battery to the grinder, and then let the battery run. The grinder spun into life and he began shaping the stone.
The piece snapped out from his tongs and went clattering across the floor.
“Damn,” he said aloud, turning off the battery.
He checked the square for damage. Fortunately, it was fine.
He rummaged around further in the supply closet, but didn’t find anything that would serve him any better. He wandered back through the gravel hallway and searched in the forge. There he found some tongs with a clamp on the end.
He returned to the battery room and clamped in the stone, using two pieces of Rick’s cleaning cloth to keep the clamp from scuffing the piece. With his square hopefully secured, he turned the grinder back on. This time the stone did not escape him, and he was able to try and grind it into the correct shape. Woodstone sawdust sprayed all about him.
I’m going to have to sweep all that up.
He paused from time to time to inspect his work. After he’d finished, he looked critically at the piece.
“Well,” he told himself, “it looks kind of okay.”
And to think, woodstone is the easiest.
He moved back to his original set of bricks, took a section of white marble, and marked it off carefully with charcoal.
He heard the crunch of gravel.
He leapt for his pistol, his heart a wild thing in his chest, pumping as if powered by the battery. He grabbed the gun off of the counter and raised it.
I promise .
“Hello?” he heard a feminine voice call.
Alice?
“Hello?” The calling voice was high pitched, even for a girl. “Turi?”
Not Alice, but she knows my name.
“Declare yourself,” Arturus shouted.
“Declare myself what?”
Galen would have had a fit at that answer.
“You’re supposed to say your name,” Arturus called out.
“Oh, Ellen.”
“Okay, Ellen, you can come o n . . . ”
The girl, about Arturus’ own age, entered the battery room and stared at the pistol which Arturus found himself pointing at her face. She held up two empty hands. Arturus looked at her belt, but she appeared unarmed.
“Rick sent me.” She seemed a little terrified. “He said you’d be home. That you could get me some food.”
Arturus took stock of the brunette girl who stood in front of him. She had no weapons, but her clothes were in excellent repair. She even had some make-up on her face. She was dressed as finely as a Citizen, with old world blue jeans, some new looking sneakers, and a thin cotton long-sleeved shirt that was soaked with sweat.
There was something suspicious about her.
“Sure,” Arturus said, “what are you going to trade me for it?”
She burst into tears.
Arturus watched her collapse with a mortified sense of puzzlement.
What’s wrong with her?
“Are you okay?” Arturus asked her.
“Jesus Christ!” she half shouted.
Arturus glanced towards the exit, afraid she might bring demons into their chamber with her noise.
Not like she’s any louder than my grindstone.
“What did He do to you?” Arturus asked.
“What? No!” she shouted.
“It’s okay, I’ll get you some food.” He hoped that the offer would stop her from crying.
It didn’t.
“—and I don’t even know where I am—” Ellen said through her tears, and then covered her mouth with her hands.
“Rick,” his father’s voice reported.
“Arturus,” he shouted back, and since Ellen didn’t seem to be about to declare herself he added, “and Ellen.”
“—and how did I get her e . . . was just walking. I was just walking—”
Rick entered the chamber and looked at the fallen Ellen. He gave Arturus an accusing look.
“I didn’t do anything,” Arturus insisted.
“What happened?”
“She just came in and asked for food,” he held his hands out wide, and then realized he was still holding his pistol.
He holstered it quickly.
“I don’t have anything to trade for it, alright?” Ellen shouted at him.
“She’s just been damned,” Rick told him.
“Oh.”
No
The piece snapped out from his tongs and went clattering across the floor.
“Damn,” he said aloud, turning off the battery.
He checked the square for damage. Fortunately, it was fine.
He rummaged around further in the supply closet, but didn’t find anything that would serve him any better. He wandered back through the gravel hallway and searched in the forge. There he found some tongs with a clamp on the end.
He returned to the battery room and clamped in the stone, using two pieces of Rick’s cleaning cloth to keep the clamp from scuffing the piece. With his square hopefully secured, he turned the grinder back on. This time the stone did not escape him, and he was able to try and grind it into the correct shape. Woodstone sawdust sprayed all about him.
I’m going to have to sweep all that up.
He paused from time to time to inspect his work. After he’d finished, he looked critically at the piece.
“Well,” he told himself, “it looks kind of okay.”
And to think, woodstone is the easiest.
He moved back to his original set of bricks, took a section of white marble, and marked it off carefully with charcoal.
He heard the crunch of gravel.
He leapt for his pistol, his heart a wild thing in his chest, pumping as if powered by the battery. He grabbed the gun off of the counter and raised it.
I promise .
“Hello?” he heard a feminine voice call.
Alice?
“Hello?” The calling voice was high pitched, even for a girl. “Turi?”
Not Alice, but she knows my name.
“Declare yourself,” Arturus shouted.
“Declare myself what?”
Galen would have had a fit at that answer.
“You’re supposed to say your name,” Arturus called out.
“Oh, Ellen.”
“Okay, Ellen, you can come o n . . . ”
The girl, about Arturus’ own age, entered the battery room and stared at the pistol which Arturus found himself pointing at her face. She held up two empty hands. Arturus looked at her belt, but she appeared unarmed.
“Rick sent me.” She seemed a little terrified. “He said you’d be home. That you could get me some food.”
Arturus took stock of the brunette girl who stood in front of him. She had no weapons, but her clothes were in excellent repair. She even had some make-up on her face. She was dressed as finely as a Citizen, with old world blue jeans, some new looking sneakers, and a thin cotton long-sleeved shirt that was soaked with sweat.
There was something suspicious about her.
“Sure,” Arturus said, “what are you going to trade me for it?”
She burst into tears.
Arturus watched her collapse with a mortified sense of puzzlement.
What’s wrong with her?
“Are you okay?” Arturus asked her.
“Jesus Christ!” she half shouted.
Arturus glanced towards the exit, afraid she might bring demons into their chamber with her noise.
Not like she’s any louder than my grindstone.
“What did He do to you?” Arturus asked.
“What? No!” she shouted.
“It’s okay, I’ll get you some food.” He hoped that the offer would stop her from crying.
It didn’t.
“—and I don’t even know where I am—” Ellen said through her tears, and then covered her mouth with her hands.
“Rick,” his father’s voice reported.
“Arturus,” he shouted back, and since Ellen didn’t seem to be about to declare herself he added, “and Ellen.”
“—and how did I get her e . . . was just walking. I was just walking—”
Rick entered the chamber and looked at the fallen Ellen. He gave Arturus an accusing look.
“I didn’t do anything,” Arturus insisted.
“What happened?”
“She just came in and asked for food,” he held his hands out wide, and then realized he was still holding his pistol.
He holstered it quickly.
“I don’t have anything to trade for it, alright?” Ellen shouted at him.
“She’s just been damned,” Rick told him.
“Oh.”
No
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