6 – Tesh – Making Rope at Two Forges
“Pull, twist, keep the
pressure even, twist, pull,” Tesh says quietly to himself as he braids the
three strands of silk cord into a single rope. His callous fingers keep the
strands tight. After braiding for a while, Master Varu-Gashki checks the
progress of his work.
“Good tension. Keep the
twists tight.”
“Master, if I need such a
tight twist, why can’t I just use the dwarvish twist-braiding machine?”
“When you were taught the
machine, what did you learn?” He asks with that tone like Tesh is asking a
foolish question.
Tesh pauses braiding.
“Machines have metal clamps and gears.”
Varu nods, “What else?”
“That means the ‘hands
that twisted it’ were mechanical.”
“Which means?” He asks,
as he runs his fingers through his braided beard.
Tesh thinks for a moment
longer. “Oh. There might be some people who won’t use it.”
“Very good, my young
apprentice. The one you are making right now, we can offer to a
Listener-of-Bruna, who thinks of rope as made from the ‘living body of Burna’.”
“Or if we encounter
someone who doesn’t like ‘dwarvish goods’?”
“Yes. Also, you are
getting skilled to the point where, if the machines break, you can still braid
high-quality ropes for sale as you wait for them to be repaired. A machine is a
tool, but what are the greatest tools?”
Tesh nods as he pulls the
lines tightly again and continues braiding. “Our brains and our hands are the
greatest tools we’ll ever have.”
Master Varu turns and
checks on the work of another student.
The bell and horn sound for Forge-Breath. Tesh feels his stomach rumble with the promise of the coming meal. He ties off his work and goes to wash up. The washroom smells so differently from the weaving and braiding rooms. The scents of smoke and sweat clash with fragrant soaps and water.
“Need a beard comb?” Britta Stone-Breaker, a smithing student
asks.
“I’ll use it on my hair
if you think I need it.” He replies, trying to deflect the tired old joke about
being a bare-faced, half-heat Bimkor.
His friend Zhaawa moves
closer, “Oh, Britta, did you singe part of your beard? You might want to keep
your comb.”
The smith quickly looks
down and checks herself.
Zhaawa takes Tesh’s hand.
“That will keep her busy. Let’s go eat.”
They both sit down with
some of the other students. Garin Flint-Eye hands Tesh the platter of mushroom
bread. “How is your line coming?” He asks in accented Mishikwe.
Taking a piece of the
warm, soft bread, he passes the platter to Zhaawa. “Firm and steady,” Tesh
replies using the market slang.
Britta looks a little
flustered and glares at Zhaawa.
Tesh overhears Thorek
reassuring her, “Your beard is fine. Stop teasing them, and they won’t tease
you.”
“Tesh, did you hear news
from Deep-deep?” Kweze asks as she passes the earthenware serving bowl for the
stew.
“What’d you hear?” he
asks as he chews a piece of bread.
“Mosek is up and
walking.”
“Really! Thank you.
That’s great news! Did Mihkwa get our bandages?”
She nods as she takes a
sip of root tea. “Not only that, but they pulled the 'Holy Blood of Bruna'
stitches and replaced them with silk.”
“The blessings of Bruna
to all those involved.” Zhaawa softly says, as she taps a prayer on the table.
Those sitting nearby silently nod.
“Do we know when he’ll
return to the Grand Market?” Tesh asks.
“The runners didn’t say.
But when we’re back working in the tunnels, we’ll keep an ear to the wind.”
Tesh hears the
metalworkers muttering under their breath — not loudly, but loud enough:
“Gold for healing…
strange way to use a gift of Durn.”
“Spider‑silk and prayers…
always their way.”
“Blood of Bruna… sounds
like superstition to me.”
He tightens his fingers
around his spoon in frustration.
Zhaawa places her hand on
his. “Forget them. We can keep trying_”
“But some stones can’t
learn.” Garin finishes.
Tesh smiles at his
friends and continues eating.
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