The Collapsing Tunnel - Chapter 9

 

9 – Tesh – The Tangled Web

“This is an exercise in cooperation, not just skill.” Master Varu-Gashki states as he walks around the large room. The three apprentices concentrate on passing lines from one to another.

“Any skilled ropemaker can make a net with tied connections,” He continues, “but today you are making one without central ties, and only connections on the edges.”

Master Shii, the goblin weaver, is also pacing and watching. “Yes, listen to Master Varu. Keep your lines tight, work together. Craft a web worthy of a Deep-deep spider.” He says in accented Durask.

Nibin, the young goblin apprentice, pauses for a second and comments in Mishikwe, “I wish I was a spider, then this would be easy.”

Master Varu snorts and laughs, answering in his accented Mishikwe, “Yes, you could stand, spread your legs, and shoot silk. But you would still have to learn to weave.”

The three apprentices pause and giggle for a moment. Tesh imagines his classmates shooting webs from their bottoms. He guesses they are all thinking the same thing.

Master Varu taps his booted foot on the floor. “Now that you’ve had a laugh, focus on what’s at hand.”

By the end of the day, they finish the net, but its tension is uneven, and a few of the areas have natural gaps. Both masters evaluate it as the students mount it on the wall.

“Unacceptable.” Master Varu says in a low tone.

“It’s their first try. Re-weave tomorrow or….”

“No,” Varu says in clear Durask. “Let this be a reminder of their failures to work together. Tomorrow they will make a new one.”

“I see the wisdom in your teachings. I agree.”

 

The evening bell and horn sounds for Ember-Rest.

The three apprentices curl and uncurl their sore fingers as they go to the washroom.

“Now we have that to see every day.” Garin says.

“Would you have preferred Master Varu telling us to untie it and redo it?” Tesh asks.

They all shudder at that thought.

“Did you hear the news?” Kweze asks as she hurries into the washroom. “Mosek is back. I saw him in the market.”

“I saw him too,” Zhaawa happily exclaims. “He came to the School’s stall and brought us supplies from Deep-deep.”

“When we talked with the Guild apprentices, they said he paid in Goblin gold,” Britta says as she washes up.

“You lie, he wouldn’t use the Holy Blood of Bruna as coins.” Kweze defensively states.

Britta smiles broadly. “You wish it were a lie. When the Guild apprentices came to the School running errands for the Guild, they told us all about it. Zhaawa knows. According to them, he paid the School for glass jars.”

Everyone looks to Zhaawa. Tesh quietly asks. “Is it true? Did Mosek pay the school in goblin gold?”

She glares at Britta. “That’s not what happened. Mosek told my Master that, in payment to honor a debt to the Mihkwa, he gave glass jars, and to make sure the school wasn’t at a loss, he paid in coins from his own purse. Dwarven coins.”

Britta sneers and smiles. “Of course that’s what you believe. That of course, is more believable than Goblins have gold coins with counterfeit dwarf stamps on them.”

“Why are you not at the Table” the Cook yells into the washroom.

“This isn’t over, Britta.” Zhaawa angrily exclaims.

 

The meal is tense. The Forge students whisper and laugh, while the others try to focus on the joy that “the Old Bear is back in the community.” Their joy is spoiled by rumor and distrust.

More than once, Master Helka Stone-Anvil has to get up and quiet her students. She finally says, “If there is something that needs shared in this Hall. Share it. We all want to know.”

Britta stands up, bows to her master. “We all rejoice in the return of one of our own from the wilderness. We were just saying that we hope the Healer and the Priest, when they examine his wounds, find him free of infection and rot. The Clan Halls are stronger from his presence.”

A low grumble starts among the Bimkor.

“Silence,” the dwarven Smith commands. “Apprentice Britta Stone-Breaker, step away from the table, apologize to the Hall, and follow me to my office. Now!” she directs in clear, direct Durask.

Thorek, reassuringly, squeezes her hand as she gets up.

“I apologize if I created a disruption.”

She then follows her Master.