Maia VI: New Lights, New Ideas
I took all of two steps from Symon's cabin before my attention was diverted. A constellation swept over me and I caught myself a cluster of lights.
It was a series of additions to my odd pocket reality accessible by key or portal. More natural lighting, enough clean water to supply Tokyo and the requisite taps, an incredible recycling device and fabrication unit that can break down anything into elements and reconstitute them into preprogrammed patterns, and a massive automated aeroponics bay that'd provide the ideal environment for anything growing within.
When I came to, I was leaning against the wall of Symon's hut. What had I been thinking a moment before? I thought I'd wished for something, and all of this was something, alright. Were the lights responding to me, or was this just a coincidence? Maybe my desires had influenced my catching limb to seek out an appropriate series of lights from the passing constellation. It was something I'd have to keep an eye on. Maybe I'd be able to gain some measure of control over the thing in my head.
I jogged over to the hall and the portal set in the outer wall. The white room on the other side had changed, and the crates were gone. Sigrid and Teagj must have moved them. The small chamber was lit much more naturally with ambient sunlight indistinguishable from that which shone outside and two doors had appeared on the far wall. The leftmost of the pair looked to be a set of plain double doors stretching from floor to ceiling and made of the same odd material as the walls, and both sides bore a little handle to pull them open. The other door was similar, though it was one wide piece rather than two.
Checking the door on the left, I saw a cavernous and well-lit space filled with racks upon racks of aeroponics on the other side. Stepping through, I found a series of small wooden bins along the closest wall next to me, as well as a small slot at chest height on the wall. Moving closer, I lifted the lid of the nearest bin and saw the interior was neatly organized with small wood-walled chambers. Packets of seeds were stacked high in each, and each cell was labeled neatly with the names of species. They seemed to be sorted by the type of plant that would grow. This bin appeared to be for primary agricultural products, fruits, vegetables, tubers, and the like; the sheer variety stunned me. I hadn't realized there were so many cultivars of mustard! I checked the next bin, finding spices, teas, and a myriad of miscellaneous edibles. The next held plants that had medicinal uses and those that could be refined to extract useful chemicals. The last bin held a huge assortment of seeds of trees, fruit-bearing and otherwise.
Without my Woodworking light, I wouldn't have any idea of what I was looking at. As it was, I was incredibly pleased by the discovery. Some of these plants would grow quickly, especially as this chamber provided the ideal conditions for each. There was a small placard above the slot, portraying the deposition of seed packets into the slot directly leading to new growth within one of the many growing pots. I stared at it for a moment, then began tossing packets into the slot. Presumably, the bay would handle the planting and care from there. I emptied half the cells of each bin, eager to get everything going as soon as possible. The bay had a companion light that had supplied the seeds in the first place, and there was only enough to populate half the bay. Even then, given the size of this place and its automated nature, I could expect it to produce a lot of food with only a quarter of the space utilized.
What an incredible boon this was! I wasn't sure how many people this facility could feed, but I knew the number was much, much higher than the twenty who lived here. If nothing else, I was sure they'd appreciate having more variety.
Satisfied, I left the bay and checked the other door. It was heavier to open, and the chamber on the other side was only a little larger than the primary room, though it was taller. One wall was laden with machinery and a series of hatches, and a small terminal stood on a podium in the center of the room. Colored pipes ran around the other walls, snaking up over and around the door. This must be the recycling plant and fabricator, I reckoned. Moving over to the terminal, I studied it for a moment.
The podium stood about chest height to me and the terminal atop it was a dark screen a few of my hand-spans wide and several more tall. Dimly, I could make out a blurry reflection, but it wasn't enough to view my features. I ran my fingers around the beveled edges of the screen, finding nothing that could be construed as a button.
I tapped the face of the terminal with my fingertip and the screen came alive in an instant. The interface was easy to read, with white text over slate gray panels. I poked through the menus, finding an empty database of stored designs, some sort of computer-aided design program, and readouts of empty storage sections. Curious, I poked at those, finding them to be labeled by element and sub-categorized by isotope and ion. There were other storage chambers for isolated elementary particles as well.
I found the manual a few moments later and I wasted no time in reading it. I felt a deep need to understand how this device functioned.
The recycler could handle any waste produced from within this space, rendering it down to base elements that were stored somewhere within. The fabricator could then take those elements and form new objects, though elemental transmutation was beyond it. It could, however, alter elements into their isotopes and form ions, and there was an option to break down atomic nuclei for the neutrons and electrons necessary for the process. Why it couldn't build elements wholesale, I didn't understand, and the manual didn't say. It couldn't produce anything now, as there were no stored patterns or materials available, but I could add them by manually recycling objects. It would then destructively analyze the object and store the pattern for future reconstruction, producing identical copies of the original.
This would be very useful. I had the feeling that electronics or alloys more advanced than steel would be impossible to come by in this world and this machine offered an incredible shortcut for manufacturing; at least, once I could produce samples myself and feed them into the machine. The way that it could break down anything into component atoms, and those atoms further into elementary particles was the linchpin of its operation.
I spent a few moments considering how to feed this machine. Soils were primarily composed of oxygen and silicon as well as a variety of trace elements. Wood contains plenty of carbon, and as rare as worked metals were among these folks, any iron, copper, or bronze tools that were volunteered could be broken down and reproduced whenever needed.
Withdrawing the flake of iridescent obsidian from my pocket, I thought it might be useful for a test run. I moved over to the hatches on the wall, opening one and placing the obsidian inside the deep chamber before moving back to the terminal. I ordered it to begin breaking the stone down, only for the device to beep as an error popped up.
"What does 'unknown energy signature' mean?" I asked aloud, reading the error. Dismissing it, I flipped back to the manual, found the error code, and was more confused.
"Objects and materials emitting, containing, or otherwise interacting with unknown energies cannot be reconstructed wholly," I read aloud in confusion. "But, it's just obsidian?"
I could ignore the error and proceed, but the manual warned that any reconstructions of the stored pattern would not retain the original object's properties. Shaking my head, I retrieved the arrowhead, unwilling to potentially destroy something that merited further study. I slipped it back into my pocket, disappointed. I'll find something else to test the system with at some point; it wasn't a pressing matter.
I was more concerned with what I might need to do to prove myself worthy to teach. I ruminated on that for a few minutes, tapping my toes against the floor. For some reason, I had two abilities revolving around leadership, and an entire cluster of lights based on the concept of constructing a self-sufficient civilization from an already-existing tech base. Though I lacked that base, I had a sturdy foundation to improve the lives of the people living here. Surely, there was something I could do for them.
There were only twenty people, and all that seemed overkill for such a small group. Still, there was a whole array of tools at my disposal. That was a start.
I frowned at my thoughts. Was I seriously considering trying to become some sort of leader? What had happened to just teaching them what I knew? The idea had some uncomfortable connotations.
