“No,” Jerrold muttered.“Not well at all.”
Orval gave a nod, then urged his goats forward, hailing the Captain.
The portal popped closed, which made Jerrold raise a mental eyebrow as he urged his horse forward.Just ten soldiers?He’d expected more.Maybe thiswasjust an escort for the sculptor.
Maybe.
“Captain Ussin,” Orval called out, his voice warm.“Welcome.I would make you known to Jerrold, Mayor of the town of Waerington.”
“Lord High Baron, Mayor.”Ussin nodded his head.“This is Master Sculptor Muris.”
Master Sculptor Muris was looking around nervously, probably wishing he had more soldiers with him.“Lord High Baron,” he said.“Mayor Jerrold.My journeymen and I have come to select the stone for King Xyrath’s statue.”He cleared his throat.“The quarrymaster is not with you?”
“No,” Jerrold said.“Quarrymaster Selver awaits at the quarry.”
“Oh,” the Master Sculptor said.He was not doing a good job of controlling his grimace.His journeymen also looked unhappy.“Selver is still in charge, then?”
“Yes,” Jerrold said.“Many old faces await you.”He really did try not to take pleasure in watching the man squirm.
“Best we be about it,” Captain Ussin said.“The portal opens again at sundown.”
“Fair enough,” Orval said brightly, starting the process of turning the goatcart.“Follow us.”
Jerrold let the man take the lead, with Captain Ussin riding beside the cart.The wagon, with the Sculptor and his journeymen, followed, which left Jerrold to ride with the soldiers.They fell in around him silently.
Under his leather glove, Jerrold’s right thumb started to prickle.
Something was off.
Jerrold narrowed his eyes.He’d learned long ago to heed when his body knew something his mind didn’t.The Lord High Baron was talking, probably about the history of the quarrying of marble.Captain Ussin was riding stiffly, clearly uncomfortable.
Jerrold rubbed the base of his thumb and kept a wary eye open as they rode.
It didn’t take more than an hour to follow the old quarry road to where the long and winding trail up into the mountain quarry.As the road widened, Jerrold worked his horse forward to ride on the other side of the Lord High Baron’s cart.
He didn’t want to miss this.
Oxen were lowing in their pens, and men were seated nearby on scattered blocks of stone, working over their harnesses.Heads came up as they approached, faces turning grim.
Quarrymaster Selver started forward to greet them, scowling.
Orval was cheerful enough as he pulled his cart to a halt.“Quarrymaster Selver, this is Captain Ussin, of King Xyrath’s command.He’s brought—”
“You,” Selver’s face went purple.“You pig-sucker.”
Jerrold looked behind him.Master Sculptor Muris was white as the marble he carved.“Now, Selver, you can’t blame me.You—”
“Can’t blame you?”Selver sputtered through his beard.“You mare’s pizzle, you stinking, mass of vomit.I spit on you,” he spat on the ground.As one, all the men around him also spat.
“Er…” The Lord High Baron paused.“I take it you know one another?”
“Aye,” Selver sputtered.“This stinking pile of rat’s spunk ordered tons of stone, pure white and sized to a fare thee well, all to finicky, exacting standards, and did he pay for it?”Selver put his fists on his hips.“No, he did not.”He turned back to face his enemy.“I should have your balls in a sack,” he roared.“But I’ve no sack small enough!”
Master Sculptor Muris leaped down from his wagon and stomped over to Selver.“Think for a minute, you idiot.There was a war on.Think the royals and nobles in their striving paid me, ya daft git?”
The quarry workers started to gather.
“That matters not,” Selver roared.The two men were face to face, both shouting and gesturing wildly, getting angrier by the moment.The journeymen piled out of the wagon and moved forward to support their master.
