Meetings, meetings, and more meetings the Duke of Bells thought to himself. Perhaps, one day things would slow down and he could take a day off, leave the meetings to Steward Olman and take the kids fishing. He hardly knew the twins anymore let alone Erda. Guy was growing more distant becoming almost too devoted in his studies and Crista was turning into a woman before his eyes. Suitors were already sending missives requesting a meeting with her, but the Duke knew she wanted to go to the University of Ardinum with Guy. He needed to find some time and soon before it was too late. The Duke turned his attention to the gnarled Onaki woman who just entered the audience hall.

Nan Bowerbird of the Copper Cauldron Company. She was a legend in her field. Fortifications, bridges, roads, bell towers, if it was built with stone and mortal, block and brick her company did it. As far as he was concerned, he got a great deal for the seawall expansion, but he had a feeling that was exactly what she wanted to discuss. “Mistress Bowerbird, how can I help you today?”

The old woman took out a piece of parchment and pointed at a portion of it with her massive, weathered hands. “As you can see in section four of our contract, I’ve the right to ask for certain accommodations from you.”

“Were the housing arrangements I made not sufficient?”

“No, they are good Duke of Bells. I wanted access to tutors for my boys.”

“This is most unusual…”

“You mean to deny the contract?”

The Duke did not have time for this. “No, Mistress Bowerbird I just they would take over the company from you and that they would learn from you.”

The old lady folded her arms across her chest and took on a defiant look. “This is the last job for the Copper Cauldron Company. I don’t want the boys to live like this. Traveling, breaking their backs I don’t want what happened to their father to happen to them. They are smart boys ya know. Jodoro will make a name for himself someday and Derry, well Derry will do whatever Jodoro says.”

“They can study with my kids and Scholar Barkley. Is that sufficient?”

“No My Lord, I would like arms training for the boy as well. Also, I would consider it a favor if you do not tell the boys about the company.”

The Duke almost laughed as that one. “I will not tell them, send them to Sargent Horn at dawn and the scholar at noon.” With that the old lady left and the Duke’s meetings went on.

***

Nan slapped the stone walls as she walked through the halls of the Castle of Bells and listened. Good stone, great stone, great stone, adequate stone, piss poor stone. She stopped and committed the stone to memory; she’d send Derry to fix this one. It’d be a good assignment for the boy. Boys needed to feel important and Derry more than most. He’d been picking up the trowel behind her back, sneaky like and it was time for things to come to a head. The Castle of Bells was old even older than the Duke knew. The stones knew the truth all anyone had to do was listen to them. People looked at stone and block as lifeless things, but they were wrong. Stones have their own life, their own character. They did not like to be played with. Playing was an affront to their dignity. When working with stone, you had to work with purpose. Nan stopped as she came to a window overlooking the seaward wall.

She watched her crew work from afar. People didn’t know that slapping mortar and placing stone was an art. Each worker did it differently and some were true artists born the talent, while others got there through hard work and development of technique and skill. Old Trews was the latter and she watch the old man move with extreme efficiency. He was not the fastest or strongest, but he wasted no movement. Old Trews was dying and he thought nobody knew. She knew it was Old Trews that had placed the trowel in Derry’s hands. After all he did the same thing with Jodoro five years ago. He thought it was time, but he was wrong. He loved the craft and the boys, but this love blinded him. You can’t lift stone every day for forty years and not pay some price. The stone takes as much as it gives and that was the truth of it. There was no future in this for them. This was the company’s last job.

Harra was the strongest, a mountain of a man that lifted blocks as if they were made of air, he could do the work of two masons, but his mortar work was only passable. It’s the mortar that makes the wall not the stone and he would never understand that. Sweet Ceta was the best with mortar. She understood its temperament, when it was too loose and too stiff.

Sweet Ceta.

Ceta Honeybee.