Here I was, the presumed scion of a wealthy family with the privileges that accompanied it, thinking of pursuing power over people who'd welcomed me after less than a day. Without these supernatural abilities, I was wholly unqualified. Hell, I probably would have frozen to death before even waking up. With them, I could do a lot. The real question was, what right did I have to do that? I had the means and capability, but was that enough to justify this course of action?
My ethics were pushing me towards it. The foundation of my morality, now that I was looking, was to maximize the well-being of people, and given the capabilities I have now, I should at least consider the idea if it meant they'd allow me to teach them. I didn't like it, but doing nothing might be worse than doing something.
Examining my rationale, I found that part of my hang-up was that I was worried that if I merely took a supporting role to another leader without the abilities I had, things would go horrifically wrong. Taegj, especially, seemed the type to use what I could provide to bolster his position and power. I wouldn't allow myself to be used like that.
If I went through with this, I'd need more than twenty people. What I needed to do now was learn more about these people, how they worked as a society, and what the dominant memes of their culture were. I'd be able to reconsider the prospect of trying to position myself as a leader with all the context and could tailor my goals towards what they needed, then.
In the meantime, though, I could afford to spend a little time making Symon a little more comfortable. Herrick had given me some of the tools the previous evening, claiming they were better used in my hands. It was nice of him, and I certainly appreciated it. Metal tools seemed almost vanishingly rare here, what with almost everything being wood and bone with the rare copper and rarer iron and steel.
Walking back out to the village, I made my way back to the partially disassembled hut. If we weren't leaving, I should probably put it back together, though it would be faster just to knock it down and build something new. The sleds had been moved off to the side, and one was missing. I didn't think anything of it as I started pulling logs down to shape. I sat on one, the gifted tools laid out on their hide wrapping near my feet and thought of what to start with.
It wasn't difficult to come up with something; I'd made a promise, and I intended to keep it.
Symon's new crutch was the first thing I built, carving out a long, straight section of cured pine from a log. Without access to glues or good means of binding pieces together, I was limited to what I could shape from the wood. Still, Woodworking made it simple to assemble in my mind and gave me all the requisite steps to take.
By the time I'd finished, I'd built a practical semi-hollowed crutch perfectly sized for Symon, the upper portion an inverted hollow triangle with a smooth curve at the top that ought to fit comfortably under his arm. I'd put more work into the decoration adorning it, taking inspiration from my sword's painted scabbard and carving the semblance of a long branch adorned with cherry blossoms along the length. At the conjoining of shaft and triangle, I worked in an extra symbol: two small wings on either side of a slender tapering tower, something that made me think of reaching to the stars. It felt right to include a maker's mark on this piece of art.
I supposed this was becoming a theme of mine. I found myself more inspired by natural imagery than anything else, possibly influenced by Woodworking itself. I also thought cherry blossoms were pretty, and I'd been seeing them often enough that they were on my mind. Turning the crutch over in the sunlight and running my fingers across the smooth wood, I felt a little pride in myself. I was sure he wasn't expecting something this nice and I thought it might be a nice surprise.
A constellation passed, and I snagged a small light. It was a pretty great one, incredibly enhancing my ability to work with anything that qualifies as a natural material. Stone, wood, sand, and even animal products, I was able to work it all with great ease. It wasn't magical, but it seemed near enough, especially with the oddity that was some sort of reinforcement effect applied to such creations. A wall made of sand would become as hard as granite, and a wooden blade could hold an edge as well as steel.
It was beyond anything I'd expected from these lights so far. I could make wooden tools and weapons that worked as well as good steel, holding an edge and inheriting the resilience of whatever alloy I mentally chose, defaulting to mild steel when I didn't specify. With Woodworking, my options had just massively increased. Even better, there was another reduction in crafting time included when working with the allowed materials, halved once more.
I cackled, excited at all the possibilities now offered to me. At the very least, I could ensure that everyone had all the tools they needed. Combined with food from aeroponics, decent tools that would all be of masterwork quality and compared favorably to forged steels, and larger and sturdier shelters built of reinforced materials, I could bring about a massive increase in the quality of life around here.
Symon's new crutch was still in my hands as I returned to myself. The pride I'd felt a moment before evaporated as I realized I'd have to rebuild it from scratch to take these new light-granted enhancements into account. Sighing, I turned my face up to the sky and let the early afternoon sun warm my skin for a moment, then got back to work.
The second iteration was visually similar to the first, nearly identical, even. It was lighter, as I was able to sacrifice more of the structure while retaining the strength to support Symon as he walked, but still hefty enough that he could use it to bludgeon someone if he needed to.
Leaving the scrap wood on the ground, I rolled up the tools and made my way back to Symon's hut. Knocking on the door provoked no answer, so I pushed it open, finding the interior empty. He must be doing something else, I figured. I set the new crutch down on his bed, figuring he'd find it later.
I took the sitting logs with me as I returned to my worksite, carrying one under each arm. Rendering them down into sturdy high-quality stools took but a short while. I kept to my artistic theme, little flowering vines winding up around the four legs and the rim of the seat. I dropped those off at his cabin as well.
The pile of scraps grew further as I made a few test knives. The first was short with a thin blade as long as my thumb. I found that putting an edge on them was easier than I'd expected as I followed my mental checklist. I rammed it into the log I was sitting on, surprised at how easily the blade penetrated the wood. I pulled on the hilt as hard as I could, kicked it, and even swung the first iteration of the crutch at it. The blade stubbornly refused to snap. I reckoned that was a sign of success.
The second knife was longer, the blade as long as my hand. I repeated the tests and was happy to see that the larger variant held up just as well. The third had a blade that was twice as long again, and it too held up under the destructive testing. I made another, meant as a final product for my use, with a blade a hand long and a rounded wooden sheath for it to fit within. Untying my belt, I pulled it through the small loop of wood on one side of the sheath, setting it just behind my scabbarded sword.
What else should I make? There were ash trees in the forest that would be better for tools than pine, and according to a hypothetical design, the wood would be cured as I worked it.
"Ho, builder!" Herrick called to me as he rounded the rapidly shrinking hut.
"Herrick." I nodded to him, waving him over, "It's just Maia. How's the day treating you?"
He stepped closer, thumbs tucked behind his belt and peering at my projects. He knelt nearby, poking at the hilt of the first knife.
"Well enough! What's all of this, Maia?"
"Trying to figure some stuff out. Say, would you know anyone who had hide or sinew I could trade for?"
Herrick nodded, "Last I heard, Wyck has some of both. Want me to ask 'im for you?"
Shaking my head, I grinned at him. "No, thank you. I'd rather make something to trade myself, you know?"
He nodded with a look of understanding.
"Wyck used to have a set of pipes he played. Not sure what happened to them, but I know he's been after another for a while now."
I cocked my head at him, "Pipes? Like the instrument?" I mimed holding a set up to my lips.
