Hidden Huntress
Page 62

They nodded, their eyes wide with excitement. I wondered how many more blocks I’d have to lift before the euphoria of watching the tree come to life diminished. For them and me both.
Widening my stance for balance, I coiled magic around the stone and lifted it up into the air, the heels of my boots grinding into the cobblestones. Magic magnified my strength a thousandfold and more, but it still came from me. I’d knocked myself over before trying to lift something while I wasn’t balanced; and the last thing I wanted to do was fall on my ass in front of everyone. Taking a step back, I brightened the light so I could see and gently set the stone on top of the column. One of the crew scrambled up the scaffolding, recklessly hanging off the structure to make certain the stone was square and level.
“It’s perfect, Your Highness,” she called down to me, and the others cheered.
“Good,” I called back wearily. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
Fetching my hat and coat, I started walking toward my next scheduled stop, eyeing each construction site as I went. In two weeks, we’d more than quadrupled the progress they’d made over three months, but the amount of work left was daunting. The half-bloods had little time to spare to the effort, as most of their hours were spent working for the Guilds; but many of them were willing to forgo sleep in order to get another block of stone cut, another few yards of height on their columns.
They were warming to me, as well. I wasn’t sure if it was the progress we were making together, or if Tips had worked some sort of magic, but I hadn’t had to deal with one of them trying to kill me during the last twenty-four hours. Or maybe they were just waiting for me to finish the work before doing the deed.
“I’m telling you, fool, it shifted during the night. Look! Look!” Pierre’s shrill voice pierced my ears, and I picked up my pace to see what had upset the man so much that he’d ventured from his home.
“There!” he shouted when he caught sight of me. “Someone who understands. Your Highness, please talk some sense into these imbeciles.”
The three Builders’ Guild members he had just insulted looked too weary to care. I recognized all of them, though I didn’t know their names. One looked normal enough, but the strained wheeze of her breath suggested her affliction was internal. The other two were more obviously marked, one with an extra set of arms and the other with smooth skin where his eyes should be.
“There was a tremor in the night,” Pierre said, shaking his fist in the air. “A small one, but enough that the rocks may have shifted. Yet all they do is walk to and fro, filling the tree with power. They aren’t checking for changes. They don’t understand it. They’ll kill us all.” His eyes were wild, watching the blackness of the cavern above us as though he expected a rock to drop and hit him directly.
“Pierre, calm down,” I said. “I can’t get involved – my father specifically commanded me to leave the Guild to its business.” I flicked my attention to the three trolls. “He’s right, though, you know. You cannot treat this structure as static. It wasn’t built that way.”
“It seems fine,” the wheezy one replied, gesturing skyward. “It looks fine.”
“Looks?” I repeated, looking pointedly up at the blackness. “You can’t manage the tree by looking at it. You have to do it by feel.” I muttered a few choice curses and then tossed my coat and hat on the back of Pierre’s wheeled chair. “Warn me if anyone comes.”
Reluctantly, I peeled off my gloves. Setting them aside, I put my hands into the nearest column of magic, feeling the warm vestiges of my own power flow over my fingers. I closed my eyes, letting my magic drift over the ceiling above, each rock a familiar old friend. There were a few small changes, but nothing of great concern. I started to pull away from the tree when the blind guild member approached. “Will you tell me how you do it, Your Highness?”
“By feel,” I said, glad that it had been him who had approached because he couldn’t see the damaged state of my wrists and hands. “You must memorize how each and every rock is placed so that you will know instinctively if something has shifted. Then you must judge how the weight and balance has changed and modify the canopy to compensate.”
The man smiled, resting a hand against the column. He was quiet for a moment, then he said, “Northwest sixty-three and sixty-five are lower, but barely.”
“Yes,” I said, frowning at him. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“I did.” He turned his head toward where Pierre was arguing with the other two guild members. “But it was an excuse to speak with you.”
Curiosity flared in side of me. “About?”
“I knew what the half-bloods were constructing would never work,” he said softly. “I could hear where they were building, and it didn’t feel right. And I wasn’t the only one. Others noticed it too.” He wrung his hands together. “We knew he’d tricked them, but we’d be fools to say anything against your father.”
I hesitated. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because we want you to know that it isn’t only the half-bloods who will rise up against your father to put you on the throne.” He turned his face back to me, and even though he had no eyes, I could have sworn he was seeing me.
“The guilds are full of your supporters – full-bloods who believe you are the key to our survival. That you will be the one who sets us free.”