Chapter 200 — What the Chief Can Stop

Kael had finished breakfast when Shen set another folded flatbread beside his hand.

“You will be out through midday,” Shen said.

Nia glanced up from her cup. “Take it. I do not want you coming back hungry because you decided breakfast was enough.”

Kael picked up the flatbread while Shen wrapped two more pieces in cloth for later. Before tying the bundle, Shen added a small piece of roasted root and folded the cloth so the oil would stay inside.

“Bring the cloth back,” Shen said. “The thinner ones are still drying.”

Kael tucked the bundle away. “I know.”

Nia waited until he had swallowed before speaking again. “I saw one of Vessa’s husbands yesterday.”

Kael looked at her, and she continued. “They were on the middle terrace moving winter hides. His left hand was wrapped, and he kept losing the weight on that side.” She rubbed her thumb along the edge of her cup. “The other men took the heavy pole away after his hand slipped. He still kept carrying the empty ones.”

“How bad was it?”

“He nearly dropped his end of a hide. He was shaking when he sat down.”

Shen tightened the food cloth around the roasted root. “If the hand is still wrapped today, he should not be hauling.”

“Ayari said she has seen him keep working when other men tell him to stop,” Nia said. “She did not say she knows what Vessa tells him at home.”

Kael nodded. “If I see him, I’ll deal with the work in front of me.”

Nia’s mouth tightened, but she nodded. Kael left after first bell.

The lower work terraces were already noisy when he reached them. Spring repair had moved from emergency work to ordinary work weeks ago, which meant people had started arguing over details instead of whether a wall would survive the next rain.

A retaining edge below the southern storage path had settled unevenly. The damage was not serious, but the crew had opened the outer side to reset the lowest stones before carts began using the path more heavily.

Kael walked the exposed section with the work lead while the man explained the problem.

“The stone is sound,” he said. “The fill behind it is the problem. Too much loose gravel.”

Kael crouched and pressed two fingers into the seam. The gravel shifted under the top layer.

“Pack the lower half with broken flat stone before you close it.”

“That was my plan.”

Kael looked toward three baskets waiting beside the cut. “Then why is all of that round gravel here?”

The work lead followed his gaze. One of the younger workers carrying an empty basket changed his expression too late.

“Because someone decided gravel is gravel,” the lead said.

“Use it on the lower road edge, not here.”

The younger worker lifted the nearest basket and changed direction. Another worker coming down with broken flat stone shifted aside to let him pass and complained that the wrong pile had been moved closer to the cut again. The work lead told both of them to stop rearranging piles without asking whoever was closing the wall.

Kael and the work lead continued uphill toward the hauling line. A low wooden drag-sled was bringing flat stones down from the sorting area above the retaining cut. Two men walked downhill ahead of each load with guide ropes, keeping the runners aligned. A third man stayed uphill behind the sled with a single brake line held across both hands, leaning back against the pull whenever the load gained speed.

The next sled was already moving when Kael saw the gray wrapping.

The rear man held the brake line firmly in his right hand. His wrapped left hand sat farther along the rope, but his fingers barely closed around it.

“I moved Vessa’s husband off loading stones this morning,” the work lead said.

“You put him on the brake line?”

“He said he could grip well enough for this.”

The sled crossed a shallow dip. The loaded runners bumped hard against the stone, and the brake line snapped taut.

Vessa’s husband tried to close his left hand. The rope slid through it.

The sled surged downhill, forcing the two men ahead of it into quicker steps as their guide ropes pulled tight.

“Stop the load,” Kael ordered.

Vessa’s husband caught at the brake line again, but Kael was already beside him. He seized the rope behind the man’s hands, planted his feet, and took the pull himself. The sled scraped another short distance before the front men regained their footing and turned the runners into the flat inner side of the path.

“Release it,” Kael said.

“I can hold it.”

“Let go.”

The husband released the line. His left hand stayed half closed after the rope was gone.

Kael passed the brake line to the work lead. “Put someone else behind the sled.”

“Chief, I can finish the run,” Vessa’s husband said.

“No.”

“I still have work.”

“You are done on this slope.”

The man’s eyes flicked toward the upper path. Kael saw the glance and pointed toward the inner corridor. “Go to the care station.”

“I do not need—”

“You could not hold the brake line. Go.”

The husband hesitated only a moment before obeying.

Kael waited until he had cleared the hauling line, then turned to the work lead. “If a man cannot grip, brace, or take the assigned weight safely, move him before the load starts.”

“I tried. I put him on lashing work first.”

Kael looked at him until the lead continued.

“He refused it. Said he was assigned to the stone crew and could still work.”

“Then keep him off the stone crew instead of giving him a second dangerous task.”

The lead’s jaw tightened. “Understood.”

Kael glanced downhill. The younger worker was emptying the round gravel where it belonged. “And keep that gravel out of the wall.”

The lead glanced toward the worker and nodded.

Kael left the crew with the sled stopped and a different man taking the brake line.

He caught up with Vessa’s husband before the inner corridor. The man was walking quickly enough that his left shoulder pulled forward with every few steps.

“How long has the hand been like that?”

The husband hesitated. “It was worse this morning.”

“That was not the question.”

“Since before yesterday.”

Kael did not ask again. At the care station, Sera was sorting folded cloths into two shallow baskets. A hunter with a newly wrapped forearm was on his way out while she told him not to loosen it simply because it itched. He promised nothing and disappeared into the corridor before she could add anything.

Sera watched him go with narrowed eyes, then turned toward Kael and Vessa’s husband. Her gaze sharpened when she saw the gray wrapping, and she pushed the clean-cloth baskets farther back on the table.

“Sit.”

The husband sat and held out his hand.

Sera loosened the old wrapping carefully. The skin at the base of his palm was rubbed raw beneath it, and swelling ran into the thumb side of the hand. When the last strip came free, she dropped the dirty cloth into the used-cloth basin, cleaned her hands, and returned with clean water and a fresh care cloth.

“Who wrapped this?”

“I did.”

“Next time, come here before you work through another wrapping.”

She cleaned the raw skin and pressed lightly along the swollen area. The husband jerked his hand back when her fingers reached the base of his thumb.

Sera stopped. “The swelling is worse there?” He nodded, and she checked his range of movement instead.

He could not close his fingers