"Aye, exactly that." He settled back on his haunches, "You need any help with anything?"
Stopping myself from shaking my head, I considered the offer. "I'm probably going to find something to eat soon. Would you be willing to get me something?"
Herrick considered for a moment, "Hm, I think I might." He stood and walked back towards the village around the partially disassembled hut.
While he was gone, I formulated a design for a set of simple pipes and got back to work. It was more of a pan flute if I was being honest with myself. I wanted those hides and sinews badly; I could put them in the recycler and have an effectively endless supply. Thinking of that, the same could be said for the myriad woods available to me out in the forest. Most had useful properties that could be enhanced for various purposes, and others had some medicinal uses, like the balsam fir and northern white cedar. I'd be able to make mattresses from the boughs of the balsam fir, though I hoped those wouldn't end up being hard as steel. I might even be able to make paper from birchbark and quaking aspen, as it would pulp well.
Before I could start work on the pipes, I had to make a few other tools meant for fine work, such as hollowing out the pipes properly. Still, by the time Herrick returned carrying a bowl of something steaming, I'd finished the pipes. They were made all of one piece, and I'd worked the exterior to appear like several pipes bound together by vines. I had no idea how to play them, but I trusted in my lights that they'd work.
"Here," Herrick came over and offered me the bowl. It was some kind of stew with rough slices of wild tubers and strips of meat, leftovers from the previous evening. He peered at the set of pipes in my hand, "Ah, you've already made them?"
Nodding, I took the bowl from him. "Thank you, Herrick. Here, do you think these would work?" I offered the instrument to him in return and sipped at the broth. It was thin and had a savory flavor, and the warmth pooled in my belly nicely.
He took it, looking it over. "Seems good. I like the little vines you put on here. Ah, what's this?" He pointed at my maker's mark.
"Something to show I was the one who made it. I don't think anyone else would be able to work the feathers that fine," I said with pride.
Squinting, Herrick peered at the symbol, then nodded. "Aye, I've never seen the like of it before." His eyes flicked up to me, "Does it mean anything? These look like your wings."
I shrugged as I chewed some of the meat. Swallowing it, I said, "Not to my knowledge. It just felt appropriate." Leaning back, I looked up and reached a hand out to the sky, fingers spread as though I could grasp it, "The tower is a promise, I think. One day, we'll have the means to reach the void above and travel between the stars. I want to bring that day about."
Herrick grunted beside me. "Huh. Sounds like it means something to you."
Turning my head, I saw he was tracing the tiny symbol with a fingertip. I couldn't help but smile at his thoughtful expression.
"Mind trying to play a tune? I have no idea how myself."
He nodded, lifting the instrument to his lips. He blew through each pipe, producing a descending tone that sounded right. He lowered them, grinning back to me.
"Wyck's gonna love this," he told me.
"Good! That's what I wanted," I replied, feeling a bit accomplished. Wolfing down the rest of the stew, I gave him his bowl back and took the pipes back. "Thanks again, Herrick. I'm going to try making a trade. Say, which one is Wyck?"
"He's the tallest man around, you can't miss him." Herrick gestured with his free hand, holding it over his head. "Dark hair, brown eyes, and he's got a real wiry beard."
Nodding to him, I stood. "I'll be back in a few. You don't have to wait up for me."
"Aye, builder. Do as you will." He stood as well, grinning cheekily at me before heading towards the river.
I ran into someone as I turned about the diminishing hut. "Sorry!" I apologized reflexively, taking a step back to see it was Sigrid.
She chuckled, amber eyes alight with amusement.
"No harm done," she said as she patted herself down. "Why the rush?"
"I'm looking for Wyck. I have something I'd like to trade for some hides and some sinew."
She nodded, pointing behind her at a man sitting with his back to us on one of the logs around the village's central fire. He looked to be focused on something he held. "That's him, there."
"Thanks, Sigrid," I told her, patting her on the arm as I passed. I heard her chuckle again behind me.
Approaching the man, I saw he was working on a small piece of wood with a small iron knife. He seemed utterly focused on his whittling.
"Wyck?" I asked, and he turned to look at me. He was just as Herrick had described, black hair, brown eyes, and a curly beard that grew halfway down to his shoulders.
"Yea, whatd'ya need, stranger?" He sounded welcoming enough, meeting my eyes.
Coming closer, I showed him the pan flute, "Herrick mentioned you'd had something like this once. I wanted to trade it for some hides and sinew if that's alright."
His eyebrows lifted in surprise and he took the instrument, turning it over in his hands.
"Where'd you get this? Never seen the like of it before." Before I could answer, he lifted it to his lips and easily played a quick tune, then lowered it and grinned a toothy smile at me.
"I made it a few minutes ago," I replied honestly.
He stood, sheathing the knife and putting his half-formed whittling in a belt pouch.
"Come with me, then. This's well worth a few hides," he gestured with the pipes.
"And sinew?" I prompted, causing him to chuckle.
"And sinew," Wyck granted readily.
He led me into the hall proper. It felt more open than the size of it would suggest, a long firepit surrounded by stones running down the center of it. Dozens of pelts had been laid out on the ground, and a few people I didn't know lounged around the fire, chatting to each other. They quieted as we entered, shooting me quizzical looks before returning to their conversation. In the far corner, I saw the crates I'd given over had been stacked up on each other, the barrel of salt next to them.
Wyck moved over to one side, where several baskets woven from twigs of elm sat against the stacked logs of the wall. He gestured for me to follow, then drew a bundle of hide from one of the baskets. Handing it over to me, he poked around another basket, withdrawing a small stick wrapped with sinew.
"Here," he said as he handed it to me. "Anything else?"
Shaking my head, I hefted what he'd given me. "This is everything I needed. Thanks much, Wyck."
Gesturing with the pipes, he shook his head, "No, thank you. You don't know what this means to me. You need any help around here, let me know."
"I'll do that," I said with a smile.
He clapped me on the shoulder as he passed, leaving the hall. The others paused their conversation, then started up again with far more energy behind it.
Waving at them, I followed Wyck out, then turned and strode through my portal. Thankfully, the recycler readily accepted these materials, storing them as patterns. While the originals were destroyed, the fabricator had no issues reproducing them, and I fed them back in for the moment. Before I went any further, I wanted to ask around for what folks needed or wanted. As helpful as sleds and tools might be, it would just be a wasted effort if nobody wanted to use them.
I headed out of the pocket reality, spying a coppery gleam a little distance beyond the closer huts. Nodding to myself, I figured Ygdis might be a good person to start with. Striding down the short path, I found her just outside the door to Grenwin's hut, sitting on the missing sled and carving at a small piece of wood with a thumb-length copper blade. She looked up as I approached, a conflicted expression on her face. It was as though she wasn't sure whether to be glad to see me or not.
"Hey," I greeted, "You alright with answering a few questions?"
A flash of what may have been fear crossed her face and she put down the small carving knife. She met my eyes warily, lips pressed to a thin line.
