Esther found the shaft that Jasper had culled. It was farther west, away from her cabin on the northeastern side of the mountain, and a good set away from her father’s church on the south. Now there were three deep cuts into Kire: the old shaft, the new one Esther had made two years ago, and this one. The area around Jasper’s tunnel was cleared out, and there were already the makings of a path into town.
That meant they found coal. They wouldn’t build the road if they had only run into stone. Whatever deal had traded hands between Jasper and Kire, it had given him a true thing, and gospel was always expensive. Esther was more than willing to sell her soul for power, but she had done it for Kiron. There was a reason that the women in town didn’t make deals, entreating Esther instead. Being a Neighbor was dangerous work.
She clenched her hands. A petty, small part of her wanted to tear up the road, to prevent them from ever being able to profit off this scar. She was a demanding force, made of stone and spells.
But this was not where her magic was needed. Punishing Kiron for keeping up with demand, for trying to outpace Halberd when the industry was breathing down their neck, sleeping with their sons? No, destroying any part of this would only drive Kiron into the arms of Halberd again, into the promises of machines and ease.
She focused on Kire. The tunnel in front of her opened like a wolf’s maw in the dead winter. It glinted, the lichen around its entrance like a blanket of jewels leading Esther inside the two-foot wide cave. When she put her hand on the stone, it was warm, not iced or freezing like deadened stone ought to be. It wasn’t numbed or sutured, it hadn’t been cut off from the titan—Jasper’s dealings had only done so much. They were digging directly into Kire’s flesh.
Anger made her hands warm. Fury made the stone darken. The shaft opened wider, inviting her in. Was Kire angrier, or was she? Her words had been discarded, her warnings ignored, and here was Kire, titan in the rock, gnashing its teeth.
The stone creaked farther down, a rush of hot air breezing across her face, melting the snow and causing the water to drip into the cave. Esther eased herself deeper into the tunnel.
“What are you doing here?”
Esther whipped around as Jasper came up the road, pushing a wheelbarrow ahead of him. He was followed by Maisie, who had her own pack of lathes and measures.
“Should know better than to sneak up on me,” she said, turning her nose up and looking back at the seam.
“You’re being mighty secretive,” Jasper complained, pushing the wheelbarrow up to the landing. “Even for you.”
What was she supposed to say? That when they cut through to the quick of any Appalachian mountain, they flirted with titans beyond their ken? It wasn’t like every range had a leviathan like Kire, but there were enough of them alive that running into one was a tidy risk.
She swallowed her pride, again. “I am inspecting the new mining shaft.”
“Aye, and to what purpose?” Jasper asked, unloading the gear, setting a lantern on a nearby stump. “You are no miner and have said so many times.”
“I can still look,” Esther snapped. “Leave me be.”
“Jasper,” Maisie whispered, almost an admonition. “Let her work.”
Jasper huffed, rolling his eyes. “Women.”
Esther narrowed her eyes. “Say that again, and you’ll see what women’s work can do.”
It was a half threat, but Jasper didn’t respond, turning back to his barrow. Esther was annoyed he was ignoring her, but apparently he wasn’t interested in fighting with her right now. She had gotten her way, but now she stood in front of the gash, glaring at it, frustrated and disappointed. Whatever she had felt from Kire fled in Jasper’s presence. He was at least able to push Kire back himself, but for how long? She should help him, or at least try to warn him away from this.
She might as well say something by way of explanation.
“This is dangerous.”
“Aye,” Jasper said tightly. “That’s why Maisie is going to set up our stock and beam.”
“That ain’t going to make it less dangerous.” Esther clenched her fists. “You are digging in a bad way. You will need constant deals to keep this shaft open. You ready for that? You gonna take this on?”
“What you know about digging, Esther?” Jasper hissed. This time he did turn to her, and Esther didn’t meet his eyes. He was right; she wasn’t a miner. But she knew that this was a bit of coal close to Kire’s flesh, and it would not suffer picks for long. “We got six miner’s kids coming up this year, and three families from out in the Allegheny who’ve sent letters inquiring about land and means here. We’ll have plenty of people eager to work.”
And more potential hands to sign for Halberd, Esther realized. She needed to speak to Kire, but there was a rabid beast at her door. “And what of the industry?”
“As long as we can keep our profit, we’ll be fine,” Jasper said, and this time his voice sounded softer, more reassuring. It did not help.
Instead of arguing, Esther turned away from the shaft, stalking into the woods. She didn’t do what she had intended when she felt the warm rock: to suture the wound, to turn Kire away from its fury, to hold back her own anger . . . but if Jasper had hubris enough to dowse out his own vein, he could very well suffer the consequences.
It was a bitter, petty thought, but it kept Esther warm as she walked south, heading toward the Reed and Sarton Ridge in the distance. He was infringing on her dealings, but they had not been completely broken.
x
Esther spent three days and two nights on the Sarton Mountains. The trio of peaks lay just east of Hatfield Valley, overlooking the camp where Halberd had set up their machines and rebuilt cabins. They were built out now: mud-and-log creations that wouldn’t have felt out of place in Kiron. Esther didn’t like that; it meant they were putting down roots.
