He’d have at least an hour, if his sense of timing was accurate. But he had to make sure he was back on his pallet before the earliest risers began their day.
The orange coloring appeared at several different levels in at least five places along that wall. That would be enough for the army to send miners and scientists all the way up here.It may not be as much pitchblende as they needed, but this much on the surface likely meant a great deal more could be found in the stone.
He started on one of the softer spots, wrapping cloth over the head of his chisel to stop the ring of metal as he struck with the hammer. When he’d shown Brielle the contents of his packs, he’d told her some of the uses for these along the journey, like holding a rope to spread oilcloth over him in the midst of a downpour.
But he’d not told her the main reason he brought them. One more omission he’d have to set straight. As committed as he was to speaking only the truth, so many of his actions lately felt like lies.
The sooner he got away from this business of being a spy, the better.
The tension in his body stretched tighter with the first blow of his hammer. The muffledchingseemed to vibrate in his skull, and he paused to strain for any sound of someone coming.
No cries of alarm, no thud of footsteps. Not even the rustle of fabric reached his ears. He eased out a shaky breath and went back to work.
It only took a few minutes to dislodge the first chunk of orange rock and check the piece the way the army’s scientist had shown him.
The stone was, indeed, pitchblende. His worst fears confirmed.
With his chest twisting like a massive hand gripped it, he studied the line of orange rock. He had possibly three quarters of an hour left—not long enough to gather it all, but he couldn’t risk more this time. What he’d done wouldbe easy to see if someone came in and studied the wall, but hopefully they didn’t use this room very often. At least, not this side of the huge chamber. No matter. He would tell Brielle everything before his work was discovered anyway.
As a fresh wave of bile churned in his middle, he adjusted the leather over the head of his chisel and pounded another blow.
Dark snow clouds rolled in during the night. By the time Brielle stepped out into the partial darkness to begin her morning hunt, an icy wind blew, and the first flakes were beginning to fall. The heavy clouds couldn’t press the smile from her face every time she thought of Evan’s kiss, nor the lightness inside her. Though the cold definitely seemed determined to freeze every bit of her good sentiment into an icy block.
Their trading friends were wise to leave after the feast the evening before. Snow had been threatening even then, and they’d not wanted to chance staying the night. The two men were likely halfway through their journey by now.
Perhaps she was foolish going out to hunt with snow beginning to fall. But experience had taught her that if she could find a herd of caribou or elk holed up in woods or in the gap between two mountains, that meat would help feed her people even if the snow lasted a week.
She had to at least try.
She found nothing at the first two sections of trees where herds sometimes took shelter. As she set off for the next area, the wind blew heavy flakes in thick swirls around her. She’d not brought snowshoes because a thick ice crust hadformed over the previous snow, but this fresh layer was now deep enough to cover her feet as she walked.
When she reached the canopy of barren tree limbs, a reindeer started out of the shelter, moving away from her. It looked like a young buck who’d been separated from the herd. Those animals didn’t usually scare so easily when together, but the storm must have it on edge.
The only game left under these trees was a single hare, and she quickly sent a well-placed arrow, then readied the carcass for the trek back to Laurent.
As she pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, a long sigh slipped out. Useless hunts didn’t usually bother her. In truth, spending quiet hours wandering the mountains renewed her. Perhaps part of the refreshing effect came from the exertion, drawing in deep invigorating breaths as she clambered over rocks and down slopes.
With the majesty of the peaks rising around her, staring out over the vast wilderness of spires stretching to the heavens, it was impossible not to realize the magnificence of God. That the Creator could make all this and still know who she was—it put proper perspective both on how great He was and how much He loved her.
Another frigid gust sent a shiver through her. This would be a bad storm, the first hard snowfall to commence the depths of winter.
As she neared the village walls, she sent the call that she was approaching. Only a faint response sounded through the swirling snow. Even the guards must be taking refuge from the worsening storm. Surely no threat would be out in this swirling gale.
She headed straight for her door, her insides aching forboth warmth and food. She probably should have broken her fast with more than a sip of warm water before heading out.
The wind nearly jerked the door out of her hands as she slipped into their apartment. Inside, the blast of warmth soaked around her, stinging her cheeks. Charlotte knelt by the fire, pouring liquid in a cup. She rose with the mug and stepped toward Brielle, offering a smile. “You must be frozen.”
“Oui.” Her teeth chattered even with that single word. She couldn’t yet bring herself to unwrap the layers of furs around her.
She took the cup from Charlotte and lifted the warm brew to her face, letting the steam thaw her for a minute before she attempted to drink.
The burn of the first sip seared all the way down. She let out a long sigh and managed a frozen smile for her sister. “That’s good.” Charlotte always infused her teas with a bit of echinacea to ward off winter sniffles, and the herb gave the drink a bitter bite that helped when Brielle needed something stiff. Like now.
“Did you bring anything back?” Charlotte returned to the fire and stirred the pot nestled in the coals.
“Just a hare I left outside. I’ll skin it in a minute; just let me get warm first.” Brielle took another sip of the drink, and this time the liquid eased its warmth through her without stinging so much. She was finally starting to feel her fingers, but the sting was so sharp, she almost wished they were still numb.
“I can do it.” Charlotte’s tone held no hint of eagerness.