Part of me couldn't get over how interesting her deep blue eyes were. Her irises could have been cut from sapphires, and I almost wondered if they'd feel like stone if I tapped one with a finger. Recognizing the strange thought, I let it pass by without taking action. They were quite pretty, though.
"Yea? What?" She replied in a guarded tone.
I crouched nearby. "I'd like to stay here for now, and I'd like to help out around here. Is there anything you can think of that would make your life easier?"
Her eyes widened in surprise, "Oh, ah… Things that would make my life easier?" Scratching her head, she turned to peer off into the forest for a moment before looking back at me.
"Can you do anything about the cold?"
Tilting my head at her, I considered what I might be able to do to mitigate the temperature. It might be nice out today, but it was still below freezing, and I had an inkling that this was about as good as it got up here.
"If I built a building, I'd be able to make it keep the heat well. I suppose that if someone taught me how to make these clothes of ours, they'd end up being a little warmer too. Ah, I could make fire-starting tools, too."
"Really? You're a strange woods witch." She winced and her shoulders tensed, fingers clenched around her carving, "'m sorry, didn't mean any offense."
"Woods witch? I think Symon mentioned one who'd tended to him. Brisha, I think he said her name was." I cocked my head, "I'm not offended. Why would I be? What's a woods witch, anyway?"
Studying my eyes, she relaxed her shoulders and gestured vaguely. "You know, healers and prophecy tellers. Sometimes, they even make things happen. You made that magic hall appear but I've never heard of any that, ah, makes things. They make soaps and potions, you know, not buildings or clothes or sleds," She tapped the sled for emphasis, "I only know a few people who have things like these. They all live close to the Wall."
I found myself humming as I thought about what that meant. Woods witches made soaps and potions, eh? I supposed that fit with the little I knew of Brisha; they must serve something of a healer's role.
"I'm afraid I'm not one of these woods witches. This is only my second day here in the lands beyond the wall."
She blinked, leaning closer to object, "But, we're leagues from everywhere! How can that be?"
Laughter burst from me. Something about her expression and the way she said that tickled me something fierce.
"I don't know." I said with as much honesty as I could project, "And you know, I don't think it matters much where I come from. I'm here now and here's where I want to stay for the moment."
Frowning, she considered that, nodding after a moment. "Never mind, then. Can you help us defend from the Crows?"
"The crows?"
"No, the Crows. The Night's Watch. Buggers down on the wall what sometimes come out here to kill us free folk off."
"I… Suppose?" She was asking for help with defense, not assault. My left hand drifted to my sword's hilt of its own accord, the warmth suffusing my palm and fingers. Could I fight if they needed me to? I found myself unsure, and that was far from the absolute denial I thought I ought to have felt.
"Aren't most of those lot in the Watch against their will?"
She snorted, shaking her head and looking at me like I was an idiot.
"You think that matters when they come out to kill us for sport? They have warm armor, plenty of food, and steel. Us? We're desperate. Just barely scraping by every day. You know what happens when the Crows come across a village?"
I shook my head, "Please, tell me."
"They slaughter everyone older than their name-day and take the boy babes for themselves." She spat on the ground, "Fuck the Crows."
The sheer hatred in her voice gave me pause. If what she was saying was as true as she looked to feel, the Watch would be far more of a problem for us than the Citadel could ever be. Still, there was an inconsistency here, and I poked at it.
"What about Symon?"
Ygdis shrugged, "He's not a Crow anymore. 'sides, he can't fight worth shit. He was one of those what got sick of it and made it out alive. Now he heals us when we get sick or hurt. He's different."
She wasn't wrong, Symon did strike me as more of a thinker than a fighter. Even with what he'd told me, that he'd had a bad run-in with other wildlings, I couldn't imagine him trying to draw steel and fight back.
"I'm sorry. What would you need to defend from the Watch?"
Waving around the village, "I've been to a few villages with a wall, and if we had one of those it'd be easier to keep ourselves safe. Do you know how to make weapons? We could use those. Armor too, fancy mail like the kneelers?"
I hummed, considering the requests. "Could do with a wall, but I'd need a lot of help to get it done and there's only twenty people here. Weapons and armor aren't impossible, but they'll be odd." I unsheathed my wooden knife, offering it to her handle first.
She took it, turning it over in the sunlight and examining it with visible curiosity. After a moment, she chuckled as though at a joke, meeting my eyes again.
"It's wood? Wood's shit for knives. Everyone knows that."
"When I make things, I can make them better, and that knife is as good as the finest steel. Go on, give it a try."
Chuckling with disbelief, she shook her head at me.
"That's a fine jape. A wooden knife!" She examined the edge, raising her carving and easily cutting a few slices off of it. Her eyebrows rose in surprise she then stabbed it into the sled. Light-reinforced pine met mundane pine and slid right through. It hardly seemed to have met any resistance, it cut so easily.
She stared at the knife, shocked. Then, she whistled appreciatively. "Fuck me, you weren't lying." Pulling it free, she examined the edge again, lips parted in awe. "Can I have this?"
"Sure." I could make another easily enough, after all. Trading this one away was worth the goodwill. Untying my belt, I pulled the sheath off and offered it to her.
Taking it from me, she sheathed the knife and set it down next to her.
"If you can make arrows like this, that would be just what we need. More blades, too. Oh, and more of these!" She tapped the sled, "But smaller, so only one of us needs to pull it when we go hunting."
That seemed reasonable enough.
"Arrows, more blades, more sleds. I can do that, yeah. What about bows or spears?"
"They'd be better, too?"
I nodded and she reached over to take my shoulder, leaning close.
"If you aren't a woods witch, what do you want me to call you?" She seemed much more comfortable after a bit of conversation. "You know, if you wanted that sort of thing. Some people get real buggered about that, like Taegj."
I offered her a shrug and a small smile. I didn't need any titles, nor did I want any. I certainly wasn't going to spread around Symon's supposition of purported Ladyhood.
"Call me Maia, please. That's my name. I don't want a fancy title like woods witch or anything else. I'd ask Herrick to stop calling me builder, but I don't think he will, honestly."
She nodded seriously, then her expression eased and she chuckled.
"Right. That's fair."
"Well, I'm gonna go ask the others about what they might want. I'll leave you be."
She nodded, picking up her carving and getting back to it, this time with her new knife.
"Hey, Maia?" She asked without looking at me as I began to stand.
Pausing for a moment, I asked, "What is it?"
"Might be nice having you around, is all."
Ah, my treacherous emotions! I stood, turning and wiping away a little moisture from my eyes. What was it with me and craving acceptance? Compared to how she'd seemed when I'd approached, she was downright friendly now. Oddly, I felt a kind of kinship with her, though I wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was something to do with the weight of the past I could see weighing her shoulders down. Whatever she'd been through, it hadn't been pleasant. Whatever I'd gone through hadn't been pleasant, either. Yes, that sounded reasonable.
