Harl tested the handle before taking the fish from the wrapping.
He closed his hand, turned the tool, and pressed the iron part against a piece of scrap wood. I followed the movement, watching the point where the handle disappeared into the metal.
Thomas had finished the fitting that morning. The piece I'd helped prepare had lost a considerable amount of wood before it was good enough to use. He hadn't complained about my mistakes, but he'd set aside a larger pile of shavings than I'd expected.
Harl turned the tool again.
—Better than the other.
He said nothing more about the handle.
He placed the dried fish on the workbench and wrapped the tool. I stood there for a moment, waiting for a conclusion he'd already given.
Thomas touched my arm.
—You can put it away.
I took the payment.
The fish was firm, lighter than it looked. I carried it inside and put it away from the wood and tools. When I returned, Harl was examining one of the pieces we'd set aside beneath the roof.
—Where did you get this?
Thomas pointed toward the pile of branches we'd gathered while clearing the area.
Harl turned the wood over, looked at the end, and set it back down.
—There are marked trees farther ahead. Don't cut them.
I looked in the direction he indicated.
—Marked how?
He made a gesture with two fingers, drawing in the air cuts I'd never noticed on a tree.
—If you see a mark, ask first.
I nodded.
I thought about the number of pines surrounding us. I'd looked at them as a supply that only needed to be learned how to use. Harl spoke of them as things that were already part of someone else's life.
—And the ones without marks?
He looked at me.
—Just because you don't know the owner doesn't mean there isn't one.
I had no answer.
Harl picked up the wrapping.
—I told Alda about you. She has a chest that needs repairing. She might come by to look.
This time, I didn't write an order in my head.
I thanked him and waited for him to leave before returning to the workbench.
Thomas was putting away the tool he'd used for the finishing work.
—Are we going to need to buy wood? —I asked.
—Or agree on where to get it. Or work with the wood whoever brings the job provides.
I looked at the little that remained beneath the roof.
It wouldn't run out that day.
It also wasn't the whole forest.
Alda came after midday, while I was sweeping the floor around the workbench.
I didn't hear her footsteps until she was close.
I raised my head and found a woman standing on the path, holding a wooden lid against her body. Her hair was tied beneath a cloth, there was a dark stain on her sleeve, and her face was red from the effort.
Behind her came a man carrying a low box. They set the weight down before speaking.
—Harl said there's a carpenter here.
Thomas stepped out from beneath the roof.
—I can take a look.
Alda examined the workshop. Her eyes lingered on the tools and the house. I felt my shoulders tense, but she turned her attention back to the box.
—The bottom is giving way. I want to keep what's mine without finding everything on the floor whenever I lift it.
The man with her flexed his hands. One of his fingers was wrapped in cloth.
—I told her not to drag it —he said.
Alda gave him a look.
—And I told you it needed repairing.
Thomas crouched down. He asked them to turn the empty chest over so he could examine the underside. I helped support one side while the other man held the rest.
One of the boards was broken near the edge. Another had darkened around one of the fastenings.
Thomas touched the wood and pulled his fingers away.
—There's no point securing only the one that split. This part needs to come out too.
Alda crouched beside him.
—How much?
He looked over the pieces again.
—I still need to loosen it to see how far the damage goes.
She was silent for a moment, as though she'd heard the same answer in other places and had never liked it.
—I don't want a new chest.
—I'm not saying you need one.
I liked the way Thomas said it.
Calmly, without apologizing for looking properly.
Alda stood and turned toward me.
—And you? What do you do here?
The question caught me with my hands still beneath the chest.
—I help. I arrange the jobs.
She looked at Thomas.
He nodded.
Alda looked at me again.
I wanted to seem older.
The urge came so strongly that I straightened my back before I realized I was doing it.
—We need to know what can be salvaged —I said. —And we need wood to replace whatever can't be.
She asked what kind of wood. Thomas answered, showing the thickness with his fingers and explaining that just any damp piece freshly cut from a tree wouldn't do.
The man accompanying her said there were boards stored near their house.
Alda thought for a moment.
—We can bring them.
I didn't ask Thomas to use our own supply to finish faster. Harl's warning was still too fresh.
We discussed the price beside the overturned chest.
Alda offered two copper coins for the work.
I looked at Thomas, who was still examining the edge of the bottom. I didn't know whether I should accept.
Two coins could be a lot or almost nothing.
—What can you buy with that? —I asked.
The man gave a short laugh.
Alda didn't.
—Depends on who is selling.
I felt my face grow hot.
She had answered the question, even if it wasn't the answer I'd wanted.
Thomas pointed out another part that needed adjustment.
—This edge has come loose too. To fix everything and make the lid sit properly, it'll take more work.
Alda looked at him, then at me.
I could ask for food.
That was what we'd done until then.
But Mara and Harl only gave what they could spare that day. Perhaps those coins would let us choose someone else, another time.
—Three —I said.
The silence that followed felt almost physical.
Alda pressed her lips together.
—Three, if it holds. I'll bring the wood. I won't pay for leaving it the same as before.
I agreed before my courage ran out.
Thomas added:
—If we open it and find more damage, we'll agree again before doing anything beyond that.
She nodded.
The other man said he could bring the boards that afternoon. Only then did I learn his name, when Alda called him Ben and asked him not to forget the ones stored beneath the roof.
I wrote both names down after they left.
On Alda's line, I wrote **three coppers**.
Thomas read over my shoulder.
—When it's finished —he reminded me.
I added the words.
We ate some of the dried fish with hot water before starting. We saved the rest for the next day.
Thomas opened the chest carefully, trying to preserve whatever was still sound.
