Ian Irvine - Geomancer

She could not see it anywhere. Tiaan rifled through the clutter on the bench. Surely Irisis wouldn’t have taken it? Could she be the saboteur? It hardly seemed possible. But she had nothing to lose by undermining Tiaan, and everything to gain.

Tiaan dismissed that as a fancy brought on by overwork and not enough in her belly. Heading out the door to the refectory, she saw something bright lying hard up against the wall. Her helm! It was bent out of shape, though nothing she couldn’t fix. How had it got there? She’d left it up the other end of the bench.

It would not have been so deformed from falling off the bench. It must have been thrown, or struck! With a growing feeling of alarm she checked the crystal and immediately saw the crack, which went right across the hexagon of bubbles. Small curving cracks radiated away from one point, as if it had been struck with a hammer.

Tiaan put the helm on her head, already knowing what she was going to find. It was completely dead. The crystal was ruined.

After reporting the damage to Gi-Had, who had roared ‘Gryste, get in here!’ Tiaan returned to the workshop. There was only one solution, reluctant though she was. She would have to ask old Joe to find her another crystal.

She did not want to. Tiaan even toyed with the idea of going to the sixth level by herself to avoid troubling him, but that would be irresponsible. Joe would be furious, and what if she had an accident? No, what he could do in safety would be foolhardy for her to attempt.

Joeyn was back on the fifth level in the place he had been working earlier in the week. He looked pleased to see her, even when, with some reluctance, she explained why she had come. She showed him the damaged crystal.

‘I thought we might need to go down again.’ He pressed his lunch on her.

Tiaan took one of the spicy meal cakes. It was delicious, though hot; sweat broke out on her forehead. ‘I didn’t want to ask you.’

‘Why not?’

‘I hate asking people for favours. And you’ve done so much already.’

‘I hope you weren’t thinking of going to the sixth level by yourself,’ he said with a steely glint.

Tiaan looked down at her boots. One lace had come undone. She tied it.

‘This is my work, Tiaan. My life. If I had to go to the sixth level a hundred times I’d do it cheerfully. Especially for you.’

She could think of no answer to that.

‘Besides, I carried a bit of formwork in yesterday,’ he went on. ‘Not much, just a beam and a couple of props, but it’ll be safer than before.’

He sketched the arrangement on the floor with his knife. ‘Want to go?’

‘Might as well.’

This time, the trip did not seem quite so doom-laden. In the cavern she stood well back while Joeyn gauged the height with a folding ruler.

He measured the props, sawing a handspan off one, the thickness of a finger off the other. ‘Now we come to the dangerous part. If you’re a believer, say your prayers now.’

Tiaan was not but she uttered a sincere prayer anyhow.

‘This is what we’re going to do,’ the old miner said. ‘We’ll each hold our props at an angle to the vertical, like this.’ He demonstrated. ‘Then, we lift the timber plate on top, like a lintel over a doorway. Finally we move under the cracked area, just in front of the vein, and bring our props upright, forcing the plate hard against the roof. Hard enough to hold it, but not hard enough to bring it down on us, of course.’ He grinned.

‘Of course!’

She bent down to lift the prop, which was a span and a half long and half as big round as her waist. It proved to be incredibly heavy. Heaving and gasping, Tiaan managed to get one end as high as her shoulder. The prop was not made from the light local pine but from a dense, wavy-grained hardwood with a rank odour, like wet socks.

‘Lean it against the wall,’ said Joeyn. ‘They’re buggers to lift.’ He rested his own a couple of spans from hers. ‘Have a breather.’

They lifted the beam, which was even heavier, and laid it on top of the props, lying flat. ‘Ready?’ said Joeyn. ‘It’s going to be bloody hard work.’

Moving the prop away from the wall was the easy part. Keeping the plate on it was murder. The split edge cut into her shoulder; splinters needled her fingers. But that was nothing compared to the sheer agony of lifting prop and beam and walking with them. One step and she was exhausted; two, bone weary; three, and every muscle in her body was shrieking.

‘Rest it!’ said Joeyn, who seemed to be bearing his load easily enough. No doubt he was used to it. ‘I’d have brought a couple of pit labourers in, but they’ve got families, and this level is forbidden …’

‘I think I can manage,’ she said stoutly. ‘It’s just, well, I’m used to working with my fingers, not carrying heavy loads.’

‘We’ll take it one step at a time. As soon as it starts to hurt, ground your pole.’

She gave a weak smile. It hurt before she’d even got it off the floor. After two steps her prop began to shake. Tiaan grounded it hastily.

Another step. Now they were going under the cracked area. The pole wobbled; she let it down, expecting the beam to fall on her head. Joeyn’s hand flew up, steadying it.

Parts of the roof rock, segments bounded by fractures, looked ready to fall. She closed her eyes and instantly saw that final image from last night’s dream – the handsome young man on the balcony, begging for help as volcanoes erupted fire and ash all around.

Tiaan snapped her eyes open. The scene vanished. ‘Are you all right?’ Joeyn asked.

‘Yes,’ she said dazedly. She lifted her prop. They moved another two steps, rested, then one more.

‘Just a half step to your left now, Tiaan.’

Finally they were ready. ‘This is the difficult part,’ he said. ‘We slowly raise our poles to the vertical, pushing the plate up against the roof. When it’s in position I’ll wedge the props so they’re tight and we’ll be done. Carefully now. You go first; I’ll match it.’

Tiaan began to push her prop up. Slowly, ever so slowly. The tip wobbled. She steadied it with her shoulder.

‘Easy does it,’ said Joeyn. ‘Take all the time you need.’

Up again, and again. ‘Just one more lift.’

Up they went. Half the prop was above her shoulder now, and harder to steady. The tip wobbled. She threw her weight against it but the base skidded on a pebble and the pole tilted. The plate began to slide off.

‘Up hard!’ Joeyn cried, but it was too late.

Tiaan dropped the prop and crouched with her arms over her head. The plate struck the floor with a tremendous clatter. Her prop hit the wall. Joeyn remained where he was, still holding his pole, staring up at the roof.

Grit rained down on Tiaan’s back. A chip of granite bounced off the plate. She stood up, gasping. ‘I’m sorry, Joeyn.’

‘No – my fault. It wasn’t such a good idea after all.’

‘Let’s try again. One last effort.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I think so.’

The second time was harder than the first, if that was possible. Tiaan’s back was throbbing, low down, and her arms had lost the best of their strength. But she knew how to balance the plate now, and the tiny movements needed to keep it there. This time they got it almost to the roof with no fatal wobbles.

‘The last bit is always the hardest to control,’ he said.

‘I’m ready.’ She had to succeed this time. Tiaan could not make another attempt. She eased the pole until it was nearly upright. It wobbled and she could barely hold it.

Joeyn thrust his prop up hard, jamming the plate against the roof. That steadied it enough for Tiaan to raise her end the last distance. They’d done it!