It was a series of additions to my odd pocket reality accessible by key or portal. More natural lighting, enough clean water to supply Tokyo and the requisite taps, an incredible recycling device and fabrication unit that can break down anything into elements and reconstitute them into preprogrammed patterns, and a massive automated aeroponics bay that'd provide the ideal environment for anything growing within.
When I came to, I was leaning against the wall of Symon's hut. What had I been thinking a moment before? I thought I'd wished for something, and all of this was something, alright. Were the lights responding to me, or was this just a coincidence? Maybe my desires had influenced my catching limb to seek out an appropriate series of lights from the passing constellation. It was something I'd have to keep an eye on. Maybe I'd be able to gain some measure of control over the thing in my head.
I jogged over to the hall and the portal set in the outer wall. The white room on the other side had changed, and the crates were gone. Sigrid and Teagj must have moved them. The small chamber was lit much more naturally with ambient sunlight indistinguishable from that which shone outside and two doors had appeared on the far wall. The leftmost of the pair looked to be a set of plain double doors stretching from floor to ceiling and made of the same odd material as the walls, and both sides bore a little handle to pull them open. The other door was similar, though it was one wide piece rather than two.
Checking the door on the left, I saw a cavernous and well-lit space filled with racks upon racks of aeroponics on the other side. Stepping through, I found a series of small wooden bins along the closest wall next to me, as well as a small slot at chest height on the wall. Moving closer, I lifted the lid of the nearest bin and saw the interior was neatly organized with small wood-walled chambers. Packets of seeds were stacked high in each, and each cell was labeled neatly with the names of species. They seemed to be sorted by the type of plant that would grow. This bin appeared to be for primary agricultural products, fruits, vegetables, tubers, and the like; the sheer variety stunned me. I hadn't realized there were so many cultivars of mustard! I checked the next bin, finding spices, teas, and a myriad of miscellaneous edibles. The next held plants that had medicinal uses and those that could be refined to extract useful chemicals. The last bin held a huge assortment of seeds of trees, fruit-bearing and otherwise.
Without my Woodworking light, I wouldn't have any idea of what I was looking at. As it was, I was incredibly pleased by the discovery. Some of these plants would grow quickly, especially as this chamber provided the ideal conditions for each. There was a small placard above the slot, portraying the deposition of seed packets into the slot directly leading to new growth within one of the many growing pots. I stared at it for a moment, then began tossing packets into the slot. Presumably, the bay would handle the planting and care from there. I emptied half the cells of each bin, eager to get everything going as soon as possible. The bay had a companion light that had supplied the seeds in the first place, and there was only enough to populate half the bay. Even then, given the size of this place and its automated nature, I could expect it to produce a lot of food with only a quarter of the space utilized.
What an incredible boon this was! I wasn't sure how many people this facility could feed, but I knew the number was much, much higher than the twenty who lived here. If nothing else, I was sure they'd appreciate having more variety.
Satisfied, I left the bay and checked the other door. It was heavier to open, and the chamber on the other side was only a little larger than the primary room, though it was taller. One wall was laden with machinery and a series of hatches, and a small terminal stood on a podium in the center of the room. Colored pipes ran around the other walls, snaking up over and around the door. This must be the recycling plant and fabricator, I reckoned. Moving over to the terminal, I studied it for a moment.
The podium stood about chest height to me and the terminal atop it was a dark screen a few of my hand-spans wide and several more tall. Dimly, I could make out a blurry reflection, but it wasn't enough to view my features. I ran my fingers around the beveled edges of the screen, finding nothing that could be construed as a button.
I tapped the face of the terminal with my fingertip and the screen came alive in an instant. The interface was easy to read, with white text over slate gray panels. I poked through the menus, finding an empty database of stored designs, some sort of computer-aided design program, and readouts of empty storage sections. Curious, I poked at those, finding them to be labeled by element and sub-categorized by isotope and ion. There were other storage chambers for isolated elementary particles as well.
I found the manual a few moments later and I wasted no time in reading it. I felt a deep need to understand how this device functioned.
The recycler could handle any waste produced from within this space, rendering it down to base elements that were stored somewhere within. The fabricator could then take those elements and form new objects, though elemental transmutation was beyond it. It could, however, alter elements into their isotopes and form ions, and there was an option to break down atomic nuclei for the neutrons and electrons necessary for the process. Why it couldn't build elements wholesale, I didn't understand, and the manual didn't say. It couldn't produce anything now, as there were no stored patterns or materials available, but I could add them by manually recycling objects. It would then destructively analyze the object and store the pattern for future reconstruction, producing identical copies of the original.
This would be very useful. I had the feeling that electronics or alloys more advanced than steel would be impossible to come by in this world and this machine offered an incredible shortcut for manufacturing; at least, once I could produce samples myself and feed them into the machine. The way that it could break down anything into component atoms, and those atoms further into elementary particles was the linchpin of its operation.
I spent a few moments considering how to feed this machine. Soils were primarily composed of oxygen and silicon as well as a variety of trace elements. Wood contains plenty of carbon, and as rare as worked metals were among these folks, any iron, copper, or bronze tools that were volunteered could be broken down and reproduced whenever needed.
Withdrawing the flake of iridescent obsidian from my pocket, I thought it might be useful for a test run. I moved over to the hatches on the wall, opening one and placing the obsidian inside the deep chamber before moving back to the terminal. I ordered it to begin breaking the stone down, only for the device to beep as an error popped up.
"What does 'unknown energy signature' mean?" I asked aloud, reading the error. Dismissing it, I flipped back to the manual, found the error code, and was more confused.
"Objects and materials emitting, containing, or otherwise interacting with unknown energies cannot be reconstructed wholly," I read aloud in confusion. "But, it's just obsidian?"
I could ignore the error and proceed, but the manual warned that any reconstructions of the stored pattern would not retain the original object's properties. Shaking my head, I retrieved the arrowhead, unwilling to potentially destroy something that merited further study. I slipped it back into my pocket, disappointed. I'll find something else to test the system with at some point; it wasn't a pressing matter.
I was more concerned with what I might need to do to prove myself worthy to teach. I ruminated on that for a few minutes, tapping my toes against the floor. For some reason, I had two abilities revolving around leadership, and an entire cluster of lights based on the concept of constructing a self-sufficient civilization from an already-existing tech base. Though I lacked that base, I had a sturdy foundation to improve the lives of the people living here. Surely, there was something I could do for them.
There were only twenty people, and all that seemed overkill for such a small group. Still, there was a whole array of tools at my disposal. That was a start.
I frowned at my thoughts. Was I seriously considering trying to become some sort of leader? What had happened to just teaching them what I knew? The idea had some uncomfortable connotations.
