my clothier ability making the otherwise heavy fur and hide garment able to be comfortably worn by whoever wore it. I hadn't figured wings were accounted for with that, but if it worked, it worked. There was less chance of someone mistaking them for a rogue rooster attacking me and taking a knife to them. Again.
Sumo had taken off, as had boxing. With the latter, I always made sure to be on hand in case somebody needed healing after the first time someone threw a dirty punch and gouged an eye. The others brought up putting better rules to it than "punch each other until someone falls," and it wasn't the first or only time that I didn't need to initiate change.
I did set up a small committee with Symon and Herrick and a few other volunteers to work on what kinds of buildings we'd need for everyone. With my time compression, these meetings would cram months of work into an hour. The first few meetings were bringing everyone up to speed as far as engineering and architectural planning went, skills being taught by the ex-maester and myself to the others. They learned quickly, and by the fourth meeting, we finally started working on new plans.
Flat wooden boards and charcoal pens worked well enough for the moment. They were kept in Symon's study, away from water or anything else that might smudge them. We drew up plans for a simple plumbing system, a waterwheel driven screw pump driving water through a series of filters and up into a water tower, then water mains to the lodge and sweathouse. Drainage pipes and sewers were planned, dumping the waste downstream.
One of the committee members had the idea of using a valve and holding tank to wash away excrement from a basin, replacing the chamber pot and outhouse. I was very happy to work with him to quickly develop a working prototype, followed by several iterative improvements. It was nothing close to a modern toilet yet, but it was certainly better than the current alternatives.
It relied on whatever was happening when I worked with wood and stone to reinforce it and prevent the water from freezing, as well as my channeling to lay the pipes meters deep into the frozen ground. I was looking forward to the day when I wasn't a pivotal part of these plans, when the equipment and knowledge to do this work was common enough that anyone could do this work. It would happen, one day, I'd make sure of it. If something happened to me, I wanted them to be able to continue without me without sliding back into substinence survival.
I was loathe to just dump raw sewage in the river, but there was little other choice. Cesspits wouldn't work as the ground below was too frozen to allow the liquids to drain, and a septic tank and drain field had the same problem, as well as both solutions being too close to the river for safety. While I could probably use the One Power to drain large septic tanks into the pocket reality's recycler, I didn't want any ongoing system to be wholly dependent on me.
For the most part, I was uninvolved with the planning of our waterworks. While it relied on me to construct it, the actual design work was done by the others. It was working experience with civil engineering, and a fairly low-risk enterprise besides. Any illness or injury that came about from a malfunction in the system I could take care of, while we go through and investigate the causes afterward.
That, more than anything, was something I wanted to cultivate. Forward planning, then a cohesive analysis of lessons learned during and after implementation, and then using that experience to improve future projects. A cycle of improvement that would, hopefully, persist even without my presence.
Once the plans for the prototype system were finalized, I set it up near the river. A water wheel drove a screw pump that drew the water up and into a large, covered filtration reservoir dug into the ground nearby. Lined with reinforced stone that would hopefully be resistant to water leeching, two meters of filtration medium sat above the outtakes, while the intake would pour water into the reservoir from above. The filtration medium was just layered stone, gravel, and sand that I'd pulled from the riverbed and rendered down into the appropriate size, then flash heated hot enough to sterilize the lot.
Water would make its way through the filter, then down into an adjacent chamber. Another pump would push the water through a pipe up and into two roughly thousand-liter tank sitting on a platform a meter above ground. I'd taken a page from Pasteur and finagled the wooden reinforcement of the reservoir to maintain an internal temperature of ninety-nine degrees Celsius, just short of boiling, to kill any microscopic creatures that were hanging out in the river water. The intermediate tank would cool the water back down to a safer temperature of fifteen degrees, while one surface tank would maintain that temp and the other would keep the water at a toasty forty-five degrees. We'd fiddled around with temperatures until we found a good hot water temperature that wouldn't scald, while still being very warm.
Access to clean cold and hot water was well worth another celebration, and the people loved it. Symon, Herrick, and the others in the committee were all but heroes now. Symon used to just be "that crow bastard," and now people were treating him with respect. It gave me hope that the issues with the Watch really could be worked through with cooperation.
