Chapter 173: Tam Has a Theory
The industrial district always had a particular atmosphere.
Mod heard the line-shaft relay first. Then the foundry exhaust. Three chimneys were running different processes, each with its own rhythm. Together they created a melody she associated with this part of the city. By afternoon, she could easily notice the district before she saw a single building.
They spotted Tam outside.
She stood beside the main foundry entrance, leaning against the corner of the building with something in both hands.
Her apron was on.
At this point, Mod accepted that as normal. Tam seemed capable of acquiring food under almost any circumstances.
The source was easy to find. A vendor had parked a handcart a few steps down the street. A flat iron griddle sat over a small brazier, compact enough to move if necessary. The surface had been hot for hours. The fat coating it had darkened to the point where it was actually useful for cooking. Several small round cakes were nearly finished.
"These are better than yesterday’s," Tam said as soon as she heard them approach.
Tam held one out.
Mod accepted it. The cake fit neatly in her palm. It had been pressed flat. The edges were darker where fat had collected during cooking. Dried herb powder covered the top, and coarse salt sat in the shallow creases. Heat immediately seeped through the crust.
"What is it?"
Pan-crisp."
Tam finished the rest of hers in two bites and immediately grabbed another.
"Or that’s what she calls them."
She pointed down the street with the cake, at the lady with the food cart.
Another bite. "Says she used to make something similar back where she came from, but the grain’s different here, so she messed around with it until it worked."
Tam turned the cake over.
"Crisps both sides."
She sounded pleased by that fact.
"And she cooks them in butcher fat. I think that’s the secret."
Mab was staring at the one in Mod’s hand.
"Good?"
Mod took a tentative bite.
"Very."
That seemed to answer the question.
Mab took one.
After a moment, she took a second.
Mod finished hers.
It was hot, filling, and specific. The sort of thing someone made after spending enough time on a problem to solve it properly.
"Looks like they’re finally getting somewhere with the third building."
Tam nodded toward the new construction. "They took the scaffolding down a few days ago. I saw people hauling equipment inside this morning."
Mod waited.
Tam rarely brought something up without a reason.
"I think they’re tied into our relay now."
There it was.
She took another bite of her cake.
"Would explain why the intake’s been weird all day."
Better to know before the pour than during it.
The steam whistle sounded from the far end of the district.
A few seconds later, the doors opened.
Workers emerged from them. Some were talking. Some had already used up all the conversation they had in them. A few immediately found walls and leaned against them as though standing required effort. Most simply headed toward wherever the rest of their day waited.
Near the main entrance, three printed notices had been pinned to the board. Each listed shift hours for the coming week.
The same notice appeared on the board to the left.
And on the building across the street.
A worker near the door pulled a match from a tin and struck it against the strip.
One motion.
One spark.
He lit his pipe without slowing down.
The movement had the confidence of practice.
Wynn emerged last.
He carried a tooling frame and looked at the three of them with the attention he usually reserved for obstacles.
He kept walking.
The workers drifted into their usual groups.
"Intake was cold half the damn day."
Foundry residue still coated part of the heavyset man’s left arm.
"I wouldn’t trust that first pour."
The man beside him shook his head.
"Barrels passed."
"Those were the morning barrels."
"Passed anyway."
"You’re missing the point."
"And you’re worrying too much."
The heavyset man waited.
The other worker offered nothing further. Apparently that was the entire argument.
A woman stepped over from another group.
"Heard they’re actually going through with it."
The heavyset man glanced up.
"With what?"
"The looms."
That got a snort out of somebody.
"Oh, not this again."
"I’m serious."
"You were serious about the swamp monster."
"That was one time."
The second worker laughed.
"It was three times."
She ignored him.
"My cousin was helping with construction. Says they’ve already chosen the buildings."
"For the weaving thing?"
"That’s what he said."
The heavyset man shook his head.
"Still don’t see why anybody needs that many looms."
"Maybe they don’t."
"Then why build the place?"
She spread her hands.
"Ask the prince."
That ended the discussion for about two seconds.
"Well, if they’re paying, I’ll weave."
"You don’t know how."
"I’ll learn."
"You can barely read."
"What’s that got to do with weaving?"
Nobody had an answer for that.
A younger worker, probably from the third building, glanced toward Mod, then Mab, then Tam.
"Alright, I’ve got to ask."
Nobody looked up.
The worker pointed.
"What do they actually do?"
Tam immediately answered.
"Classified."
The young man blinked.
"What?"
"Can’t tell you."
"You absolutely can."
Tam took another bite.
"Maybe."
"Then tell me."
"No."
The young worker looked disappointed.
Mab had wandered toward the notice board.
She studied one notice.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Finally she pressed the corner of the middle one flat against the board.
She said nothing.
The street slowly emptied.
Mod, Mab, and Tam circled around to the eastern entrance leading into the secondary corridor.
There was no notice posted here.
No lamp either.
Inside, the building sat between shifts.
The overhead line shaft was motionless. No belt remained under tension. The furnace had been banked down to coals, just held where it could be brought back up efficiently. The grate glowed with a low red light.