Here I was, the presumed scion of a wealthy family with the privileges that accompanied it, thinking of pursuing power over people who'd welcomed me after less than a day. Without these supernatural abilities, I was wholly unqualified. Hell, I probably would have frozen to death before even waking up. With them, I could do a lot. The real question was, what right did I have to do that? I had the means and capability, but was that enough to justify this course of action?
My ethics were pushing me towards it. The foundation of my morality, now that I was looking, was to maximize the well-being of people, and given the capabilities I have now, I should at least consider the idea if it meant they'd allow me to teach them. I didn't like it, but doing nothing might be worse than doing something.
Examining my rationale, I found that part of my hang-up was that I was worried that if I merely took a supporting role to another leader without the abilities I had, things would go horrifically wrong. Taegj, especially, seemed the type to use what I could provide to bolster his position and power. I wouldn't allow myself to be used like that.
If I went through with this, I'd need more than twenty people. What I needed to do now was learn more about these people, how they worked as a society, and what the dominant memes of their culture were. I'd be able to reconsider the prospect of trying to position myself as a leader with all the context and could tailor my goals towards what they needed, then.
In the meantime, though, I could afford to spend a little time making Symon a little more comfortable. Herrick had given me some of the tools the previous evening, claiming they were better used in my hands. It was nice of him, and I certainly appreciated it. Metal tools seemed almost vanishingly rare here, what with almost everything being wood and bone with the rare copper and rarer iron and steel.
Walking back out to the village, I made my way back to the partially disassembled hut. If we weren't leaving, I should probably put it back together, though it would be faster just to knock it down and build something new. The sleds had been moved off to the side, and one was missing. I didn't think anything of it as I started pulling logs down to shape. I sat on one, the gifted tools laid out on their hide wrapping near my feet and thought of what to start with.
It wasn't difficult to come up with something; I'd made a promise, and I intended to keep it.
Symon's new crutch was the first thing I built, carving out a long, straight section of cured pine from a log. Without access to glues or good means of binding pieces together, I was limited to what I could shape from the wood. Still, Woodworking made it simple to assemble in my mind and gave me all the requisite steps to take.
By the time I'd finished, I'd built a practical semi-hollowed crutch perfectly sized for Symon, the upper portion an inverted hollow triangle with a smooth curve at the top that ought to fit comfortably under his arm. I'd put more work into the decoration adorning it, taking inspiration from my sword's painted scabbard and carving the semblance of a long branch adorned with cherry blossoms along the length. At the conjoining of shaft and triangle, I worked in an extra symbol: two small wings on either side of a slender tapering tower, something that made me think of reaching to the stars. It felt right to include a maker's mark on this piece of art.
I supposed this was becoming a theme of mine. I found myself more inspired by natural imagery than anything else, possibly influenced by Woodworking itself. I also thought cherry blossoms were pretty, and I'd been seeing them often enough that they were on my mind. Turning the crutch over in the sunlight and running my fingers across the smooth wood, I felt a little pride in myself. I was sure he wasn't expecting something this nice and I thought it might be a nice surprise.
A constellation passed, and I snagged a small light. It was a pretty great one, incredibly enhancing my ability to work with anything that qualifies as a natural material. Stone, wood, sand, and even animal products, I was able to work it all with great ease. It wasn't magical, but it seemed near enough, especially with the oddity that was some sort of reinforcement effect applied to such creations. A wall made of sand would become as hard as granite, and a wooden blade could hold an edge as well as steel.
It was beyond anything I'd expected from these lights so far. I could make wooden tools and weapons that worked as well as good steel, holding an edge and inheriting the resilience of whatever alloy I mentally chose, defaulting to mild steel when I didn't specify. With Woodworking, my options had just massively increased. Even better, there was another reduction in crafting time included when working with the allowed materials, halved once more.
I cackled, excited at all the possibilities now offered to me. At the very least, I could ensure that everyone had all the tools they needed. Combined with food from aeroponics, decent tools that would all be of masterwork quality and compared favorably to forged steels, and larger and sturdier shelters built of reinforced materials, I could bring about a massive increase in the quality of life around here.
Symon's new crutch was still in my hands as I returned to myself. The pride I'd felt a moment before evaporated as I realized I'd have to rebuild it from scratch to take these new light-granted enhancements into account. Sighing, I turned my face up to the sky and let the early afternoon sun warm my skin for a moment, then got back to work.
The second iteration was visually similar to the first, nearly identical, even. It was lighter, as I was able to sacrifice more of the structure while retaining the strength to support Symon as he walked, but still hefty enough that he could use it to bludgeon someone if he needed to.
Leaving the scrap wood on the ground, I rolled up the tools and made my way back to Symon's hut. Knocking on the door provoked no answer, so I pushed it open, finding the interior empty. He must be doing something else, I figured. I set the new crutch down on his bed, figuring he'd find it later.
I took the sitting logs with me as I returned to my worksite, carrying one under each arm. Rendering them down into sturdy high-quality stools took but a short while. I kept to my artistic theme, little flowering vines winding up around the four legs and the rim of the seat. I dropped those off at his cabin as well.
The pile of scraps grew further as I made a few test knives. The first was short with a thin blade as long as my thumb. I found that putting an edge on them was easier than I'd expected as I followed my mental checklist. I rammed it into the log I was sitting on, surprised at how easily the blade penetrated the wood. I pulled on the hilt as hard as I could, kicked it, and even swung the first iteration of the crutch at it. The blade stubbornly refused to snap. I reckoned that was a sign of success.
The second knife was longer, the blade as long as my hand. I repeated the tests and was happy to see that the larger variant held up just as well. The third had a blade that was twice as long again, and it too held up under the destructive testing. I made another, meant as a final product for my use, with a blade a hand long and a rounded wooden sheath for it to fit within. Untying my belt, I pulled it through the small loop of wood on one side of the sheath, setting it just behind my scabbarded sword.
What else should I make? There were ash trees in the forest that would be better for tools than pine, and according to a hypothetical design, the wood would be cured as I worked it.
"Ho, builder!" Herrick called to me as he rounded the rapidly shrinking hut.
"Herrick." I nodded to him, waving him over, "It's just Maia. How's the day treating you?"
He stepped closer, thumbs tucked behind his belt and peering at my projects. He knelt nearby, poking at the hilt of the first knife.
"Well enough! What's all of this, Maia?"
"Trying to figure some stuff out. Say, would you know anyone who had hide or sinew I could trade for?"
Herrick nodded, "Last I heard, Wyck has some of both. Want me to ask 'im for you?"
Shaking my head, I grinned at him. "No, thank you. I'd rather make something to trade myself, you know?"
He nodded with a look of understanding.
"Wyck used to have a set of pipes he played. Not sure what happened to them, but I know he's been after another for a while now."
I cocked my head at him, "Pipes? Like the instrument?" I mimed holding a set up to my lips.
"Aye, exactly that." He settled back on his haunches, "You need any help with anything?"
