Chapter 25: Available Hours

Chapter 25: Available Hours

Evan left at ten, as promised. By then both small jobs were finished, their twelve and sixteen silver paid, and Silas had eaten a meal that kept getting interrupted whenever they needed the same corner of the desk.

One hundred and one silver.

He checked the total once, put the plate away, and opened the drawings for Tobin’s next job. He could save time tomorrow if he understood the parts before they arrived.

At midnight, he was still making notes. After that came the lecture he’d put off watching, which took longer than it should have because he kept losing track and moving it backward. He finally washed and got into bed shortly before three.

The alarm sounded at six.

Silas reached for it with Remote Grasp and stopped with his hand still under the blanket. Ferrow’s session. He couldn’t dismiss this one and pretend he’d forgotten.

He lay there for another few seconds, deeply resentful of everyone who was still asleep, then got up.

The walk to the practice area took longer than usual. Outside the studio, his legs felt heavy almost at once, and the morning light made him squint. He had slept badly before. He knew better than to be surprised by it, which did very little to improve his mood.

Ferrow took one look at him and asked when he’d gone to bed.

"Late."

"How late?"

He told her. She changed his circuit and kept him away from the moving apparatus. There was no weapon practice afterward, either.

Mira passed him on her way to the balance lane. "You look awful."

"Good morning to you as well."

She glanced at Ferrow, evidently decided against asking anything else, and went to do her exercises.

Silas spent most of the session walking, stretching, and being told to slow down when he tried to finish a movement too quickly. He would have argued if there had been anything useful to say. By the end, he was glad Ferrow had changed the circuit, though he kept that to himself.

Back in his room, he ate, set another alarm, and lay down. This time he slept through a delivery notification. His meal for later was waiting in the compartment when he woke.

Tobin’s second job involved reseating a row of fine fittings in a worn testing frame. Silas’s notes helped. He knew which parts Tobin meant, and they could support the work in a cradle between adjustments instead of holding the entire thing aloft.

It still took most of the afternoon.

At one point Tobin asked for the third fitting to be turned. Silas started on the second, caught himself, and lowered it back into its support.

"The next one," Tobin said.

"I know. Give me a moment."

He took his hands off the edge of the desk and looked away from the work. The cup beside the window had a little tea left. He fetched it, drank, and let his eyes rest on the courtyard below.

Two students were sitting on a low wall sharing something out of a paper bag. One had a book open on her knees. Neither looked as though they had anywhere urgent to be.

Silas stayed by the window until Tobin shifted in his chair.

"Ready?" the maker asked.

"Yes." Silas returned to the desk. "Third fitting. Show me how far before I turn it."

They finished without damage. Tobin checked the frame against its instructions, accepted the work, and paid the agreed twenty-four silver.

The balance reached one hundred and twenty-five.

Silas read it twice before closing the account. He was pleased; he couldn’t help it. He’d earned more in four days than he’d possessed when this started, and Tobin had already begun packing with the easy care of someone whose problem was solved.

Then Silas looked at the empty space in tomorrow’s schedule, and the pleasure became difficult to hold on to.

"Is there anything else?" he asked.

Tobin looked up. "For me? Not this week."

"For someone you know, then."

"Possibly. I can ask."

"I’d appreciate a prompt answer."

Tobin stopped rolling his tool cloth. "If I recommend you, they will contact you when they’re ready. You can’t hurry people just because you’ve finished my work."

Silas felt an immediate urge to tell him that he was perfectly aware of how appointments worked. He’d spent years waiting on other people’s replies. He could remember the sound of a notification reaching his old phone so clearly that for a second he expected to hear it here.

Don’t start. He’s offering to help.

"Ask them," Silas said. "I’ll keep the afternoon available."

Tobin finished packing. "I’ll let you know."

After he left, Silas put the desk back in order. He rinsed the cups, collected the scraps of packing cloth, and found his chalk beneath a folded work sheet.

The practice box was still under the desk. He pulled it out with his foot.

He’d meant to practice after Nera’s batch, then after the repair. Yesterday evening he’d thought he might manage a few attempts once Evan left. The little marks he’d drawn around the box hadn’t changed since his last proper session.

Silas checked the remaining time on the copy and sat back on his heels.

Only minutes.

He tried the enclosure anyway. It formed readily enough, covering the box on every side. A gentle push from the wooden ball slid away from the lid. He guided the ball toward the troublesome upper corner, increased the pressure, and watched it break through.

He caught it before it hit the wood.

There wasn’t time to work out what he was doing wrong. He knew that, but he still started again, following the boundary around the corner until the familiar resistance abruptly disappeared.

[Boundary Ward — Temporary Record Expired.]

[Assimilation Record Retained: 83%.]

[Temporary Talent Slot: 0/1 — empty.]

Silas remained on the floor with the ball floating above the box.

"Damn it."

The ball settled into his hand. He’d let the whole remaining stretch go. Getting Talia inside again would take arranging, and she had already given him more of her time than he could reasonably expect.

He put away the chalk. For now, he moved the stored equipment into the bottom of the cabinet, where nothing heavy could fall on it, and closed the door.

His meal was still warm enough to eat. He took it to the comfortable chair and had nearly finished when Tobin’s message arrived.

There is a repair team short of an assistant. They need the sort of support work we did yesterday. May I give them your contact?

Silas set down his spoon.

Yes. Send the requirements as well.

The reply took several minutes. He finished eating while he waited, though he couldn’t have said afterward whether the kitchen had remembered the extra sauce he’d requested.

Four removable measuring heads from a training hall needed repair before its next assessed sessions. Two qualified repairers would do the actual replacements. They needed someone to keep the exposed assemblies supported while they worked, with enough control to move individual sections aside on instruction.

Two afternoon sessions. One hundred and twenty silver for the assisting work, paid after the agreed support and testing were complete.

Silas pulled the drawings onto the larger screen. The heads would fit on his desk one at a time. The cases were portable, the assemblies light, and the requested movements resembled the repair Tobin had just watched him handle.

He asked whether the work could be done in his residence.

The team’s lead replied with questions about the desk, lighting, and available space. Silas sent the dimensions and a photograph. They would bring their own supports, an extra stool, and the isolated test supply.

Tomorrow’s afternoon was free. The following morning wasn’t, but they wouldn’t need him until after lunch. He checked both days before accepting the registered offer.

His confirmation came back while the academy calendar was still open. Six days remained before the reception.

Silas pressed his thumb against the edge of the desk until it hurt a little, then made himself release it. The fee would be enough, provided he could actually finish the work.

He wanted to study every drawing tonight. He opened the first, read the same label twice, and recognized what he was doing.

You’re going to fuck it up if you turn up like this.

He sent one final message, confirming the time. Then he set his morning alarm late enough to allow a proper sleep, put the drawings aside for breakfast, and went to bed.