Beyond that, Symon had set up a charcoal pit to start producing fuel for the forge. It had completely slipped my mind at the time, and I was glad he'd taken care of it.
The sheep hadn't been sheared, though the herders had instead sat down with them and pulled excess wool from their coats. I helped them prepare and wash it, learning the methods they used. Afterward, I traded them a few instruments for a bundle of the wool, which I quickly tossed into the recycler. In the future if we needed more of it, I'd just need to load it up with the right elements, which happened to be quite common.
I had developed a habit of tossing random things into the recycler, at least those that I could trade for. Scraps of fabric harvested from the slavers, bits of metal, various plants and animal products. I'd even tossed in slabs of venison and elk after testing a few fabricated chunks of meat for edibility. It was, perhaps unsurprisingly, indistinguishable from the real thing, and my nanites didn't indicate anything harmful present.
I'd spent a good deal time developing a weave of saidar to spin the wool into thread, and while the first dozen attempts were failures, I merely tossed the slagged remains back into the recycler and tried again until I got it down. With fabricated wool, sinew, and hide, I had the basics I needed to make everyone new clothes. Sitting in the lodge using the One Power to tailor all manner of simple undyed clothing for a few hours a day had the beneficial side effect of helping to demystify me. They might regard me as a witch, but I was their witch, and that seemed to make all the difference in the world.
After the third day, some of the women joined me to work on their own clothes making. It was pleasant to talk with them about minor things while working at a sedate pace. There was certainly a component of them testing me present that I'd caught onto early, but they seemed satisfied after a few days. Afterwards, they'd warmed up significantly.
I'd made enough possibly magical clothing for everyone twice over as well as a good stockpile for trade by the time I was satisfied. The new garments went over quite well with the newcomers, what with somehow removing sweat and maintaining a perfectly comfortable temperature for the wearer while still being far more durable than it should be. Thin gloves were enough to keep the hands warm and provide some protection while maintaining full dexterity, and they were very popular. Enough so that I'd had dozens of people asking for multiple pairs!
Unfortunately, the good times couldn't last forever. In the evening of the seventh day since our group had grown, I was walking around the perimeter of the settlement considering how much effort it would take to clear out a small runway for my variable fighter.
My musing was interrupted by the return of one of our hunting groups, six figures around a sledge carrying an elk and calling out their arrival. The sight confused me, as I was pretty sure that Yarrin's group there had left with five people.
Striding forward to greet them, I noted the extra figure wasn't wearing any of the clothes I'd made, and she was a young woman besides. Her eyes were red and puffy, and the way she walked like she was trying to make herself smaller sent a shiver down my spine.
"Yarrin!" I called as I walked up to the spindly older man, "I thought you left with four others?"
He grunted, "Did. Ask 'im." He nodded to the young man I didn't know the name of standing near the woman. Too near, it seemed, and she looked about ready to bolt.
The younger man was flushed with pride. "I have a wife!" He took a hand and jostled the woman on the shoulder, who flinched away. "Took 'er myself!"
"You…" I said slowly and coolly, having difficulty processing it for some reason. Everyone took wives, that much had been made clear by Grenwin, Ygdis, Ellir, and the other women I talked to. Why hadn't I processed that it was just rape.
Yarrin and the other four hunters took a step back for some reason, suddenly looking busy with their elk.
The young man nodded happily, "My da always told me to take a pretty 'un. Made 'im proud, I did!"
The woman looked like she was about to be ill. I… I didn't know how to handle this. I wanted nothing more than to send him for a one-way trip into the river, and it took far too much effort to stop the flows of Air that had begun forming. When had I embraced saidar?
"You," I pointed at him, "Go help the others with that elk."
His prideful face faltered and he swallowed thickly, quickly nodding and turning away.
Gesturing to the woman, "Come with me?" I didn't know what I could do for her, but she looked like she could do with a warm place to sit and a hot drink.
She nodded hesitantly, looking at the Lodge and the outbuildings with curiosity. She stepped forward to join me, and we set off up to the nearest ramp through the defensive berm.
"What's your name?" I asked, careful to keep my tone free of the anger I was feeling.