She spent her time counting men and horses, noting where they were building their roads and drying them out for the late spring thaw, when the mud would be impossible to escape until May.
Esther hadn’t sold all of her soul to Kire—the temptation to go down into the valley and commit a biblical slaughter was not over strong. She didn’t want to kill them; she just wanted them gone.
Maybe she only had to kill one man, she thought, perched on a rock on the ridge, glaring down at the camp. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, holding onto all of the heat of her body. She had some resistance to the chill, but it was still cold, and the wind went through her clothing like it wasn’t there.
Around her, dormice and possum had come up, huddling around her back and thighs for warmth as well. She didn’t mind—they weren’t bold enough to put holes into her clothing, and the small chattering noises were a small comfort.
Maybe she could make a deal with Halberd. There were dead titans down south, old mountains whose hearts still held coal, sinking slowly deeper into the ground. Maybe if she offered to dowse a vein or two, they might be willing to leave Kire alone.
It was a slim thing and required biting back more than a little pride, but if it kept Halberd from offering their machines to the miners of Kiron, it would be worth it.
She stood, scooping up a little joey that had forgotten to cling to its mama as it trundled away. She’d find another jill-possum to take it later, but right now, she slipped it into her pocket and stepped off the cliff, whispering power under her boots. She strode along the treetops, floating into the valley.
As she got closer to the camp, she let herself jump from branch to branch before alighting on the ground a good distance away. She walked in carefully, stepping over the half-built fence and approaching one of the buildings that had a crowd in front of it. It was noon, and they had set up their cooking pot in a communal area, the delegated cook spooning out whatever they had managed to scrounge from the nearby forests.
Esther was low, but she wasn’t so petty as to make this valley barren. Kiron would suffer, too.
Their voices halted as she approached, her hands in her pockets, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, full of twigs and a few moths.
“Afternoon, gentlemen,” she said, stopping a few yards away from the nearest member of their little band. “I’d like to talk to DeWitt.”
The group of five eyed her warily, confused and suspicious. One even had the gall to leer at her. If she were in a fighting mood, she’d turn his eyes away with force.
“And who’s calling?” one of the men said, an engineer by the looks of the grease on his pants and cuts along his hands.
“A Neighbor,” she said, tilting her head up. “I’ll wait here.”
The engineer gave her a long look, and Esther matched his gaze, unflinching. He shrugged and turned away, going to one of the larger accommodations. After a few minutes, Julian DeWitt came out, jogging over to a second cabin and bringing along with him the same sallow-faced, white businessman who had come to their sharing a few weeks ago. The well-dressed investor she saw in the fire was absent.
As they approached, Esther became aware that other men had come out of the cabins. Miners, engineers, businessmen. The company Halberd made. She saw guns. The engineer had disappeared, maybe spreading orders through the camp. Esther was not afraid. As long as she was close to Kire, even bullets couldn’t kill her.
She had scars to prove it.
“Miss Esther,” DeWitt said, smiling at her, but not wide enough to convince her that he wasn’t nervous. “I don’t think I’ve introduced you to Mister Ochiltree. He’s heading up the mining portion of this operation.”
Esther had to put her hands in front of herself, holding them tight, to keep from hexing Ochiltree into oblivion. There were a lot of guns.
“We’ve not met,” Esther said as Ochiltree nodded slightly, at least pretending respect. “I ’port you were one of them that told DeWitt to find a local dowser.”
“As much as I am loath to trust in hill-folk mumbo jumbo, yes,” Ochiltree said tightly. “Locals tend to have a sense about these things, we’ve found. Easier to pay a few mountain dowsers than spend real money on coring.”
Esther’s vision went black. Was that what he thought of her? Was that what all the lowland folks thought of the mountaineers? Her pale hands, clasped tight in front of her, turned pink. DeWitt must have sensed the tension (Maybe he had that rabbit heart in his chest still, maybe his eyes were too large for his head, maybe he knew, maybe he felt it) and stepped in, putting a hand on Ochiltree’s arm for a second.
“No disrespect meant, of course,” DeWitt said gently, but he was trying to smooth down the fur along a puma’s spine.
“I have reconsidered my first refusal.” Esther decided to ignore Ochiltree’s insult, speaking to DeWitt instead. She would answer Ochiltree in kind later. “I am prepared to find coal in the southern mountains.” She pointed toward Butts Mountain and Kimbalton. “There are rich mountains a step down that way.”
“We’re not interested in heading south,” Ochiltree said. “We’re interested in Kire, and the border mountains at Potts and Forks.”
“If you go closer to Kimbalton, you will be nearer New River and Pearisburg,” Esther explained. Potts and Forks were Kire’s neighbors. If they went in there, Kire—and Kiron—would follow soon after. “It’ll be easier to transport the coal on the water, and you’ll have more hands available.”
Ochiltree paused. Esther couldn’t read DeWitt’s face, wariness tugging his mouth down. Ochiltree, too, was a blank slate, a businessman who dealt in more money than Esther had likely ever seen, and he was not one to give anything away.
