“And then she said that they should force me to go to the festival.” Maril was telling Bert about, or maybe complaining about, her mother’s outburst the day before.
Bert shrugged as they walked towards the woodshop, “I mean, do you not want to go this year?” he asked looking over at her.
“Of course I want to go, I just don’t want to feel forced to, you know?” When she saw Bert shrug again she sighed, “Nevermind, what are we doing today before we go to the city wall?”
“Sorry I’m not ready yet, but this shouldn’t take too long. I need to pack up the rest of the shingles into crates, then we will take the deliveries to a couple of stores in the shopping district, I’ll drop off the wagon with my mom and we will be good to go to the wall. Oh, and we will drop off two of my younger sisters near my mom’s shop too.”
“It’s not a problem, we have plenty of time,” Maril looked over her shoulder at Owen who was slowly leading the horse and carriage behind them, “Owen can follow us to the shopping district and we can head out as soon as you are ready.”
They walked around the corner of the workshop and she saw that two of the large double doors were open wide. One of the open doors near the middle had a pile of crates stacked just inside the door. Bert headed to that door and grabbed one of the crates. It was empty and he drug the crate over to a table that was piled high with small pieces of wood.
“Here,” he said, “I’ll stack up these shingles and hand them to you. You can stack them in the crate. Try not to let the piles fall over.” He passed her a neat handful of shingles and started making another stack from a pile on the table.
Maril placed the stack of shingles in the bottom of the crate. Immediately Bert handed her another neatly arranged stack.
“So what’s special about these shingles? They’re not just plain shingles are they?” she asked.
Bert shook his head, “No, they have been enchanted with runes on the back to slow rotting and fungal growth and to prevent bugs.”
“How do you refresh the runes,” she asked, “Surely they will eventually run out of mana.
“Eventually, yes. These shingles are rated for 80 years. Each one has one mana storage rune. We make some that are rated for 120 years with two storage runes each. They are more expensive to make since they take more mana and usually 80 years is more than long enough for shingles. Although I have heard of people using the 120 year shingles for fancy buildings like the tops of towers and stuff.” He continued handing her stacks. She was having trouble keeping up, the neat piles would fall over in the crate if she wasn’t careful. “We can also make shingles with no mana storage runes that are made to string together into a single network that can be refreshed all at once from an input rune. They are easier to make, but a mage has to install them. I don’t remember anyone ever buying them.”
Maril nodded while keeping her eyes on the piles of shingles in the crate. They stacked shingles in silence for a while. She had already completely filled one crate and Bert had slid over another empty one. Maril reached for more shingles and Bert didn’t immediately put them in her hand. She looked up, Bert had stood up and was looking around.
“I think that is all of them,” he said, “I had packed most of them yesterday but didn’t quite get done. If you will wait just a couple minutes I will go get the wagon.” Maril nodded and Bert headed out of the shop.
She found the lid leaning against another crate and put it on top of the freshly filled crate. She stretched a little and looked around the shop. She felt a little awkward standing around in the woodshop while the other gnomes were working.
On one end of the room, a pair of gnomes younger than her were using a long saw to cut down the middle of a short section of a log. The saw and the log were held in brackets on a large frame. It looked like it was to ensure that the cut was straight.
The middle of the room was mostly clear with a couple of chairs and a few piles of tools. An older gnome was sitting in one of the chairs assembling flat planks into a large storage chest. She blinked on her magic sight and could see that each plank of the domed chest lid had runes carved on it. They were connecting runes, waterproofing runes, and others that she didn’t recognize.
The last part of the room was filled to the brim. It had desks, shelves, and tall chests of drawers all along the walls and tables in the middle of the floor. Most of the surfaces were covered in hand tools, completed projects, scraps of wood, piles of papers, writing utensils, and a few pots of ink. Three gnomes were sitting at tables carving runes. One was carving on planks that looked like they went to the chest the other gnome was assembling. The other two were working on smaller pieces of wood, she couldn’t tell what they were making.