"Jenine," She replied. "You're the clan mother here?"
I shook my head, "It's complicated. Where are you from?"
"My clan has a camp a day's walk away," She said, "We only came this far east to follow a herd of caribou."
I noticed, then, that she wasn't wearing boots and that her feet were a shade of black that seemed very unhealthy. I bit back a gasp, "Are you hurt? Where are your boots?"
Her back straightened, and she stomped through the snow with pride. "We Hornfoots are tougher than the snow and the ice! Our own two feet are good enough!"
I blinked, taking a moment to process that. Grenwin had mentioned the Hornfootmen as a group of nomadic tribespeople that walked through the snow barefoot. We didn't have any of those here, and… Shit, this was the sort of thing that blood feuds start over, wasn't it?
"I believe you." I said, leading her to the Lodge.
She seemed interested in the large building, but it looked more like idle curiosity than anything else.
"It's warm!" She said as we walked in through the open doors, surprised. "How can it be so warm when it's open like that?"
I shrugged, "Magic, probably. Come, lets sit over here." I led her to a low table off to the side of the large room, relatively secluded. She sat on one of the short stools hesitantly, and seemed vaguely uncomfortable.
"So," I began, "Do you want to go back to your camp?"
Her eyes widened, "You… Really?" She chewed her bottom lip, "My chief might not take me back."
"Why not?"
"I was taken." She said, like it answered the question.
"But.." This situation was already giving me a headache, and I rubbed a temple to try and deal with it. "That shouldn't matter. You're a free woman, you can do what you want. Why would it be up to your chief if you go back to your people?"
She looked down, seeming downcast.
"Here," I said, "I'll take you back. Does your clan need anything? Clothes, food, tools?"
She looked up, confused. "All of those?"
Nodding, "Then we'll just have to bribe your clan. Here, you'll be coming back with all sorts of stuff they need, they'll have to accept you."
Her mouth quirked up into a small smile, "Aye, that'd work."
I stood, "Alright, come with me."
Leading her to one of the storage rooms, I took a small fat lamp and lit the tip of the wick with a thread of fire. The small flame brightened, illuminating the room and it's contents.
Walking over to where some of the tools were kept, I waved at them. "Anything in here that looks useful?"
She took a small hatchet, eyeing it with confusion. "It's wood?"
"Yeah, it's wood. It's, ah, enchanted to be as good as steel. Here, try it out with some of this firewood."
Jenine picked up a chunk of wood, put it on the ground, and swung the hatchet hard. It stuck into the wood a good way, and she pulled it out and examined the edge.
"Ah, that's…" She looked at the racks of various tools, "How much can I take?"
I shrugged, "As much as you want. I… I can't make up for what was done to you, but I hope that…" My headache was rapidly worsening, and I grunted. "Sorry. Take what you want. Those clothes, too, they're pretty good."
She looked through the pile of parkas, pants, belts, gloves, and more. Taking a few pairs of pants, she tied the legs closed and stuffed them full of other clothes. A parka was turned into an ad-hoc backpack and filled with tools and yet more clothes.
Finally, she turned back to me. "Done. You said you'd give us food, too?"
Nodding, "Yeah, I can carry that. We've plenty of meat nowadays. You like smoked elk, by any chance?
She nodded, "Anything that keeps."
I led her out of the small storage room and over to the larder. "How much do you need?"
She pointed at a rack of smoked meat, "All of that."
"Sure," I said, wrapping it all up in threads of Air and carrying it over.
There was a clatter next to me. Turning, I saw she'd dropped her makeshift pantsbags, and was staring at the floating meat with wide eyes and a pale face.
Shaking my head, the headache was really making it harder to think things through right now, "Sorry about that. Hello, yes, I can do magic. No sacrifices required, not going to use it as a weapon, all that."
She looked between me, the meat, back to me. "Uh, you…" She took a step back, "I… I'm just going to take this," She bent down to pick up the bag she'd dropped, not taking her eyes off me.
"I'm not going to hurt you." It seemed the wrong thing to say, as she all but scrambled towards the door leading outside on the far side of the larder. Sighing, I unlatched it with a flow of air and pushed it open for her, and she started determinedly walking away, looking back at me every once in a while, as if making sure I wasn't following. Before long, she had descended the nearby ramp down through the berm and crossed the clearing into the woods. She was out of sight moments later, all but sprinting into the forest.
