“I’ll go talk to Haven and tell them what’s happened and what we’ve decided,” Stev said. “They’ll argue with me, I expect, but they’re there and I’m here, and we’ve all already decided to go through with this, right?”

Abi and Jicks both nodded, but Abi could only think of what her father and mother would . . .

. . . or maybe not. She was older than Perry had been when he got caught up in a dangerous situation. She wasn’t alone—she was with a very experienced Herald, and an equally experienced fighter, and as much of a mercenary as Jicks was, Abi also had seen plenty of evidence that she was just as honorable. So . . . they’d worry, but they wouldn’t immediately demand that she come home.

“You can go home too, you know,” Jicks said suddenly, looking at Abi. “I could bring one of the boys. You know how to drive and you’re good with the hinnies. You’re awfully young to go diving into danger like this.”

For a moment, she was tempted. If she went home now, she’d be back in time for most of the bridge building. But after a moment of thought, she shook her head. They not only needed people to take out the Karsites, they needed someone to repair damage and Valdemar’s reputation with it. “How old were you when you first signed up with a Company?” she countered.

Jicks grinned. “Fifteen. Point taken. And it seems you know what you’re getting into. I sure as hell had no idea when I first signed on.”

“I’ll vouch for that,” said Stev.

“All right then, you go commune with your horse. I’ll dig the boys out of the pub and tell them what’s going on. In the morning we tackle the Masters.”

“No, after they pour the footings,” Abi corrected. “And then only if it goes well. Otherwise I am afraid we’ll have a Master-Vance-shaped tempest on our hands.”

•   •   •

The mixing of the cement went well, with all four of the Masters examining the cement critically at every stage to see if it differed in any obvious ways from cement they’d poured in the past. The pouring went well. The form filled up nicely, the cement began to firm up almost as soon as it was poured, and by lunchtime, Master Vance decreed that they could all go to lunch, leaving two of the locals to keep guard over the curing concrete.

“I don’t want to see so much as a bird footprint in my cement,” Master Vance growled before they all paraded back to the Town Hall. “If I do, there will be Consequences.” The two men nodded, and sat down, one at either end of the poured concrete, to keep a careful eye on it while they ate their own lunches.