The next morning, I was still searching for the light in my hands.
I spread my fingers near the window, where the weak sunlight made my skin look paler, and tried to feel that same thing that had yielded when I healed Edwin.
Nothing appeared.
My head no longer hurt. I'd slept and eaten. Part of me had expected that to be enough to do it again.
Thomas watched me from the table.
— I'm not trying it on your arm, — I said.
— I didn't say anything.
I lowered my hand.
He was right.
I didn't practice for long. Edwin needed help sorting the wood, the water in the bucket was running low, and there wasn't much barley left. I could spend the entire morning chasing what had happened the day before and still need food when I was done.
I went out to the workshop.
Harl arrived while we were examining the remaining pieces of the payment we'd received from Ben. He carried a small bundle, which he set on the workbench after greeting Thomas.
— Can you handle this?
He opened the cloth.
Inside was a bent piece of iron, thinner near one of the bends. I didn't know what it was called until he explained where he used it.
Thomas picked it up, turned it over, and handed it back.
— Not with wood.
— I can see it's not wood.
Thomas didn't take offense.
— Needs a blacksmith.
Harl looked at the tools in the workshop.
I followed his gaze. We had blades, a covered workspace, and people capable of working. From the outside, it might have looked like all we needed was to ask for something else.
— Do you know one? — I asked.
Harl pulled the cloth closer.
— Oren's staying at Ben's place. Came to look at some iron for him and a few others. But he won't do this empty-handed.
The name meant nothing to me.
— What's missing?
Harl looked at me.
— Ask him.
Then he spoke to Edwin about firewood. Mara would take another bundle, but not the damp wood that needed to dry before it could be used. They showed each other the material and agreed to trade it for a small portion of dried fish. Edwin would make the delivery. There was no promise for the weeks ahead.
I waited until Harl left before looking at Thomas.
— I want to talk to this man.
He nodded.
— Before you bring in a blacksmith.
I hadn't said the second part.
I felt a small, familiar embarrassment and went looking for my staff.
I found Oren beside Ben's house, his hands darkened with grime and a strip of leather resting across his knee. He was a man with a beard streaked with gray. A tool bag sat at his feet, and he was examining a piece Ben held up to the light.
I waited for them to finish talking.
Ben introduced me as the boy from the workshop.
I neither liked nor disliked it. At least he'd called it a workshop.
Oren looked at me, then at the tool I'd brought as an example of the kind of repairs we did. I explained that Thomas worked with wood and that we had no intention of pretending we knew how to work iron.
— Saves material, — he said.
He didn't smile.
I asked what he'd need to handle the repairs the neighbors were asking for.
He started with the pieces, not the building.
Some could be straightened. Others had lost too much metal or concealed a crack that would only become clear after a closer examination. He'd need to know what each customer had, what they were willing to pay, and what they expected to get back.
— And to work? — I pressed.
Oren pointed at the bag.
— I brought some of my tools. I didn't carry a workshop on my back.
Ben gave a short laugh.
Oren needed a suitable place, a working forge, something solid to strike against, and the proper fuel. The charcoal he could get was scarce. He didn't want to waste it trying to work in a bad setup.
I thought of the Blacksmith.
One hundred forty gold. Sixty wood.
Then I thought of the ten point sixty-eight that would remain.
— If I get the place, — I said, — can you look at it before accepting any work?
Oren studied me more closely.
— What place?
— At our base. Near the woodworking shop, but separate.
He looked at Ben.
— There's a forge there?
Ben shook his head.
I could have said it was almost ready. The lie would have made that part of the conversation easier and the next part worse.
— Not yet, — I answered.
Oren lowered the piece he was holding.
— Then we're talking about something you don't have.
I nodded.
— I want to know if it's worth getting.
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he began asking questions.
Where was the water? How much space was there? Would the roof be close to stored wood? Who would work there? Did I expect him to make new tools from the iron of two old hinges?
The last question made me lower my eyes.
I knew finished objects better than I knew the material required to make them.
— I don't know how much iron it takes, — I admitted.
— Then don't promise anyone a tool.
I wrote down what I could on a splinter. Oren watched the letters without commenting on my age.
When I finished, he agreed to visit the base that afternoon. Just to look at the space and tell me what would be needed. He didn't promise to stay, teach us everything he knew, or work for whatever payment I decided to invent.
I returned too quickly and had to slow down when my heel complained.
Thomas listened to what I told him. Edwin had already returned from the firewood delivery with the agreed dried fish. He had stored it in the house without touching the repair material we'd set aside.
We ate some of it with a small portion of barley. Then the three of us sat at the table.
I gave them the numbers.
— One hundred fifty point sixty-eight gold. The Blacksmith costs one hundred forty. That leaves ten point sixty-eight.
Thomas looked at Edwin.
— And wood? — he asked.
— Seventy after the purchase.
Edwin rested his arms on the table.
— Wouldn't be enough to call someone else.
— No.
The word made the price more real than the image of the building.
