Chapter 14: The Price of Sitting Down

Chapter 14: The Price of Sitting Down

The chair Silas wanted cost eighteen silver, and someone had already reserved it.

He stared at the listing while his own chair pressed a wooden edge into his lower back. The seller had included four pictures. Silas opened the second one again, the side view showing a padded seat, a high back, and armrests broad enough to support a plate.

You don’t need to eat in it.

He looked at the armrests some more.

Below the pictures, the seller had written that the reservation would lapse tomorrow if the buyer failed to pay. Collection from the north residence. Transport extra.

Silas checked his spending balance, although he had checked it yesterday and done nothing since that might have improved it.

House Rooke paid the academy directly. Tuition, a room, meals, necessary supplies. Enough to keep an acknowledged son from becoming a public embarrassment. The supplements arrived separately. Actual pocket money appeared to have been considered unnecessary.

The original had found other ways to obtain it. Silas closed the old transaction history before he could see Marsh’s name again.

There was enough left for an occasional extra, if he watched what he spent. Yesterday’s custards had been entirely worth it. They had also failed to produce eighteen silver overnight.

He went back to the chair listing and marked it to notify him if the reservation expired.

Then he opened the academy’s paid requests.

Most required leaving the room. Equipment transport. Practice partners. An assistant for a field collection that promised generous compensation without mentioning what they intended to collect.

Silas passed over that one quickly.

A request near the bottom specified fine manipulation, several simultaneous holds, and availability for small assembly work. Materials supplied. Twenty-four silver on completion, subject to a brief practical trial.

He opened it.

The attached sketch showed a cylinder taken apart into far more pieces than he would have expected a cylinder to contain. Beneath it, the requester had added: Please do not apply if your Talent can only move one object at a time.

Silas began typing.

Remote Grasp. Multiple independent holds. Work must be performed in my residence.

He hesitated over the last sentence. It sounded unreasonable because it was unreasonable. He added that he could demonstrate his control that afternoon and sent it.

By then it was time for remedial conditioning. He attended, finished the work Ferrow assigned, and came home with enough energy left to be annoyed that he had spent it there. The reply was waiting while he ate.

How many holds? And why your residence? — Evan Mercer, Year Two

Depends on weight and precision. Medical restrictions. Send the trial requirements.

Evan wanted to see six small rings held separately while he worked between them. He also wanted to know whether the room had a clear desk, a working outlet, and anything liable to shed onto the components.

Silas looked at the chalk dust along the windowsill.

No, he wrote, then fetched a damp cloth.

Evan arrived after lunch carrying a narrow case and a canvas bag with a repaired strap. He checked the number on the door before looking at Silas.

"Rooke?"

"You have the right room."

"I thought it might be someone else using the account."

Silas had spent ten minutes clearing the desk. He was not going to lose twenty-four silver in the corridor.

"Do you want to test the holds or discuss my name?"

Evan glanced into the studio. He had a square face, cropped brown hair, and a pencil tucked behind one ear. His sleeve cuffs had been mended with thread that didn’t quite match.

"The trial costs you nothing," he said. "If it works, we register the job before I leave any materials."

"Fine. Come in."

The appraisal opened as Evan crossed the threshold.

[Guest: Evan Mercer.]

[Soul Talent: Fine Joining — C / Common.]

[Temporary Talent Slot occupied — Boundary Ward. Recording unavailable.]

Silas dismissed the panel. Evan was already examining the cleared desk, running a finger along its surface before setting down his case.

"I’ll put a mat under it," Evan said. "These are only practice pieces."

He laid out six brass rings, each smaller than a fingernail, and a thin steel rod.

"Lift those. Keep the holes lined up."

The rings rose. Silas arranged them above the mat while Evan took the rod between two fingers and passed it through the first three.

"Higher at this end."

Silas adjusted them.

Evan withdrew the rod and tried from the opposite side. Then he touched the fourth ring with a probe.

"Don’t fight that. Let it move, but keep the others where they are."

Silas loosened one hold. The ring tilted beneath the probe and returned when Evan released it.

For the next few minutes, Evan changed the spacing and asked him to rotate individual rings. He wasn’t impressed by the speed with which Silas complied. When one ring moved farther than requested, he had Silas do it again.

At least pretend this is difficult for you to find.

"Enough?" Silas asked when Evan reached for the probe again.

"Almost. Hold them while I change the order."

Evan exchanged the second and fifth rings by hand. Silas shifted his holds to accommodate him, waited through another measurement, and lowered everything when asked.

Evan packed the rings away.

"That will work."

Silas turned toward the terminal before he could sound too pleased. "Then register it."

"You haven’t seen the real parts yet."

"I saw your drawing."

"A drawing doesn’t show what happens when I join them." Evan opened the other side of the case. "Come look."

Silas leaned closer. Three pale discs lay in individual recesses, surrounded by wire loops and a slender central spindle. One disc had a groove so fine he first mistook it for a scratch.

"A regulator," Evan said. "It evens out the feed to a small instrument. This one’s for a measuring stand. Everything has to stay apart until the casing is fitted."

"And then you join it."

"In stages. The joint draws tight when it takes. That moves the neighboring pieces." Evan showed him the tip of the probe. "My last helper kept correcting them back to the drawing. We nearly snapped the spindle."

"Your instructions say to keep them aligned."

Evan stopped, looked at the case, and rubbed his thumb over his lower lip.

"Yes. I’ll change that."

Silas liked him slightly better for saying it.

They registered the commission at the terminal. Evan entered the task, the supplied materials, and the agreed payment. The academy record showed the funds set aside pending completion.

"Twenty-four silver," Silas said. "No additions after we start."

"No additions to the work, or to the price?"

"Either."

"Agreed," Evan said. "I’ll need a few days to finish preparing these. We can rehearse the order before I make any joins."

He let Silas inspect the component tray, then closed the case and took it with him. At the door, he paused.

"Please don’t practice on substitutes that look close enough. I’ll bring the proper blanks."

"I wasn’t planning to."

Evan seemed uncertain whether to believe him, but left without another warning.

Silas returned to the terminal. The commission was listed under his name, with the payment beside it. He opened the chair pictures in the next window.

The reservation hadn’t expired yet.

He sent the seller a message anyway.