"Don't touch the crew," Rigel said.
Cynthia had already taken a step toward the mason with the mallet.
The mallet kept tapping.
Third bell.
Watch change.
A polite knock from a door that was not a door.
Mesterica's blade was out.
The point stayed off Erna's back by a handspan, no more.
"She's speaking to it."
"She's also the only one in this line who insulted it," Rigel said.
"Leave her mouth. Watch her hands."
Erna's palm was still on the stone.
The fingers had gone white at the nails.
Not listening.
Bracing.
"If I take my hand off, the crack widens," she said, without looking at them.
"I tested it. Half an inch. I'm not doing that again."
The thing in the wall made a pleased sound.
"Competent. We could use a site chief."
"You couldn't afford me."
Rigel almost laughed.
He put his heel on the floor a finger short of the pale film around the packet.
The wrapped metal ticked again.
Hungrier, if metal could be that.
"Cynthia. Pell."
