The Collapsing Tunnel - Chapter 11

 

11-Tesh – Return to the Market

The boxes he carries to the stall are heavier than what he’s used to. Tesh wipes the sweat from his brow as Master Varu pushes together two long tables. He covers one with a woven mixed-fiber blanket, and the other with a mixed-fiber net.

“How many boxes are we unloading from the cart, Master?”

“All of them. Be careful with the glassware box. I don’t know if they packed it carefully.” He replies.

“Probably not. It takes a skilled traveler to know how to pack and carry glass.” A friendly and familiar voice says. Tesh looks up and sees Mosek still carrying his goblin reed and silk-wrapped staff.

“Hairy Old Bear,” Tesh yells, setting down the box and rushing to hug him.

The embrace is warm and comforting. Tears form in the corners of Tesh’s eyes.

“Yes, yes, we are happy to see him. But you have a lot to unpack before the market opens.” Master Varu softly but directly says.

He releases his hug.

“Let me look at you first.” Mosek says, “You’ve gotten broader and a little taller.”

“And his fingers move like those of a Deep-deep weaver.” Varu proudly says.

Tesh blushes. He rarely hears a compliment like that from his master.

“Get back to work, little runner. Or should I now think of you as Spider fingers?” Mosek jokes.

Before he can answer, Varu sets metal items loudly on the table. “Only if he can master net making.”

Mosek moves closer to Varu, and in Durask, he says, “How are you doing, old weaver?” as they clasp arms.

Tesh wants to watch and listen, but he knows he has to unload the cart.

Between loads, he sees that Mosek is helping to unpack and arrange items.

“Master Brenna had us combine all the stalls into one.”

“I thought there are less of you here.” Mosek comments

“One Master and one Apprentice. Limit the risks.”

With each box he carries Tesh hears the conversation shift topics.

“The Priest and the Healer were very thorough with their examination.”

“The Market Priest?” Varu scowls. “His kind is the reason I haven’t been in the chapel since I learned to braid my own beard.”

“I know what you mean. I’d take the loving caress of a Listener-of-Bruna over the cold stares from a Priest-of-Durn any day.” Mosek jokes.

“You’d take any caress you can get,” Varu replies in a humorous tone Tesh has rarely heard.

As Tesh goes to get another box, he hears, “You know I would.”

He shakes his head. As a runner, he never heard adults really talk like that, and at School, they almost never do. “It’s almost like Garin, Kweze, Zhaawa, and him.” He thinks, just now recognizing that adults have long-lasting friends too.

 With the last of the boxes unpacked, Tesh stands behind the tables. “Master, I know the value of our ropes and even woven blankets, but how do I gauge something like this?” He holds up a long-handled iron cooking fork.

Master Varu points to the inventory slates that are just below them, with costs in gold coins written out. “I’ll be here if you are truly confused, but use the School-recommended prices as a guide.”

Tesh nods as Mosek steps back from the table.

“A fine selection of wares, Master Varu-Gashki. You do both the Market and your school proud.” He then turns to Tesh, “As do you, Apprentice Rope-maker Tesh Varu Dagan. I will walk the Market and direct customers to you.” He states in an overly loud tone, like the “Hairy Old Bear” showman that he is, and walks away.

 

Tesh feels overwhelmed and is ready for Mid-Bite. Between evaluating customers' needs and the value of trade goods, he feels exhausted, and he still has time after Mid-Bite to contend with. What is worse was the whispers he’d overhear in the quiet moments.

“Miners attacked the tunnels.”

“Made it deeper than before.”

“Border scouts killed some.”

“Peacekeepers had to clean graffiti before the Market opening.”

“The Silent Hammers strike in the Deep”

“Silent Hammers speak Mishikwe like they were born to it.”

“Shadow killers are on the border now.”

 

Tesh wants so badly to ask for more information. This all sounds so wrong. He has seen the Scouts when they rotate to the Market. They aren’t Zhul-rakkaz.

Master Varu motions for Tesh to start preparing for Mid-Bite. A dwarf in dark woolen robes walks up and says in unaccented Mishikwe, “I see you have items shaped from crystal and stone. Do you have any knives crafted from Svartbrot or Kvartsbrot?”

Tesh is used to his classmates mixing the languages, but it seems strange to him when this dwarf does it. Master Varu steps up, “We encourage our stone shapers to create useful objects of beauty, not tools that can be misused.” Replying in Durask.

The man purses his lips and switches to Durask. “I will have to search elsewhere. Thank you, Mistress, I mean Master Weaver.” and leaves.

 

Mid-bite was almost as tense as meals at the School have been. The glares, whispers, and “accidentally” dropped platters. What used to feel like friends around a table felt as fractured as one of Zhaawa’s early creations. He wanted to ask questions, but was afraid to say the wrong thing to the wrong person. Even Mosek was quieter than usual.

 

As they reset the stall, the Market Priest walks up to Master Varu. “You seem to be the only Master from Two Forges today. I was hoping to talk to Mistress, I mean Master Brenna Iron-Root. The chapel of your school has been without a Priest for some time. I’d like to remedy that.”

“I remember when the clan Chapels recalled all of those who worked in friendship with the Listeners-of-Bruna. I think the excuse given to the School was, ‘proper instruction of purity laws,’ or something.”

The priest gives him a wicked smile. “Yes, it is important that your students, especially the smiths, get a good understanding of Durns Hreinlog.” He then casually wipes his hand on the mixed-fiber blanket. “Maybe it would benefit others, too. I’d hate to see impurities weaken the outstanding items made by the School.”

Varu narrows his eyes and lowers his voice. “Get away from this stall, stay away from my students, and keep away from my school.”

The Priest reacts in an exaggerated and loud voice, “Your school? I thought it was a place of peace and unity, not a refuge for the Clanless. It doesn’t matter, I will bring the matter up directly with Brenna Iron-Root.” The Priest walks away humming.

Tesh is shocked by the rage coloring Varu’s face. “Master. Are you okay?”

He slowly exhales, and his normal color returns.

“Tesh, I thought we were past all of that. I thought we had made progress.”

He gives a weak smile to his apprentice. “I look at you and your classmates. You are the hope my grandparents dreamed of. Our school was the vision of my parents.”

He then leans forward against the table. “To hear the ugliness said so openly. I wanted to report him to the Peacekeepers.”

“Why don’t you, Master?”

“Right now, they are just words. We don’t want words to be controlled. If we control words that we find hurtful and ugly, then we give cause for others to ban our words because they are ugly to them.” A tear of frustration forms in the old dwarf’s eye. “We’ve been working for better. You deserve better.” He wipes his eyes and straightens up.

“Let’s focus on the Market. There’s still time until closing and lots of people.”

“Of course, Master Varu.”