“Excuse us, ma’am,” Maril jumped and turned to find the two apprentices holding the freshly cut section of wood between them. She quickly moved out of their way and then decided to wait outside where she wouldn’t hinder their work.
She didn’t have to wait long. As soon as she stepped out the large door she saw Bert coming down the drive leading a pair of the brown ponies that she had seen grazing in their paddock. Bert waved her over, “If you will hold their leads for a minute I’ll grab a harness and be right back.”
Maril had the leads of the two small ponies in her hand before she could object, “Can I pet them?” she asked as he hurried away.
“Sure,” he called over his shoulder, “They are very friendly. The one closer to the shop is named Brownie and the other is named Churro.”
Maril smiled, “So you are named Churro?” she asked the pony that was bumping its head against her shoulder. She petted both ponies, she was surprised at how much she liked that they were about the same height as her instead of her being able to walk under them without ducking.
Maril heard high pitched laughing and the front door of the Hinkleton house slammed. She leaned around the ponies and saw two younger gnome girls walking away from the house headed towards her.
They were laughing and jumping around. The smaller one must have said something that offended the older, because she dashed to try to catch her younger sister. They suddenly noticed Maril’s horse and carriage parked on the drive near the workshop. Excitedly, they both ran over and started looking at the carriage.
Maril felt a little self-conscience about the carriage. It was not a new carriage and it had numerous small scuffs and scratches, impossible to avoid since the carriage often drove off the main roads and even through fields. It was also not brightly colored. Unlike Bert’s family’s carriage which she had seen near the house, it was the dull grey-brown of weathered wood. Their carriage was painted blue and trimmed in purple. It looked like it had been repainted recently. Even the open topped wagon parked beside the workshop was freshly painted teal and orange, exactly matching the paint on the workshop and house.
But the girls looked excited and were smiling. When they got around the carriage far enough to see the horse, there were more squeals of joy. They were practically jumping up and down looking at the black and white mottled horse. Owen was watching the girls while holding the horse’s lead and petting its neck. Knowing Owen, he had probably started calming the horse the instant the girls bounded out of the house to ensure it didn’t startle and step on the children who could easily walk under the large horse.
“Can we pet her?” one of the sisters asked Owen. He glanced over at Maril who shrugged.
“Sure, come up here to her head and you can feed her an apple.” Holding the lead with an elbow he deftly pulled an apple and a knife from his bag, sliced the apple in half, and handed a half to each girl. Much giggling ensued as the horse stretched down. The apple halves instantly disappeared and the orse began nuzzling their hair looking for more.
Maril smiled watching them, it had been a while since she had seen such unrestrained happiness. Bert walked out from behind the corner of the shop carrying the harness for the ponies. He smiled at her and Maril realized that she was probably grinning like a fool.
Then he saw his sisters at the horse and started walking faster, “Jenna, Hanna,” he called, “are you bothering the horse?”
The older sister looked towards Bert and dashed over to him, “Bert! Can we ride in the big carriage? Please? Please, Hubert?”
“That is Miss Maril’s carriage. You can ride with me in our wagon, you wouldn’t want Brownie and Churro to miss you would you?” Bert said.
The girl scowled at him, “That is a terrible excuse. Brownie and Churro would probably prefer we not ride on the wagon, that would be less weight for them to pull.”
Bert shrugged in assent, “Regardless, it is not our carriage so you should ride with me.”
Maril peaked around the ponies to look at Bert and the pouting girl, “I could ride with you on the wagon and they could ride in my carriage,” she said, glancing between Bert and Owen. “Owen has to follow us anyway, so does it make a difference?”
The young gnome looked up at Bert, her bright green eyes huge, “Please?” she begged.
Bert looked between Maril and Owen to ensure neither had any objection and then sighed, “Very well, but you and Hanna need to introduce yourselves to Miss Maril and thank her first.”
The older child, Jenna, and the younger, Hanna who was still over petting the horse, bounced over to Maril. They introduced themselves quite properly and thanked her profusely before running over to the carriage. Owen had already opened the door and helped both of them into the carriage where there was more gleeful giggling as they burrowed into the pile of colorful pillows.