Stopping myself from shaking my head, I considered the offer. "I'm probably going to find something to eat soon. Would you be willing to get me something?"
Herrick considered for a moment, "Hm, I think I might." He stood and walked back towards the village around the partially disassembled hut.
While he was gone, I formulated a design for a set of simple pipes and got back to work. It was more of a pan flute if I was being honest with myself. I wanted those hides and sinews badly; I could put them in the recycler and have an effectively endless supply. Thinking of that, the same could be said for the myriad woods available to me out in the forest. Most had useful properties that could be enhanced for various purposes, and others had some medicinal uses, like the balsam fir and northern white cedar. I'd be able to make mattresses from the boughs of the balsam fir, though I hoped those wouldn't end up being hard as steel. I might even be able to make paper from birchbark and quaking aspen, as it would pulp well.
Before I could start work on the pipes, I had to make a few other tools meant for fine work, such as hollowing out the pipes properly. Still, by the time Herrick returned carrying a bowl of something steaming, I'd finished the pipes. They were made all of one piece, and I'd worked the exterior to appear like several pipes bound together by vines. I had no idea how to play them, but I trusted in my lights that they'd work.
"Here," Herrick came over and offered me the bowl. It was some kind of stew with rough slices of wild tubers and strips of meat, leftovers from the previous evening. He peered at the set of pipes in my hand, "Ah, you've already made them?"
Nodding, I took the bowl from him. "Thank you, Herrick. Here, do you think these would work?" I offered the instrument to him in return and sipped at the broth. It was thin and had a savory flavor, and the warmth pooled in my belly nicely.
He took it, looking it over. "Seems good. I like the little vines you put on here. Ah, what's this?" He pointed at my maker's mark.
"Something to show I was the one who made it. I don't think anyone else would be able to work the feathers that fine," I said with pride.
Squinting, Herrick peered at the symbol, then nodded. "Aye, I've never seen the like of it before." His eyes flicked up to me, "Does it mean anything? These look like your wings."
I shrugged as I chewed some of the meat. Swallowing it, I said, "Not to my knowledge. It just felt appropriate." Leaning back, I looked up and reached a hand out to the sky, fingers spread as though I could grasp it, "The tower is a promise, I think. One day, we'll have the means to reach the void above and travel between the stars. I want to bring that day about."
Herrick grunted beside me. "Huh. Sounds like it means something to you."
Turning my head, I saw he was tracing the tiny symbol with a fingertip. I couldn't help but smile at his thoughtful expression.
"Mind trying to play a tune? I have no idea how myself."
He nodded, lifting the instrument to his lips. He blew through each pipe, producing a descending tone that sounded right. He lowered them, grinning back to me.
"Wyck's gonna love this," he told me.
"Good! That's what I wanted," I replied, feeling a bit accomplished. Wolfing down the rest of the stew, I gave him his bowl back and took the pipes back. "Thanks again, Herrick. I'm going to try making a trade. Say, which one is Wyck?"
"He's the tallest man around, you can't miss him." Herrick gestured with his free hand, holding it over his head. "Dark hair, brown eyes, and he's got a real wiry beard."
Nodding to him, I stood. "I'll be back in a few. You don't have to wait up for me."
"Aye, builder. Do as you will." He stood as well, grinning cheekily at me before heading towards the river.
I ran into someone as I turned about the diminishing hut. "Sorry!" I apologized reflexively, taking a step back to see it was Sigrid.
She chuckled, amber eyes alight with amusement.
"No harm done," she said as she patted herself down. "Why the rush?"
"I'm looking for Wyck. I have something I'd like to trade for some hides and some sinew."
She nodded, pointing behind her at a man sitting with his back to us on one of the logs around the village's central fire. He looked to be focused on something he held. "That's him, there."
"Thanks, Sigrid," I told her, patting her on the arm as I passed. I heard her chuckle again behind me.
Approaching the man, I saw he was working on a small piece of wood with a small iron knife. He seemed utterly focused on his whittling.
"Wyck?" I asked, and he turned to look at me. He was just as Herrick had described, black hair, brown eyes, and a curly beard that grew halfway down to his shoulders.
"Yea, whatd'ya need, stranger?" He sounded welcoming enough, meeting my eyes.
Coming closer, I showed him the pan flute, "Herrick mentioned you'd had something like this once. I wanted to trade it for some hides and sinew if that's alright."
His eyebrows lifted in surprise and he took the instrument, turning it over in his hands.
"Where'd you get this? Never seen the like of it before." Before I could answer, he lifted it to his lips and easily played a quick tune, then lowered it and grinned a toothy smile at me.
"I made it a few minutes ago," I replied honestly.
He stood, sheathing the knife and putting his half-formed whittling in a belt pouch.
"Come with me, then. This's well worth a few hides," he gestured with the pipes.
"And sinew?" I prompted, causing him to chuckle.
"And sinew," Wyck granted readily.
He led me into the hall proper. It felt more open than the size of it would suggest, a long firepit surrounded by stones running down the center of it. Dozens of pelts had been laid out on the ground, and a few people I didn't know lounged around the fire, chatting to each other. They quieted as we entered, shooting me quizzical looks before returning to their conversation. In the far corner, I saw the crates I'd given over had been stacked up on each other, the barrel of salt next to them.
Wyck moved over to one side, where several baskets woven from twigs of elm sat against the stacked logs of the wall. He gestured for me to follow, then drew a bundle of hide from one of the baskets. Handing it over to me, he poked around another basket, withdrawing a small stick wrapped with sinew.
"Here," he said as he handed it to me. "Anything else?"
Shaking my head, I hefted what he'd given me. "This is everything I needed. Thanks much, Wyck."
Gesturing with the pipes, he shook his head, "No, thank you. You don't know what this means to me. You need any help around here, let me know."
"I'll do that," I said with a smile.
He clapped me on the shoulder as he passed, leaving the hall. The others paused their conversation, then started up again with far more energy behind it.
Waving at them, I followed Wyck out, then turned and strode through my portal. Thankfully, the recycler readily accepted these materials, storing them as patterns. While the originals were destroyed, the fabricator had no issues reproducing them, and I fed them back in for the moment. Before I went any further, I wanted to ask around for what folks needed or wanted. As helpful as sleds and tools might be, it would just be a wasted effort if nobody wanted to use them.
I headed out of the pocket reality, spying a coppery gleam a little distance beyond the closer huts. Nodding to myself, I figured Ygdis might be a good person to start with. Striding down the short path, I found her just outside the door to Grenwin's hut, sitting on the missing sled and carving at a small piece of wood with a thumb-length copper blade. She looked up as I approached, a conflicted expression on her face. It was as though she wasn't sure whether to be glad to see me or not.
"Hey," I greeted, "You alright with answering a few questions?"
A flash of what may have been fear crossed her face and she put down the small carving knife. She met my eyes warily, lips pressed to a thin line.
