Chapter 23: Five Silver Short

Chapter 23: Five Silver Short

Silas had bought the chair so he could do exactly this.

Breakfast was finished. His appointment wasn’t until after lunch. The window stood open a little, letting in cool air and the sound of someone below trying to convince a friend to skip a lecture. He had a cup of tea, a cushion behind his back, and nothing he needed to lift, catch, or keep from falling apart.

He adjusted his legs and tried to read.

The book was an adventure novel from the academy’s general collection. Its hero had just challenged a duke over an insult to his horse. Silas had been enjoying it yesterday. Now he reached the bottom of the page with no idea why they were in a stable.

He glanced at the terminal.

No new messages. Nera had already replied to his question about further work: she would know after delivering this batch. She had customers, classes, and other orders. Asking again before they’d assembled a single unit would make him look desperate.

He turned back to the book, found his place, and read the same paragraph.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. They’re not even here yet.

He put the book facedown on the armrest. His tea was good. Someone had put actual orange peel in it, and he could taste it when he remembered to drink. He wanted another cup. He wanted to spend the morning finding out whether the duke was going to lose a duel over a horse.

He’d spent so many late nights wishing for a morning like this. He hated being too frightened to enjoy it now.

Instead, he brought the terminal screen closer with Remote Grasp and opened his accounts.

Nineteen silver. He knew the balance. There were no expenses he had forgotten, no payment quietly waiting to clear. He went through the recent entries anyway, then searched the paid requests for work that could be brought to his room.

One required a Talent he didn’t have. Another offered two silver for four hours at a workshop across campus. He opened its details, considered the walk, and closed it.

By the time Nera arrived, the tea was cold and he’d prepared the desk twice.

"You’re early," he said.

"By four minutes." She lifted her case. "Shall I stand outside?"

Silas moved out of the doorway. "Put that on the mat."

Nera had brought the labeled sketch from their trial. She set it where they could both see it and unpacked three units’ worth of parts. He recognized the guide and the stop without asking this time.

The first gauge took most of an hour. They were still learning when to wait for each other, and Silas had to move the lamp twice before her hand stopped casting a shadow across the fitting. The next went more smoothly.

When Nera called a break, he looked at the unfinished third set.

"We could finish that first."

"I need to eat." She opened a paper packet beside the window, well away from the desk. "So do you, unless your lunch was invisible."

He’d postponed ordering it while sorting the requests.

"It’s coming," Silas said, and reached for the terminal.

They finished three that afternoon. Nera inspected each, paid the agreed fee, and packed it away. Silas watched the third payment arrive while she counted her tools.

Thirty-four silver.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes. Don’t book anything immediately after. I want time to check the whole set together."

He had already been considering an evening appointment. "How much time?"

Nera looked up from her case. "Rooke, I’ve just told you I don’t know."

He left the evening free.

The following afternoon, the fourth and fifth gauges passed. The sixth gave a correct reading, then a different one when Nera repeated the test.

She frowned and tried again.

Silas leaned forward. "The fitting hasn’t moved."

"I know."

She turned the gauge over, reset it, and watched the indicator settle. It stopped just short of where it belonged.

"That one fails," Nera said.

He looked at the five accepted units in their padded case. Five silver short of the batch payment, and he had spent longer on this last one than either of the previous two.

"We used the same sequence."

"Then something moved during it." Nera laid the gauge on the mat. "Hold the base. I’ll open it."

He wanted to tell her to check her securing tool. The thought came out of his mouth before he had properly considered it.

Nera stopped. "Do you think it slipped?"

Silas looked at the tool, then at the gauge. He hadn’t seen it slip.

"Check it anyway."

She tested the tool against a spare fitting. It seated cleanly.

"Now the gauge," she said.

He held the base while she loosened the cover. The room’s awareness told him where every small part sat, but it couldn’t tell him which arrangement would produce a reliable measurement. Nera touched the inner fitting and gently worked it back and forth.

"There. The guide’s sitting crooked."

"I held it straight."

"Until?"

Silas stared at the exposed mechanism. On the last adjustment, she’d said she had the collar. He’d eased his hold so she could reach the lower fastening. The collar had been supported, but the guide beneath it had still been loose.

"Until you reached underneath," he said.

Nera nodded. "I hadn’t secured that part yet."

His neck felt hot. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut about the tool.

"Can it be reset?"

"Yes. Keep the guide held until I ask you to release it."

He did. This time, when she reached beneath the assembly, he followed the slight pressure of her tool without letting the guide lean with it. She finished, checked the fit by touch, and told him when to let go.

The gauge passed its first test. Silas waited through the second and third with his hands tucked under his arms.

Nera placed it in the case.

"All six."

The final five silver arrived. Forty-nine available, with the full thirty from the commission now paid.

Silas sat back. He had the unpleasant, lingering feeling of having narrowly avoided breaking something expensive, although nothing had broken at all.

"How soon can we do another batch?" he asked.

"I need to deliver these first. I also have two practicals this week."

"Even a smaller order."

Nera fastened the case and studied him. He disliked how quickly he’d answered.

"I heard you the first time," she said. "I’ll ask around. Don’t promise people you know how to build their equipment."

"I haven’t."

"Good. Tell them what you can hold and let them explain the rest."

At the door, she paused to check a message on her slate.

"There is someone with a repair waiting. Mercer knows him too. I’ll send your details, if you want."

"You may." Silas pulled the door a little wider. "Include the fact that the entire batch passed."

"After correction," Nera said.

He almost objected, then remembered her checking a perfectly serviceable tool because he hadn’t wanted the fault to be his.

"Fine. Include that as well."

When she’d gone, he cleared the mat and put the spare chair back. His book still lay where he’d left it the previous morning. He picked it up, thumb marking the abandoned page, but a message arrived before he’d reached his comfortable chair.

The repairer wanted to know his available hours.

Silas put the book on the shelf and went to answer.