He turned to Axio. “Name?”
“Axio Darnasus, sir.” Axio’s voice was unsteady.
“Rank?”
Thessa cut in, “Junior apprentice, sir.”
“I did not ask you,” Craftsman Magna snapped. The overseer’s patience with her had clearly worn thin.
“I’m sorry, sir. He’s just very new.”
“If you speak out of turn again, I will have you flogged before the entire compound.”
Thessa heard her own teeth click shut. She nodded sharply, looking at her feet in what she hoped was a subservient gesture and hoping that Axio didn’t give himself away. Much to her relief, he went through the rest of the questions without arousing the overseer’s suspicions.
Craftsman Magna finished the questions and put the papers and board back under one arm. “Follow me,” he said sharply, turning on his heel. They followed close, their enforcer escort hovering ominously just behind them as they were marched down the street. Thessa remained alert, counting the buildings, examining the walls, trying to gauge the people they passed.
The compound appeared entirely secure. There was one main entrance, but there were several service hatches through which laborers brought firewood, cindersand, and other necessities. Every exit was heavily guarded by armed enforcers. While the siliceers were all wearing drab, matching tunics and aprons in a sort of prison uniform, it appeared that support staff was all hired – they wore their own clothes, talked freely. Some wore forgeglass to help them carry loads. Perhaps Thessa could get a message out through one of them.
But to whom? Adriana was dead. Kastora was besieged. The former would have been the better option, since they were already in Ossa, but the latter might be able to smuggle them out or arrange the proper bribes. Of course, anyone she might contact might very well be unable to help them. Thessa needed to assume that, for the moment, she and Axio were on their own.
As they were escorted across the compound courtyard, Thessa’s gaze turned to a young man being dragged in the opposite direction. He wept violently, held under each arm by an enforcer, and Thessa found herself following his journey with morbid fascination. The back of the young man’s tunic was ripped and bloody from a horrible flogging.
“Ah,” Craftsman Magna explained, “a failure. He didn’t meet his quotas, and I’m afraid I have very little patience for laziness.”
Thessa risked speaking out of turn to ask, “What will happen to him?”
“He’s going to the lumber camps. If he can’t make godglass, then we’ll put him to work in some other way. This way, please.” Thessa was careful to keep her expression neutral, but she caught Axio’s worried eye. She shook her head, hoping the gesture gave him some reassurance.
The young man’s weeping echoed in the back of her head as they were escorted to a door marked clearly as FURNACE NUMBER THREE, where the room inside was instantly recognizable. An immense furnace took up the center of the room, workstations radiating from it like spokes on a wheel. There was space for fourteen siliceers – far larger than any workshop in Grent. Most of the workstations were occupied, with a variety of men and women of all ages sweating badly as they navigated the heat. A few glanced up, eyeballing Thessa and Axio as the overseer led them around to the other side of the room to a pair of empty workstations. Each station was neatly prepared: tools set out, blowtubes and bit irons on an overhead rack, and a bedraggled, plain apron hanging from a hook.
Thessa breathed a sigh of relief when Craftsman Magna directed them to the two workstations. Working immediately next to Axio meant she could look out for him, instruct him – perhaps even cover for him. Craftsman Magna paused, glancing at them both, his eyes lingering briefly on Axio. Thessa hoped he could not see just how uncomfortable Axio looked standing in front of the workstation. He was, after all, accustomed to running and fetching. Not to making godglass.
“Are these our workstations, sir?” Thessa asked to bring the overseer’s attention back to her once more.
“Indeed. Get to know them well, for you will be at them six days a week until the war is over.”
Craftsman Magna went on, droning through dozens of small rules and telling them where to find their mess hall and dormitory. Thessa half listened as she examined the rest of the furnace room, trying to get a feel for the people here. Their body language spoke of exhaustion and fear. No wonder. How far could they fall behind before they could expect a flogging? Or being sent to the camps? Lumber camps were notoriously dangerous places. An accident in the glassworks might end your career, but an accident at a lumber camp would take a limb or kill you outright.
No one met her gaze. Shoulders remained hunched, eyes downcast. No one wanted to attract Craftsman Magna’s ire.
She brought her full attention back to the overseer as he said, “Your daily quotas will be enforced. Finish them quickly and you will be allowed to rest. Fail, and you will work all night. Fail continuously, and you will be sent to the lumber camps.” As he said this last part, he looked directly at Axio.
Thessa swore silently to herself. Sweat poured from Axio’s brow, and probably wasn’t just from the heat.
“I’m sure we’ll keep up, sir,” she said.
That cruel little smile flickered across his face again. “See that you do.” He inhaled sharply and checked one of the papers under his arm. Without another word, he turned on his heel once more and marched out of the furnace, leaving Thessa and Axio at their workstations, staring after him.
She forced herself to focus, glancing surreptitiously around the room. Several of the siliceers seemed to have relaxed the moment the overseer was gone. A few glanced in her direction with varying amounts of interest. Most kept themselves bent to their work. Aside from the shuffle of feet, the creak of furnace doors, and the roar of the flames, there was very little sound. Only a handful of the siliceers spoke to each other. The usual furnace banter, it seemed, did not exist.
This place was a stifling, heartless labor camp, and was clearly meant to be. Thessa bent to scratch at her ankle. The schematics in her boot had been chafing her skin for the last day and a half, but now that they were gone she felt the emptiness acutely.
“Thessa,” Axio hissed. “What do I do?”
Thessa took a deep breath and turned her attention on her workstation. Her tools were cheap and well-worn, but everything was here. Each workstation had clear access to the furnace, including a reheating chamber and a godfunnel, used to direct heat at tiny pieces of godglass. There was already molten cindersand in a crucible in the furnace, and on the workstation was a piece of paper with the day’s date and her quota. She showed it to Axio, and he showed her his. They were the same.
So much for getting him a lighter quota.
“I’m going to teach you to make godglass,” she told him.
“How?”
“The same I teach any apprentice. We can do this. Forgeglass is the easiest thing to make. You’ve seen it done hundreds of times.”
“I’ve never actually paid attention,” Axio replied. His eyes were a little wild, his face pale.
“Then pay attention now!” Thessa kept her tone calm, quiet, but firm. She took down bit iron – a four-foot rod – and set the end into the reheating chamber. “Always heat the iron first,” she told Axio, “then dip like this.” Once the iron was cherry red, she used it to gather molten cindersand from the crucible inside the furnace. It was just a tiny dab, and she brought it to the steel plate on her workbench, where she began to manipulate it with a pair of heavy tweezers.