Poor Ceta, she did not love the work like the others. She did it because she loved Jodoro. Even now she snuck glances at him every few moments. Poor Sweet Ceta Honeybee and Poor Jodoro Fool. He did not know; boys were blind to these things ya know. Jodoro was born with talent and he worked hard to boot. He could do it all, with hardly a flaw and in a few years, he could become one of the greats, maybe as great as the legendary Immin. He could feel the stone and read the earth, but he was still in some ways just a boy. Nan sighed as she approached the stairs. It was going to be a long walk down.

***

“Ceta Honeybee is staring at you again,” Derry said to Jodoro. “What are you goin’ to do about it?”

“Is the mortar ready?”

“Yes,” Derry said as he hefted the half barrell, “you know she probably wants to kiss you.”

Jodoro couldn’t help but look at Ceta who was indeed looking back at him. He nodded to her and flashed a smile. Maybe she did like him. Ceta Honeybee was beautiful. Her skin glowed like burnished copper in the afternoon sun and wisps of her hair escaped her wrapped head on the sides. They glistened red, brown and gold. For a moment he imaged what it would be like to kiss her. No Ceta is my friend we’ve known each other forever. This is not normal. He saw Derry looking at him with that glint in his eyes and a gapped tooth smile.

“Don’t”

“What?”

“Whatever your about to do. Don’t do it.”

“Im not going to do anything,” derry said as he set the mortar by Jodoro, took the empty half barrel and walked back to the mixing pit. “I’m just going back to the pits. Just going to do my job. That’s all.”

Derry could be mischievous sometimes but Jodoro guessed he was a decent little brother. He never stole his stuff at least. The same couldn’t be said for Hamsa and Harra. Those two went at it like two ornery old tomcats in a small alley. The bricks were flying out his hands today. Sometimes it felt like he wasn’t even working like the wall was building itself. Old Trews called this workflow. When the body separates from the mind and the mason didn’t have to think about the task. You could daydream in a state like this for hours and then wake up to find the day was over and you accomplished more than you thought possible.

“How bout a song Jodoro?” Harra shouted from down the wall. Ceta liked to say that Harra could win noise competition with an avalanche caused by an earthquake during a thunderstorm and Jodoro never had reason to doubt it.

“Fuck you Harra, you all left me hanging during the last one. Singing afront the whole damn castle alone like a liquored-up lark.”

“Cuz we thought the that since you be the object of all the ladies attention, the apple of their eyes so the expression goes, the reason they peak out of the castle windows that the least you could do, being a gentleman and all was to give them pretty birds a song. So, in a way we was doing you a favor.”

“Here, here,” said Old Trews.

“T’was a favor was all,” said Hamsa, “No need to retort as so.”

“Damn impolite, if you ask me.” Nan shouted.

Of course, everyone along the wall heard Harra’s rebuttal and agreed that Harra had indeed done him a favor and that Jodoro was wrong to bite back at the man who only tried to look out for him. Now even Nan was in on the gag as well. Whenever this sort of thing happened the victim was always faced with two options. First, they could resist and endure the days of ridicule that would come from the incident. It was all good and fun, but a guy could get tired of being teased and the butt of practical jokes for a few days until some other poor fool took the center of attention. Workers had to have their fun. The second option was to concede. Oh they’d still make fun of you but at least they wouldn’t call you a coward.

“It was mine turn to sing Harra.” Derry said from his mixing pit. “I’d like to sing a new one. It goes to the rhythm of the Chicken song.”

“Well have at it boy, stop flapping on about it.” Harra shouted as he rolled his eyes. “You Jarrell boys always flapping on and shirking ya work.”

“Here, here.”

“Get on with it.”

“Are we going to get a fucking song already?”

“Seen walls built in less time.”

“Fucking sing already.”

“Come winter afore we get a fucking song”

“Hey Rajo! Remember when I was sixteen and started having me three kids, born natural and all? Well I reckon I could have three more kids and raise ‘em up afore we get a fucking song.”

“Hey Trepa! Remember that time I went whoring in that port city.”

“Terras it was.”

“Yeah Terras it was, remember when I got into that scuffle and they threw me in the stocks for four days? Well I reckon I could do that over thrice afore we get a fucking song.”