Sighing, I hoped she made it back alright. I still had to deal with that young man.
Walking out of the larder, I closed the door behind me and made my way to where the hunters made their drop-offs. Yarrin's crew was there, but they were keeping a fair distance from the target of my ire. They noticed my approach and quickly went back to looking very preoccupied with preparing their kill.
"Alright," I said with false joviality, "I think that this is a good time to suggest a few camp rules."
They all turned to look at me, as did everyone else in the area.
"Real basic stuff, right? Don't kill," I counted off with a finger, "Don't steal," another finger, "And don't rape."
Whatever conversation had been going on in the area stopped as though cut with a knife, and the silence following was heavy.
"See, it's that third one that seems pretty important right now. Anyone here know the difference between rape and not rape? Raise your hand if you do!" My head was throbbing, and it didn't seem to matter what the nanites were doing, they just weren't helping.
Someone raised a hand hesitantly, and I whirled to point at him.
The short man grimaced, "Rape is when 'ey don't want it, 'nd it's not rape if they want it?"
I clapped, nodding happily. "More or less. There's a word for the concept, consent. If someone offers to bring you a cup of sheepsmilk, you can say yes, or you can say no. If you say yes, and you later decide you don't want the cup, you can say no. It's fine. It's alright to not want something. My problem is when others don't respect that." I took a deep breath, and the headache seemed to abate a small amount. "So, this whole Taking wives business? That's rape. If you want a wife, just fucking ask. If she says no, find someone else to ask. Anyone I find taking wives from this point on… I will no longer grant my protection to. Exile." I nodded, it seeming reasonable in the moment.
The young man who was so proud earlier was pale as a sheet.
I pointed at him, "You're wondering if I mean you, right?"
He flinched as if struck, nodding hastily.
I was so very tempted to make him the first example of such a punishment, but I remembered at the last moment that it had happened before I'd bothered to say anything about it. Could I, in good conscience, retroactively apply that standard to a crime that happened before? Where would that stop? Did every man here take their wives in the same way, stealing them from their families and clans?
I slowly lowered my hand, "If I'd said this days ago, you'd be out of here. But… Well, you can stay. If you want a wife, ask. As it is, I'm very displeased with you at the moment."
Turning, I walked away, making my way to the door to my pocket reality and shutting it as much as I could behind me.
Turning down the lights, I walked through the aeroponics bay until I'd calmed some. The plants really were looking good, and scent of all manner of green things helped alleviate the headache. Eventually, it faded away completely.
I really hoped I'd done the right thing. In hindsight, I couldn't believe how accepting of it I'd been, just because it used different words than I was used to. Would it cause more problems? How many people would leave just because I'd made my stance firm on it?
I felt especially foolish that I'd fell to using veiled threats. I… I need to be better than that. Might shouldn't make right, but if it meant stopping rape? There wasn't a clear answer presenting itself. They respected strength, but that didn't mean the strongest person around was always right.
Was even bringing them below the wall a good idea? If wife-taking is forbidden, then maybe. If not, then that just puts everyone in the south at risk, and it would be solely my own actions bringing that about.
Again, I hoped Jenine made it back to her people safely. I could try and send someone to make sure she gets there alright, but there was a pretty good chance whoever I sent would get a spear to the gut, and she was clear that she didn't want me around.
It stung, but I could understand why she fled. I'd been surprised that nobody else had when I was putting up the waterworks a few days ago, but I'd just put it down as them being more used to my shenanigans. Was I wrong, and they only stayed out of fear of whatever retribution my fall upon them if they left?
That might explain why they'd reacted that way when I'd gone off the handle like that.
I spent the next few hours tending to my plants before turning in early. My mind would keep wandering back to the horrified look on Jenine's face, the rapist's visage of fear, and those five slavers that…
That I'd tortured. Intentionally, and to cause harm. The realization crawled down my spine like a cold oil, a feeling of uncleanliness that seemed to sink deep. My bed wasn't as comfortable as it had been, and I tossed and turned throughout the sleepless night.