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There were four of them besides Haruko-san. Two had the easy confidence of long years—men who had worked under him since before their hands had fully grown, with the easy familiarity of disciples who could anticipate the master's plan even before it was a thought in his mind. The other two apprentices were younger, glancing at Fae from the corners of their eyes with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. She felt the edge in those looks immediately—the outsider, the woman, the competition for the master's attention. She felt Feraal move in her sling bag.

Haruko-san nodded at the others. They seemed to know what to do and got to work.

He said nothing at first. He simply watched while Fae shifted from one foot to the other.

The work began not with carving, but with Haruko-san watching her for a few minutes before a great sigh escaped him and he said, "Follow."

Her first task was to identify all the tools. Some she knew. When she fumbled with one, she received a frown and an explanation. By the end, she had gotten used to being corrected before she even knew she was wrong.

Fae's instincts betrayed her again and again—hands reaching for the tool in a way that was familiar to her but needed to be relearned the right way. Each time, a gentle rap from the ruler landed across her knuckles.

Haruko-san took his time with her.

At last, he stopped behind her bench and spoke. "Today," he said, voice uninflected, "we test your basic skills." He set a length of timber into the vise and gestured for her to start sawing. Aiko set a list in front of her.

So, she sawed.

She sawed the wood down into measured cubes, again and again, resetting the vise, aligning the serrated edge, letting it bite. The rhythm was brutal in its repetition. The saw sang, sometimes screamed, making everyone turn to look at her, and had her reaching for the wax, pronto. Her shoulders burned and her fingers went numb. Sweat slicked her palms, and her wrists trembled.

Still, she sawed. She couldn't give up, not until every last task was done as per the drawings.

The vise held firm. The bench shook slightly, and the shavings piled at her feet.

Aiko hovered nearby, sweeping the sawdust and curls of wood at careful intervals, trying to be helpful. Fae barely noticed. Her world had narrowed to grain and resistance, to the ache spreading up her arms and shoulders like fire.

When Haruko-san finally returned, she nearly sagged with relief.

His gaze flicked over the neat stack of cubes. He said nothing about them.

Instead, his eyes narrowed slightly when his gaze climbed to her shoulders.

"You cannot have that," he said, pointing.

Fae blinked, confused, then realised with a jolt that she was still wearing her sling bag, the strap crossing her chest. She had forgotten it entirely.

"I—sorry," she said, hurriedly reaching for it.

Aiko rushed forward at the same moment, eager to help, hands lifting to take the bag from her shoulder.

For a heartbeat, neither was quite in sync.

The strap slipped, and the bag fell with a thud.

The flap, unfastened, yawned open as it hit the floor, and something small and wooden rolled out.

No.

Feraal.

He tumbled once and lay there lifeless.

The workshop went utterly still.

Haruko-san took one step, as if to walk away, then stopped. His body jerked sharply, like a man struck by a sudden blow. He turned back.

His eyes widened. Fae watched as his mouth opened and closed.

A thin, strangled sound escaped him. It looked as though his legs might give way as he leaned against the worktable for support.