“Be night afore we get a fucking song already.”

“Here, here”

“Be harvest and the next ten-year stew afore we get a fucking song.”

“Sing,” Said Nan.

Derry cleared his throat and began to sing.

Jodoro felt it physically. The sound of laughter, cheers and jeers erupted like a wave from where he and Derry stood and shook the quarter mile of scaffolding. Forty men and women stopped their work, stomped, clapped, pointed, they humped the wall, they kissed it, they held tools between their legs, they called his name, they called Ceta’s, one woman slapped another’s ass, and one of the new guy’s let out an ass belch so loud it probably disturbed the lady Duke’s tea. Just when the merriment seemed to die down. Harra began to sing the song. Then another two dozen voices. Jodoro looked at Ceta and saw her looking at him. He mouthed the word sorry and smiled as he joined the refrain.

***

Crista stood next to Guy and Jean DeVorn in the scholarium trying to keep her hands still. The game was tied and there was only one question left. Scholar Barkley stood in front of the slate board peering down at the paper he held in his hands. The other students sat at their desks. Some were dozing off, but others looked at the three competitors with rapt attention. Crista could not help but toy with her ring, twisting it in circles around her finger. Just ask the question already. What is taking so long. He can’t be serious right now. Guy wore the same stoic look as always. He would know the answer to the question, so she just had to raise her hand before him no matter what was asked. Jean DeVorn was a different matter. If it came to mathematics or religion, her goose was cooked. Jean loved those subjects. Please be science or history. Science or history. Pleassssssseeeeee…

“And now for our final question,” the Scholar began “it is a science one.”

Guy gave her a nudge of encouragement, “Spinning it awful fast there sis” he whispered.

“Please recite the first law of ancestral…” the Scholar began but was cut off by the ruckus that drifted in from the seaward window. Students flew to the windows.

“What’s that noise?”

“Typical workers.”

“What’s that woman doing to the wall?”

“What’s that woman doing with that other woman?”

“Now they’re singing.”

“Awww he has such a sweet voice for a little boy.”

“Undisciplined I say.”

“What a strange name, Ceta Honeybee.”

Scholar Barkley could no longer ignore the commotion and went over to the window. Guy and Jean shortly followed. No, No, No, this was my moment. Come back everyone. No matter how much she wished them back they were absorbed by the scene below.

“This is more important than watching workers.” Crista accidentally blurted out. Everyone turned and stared at her. She twirled her ring. Ooops. Scholar Barkley turned to her with a face that made her flinch.

“Come over here Lady Crista” he beckoned, “Look at them. Take your time. I am going to ask you a question about them in one minute. A question that only you can answer. If you answer it correctly you win the match. Take your time and look. No, do not look…see.”

Crista studied the scene below her. The people were strange to say the least. The men wore headbands of various colors and patterns while the women wore scarfs of similar design that covered their heads. Their frolicking had died down as they all took up the song. They began working with an efficiency that outstripped the Bell Battalion’s training regimens. Course after course of stone blocks went on the wall while men and women cranked up the scaffolding at a rapid rate. Though she knew it was foolish Crista believed they could have the whole seaward wall finished in one week.

“Now Lady Crista” Scholar Barkley interrupted, “Can you tell me the name of the company that breaks their bodies so that you and your kin may be safe from sea raiders for posterity?”

“I cannot,” She said with resignation.

“Lord Guy can you?”

“No I cannot but I while find out.”

“Lord Jean?”

“No sir I cannot”

“Can anyone tell me the name of this company?” The Scholar asked.

Crista looked around the class waiting for someone to raise their hand or speak up, hoping that no one else knew the answer. Her little sister raised her hand. “They are the Copper Cauldron Company,”

“You are correct Lady Erda but do you know how they got that name?”

“No, I do not but I’m sure Guy or Crista will make it their life’s goal to find out.” Crista looked at her sister sternly while the other students laughed.