Part of me couldn't get over how interesting her deep blue eyes were. Her irises could have been cut from sapphires, and I almost wondered if they'd feel like stone if I tapped one with a finger. Recognizing the strange thought, I let it pass by without taking action. They were quite pretty, though.
"Yea? What?" She replied in a guarded tone.
I crouched nearby. "I'd like to stay here for now, and I'd like to help out around here. Is there anything you can think of that would make your life easier?"
Her eyes widened in surprise, "Oh, ah… Things that would make my life easier?" Scratching her head, she turned to peer off into the forest for a moment before looking back at me.
"Can you do anything about the cold?"
Tilting my head at her, I considered what I might be able to do to mitigate the temperature. It might be nice out today, but it was still below freezing, and I had an inkling that this was about as good as it got up here.
"If I built a building, I'd be able to make it keep the heat well. I suppose that if someone taught me how to make these clothes of ours, they'd end up being a little warmer too. Ah, I could make fire-starting tools, too."
"Really? You're a strange woods witch." She winced and her shoulders tensed, fingers clenched around her carving, "'m sorry, didn't mean any offense."
"Woods witch? I think Symon mentioned one who'd tended to him. Brisha, I think he said her name was." I cocked my head, "I'm not offended. Why would I be? What's a woods witch, anyway?"
Studying my eyes, she relaxed her shoulders and gestured vaguely. "You know, healers and prophecy tellers. Sometimes, they even make things happen. You made that magic hall appear but I've never heard of any that, ah, makes things. They make soaps and potions, you know, not buildings or clothes or sleds," She tapped the sled for emphasis, "I only know a few people who have things like these. They all live close to the Wall."
I found myself humming as I thought about what that meant. Woods witches made soaps and potions, eh? I supposed that fit with the little I knew of Brisha; they must serve something of a healer's role.
"I'm afraid I'm not one of these woods witches. This is only my second day here in the lands beyond the wall."
She blinked, leaning closer to object, "But, we're leagues from everywhere! How can that be?"
Laughter burst from me. Something about her expression and the way she said that tickled me something fierce.
"I don't know." I said with as much honesty as I could project, "And you know, I don't think it matters much where I come from. I'm here now and here's where I want to stay for the moment."
Frowning, she considered that, nodding after a moment. "Never mind, then. Can you help us defend from the Crows?"
"The crows?"
"No, the Crows. The Night's Watch. Buggers down on the wall what sometimes come out here to kill us free folk off."
"I… Suppose?" She was asking for help with defense, not assault. My left hand drifted to my sword's hilt of its own accord, the warmth suffusing my palm and fingers. Could I fight if they needed me to? I found myself unsure, and that was far from the absolute denial I thought I ought to have felt.
"Aren't most of those lot in the Watch against their will?"
She snorted, shaking her head and looking at me like I was an idiot.
"You think that matters when they come out to kill us for sport? They have warm armor, plenty of food, and steel. Us? We're desperate. Just barely scraping by every day. You know what happens when the Crows come across a village?"
I shook my head, "Please, tell me."
"They slaughter everyone older than their name-day and take the boy babes for themselves." She spat on the ground, "Fuck the Crows."
The sheer hatred in her voice gave me pause. If what she was saying was as true as she looked to feel, the Watch would be far more of a problem for us than the Citadel could ever be. Still, there was an inconsistency here, and I poked at it.
"What about Symon?"
Ygdis shrugged, "He's not a Crow anymore. 'sides, he can't fight worth shit. He was one of those what got sick of it and made it out alive. Now he heals us when we get sick or hurt. He's different."
She wasn't wrong, Symon did strike me as more of a thinker than a fighter. Even with what he'd told me, that he'd had a bad run-in with other wildlings, I couldn't imagine him trying to draw steel and fight back.
"I'm sorry. What would you need to defend from the Watch?"
Waving around the village, "I've been to a few villages with a wall, and if we had one of those it'd be easier to keep ourselves safe. Do you know how to make weapons? We could use those. Armor too, fancy mail like the kneelers?"
I hummed, considering the requests. "Could do with a wall, but I'd need a lot of help to get it done and there's only twenty people here. Weapons and armor aren't impossible, but they'll be odd." I unsheathed my wooden knife, offering it to her handle first.
She took it, turning it over in the sunlight and examining it with visible curiosity. After a moment, she chuckled as though at a joke, meeting my eyes again.
"It's wood? Wood's shit for knives. Everyone knows that."
"When I make things, I can make them better, and that knife is as good as the finest steel. Go on, give it a try."
Chuckling with disbelief, she shook her head at me.
"That's a fine jape. A wooden knife!" She examined the edge, raising her carving and easily cutting a few slices off of it. Her eyebrows rose in surprise she then stabbed it into the sled. Light-reinforced pine met mundane pine and slid right through. It hardly seemed to have met any resistance, it cut so easily.
She stared at the knife, shocked. Then, she whistled appreciatively. "Fuck me, you weren't lying." Pulling it free, she examined the edge again, lips parted in awe. "Can I have this?"
"Sure." I could make another easily enough, after all. Trading this one away was worth the goodwill. Untying my belt, I pulled the sheath off and offered it to her.
Taking it from me, she sheathed the knife and set it down next to her.
"If you can make arrows like this, that would be just what we need. More blades, too. Oh, and more of these!" She tapped the sled, "But smaller, so only one of us needs to pull it when we go hunting."
That seemed reasonable enough.
"Arrows, more blades, more sleds. I can do that, yeah. What about bows or spears?"
"They'd be better, too?"
I nodded and she reached over to take my shoulder, leaning close.
"If you aren't a woods witch, what do you want me to call you?" She seemed much more comfortable after a bit of conversation. "You know, if you wanted that sort of thing. Some people get real buggered about that, like Taegj."
I offered her a shrug and a small smile. I didn't need any titles, nor did I want any. I certainly wasn't going to spread around Symon's supposition of purported Ladyhood.
"Call me Maia, please. That's my name. I don't want a fancy title like woods witch or anything else. I'd ask Herrick to stop calling me builder, but I don't think he will, honestly."
She nodded seriously, then her expression eased and she chuckled.
"Right. That's fair."
"Well, I'm gonna go ask the others about what they might want. I'll leave you be."
She nodded, picking up her carving and getting back to it, this time with her new knife.
"Hey, Maia?" She asked without looking at me as I began to stand.
Pausing for a moment, I asked, "What is it?"
"Might be nice having you around, is all."
Ah, my treacherous emotions! I stood, turning and wiping away a little moisture from my eyes. What was it with me and craving acceptance? Compared to how she'd seemed when I'd approached, she was downright friendly now. Oddly, I felt a kind of kinship with her, though I wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was something to do with the weight of the past I could see weighing her shoulders down. Whatever she'd been through, it hadn't been pleasant. Whatever I'd gone through hadn't been pleasant, either. Yes, that sounded reasonable.
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