CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The task now set, the worker takes her place
To master her bequest, her legacy
And bleed a spell that will serve to protect
The life work that had fueled her father’s grief
Alone again until the work was done
The Scorpion secured the cornerstone
—THE BOOK OF UNVEILING
The noise of a bustling town greeted Zeli as she emerged from the nabbers’ building. “What town is this?” she asked.
“Checkpoint Ten,” Kyssa replied. Two other girls had joined their group, both newly purchased servants indentured to Kyssa’s mistress.
“Ora-mideni owns a factory just outside of town. But I’ll take you to the dormitory first as it’s nearby.”
A shiver went up Zeli’s spine to think of her sleeping quarters being so close to the place where she’d been sold. But she reminded herself the nabbers didn’t stay in one place for very long. Even now, they were likely clearing out, on to their next hideout. Preparing to capture more unlucky children.
“Miss Kyssa,” one of the two girls who’d joined them began. She was about thirteen with a lopsided braid.
Kyssa stopped walking abruptly. “We speak High Lagrimari here, ladies. Mind your tongues.”
“Sorry Kyssa-deni,” the girl mumbled, swallowing whatever her question had been.
The town’s spiraling main street was crowded. Kyssa kept a brisk pace, and the girls hastened to follow. They stopped at a two-story building on the outskirts of the spiral, but not so far out as to make Zeli feel unsafe. From what she could tell, this was a standard Midcountry dwelling with mud bricks and shuttered windows to keep out wind and sand.
“This is where you’ll sleep and take your off-shift meals,” Kyssa said, leading them inside. The home opened into a living space with a long, low table surrounded by frayed seating cushions. In the back was the kitchen, and all the other rooms appeared to be sleeping quarters. Though it was midday, many straw pallets were occupied by slumbering girls.
They didn’t go upstairs, but Zeli assumed the second floor held more of the same. Once outside again after the brief tour, Kyssa began walking and talking. “You’ll work twelve-hour shifts and return here when you’re off duty.” She led them out of town, using a well-worn path that cut through the bush. “After today, you all will draw straws to determine who works days and who works nights.”
“The factory runs at night?” Zeli asked. She hadn’t seen any electricity wires anywhere in town. “How will we work in the dark? And how do the machines run?”
“The factory sits atop an ether well. Ora-mideni devised her own way to funnel the gas seeping from the ground into pipes that fuel lanterns as well as the master turbine for the line shafts.”
A flurry of questions rose, but before Zeli could ask, the factory became visible at the bottom of a slight hill. It was a wide structure more modern than most of the buildings in town. Constructed of smoothly hewn, golden sandstone, the long, rectangular structure looked almost majestic.
But as they drew nearer, a rhythmic whirring noise grew louder. When Kyssa led them through the door, the sheer volume inside was all Zeli could perceive for long moments. As her ears grew used to the hissing, wheezing, and slapping of machinery, she focused on what caused it.
The space was entirely open with thick columns holding up the roof. Orderly rows of wide tables held a variety of contraptions. All across the ceiling, wheels with belts wrapped around them spun. The belts were attached to more wheels and more belts and each machine on the tables below was somehow connected. All of the spinning caused the great noise that filled the air. Girls and women from five to twenty-five stood at the tables, sometimes on crates or stools, engaged in their work.
All of the new girls, including Zeli, stared wide-eyed at the enormity of the operation.
“This is one of His Majesty’s three factories for munitions,” Kyssa yelled. “Well, two now. One blew up a week ago because the workers weren’t careful. You all will need to heed instructions very carefully or you’ll share the fate of those poor souls.”
A rock hardened inside Zeli’s belly. How many had perished in the explosion?
They followed Kyssa down the rows like obedient ducklings. The first tables were for assembling casings. This factory made bullets and artillery shells used in the guns and massive canons the Lagrimari army brought into war. The workers didn’t look up as the new girls gawked.
“Littlest fingers with me,” Kyssa announced, and a girl of Ulani’s size stepped forward. Ulani looked unsure at first, but moved to Kyssa’s side. They were then handed off to a surly child of about ten who began instructing them on their task.
“What are they doing?” Zeli ventured to ask.
“Assembling the detonators. Lots of small fuses and springs. Tiny hands and fingers are helpful.”
Zeli nodded and hastened to catch up as the woman marched on. She and Tana were offloaded at a wide table near the center of the factory floor where bullets were pressed. At one end, several girls manned narrow machines with levers that, when pulled, shaped sheets of copper into cylindrical bullet casings. Zeli was assigned the filling station and tasked with packing the casings with gunpowder. The smell of the stuff tickled her nose.