No hammers struck metal.
No voices carried from the other section.
Nothing came through the walls to suggest anyone occupied the adjoining rooms.
A coal shifted.
The intake drew air in the distinct way it always did when the building no longer demanded work from it.
Tam wound the timer and set it on the edge of the bench.
Mod stepped into position at the intake.
The vacuum domain dropped into place. The change was immediate.
The furnace draft evened out, air pulling through at a steady rate instead of the uneven surges they’d been getting from the relay share with the next building. That had been causing trouble all day. With the domain properly seated, at least one problem was solved.
Mab was already at the fuel bed. No one had needed to tell her.
She was small enough that the furnace came up to her shoulders, though that had stopped being noteworthy after the first week. She watched the coal bed, not visually, but through whatever sense she used when she wasn’t quite touching something.
The furnace temperature began climbing toward working heat.
Faster than it should have from coal alone.
Tam moved to the cast frame on the bench to the right and ran her hands across the batch from the previous pour.
The magnetic read came first, before any visual inspection. The surface could tell you what it looked like. The interior told a different story.
The furnace continued its work.
Mab kept her attention on the coal bed.
Considering Mab, that counted as progress.
Anything more dramatic would have been worrying.
Then Aestrith’s footsteps reached the corridor.
Mod knew the pace immediately.
A moment later Aestrith entered.
She was still wearing her coat.
That meant she had either come from somewhere important or expected to leave again soon.
Her eyes went first to the furnace.
Then to Mod.
"Anything happen before work?"
"No."
Aestrith moved closer to them.
She didn’t say anything.
Instead she stood quietly, checking the arcane domains in the room.
"I’ll be back for the second check."
She turned toward the corridor.
"Don’t overdo your powers until I get here."
Then she was gone.
Whatever needed her attention was somewhere else.
Tam watched the door swing shut.
"She’s definitely hiding something."
Mab looked up from where she was sitting on the bench.
"You say that every time."
"Because every time she shows up, looks at our powers for five minutes, then runs off again."
Tam pointed toward the corridor.
"And she’s always in a hurry."
Mod couldn’t argue with that.
Tam glanced toward the furnace.
For the last days, Aestrith had seemed busier than usual. Not the ordinary sort of busy either. The sort where somebody’s attention was always somewhere else.
Tam wound the timer.
"The prince’s been acting strange too."
Mab rolled her eyes.
"The prince is always acting strange."
"No, this is different."
Tam frowned, trying to put it into words. "Usually when he’s interested in something, he talks about it. He’ll drag out diagrams, or start explaining things, or ask people questions until they wish he wouldn’t."
"That’s true."
"But lately he keeps disappearing into his office with stacks of records."
"Records?" Mod asked.
"About the foundry."
Tam spun the timer in her hand.
"And every time I think he’s finished, he asks for another set."
Mab looked between them.
"What kind of records?"
"Temperatures. Pour notes. Furnace reports. Whatever he can get."
"Why?"
"I don’t know."
Tam sounded annoyed by that fact, mostly out curiosity.
"That’s what’s bothering me."
Mab leaned back against the bench.
"Maybe he’s trying to make the furnace better."
"It already works."
"Things can work and still get better."
Tam opened her mouth, then paused.
"Fine. That’s fair."
The timer clicked softly.
For a while, nobody said anything.
Then Mab looked toward the corridor Aestrith had taken.
"So what do you think they’re doing?"
Tam shrugged.
"If I knew that part, I wouldn’t be wondering."
"Take a guess."
"I’m taking a guess."
Mab waited.
Tam thought for a moment.
"I think they’re working on the same thing."
Mod nodded.
That seemed likely enough.
"Maybe."
Mab frowned.
"But if it’s something to do with the furnace, why not just tell us?"
Tam barked out a chuckle.
"Because then it wouldn’t be a secret."
"How do you know it’s a secret?"
"Because nobody will tell me."
"That’s not proof."
"It’s very convincing."
Mab didn’t like that.
Tam set the timer down.
"I asked."
"You ask everybody everything."
"And usually it works."
"Did you ask Aestrith?"
"Once."
Mab sat up.
"What happened?"
"She shrugged me away."
"Maybe she doesn’t know it either?"
"Well, mm. Only the prince can understand his ideas."
Mab tilted her head.
"It’s probably too complicate for them to explain."
The furnace continued drawing air through the intake in a slow, steady rhythm.
Whatever Aestrith and Beorn were doing, it was important enough to keep pulling people away from their usual work.
Which, in Mod’s experience, normally meant the justification wasn’t a concept that could be easily explained to others.
Tam set the timer down.
The next check was still two hours away.
Mod placed her domain at the intake position and let the furnace settle into its preliminary rhythm. The coals drew air through the system in a slow, steady cycle. The timer ticked quietly from the edge of the bench.
Above them, the line shaft remained motionless.
Waiting.
Just like they were.
Two hours was a reasonable amount of time.
It had been before.
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