I stayed close, taking the pieces he removed.
Up close, the damage looked worse.
Not because we'd uncovered some hidden ruin, but because a chest wasn't just a chest when someone needed to repair it.
There were joints, pressure in different places, wood that moved one way and wood that resisted another.
Thomas showed me a piece that could remain where it was.
—Don't tear it out just because replacing everything looks easier.
I placed my hand on the edge he indicated.
I would have torn it out.
Ben brought the boards while there was still daylight.
Thomas rejected one of them and explained why. Ben took it back without arguing and left the others.
The next day, we worked on the chest.
I no longer needed help holding the tool correctly every time, but I still needed Thomas to check my work.
My job was to prepare, support, remove shavings, and try again.
His included shaping the piece and preventing me from ruining another one in the process.
We took breaks.
Thomas didn't like the first one I asked for.
The second time, he sat down on his own.
His shoulder was less stiff when the work didn't require him to raise his arm, but prolonged effort still took its toll.
My heel stopped burning for part of the morning.
I only noticed when I had to walk to the water and the pain returned.
We ate the rest of the dried fish.
Later, while Thomas rested, I went to gather shellfish along the familiar stretch and returned before the light began to fade.
There wasn't much, but it was enough to cook something that night.
The chest was finished the following morning.
Thomas wouldn't let me call it finished until we'd tested the bottom and the lid.
Then we ran our hands over the places where someone might hurt themselves on a splinter.
There was new wood beside the old.
The repair didn't disappear when you looked at it.
I ran my finger along one of the edges I'd helped prepare.
—Does it look bad?
Thomas looked.
—It looks repaired.
I laughed, and he seemed satisfied with the answer.
Alda came with Ben around midday.
She examined the chest longer than I'd expected.
She opened the lid, closed it, asked Ben to lift one side.
Then she placed both hands on the bottom and pressed.
I looked at Thomas.
He watched without interfering.
Alda opened it again.
—It's better.
I thought she might try to change the price.
I prepared an answer, forgot half of it, and stood there holding the splinter with the note.
She took three coins from a small pouch.
She placed all three in my hand.
They were lighter than I'd expected.
I closed my fingers before counting them.
Then I opened them again, embarrassed, and counted one by one.
Three.
Nothing appeared in my vision.
No message.
No increase in the System's gold.
The coins were warm from her hand, with dirt caught in their grooves.
Alda waited for me to finish.
—Is that right?
—It is.
Thomas began separating the leftover boards.
Ben said he would take whatever remained with the chest.
I helped him.
Even the small pieces belonged to someone.
Before they left, I asked Alda if she knew where we could get grain.
—I have some to trade —she answered.
I looked at the coins again.
—How much for two of these?
She studied me, perhaps trying to decide whether I was asking seriously.
I was.
She named a measure I didn't know.
I asked her to show me the size with her hands.
It didn't help as much as I'd hoped.
—Can I go see? —I asked.
Alda looked at Ben, who was already adjusting the load.
—You can. But I'm not carrying your grain back for you.
Thomas stayed at the workshop.
We agreed that I'd return by whatever path Ben showed me, without trying to cut through the forest.
I took the container and the coins.
We followed a passage that moved away from the beach route.
It was narrower in places, but there were clear signs that people used it.
I paid attention to the forks, asking whenever I wasn't sure I'd remember.
Ben answered with more patience than Harl would have shown.
Or perhaps I was simply expecting too much impatience.
Alda's house had a small storage space beside it.
I didn't go inside.
She brought the grain to the door and showed me the measure before pouring it out.
It was barley.
I took a little into my palm, examined it, and let it fall back.
I didn't know enough to judge its quality with confidence.
I looked for dirt, obvious moisture, anything that seemed wrong, and had to accept that this was very different from actually knowing what I was buying.
—Is this what we agreed on for the two? —I asked.
—It is.
I confirmed it.
She poured the grain into the container I'd brought.
I handed her two coins and kept one.
Then I returned.
The weight forced me to change hands several times, but it wasn't a large load.
I passed every landmark I'd tried to commit to memory and only relaxed when I recognized the path to the water.
Thomas came to the door when he heard me.
I put the container on the table and opened it.
He looked at the grain, ran his fingers through it, and looked back at me.
—How much?
I showed him the single remaining coin.
—Two. We kept one.
I told him what Alda had shown me.
Thomas didn't say I'd made a good deal or that I'd been cheated.
He said we needed to learn the measures used here.
I nodded.
I separated the coin from the grain.
Thomas found a dry place for the container.
That night, we prepared some of the barley; the rest was stored.
Before cooking, I marked on the splinter how much we had, using the volume inside our own container as a reference.
It was an imperfect measure, but I could compare it later.
Only then did I look for the System.
Two hundred and twenty-five point zero eight gold.
One hundred and thirty wood.
The same numbers.
I placed the copper coin beside the splinter.
It had bought grain while those numbers remained unchanged.
The Lumber Mill, on the other hand, existed because of gold I couldn't hand to Alda.
I needed to take care of both things.
I wrote a separate line for the coin.
I did not add it to the System's gold.
Thomas sat on the other side of the table.
—Ben asked if we can look at a door another day.
I raised my head.
—You agreed?
—I agreed to look at it.
I smiled.
On the splinter, I crossed out the chest job and left room for the door.
Then I wrote Ben's name, so I wouldn't confuse the person who had asked with the person who already owed us something.
The coin remained on the table between us until we finished eating.
Before going to sleep, I put it in a corner of the empty container we used for small things and placed the splinter beside it.
For the first time, there was a payment we didn't need to consume that night.