“We’re interested in Kire, and the rights in West Virginia.” He sounded almost disinterested. “The mountains by New River are more likely to hold lime deposits instead of coal buildup.”
That wouldn’t be so for the veins Esther found, but she couldn’t help the way her eyes widened. He was keen on West Virginia, and Kire provided a pathway into the rest of Appalachia, hidden away from prospectors for so long. She had to turn this man away. Halberd wanted to run up the whole ridge.
“I am willing to reduce my fee,” she said quietly. What more could she bargain with? She didn’t have Jasper’s way with words. “It will be well worth your time.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, little miss.” Ochiltree spoke slow, patronizing. The smirk on his face made Esther’s skin crawl like teeth on stone. “We have the deeds already drawn up, and we’re not looking to move. I’m sure Mister DeWitt can give you a meal to take home for your trouble. We can pay you to find a wellspring if it’s money you’re after.”
Esther started counting guns. She felt the joey skitter in her pockets, and she reached into her dress to hold it gently in her hand, calming it down.
Maybe Ochiltree was Pharaoh. Maybe she was a plague.
“I would like to entreat—”
Before she could offer either advice or a threat, she felt her tie to Kire yank on her heart. She lost her breath, her eyes going wide, and she turned from DeWitt and the foreman, staring at Kire. Something was happening.
“Now, I’m sure you’re upset about this, but—”
“I’m done talking,” Esther cut him off, glancing back. She loosed her hand around the little possum. “I need a horse.”
Finally, Ochiltree looked off his center. There must be something wild about her. “I’m afraid I can’t—”
“Take mine,” DeWitt offered, cutting Ochiltree off before he could incite Esther to call a swarm of toads up from the banks of the river. He led her to a brown pony, something sturdy that could take the rocky path to Kiron. It wasn’t saddled, but it had reins and a thick blanket across its back, and she accepted his hand and heaved herself up on the beast.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, leading her out of the camp, sounding genuinely concerned.
She looked down at him, sitting sidesaddle on the blankets. She shook her head.
“No, Mister DeWitt,” she said, fixing her sight on the titan. She felt her anger echoing back at her, a devastating fury let loose. “Something terrible has happened.”
x
Out of sight of Halberd’s camp in Hatfield, Esther turned to sit properly, urging the horse to run with a quote from Job. The pony’s hooves echoed like thunder through the valley as she rode into Kiron. As soon as she got to the town, there was a full complement of folks in the center square.
They looked up at her, at their Neighbor, at their witch, and she felt the weight of their accusation like a bit in her own mouth. Wasn’t she their helper? Did she not intercede on their behalf?
“What’s happening?” Lon called from his porch.
Esther didn’t answer. She kicked at the pony’s sides, urging it on the makeshift path that led up to the new shaft. At the opening, she saw a crowd of miners, most of them covered in dust and coal. With a sickening lurch in her stomach, she knew exactly what had happened.
Cave-in.
She slid off the horse, running up.
“Who’s hurt?” she called out, looking for blood as the crowd of twenty miners, men and women alike, parted to let her through. “I can save limbs if you show me now.”
“Esther . . .”
She looked over and saw Jasper sitting at the edge of the shaft, and something in her chest loosened, just a fraction. She let out a breath and went over to him, touching the blood at his temple lightly.
“You’re all right,” she muttered, looking over him carefully. “But head cuts ain’t a thing to take light—”
“Esther,” he interrupted her, taking her hand and pulling it away from his head. “Gresham got caught.”
Esther’s heart stuttered. She looked into the cave, the long dark shaft that got progressively smaller. They had hollowed it out fast, with twenty pairs of hands and Maisie setting up the beam and broadside to keep it all open. The shale must be soft. The flesh is weak.
No, Esther thought. The maw is open.
“I can go get the body,” she said quietly, squeezing his hand. “Who else here is injured?”
Esther looked over at the five miners who had come forward, one of them already splinting her leg between two pike shafts. None were close to death, and no limbs were near falling off.
But as she tended to them, she felt the tug again, the draw, and this time she knew it was Kire calling to her. It was a demand, an insistence, and the titan was awake under the forest. She put a hand on the stone, and it burned, hot as a sill, angry like a wildfire. Her lips parted, her eyebrows going up slowly.
“What is it?” one of the men asked. Jasper paused, his back to Esther.
“He’s alive,” she whispered, glancing back at the miners. “Gresham’s alive.”
“What?” Jasper’s eyes went wide. “I saw him fall. The stone went right over him.”
A slide like that would kill anyone. But Esther could feel his heartbeat, his breathing, the fluttering of his eyelashes against the stone as Kire dragged him deeper and deeper into the mountain. Playing with him. Hurting him.
“He’s alive,” Esther repeated. For now. Alive, but not for long. The woods went on around her, the trees knocking against each other, the birds singing—none seemed aware of what was happening under the mountain. The forest didn’t care for men. That was a Neighbor’s job.
Esther took a few steps into the mine shaft, wrapping her shawl around her mouth and nose. She tongued at Daniel, searched for a proverb that could still her heart and give her courage, but none came. Instead, she held onto her dress as she walked into the mountain, preparing to meet Kire.