The Cross-Cut by Courtney Ryley Cooper (ebook reader for surface pro TXT) 📕

As it turned out, Birt was right. The quarry was well west and north of The Stand. This required them to leave the city through the Heights and out on the western road until they’d passed the city walls, then turn north to cross the river. The road followed a ridge of high ground in an easterly direction for over a mile before it turned south. By the time the quarry was in sight, the sun was getting low on the western horizon. Birt pointed out a large cliff face beyond a few rolling hills, “That’s the quarry.” Everyone squinted to try and see details. Balat commented, “I can’t see any scaffolding…?” Birt chuckled, “We’re still too far away to see it.” Balat sucked in a breath as Birt added, “Yes. The quarry’s that big. We still have at least a mile to go.” Cooper grumbled, “We should’ve either walked faster, or left earlier.” They increased their pace and crossed the next low hills in silence.

As they neared close enough to finally see the scaffolding, Cooper led them westward, off the road. They settled into the tall grasses and studied the quarry from a distance. The slaves on the scaffolding still looked small, in the distance, but what was apparent was that they weren’t chained together. Several of them, those that were highest on the scaffolding, were being directed to climb down. Scanning the perimeter of the quarry, there were a few stationary guards in small groups of three or four, armed with swords and crossbows. Each station had a hitching post with saddled horses tied to them by their reins.

Continued observation revealed a few guards tucked into gaps in the rock, above the scaffolding. They hadn’t been visible until one of them shifted to relieve a cramped leg. This led to a hushed discussion among the young Guild members, and a further study of the rock face to discover more of them. There appeared to be six guards positioned in such a way. Further examination revealed they also were armed with crossbows.

As the sun dropped further toward the horizon, and the shadows lengthened, the workers were directed down from the scaffolding. The guards that were concealed in the cliff face followed them down. Observing details from this distance was impossible, but they were close enough to realize that each slave had a metal shackle bolted around one of their ankles. Once everyone was down on the ground, most of the guards spread out while a few sorted the slaves into groups of a half dozen or so and threaded chains through their shackles, binding them together loosely. Cooper and the rest of them were silent as each strained their vision in an attempt to recognize any of the prisoners. Balat spoke, “Isn’t that one of the ladies from the dining hall? In the second group from the left? She just got chained.” Everyone leaned forward slightly, but only Birt spoke, “Too far away to tell. She might be. Any of our people have likely been here for five or six months. Hard to tell what that would do to a person’s appearance.” The slaves were then led to a stockade. They shuffled with a practiced synchronicity; like some perverse parade of despair. Their choreographed steps were only interrupted by the occasional shove from one of the guards, intended to hurry them along or perhaps simply to satisfy some urge. The actual effect of this was to delay them, since it interrupted the entire chain as they struggled to re-establish the rhythm. Cooper muttered under his breath, “I hate bullies.” Loryn was close enough to hear and reached to give his shoulder a squeeze. The stockade twelve to fifteen feet in height made of thick poles sunk upright into the ground, so closely that there were only small gaps between them. A few guards led the groups inside. As the chained prisoners were led into the stockade, the guards along the perimeter of the quarry untied their horses and led them to the stable. They spent several minutes unsaddling and tending to the horses. It was only a few minutes more when three men with a small cart and two wheelbarrows approached the stockade and went inside it. From this distance and in the fading light it was difficult to see, but a large kettle was visible inside the cart. Spen muttered, “Feeding time.” Almost thirty minutes later, the three men and the guards emerged from the stockade. The gate was closed and secured with a chain and padlock. Daylight had almost completely faded and all eyes scanned their surroundings and watched the guards’ movements. Only those sitting right next to Cooper heard him whisper, “I wonder if they have blankets?”

Birt asked, “Where do you want each of us to go, to observe?” Cooper replied wryly, “You failed to mention that the quarry was almost the size of the whole Lakeside District.” He looked around in the fading light, scanning the quarry, “I don’t want to spread us out that far. And not even sure I want to move much closer; at least not until we know how far they push patrols out. If they even patrol at all…” Cooper seemed to get his answer as most of the guards went to the guard house, leaving four to gather around the cooking fire and add wood to it. Three others came out of the stable, leading horses along the road that led back to town. They didn’t go far. Less than two hundred meters outside the quarry grounds they stopped, hobbled their horses, and built a fire of their own. Rukle had been kneeling so he could see over the tall grass. He leaned back and sighed, “That’s a lot of guards. I counted close to thirty. There might be even more that we didn’t see…”

Loryn leaned in, “What was that about blankets? Worried whether they’re staying warm?” Cooper