Page 37 of The Mountain King
Grabbing one of the brawling men by the neck, Amnan lifted and threw him backwards into a cluster of clucking onlookers—who should have been working. The human he’d pulled the now-dazed man from staggered to his feet, swiping at the blood streaming down his nose.
“What’s the problem here?” Amnan growled. “You have quotas to meet.”
“Get out of my way,” another man snapped and Amnan turned to see a thick-chested man shove his way through the crowd. “Your Lordness. I’m the supervisor on duty—Booker’s the name. Gaston’s got some folks he’s touring around the mine.”
Didnohuman know the proper forms of address? Kailigh butchered it each time it came out of her mouth—though he’d begun to suspect that was on purpose. “I didn’t authorize any tours.”
The supervisor shrugged. “That so? Seems like we should have a talk then.”
“You should keep your mouth shut,” a bystander yelled.
The man whirled around, his face hard. “Who shouted? You want to come meet me face to face?” Scanning the crowd, he scowled. “Who was it?”
Amnan touched Booker’s shoulder. “Is there trouble here I need to be aware of?”
Booker shrugged again. “Let’s talk while we find Gaston.” He raised his voice. “And the rest of you—day break is OVER!”
Amnan waited until the men dispersed. “What is day break?”
“Something new,” Booker replied. “Come on, let’s get you a hardhat—unless you don’t need one being—” the man wiggled his fingers ”—you know.”
Amnan stared. “A dragon? Our heads, while harder than most, still are vulnerable in human form to things like cave ins.”
“Might not want to bandy that info around too loud.”
Booker led him to a shed, unlocked it, and rifled through the content to withdraw a hat. Amnan took it with a grimace—it didn’t smell healthy—and put it on. “Day break?”
“Morale booster,” Booker said as they walked towards the mine entrance. “Give the boys a bit of sunlight during their shift, helps with production. Used to do lunch right there in the shafts, but they were getting antsy.”
“Seems like there’s a lot of this antsy going around.”
Booker jerked a shoulder. They entered the mine, a world of flickering gas lamps and the clang of metal against stone. Primitive. But effective.
And the stench… Amnan hated the mines.
“Someone’s been stirring the workers up. Talking a lot about how profits should be shared, and maybe if we had new ownership… I know it’s bullshit. Exchanging one master for another never did anything but disrupt the process.”
“Hmm. If there are complaints, why aren’t they presented to my father?”
Booker stopped. “Gaston said he did.”
“Gaston is a liar. He presented profit and loss projections.”
“Yeah. I kinda figured that after the faire. A Lord doesn’t throw that kind of shindig if he’s a skinflint—or invite the men he’s screwing to wander around his home at will. So.”
So, indeed.
* * *
Maddugh foundher wandering the grounds a little before noon. She’d glimpsed the kitchen gardens from her room the other day and had meant to take a closer look, but the rosebushes on the way there had distracted her.
“Kailigh?”
She glanced at him and rose from her couch, wiping hands on her thighs. She’d indulged her vanity and chosen to don a dark green skirt with a matching short-waisted jacket. Tiny black buttons and embroidery on the cuffs accentuated the design, and the cut and stitching allowed her to forgo a corset. She’d started to draw on dark denim pants, but had changed her mind at the last second. Denim was for working days—not for a picnic with a Lord.
Maddugh watched her curiously. “You enjoy gardening?”
“I enjoy eating.” Her lips curved. “But yes, I grow flowers for pleasure as well. Though the roses make an elixir we’ve sold in the past.”