We couldn't simply compensate for a mistake by bringing in someone else. We couldn't pay Oren's food with those credits, either.
— He's going to want payment, — Thomas said.
— I know. We'll still have to agree on that.
— And what if he comes, looks at it, and doesn't like it?
I thought of the unfinished building sitting there, taking up space, while the resources that had created it vanished from the balance.
— That's why I want him to tell us what he needs first.
Thomas slowly ran a hand along his arm.
He didn't tell me I was right. He didn't tell me to forget it, either.
When Oren arrived with Ben, we all went to examine the site.
He rejected the first place I showed him. It was too close to the stored wood and interfered with a passage. At the second, he took longer. He studied the slope, the distance from the house, and the path to the water.
He spoke about circulation, smoke, and keeping certain things away from the heat. I didn't understand everything the first time he explained it and asked him to repeat himself.
Edwin asked about carrying materials there. Thomas asked where pieces waiting for repair would be kept.
Oren answered both.
The conversation was no longer just between him and a boy promising to get a building.
In the end, he marked an acceptable place with the toe of his boot.
— If it's what you described, I'll inspect it, — he said. — I won't agree to repair anything before that.
We also agreed on a proposal for the first job, if he approved the installation: materials and fuel would be settled separately with the customer; payment for the work would be divided equally between Oren and the workshop. Nothing about that division would apply to future orders without another discussion.
Oren corrected the way I repeated the arrangement twice.
The third time, he nodded.
— And nobody touches any piece I tell them to leave alone.
We agreed.
He left with Ben, carrying his own tools.
I stood looking at the place he'd marked in the dirt.
Oren had given us conditions.
He hadn't given us a guarantee.
Thomas came to stand beside me.
— You don't have to decide while his voice is still in your head.
I almost laughed.
That was exactly what was happening. The man's words were still inside my head, making everything feel closer simply because someone knew how to speak about it.
We put away the tools. Took care of the water. Finished the dried fish over the meals that day without counting on the Blacksmith to bring food the next morning.
I didn't return to the System until we were inside the house.
I looked at the price, then at the faces of the two men.
— If I bring it here, I'm not going to make you learn how to work iron overnight.
Thomas nodded.
Edwin asked whether there would still be work at the workshop.
— There'll be whatever we can agree on, — I answered. — We're not abandoning it.
That much I could promise.
Orders were another matter.
The next morning, we prepared the site.
We moved anything loose out of the way and preserved enough space to move around. Thomas directed more than he carried. Edwin handled the heavy parts, with me helping where I could.
No one from outside was there when I searched for the image.
The outline took up more space than I'd expected. I adjusted its position, and we checked the edges before continuing.
The confirmation appeared before me.
I'd spent so many days thinking the Blacksmith had to wait that now the decision felt wrong simply because I wasn't waiting anymore.
But we'd spoken to a man who knew the work. We knew his conditions. There were repair requests in the area, even though none of them was our order yet.
The risk was still there.
I confirmed.
The gold dropped to ten point sixty-eight.
The wood dropped to seventy.
Air moved across the site.
Thomas and Edwin stood back as the structure took shape. I saw walls, a roof, the darker section where work with fire would take place. When the trembling stopped, there was another building in the clearing.
I didn't feel the same immediate joy I'd felt with the Farm.
First, I felt the weight of the balance that had disappeared.
We went inside after looking over the exterior.
The forge was cold. There was an anvil, bellows, a workbench, and basic tools, including hammers and tongs. The place looked built for work, but there was no flame waiting for us.
Edwin examined the floor and looked at the walls.
Thomas stayed near the entrance.
We didn't touch anything we didn't know how to use.
I looked for stored materials.
There was no pile of iron. No charcoal waiting to be burned. The place for storing supplies was empty.
I knelt near the opening of the forge and smelled new stone and metal.
I didn't know enough to judge whether everything had been set up the way Oren needed. I'd have to let him look, ask questions, and perhaps hear that something was still missing.
Behind me, Thomas opened the door wider.
— Now we need to find someone who knows.
I stood.
That had been my intention from the beginning.
Inside that room, it had become a necessity.
I went to the house and took the splinter with the agreement written on it.
Before leaving to find Oren, I stopped beside the window. My hand was dirty with earth. I spread my fingers and remembered the light I'd seen between them.
I possessed two things no one on this coast seemed to expect from me: I could bring buildings into existence, and I'd managed to close part of a wound.
Neither told me how much charcoal a forge consumed.
Neither taught me how to recognize bad iron or feed three people for a week without work.
I let my hand fall.
Edwin came to the doorway.
— Want me to come with you?
I looked toward the Blacksmith, visible beyond the workshop.
— Stay with Thomas. I'll tell Oren he can come inspect it.
I started walking, then stopped.
The two of them looked at me.
— He's going to ask how it was finished so quickly.
Thomas didn't try to deny it.
I didn't have a ready answer I wanted to turn into a lie, either.
I tucked the splinter against my side and followed the path.
The Blacksmith was ready to be seen.
I still wasn't.