A young woman named Nedra was pulled from her own station to instruct them. She looked to be in her early twenties with eyes set far apart in a round face.
“This is what you do,” she said, holding up a funnel. A tiny spoon was used to measure the black powder before pouring it through the funnel and into the casing.
“Not too much and not too little, mind you,” Nedra said. “There isn’t enough to spare on mistakes. Rounds from each girl are tested at random, so we’ll know if you do it wrong.”
After Nedra filled the casing, she placed it in a slot in a large box full of completed bullets. When the box was full, she passed it off to the next girl on the line for finishing.
“So that’s all there is to it?” Zeli asked.
Nedra raised an eyebrow. “You want it to be more complicated?”
“Well, no … It’s just that … we do this for twelve hours?” Filling tiny bullets with powder seemed incredibly boring.
Nedra shrugged. “That’s the job. You get two five-minute breaks for the privy and thirty minutes for lunch.” She dragged over a box of casings waiting for their powder and moved back to her other duties without waiting for any more questions. Zeli sighed.
The girls at her table weren’t talkative. A few looked up and nodded before refocusing on their tasks. Zeli thought about how much worse things could be and determined to make the best of it.
At the end of her first shift, her feet hurt from standing, her arm hurt from pouring, and her eyes hurt from squinting to see if she’d filled the little casing up or not. Often the powder got stuck in the funnel and had to be tapped out, but that would often cause it to shake out of the bullet. Then she’d have to empty the casing and start all over again. After close to a dozen hours of this, she wanted nothing more than to eat and collapse into whatever bed was available. She could tell the other girls felt the same.
The day workers trudged back to the dormitory, passing the night workers, coming in to start their shift. There were actually several houses earmarked for the girls, and they split off into their assigned quarters. There they were fed standard rations: tough, dried meat and a porridge of some kind that had the consistency of sludge and no taste to speak of. But it didn’t smell rotten and didn’t make her feel sick. There was that.
At dinner, there was more conversation than there had been at work. Several of the girls chatted amiably with one another and introductions were made. Zeli wanted to ask each of them how they’d gotten there, but she suspected the stories would be too sad and so stayed quiet.
Before they left the table, Nedra, who lived in their dormitory, stood and addressed them. “Remember, eyes and ears open. Be sure to make time in your off hours to observe and report. Anyone with pertinent information is to alert your section leader.”
“What does that mean?” Zeli whispered to the girl next to her, who looked to be about her age.
“Ora-mideni is upwardly bound,” the girl replied. “She wants to know about anyone you may see who might not be completely loyal. She uses her workers as eyes and ears around town to get in good with the local Magister.”
Zeli nodded, understanding. On her other side, Tana snorted. “So she’s an informer? And she wants us to participate? No, thank you.”
The girl eyed her in astonishment. “Those who give her good intel get treats. Extra rations, coffee, or even sugar.” She smiled as if the thought of treats was enough to wash away the slime of the deed she was so casually discussing.
Tana looked away. “Not. Worth. It.” She crossed her arms. The other teen shrugged. So their twelve hours off weren’t exactly their own.
“What if we don’t do it?” Zeli asked.
The girl frowned as if this option had never occurred to her. “Ora-mideni prefers if you do. If you make the mistress angry you could get sent away.” She didn’t specify where “away” was, but the haunted tone in her voice was telling.
“And what’s to stop someone from lying?” Tana asked loudly.
Nedra turned from the woman she’d been speaking to and tilted her head, staring at Tana. “All information will be investigated by the Enforcers,” she said, tightly.
But Zeli knew as well as everyone else here that truth was not a prerequisite when informing. Nudging Tana with her shoulder, she smiled at Nedra. “Of course. We’ll keep our eyes and ears open.” Nedra nodded and turned to head up the staircase.
Zeli turned to Tana. “You don’t have to say every thought that’s in your head, you know.”
A mulish expression pinched the child’s face. “I’m not a snitch. Do you really plan on informing on people?”
Zeli knew she wouldn’t, but she couldn’t stop others from it. That was how Lagrimar worked, after all. How else would the True Father know who to trust?
She shook her head quickly. She wouldn’t tell on anyone, but she wouldn’t call attention to herself, either. Tana, however, was digging a deep hole that she might not be able to get herself out of.