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If she’d even survive the day.
My heart thuds along at a faster rhythm than the work around me. I can’t quite settle it even with all my calming techniques brought to bear.
I pause here and there to consider the blueprints laid out on the forest floor and the corresponding slabs of wood the workers Baron Cyris assembled are cutting, but physical building isn’t exactly my area of expertise. I’m here mainly to evaluate the emotional impact of the finished apparatus.
The pieces already shaped and smoothed lie in careful rows across the ground at the other end of the clearing. The pale wood gleams in the late afternoon sun.
We’d have some trouble explaining what we’re up to if any members of the Order stumbled on this work site. The large, irregular pieces with their knobs and indents to allow them to fit together securely don’t look like any kind of furniture a noble would be commissioning.
But that’s why the baron sent the craftspeople off to work in the woods beyond his estate rather than in plain view on his grounds. The fact that it shortens the distance I needed to travel to stop by and make my assessment is a small but welcome side benefit.
The figures at this end of the clearing are manipulating the wood in a very different way. They’re mostly dedicats to Creaden with gifts related to the godlen’s knack for construction, although a few others have stepped up to lend talents that can be honed to our needs.
At a bark of an order from the head foreman, several of the workers spring into action. Their faces harden into masks of concentration as their hands rise to help direct their magic.
Pieces of wood lift from the ground and whirl toward each other. Interlocking joints snap together. Edges thump against one another. The slabs climb up above our heads?—
A few of the boards smack into each other at the wrong angle. One wobbles and strikes another below. A worker grunts, another shuddering as he tries to maintain control, but it isn’t enough.
The wooden pieces creak and strain, and the foreman shouts for them to be lowered. “We’re not getting anywhere if you break them!”
The workers guide the partly constructed tower to the ground and let it tumble apart with a heavy patter against the uneven ground.
The foreman sighs. “Where did it go wrong this time? We need to be able to move fast, but we do actually have to build the thing properly.”
I hold up my hand as I approach them. “Can we take a break from using gifts and put it together manually? I know it’ll be slower, but I’d like to take a look at how the full structure is coming together. And I’d imagine everyone could use a chance to rest their minds.”
The foreman’s mouth tightens, but he nods. I catch hints of relief in the exhaled breaths and shifting bodies of his underlings.
It does take longer for them to fit the slabs together when they’re building by hand, and after some time, they have to clamber up the base of the tower to continue. But the wood workers have gotten quite a bit done already. While there are more pieces to come, the tower already rises about twice my height.
I study it, noting the impressions it stirs in me, and glance around at the rest of the yard. “This is a section of the obstacle course, isn’t it? How are the moving parts coming together? Do we have any of the other challenges ready to go?”
One of the Creaden dedicats motions to me with a wave of her hand. “A bunch of it is over here. And the bits of the puzzle boxes are almost finished too.”
With a couple of her fellow workers, she demonstrates how a few of the obstacles in the sequence will operate. Others fit together what they have so far of what they called the puzzle box. I ask one of them to step inside the huge cube so I can picture what it’ll be like in action.
The foreman comes up beside me. “What do you think?” he asks gruffly.
He’s braced for criticism but craving approval.
I nod slowly. “I think we’re on the right track. We’re going to want to add as much color as we can in the time we have, spark more feelings with that. And I’d recommend adding metal pieces to the wheel rather than having the teeth be wood—the shine catching the sun will have even more impact.”
The foreman frowns. “We don’t want the queen getting hurt.”
I glance at him, unable to stop my smile from tightening. Doesn’t he realize how much harm we’ll all be risking when we pull this immense gambit together?
“The people need to see she’s taking real risks,” I remind him. “She wants to prove every trait she believes makes a good ruler, and that includes bravery and the willingness to face danger on behalf of her country.”
He lets out a faint huff, but he doesn’t argue the point. Instead, he calls out to one of the workers to bring the materials from a storeroom and another to summon a couple of Inganne dedicats from the estate who have a way with paint.
I dip my head in thanks. “Let me know when the artists get here. I’ll consult with them on what color scheme would be most effective for each part.”
The trials we’re going to set up don’t need to just show off Petra’s prowess, both physical and mental. They need to stir the hopes and hungers of her audience. Create a story of how fiercely this woman will fight for their happiness.
Is it going to be enough?
After seeing how easily Lothar has been able to sway the people of Silana in his favor, I don’t know.
