Mira Fen's Arc

Chapter 5 of 6

By midmorning, the wooden box was empty. The girl had fitted every brass valve she could fit, and her hands hovered now over bare wood. She looked at Mira. Mira looked at the box. There was nothing left to practice on, and the girl's quiet was starting to shift toward the wrong kind. Mira stood. She would have to find more brass before the morning's momentum slipped away. Mira stepped outside to the small wooden chest beside the door. Two drawers, labeled in old paint: one for debts, one for favors. She pulled the favors drawer open and ran her thumb down the slips inside. Names. Trades. A promised crate of brass from the smith two ridges over, still uncollected. She set the slip on top and closed the drawer. But the smith was half a day's walk. The girl was waiting now. Mira turned to the dented bin behind the workshop and tipped it onto the stones. Old fittings, bent collars, a handful of stubby valve blanks rolled out. Enough for an afternoon. Not enough for a week. Mira gathered the usable pieces into her apron and carried them in. She set them on the girl's bench in a small bright pile. Then she went back out and hung the painted sign on the post by the path — brass scraps needed. Word would travel. For now, the girl had work in her hands again, and the quiet eased back to the right kind.