“It is time for a challenge. The student who finds the answer to the question first will win a letter of recommendation to the University of Ardinum from me. I trust that I need not remind you that Headmaster Garillion and I are friends.” Crista looked around at the class and saw some eager faces, but the majority seemed underwhelmed by the offer. While most of them were guaranteed admission into the University based on their pedigree and performance. Standing and privileges while at the University had to be earned through merit. Recommendation letters and the recommenders influenced important decisions like course placements, accommodations and mentorships. It was a generous prize. One that Crista intended to win.

As soon as Scholar Barkley dismissed class she sprinted to the library with Guy and Jean close on her heels. The library was one of her favorite places in the castle and where she spent more time than anywhere else. Her mother always told her she needed to go out, but Crista felt like she saw enough of the outside world in her books. She knew about the luminescent waters of Indigo Bay, the purple sands of Illym and even the sky mountains of Roraat. She knew the historians of they’re kingdom and others too boot. As she stepped into the library she paused for a moment. Guy and Jean raced by her shouting challenges at each other. Jean looked to be headed toward the construction section and Guy was headed to the copies of Ardinum’s Royal expenditures.

Both were sound assumptions but there was a major problem. Would they really discuss the explanation for a company’s name? The answer could not be found here. There was only one place to go and she could not believe she did not think of it before. It was time for her to go outside.

***

Erda walked along the seaward courtyard among the bergamot trees looking at the workers. They all seemed so busy. She was surprised to see quite a few women among the men but whenever she tried to make eye contact with or give them her best pleading or quizzical look, they ignored her and went back to their work. She did not know why she was trying. She did not really want to go to the university and even so she would not be eligible for another year. She was not jealous of them and their love for books, as far as she was concerned the library could burn to the ground. Maybe she was just tired of Guy, Crista and Jean thinking they knew everything. They used to all have fun together but when Scholar Barkley arrived two years ago everything changed. Mother insisted they be in school most of the days and when they were not in school, they were studying or doing homework for school. Those three made it into a competition to see who the best could be. There was no more playing on the beaches, riding the eastern hills or walking the streets of town.

Because of this her and Crista grew apart. She missed the old Crista who used to talk with her about boys they found cute or what they wanted for their birthdays. Sometimes they would build boats or breed roses. But what she missed most of all was when they would simply talk about nothing. Her mind turned back to her thirteenth birthday two years ago. She was crying about the death of her twin Ezra and Crista walked into her room. “You’re crying about Ezra, aren’t you,” Crista said. She was so overcome that her voice would not work. Crista looked at her with a slight smile, “come.” She grabbed her hand and Crista led her to the south tower observatory and pulled some blankets out of a cupboard and placed them on the floor. “Lay down with me and look at the stars.” The night sky shown bright with thousands of stars that reminded her of dew drops on a spider’s web. Beams of light poured in through the glass of the observatory ceiling casting the room in an ethereal glow of lustrous blues. She laid with her sister for countless moments pretending that they were among in the night sky, sailors adrift on a celestial sea floating directionless among the whitecap constellations. They sailed for years until they came to the Star Court, where it was said that gods, hero, and great ancestors lived. “See that star, the little one by the two big ones” Crista asked.

“The one that looks like a little pearl?”

“Yes, I like to think that Ezra is that star for it is bright and little just like him. Whenever I miss him, I just come here at night and imagine that he is watching over me when I’m sleeping. I wish to share this secret place with you so at least when we miss him, we need not be lonely too.”

“Do you think he’s up there with them?”

“The Star Court?”

“Yeah,” Erda replied breathlessly.

“Maybe.” Crista paused for a moment and then said more firmly, “he must be.” They slept there that night and Erda had no bad dreams.

Erda did not know if that Crista still existed. She continued walking but as she reached end of the worker’s scaffolding, she saw her sister there approaching two worker boys. She was fooling with her ring.

“Hey, Crista wait for me,” she shouted. Crista gave her a brief glance then lifted her chin and turned to the workers.

“You boy, I would like to ask you a question.” Crista called.