Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [47]
It came down as handily as the first, though there was little cause for glee afterward as we set about the hard labor of removing the felled trees. Charles and I were given hatchets and charged with the task of trimming large branches to be used as rollers. I chopped away at the springy branches, thinking about the woodsman, Selig and d'Aiglemort; and Maslin, too. That was part of what I had envied in him—the effortless ease, the sense that he had been born to the blade, even if it was a pruning hook.
And I thought about Joscelin, too. His skill was harder-won. He had a gift for it—it was impossible to believe otherwise—but it was years of training and discipline that had made him what he was, instilling it in every muscle and sinew.
When the field was clear, I resolved, I would practice harder. For now, I would apply myself to this task as though it were a sword-bout. With the sun beating down on my bare back, I bent to the work, grasping branches, chopping and hacking with as much precision as I could muster, until I lost myself in the rhythm of it.
"Hey," Charles said, surprised, glancing at the pile of smooth shafts I had accumulated. "Nice work, your highness!"
I grinned at him. "A fair match for you, farm boy."
The task didn't end there. We moved one of the huge trunks that day, lashing it with a dozen ropes and hauling it in fits and starts over the rollers, pausing every few yards to move the shafts. It was grueling work, but we managed to get it into the manor's wood-yard before the day's end. There it lay, hulking.
"We chop?" I asked Charles dubiously.
He clapped my shoulder. "Tomorrow. Let's go sluice off."
Montrève's well was in the courtyard. It was a deep well and gave good water, clean and icy cold. Both of us were filthy; sweat-drenched and stuck all over with bits of pine bark and needles, our skin scraped and bruised, our hands stinging from the rope's burn. As the lowering sun cast a warm honey-colored glow over the courtyard, Charles drew the first bucket.
"Ready?" he asked, and without waiting, hurled the contents at me.
"Charles!"
I heard Katherine's voice at the same moment the water struck, and gritted my teeth against a gasp of shock. When I opened my eyes, she was staring at me.
"It's all right," I said. "We were working." I felt foolish, half-clad, runnels of cold water streaming over my bare skin and soaking my breeches.
"So I see," Katherine murmured. She raised the kettle she held. "May I?"
"I'll get it for you." Glad to have something to do, I took the bucket from Charles and lowered it. The crank seemed to turn more easily these days. My sodden hair dripped into my eyes, and I tossed it back as I straightened, lifting the refilled bucket from its hook. "Here," I said, pouring it carefully into her kettle.
A little smile played over Katherine's lips. "Thank you, Imriel."
"You're welcome." I watched her go.
"Elua's Balls!" Charles exhaled explosively. "Did you see the way she looked at you?" He punched my shoulder. "Watch out, or she'll be lying in ambush for you, highness."
I glanced at him. "You're not serious."
"Oh, aye." He grinned at me, pine bark stuck in his curly hair. "I told you hard labor would put meat on your bones." His grin faded, eyes turning serious. "Whatever you do, just don't hurt her, Imri. She's my sister, and I'd have to kill you for it."
"I wouldn't," I said automatically. "I would never."
"You'd better not." Charles refilled the bucket and handed it to me. "Here, my turn."
In the morning, nothing had changed. Using a double-handled saw, Charles and I set about the task of cutting the monster log into manageable sections. These we split into firewood with axes and wedges. It was more grueling work, resulting in new blisters and a fresh set of aching muscles, and once it was done, the second log awaited.
And yet, things were different.
It took several more days to complete the work of clearing the field. To my vast disbelief, we even pulled the stumps, which made hauling the logs look easy. The Siovalese prided themselves on their ingenuity and