“We have twelve dwarven stoneworkers, three human masons, and more than a hundred laborers. Eleanor knows the old water plans.”
“They will take days.”
“Then you help them. You do not replace them.”
I looked at the well.
People were emptying their buckets into the drainage ditch. The clear water flowed past my boots.
Twenty-seven sick.
Possibly hundreds exposed.
We had stopped two armies.
Contaminated water might do more damage than either one.
“Find Eleanor,” I said.
Mary studied me.
“We do this together.”
“Yes.”
She left before I could change my mind.
I waited beside the well until four guards arrived to keep anyone from drawing more water. Then I headed north.
The old channel began near the inner wall.
Calling it a channel was generous.
It was a collapsed trench filled with roots, stones, and nearly a century of dirt. Sections passed beneath buildings that no longer existed. Other parts had become pathways through the settlement.
Eleanor arrived carrying rolled plans under one arm.
The dwarven builder was broad, gray-haired, and permanently unimpressed.
She unrolled the oldest plan across a barrel.
Mary placed lanterns around it.
Eleanor pointed to a faded blue line.
“The northern spring enters here, runs beneath the inner wall, and divides into three branches.”
“How much is blocked?”
“All of it.”
“Can we open it?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“With two shifts of workers?”
She studied the plan.
“Four days.”
“We need it tonight.”
“Then ask the water to become less necessary.”
I liked Eleanor.
She rarely pretended a problem was easier because I wanted it to be.
“What if I clear the collapsed sections?”
“You will break something.”
“What if you tell me what not to break?”
“You will break fewer things.”
“That is progress.”
She pointed to the main channel.
“The stone lining is fragile. Move the blockage without changing the walls. Do not widen anything unless I approve it. Do not force water through until we inspect every junction.”
I nodded.
“Anything else?”
“Yes. If I tell you to stop, stop.”
“I can do that.”
Mary and Eleanor looked at each other.
Neither appeared convinced.
Work began within minutes.
No one asked whether clearing a water channel was appropriate work for a king.
They were too busy.
Laborers removed surface debris. Carpenters built braces for the collapsed sections. Dwarves entered the trench and marked damaged stones with white chalk.
I worked behind them.
Instead of tearing everything out at once, I lifted one block at a time. Eleanor inspected the channel beneath it. Masons repaired the lining. Workers carried the debris away.
It was slow.
Painfully slow.
After an hour, we had cleared less than fifty feet.
I could have opened the entire trench in a single movement.
Every part of me wanted to.
A little girl coughed near one of the tents.
I reached deeper into the ground.
“Stop.”
Eleanor’s voice cut through my concentration.
I released the magic.
“What?”
“You are pressing against the southern wall.”
“I am clearing the channel.”
“You are also clearing the foundation beneath that shelter.”
I looked toward the nearest building.
One corner had lifted half an inch.
The families inside had not noticed.
I lowered it carefully.
Eleanor folded her arms.
“This is why kings should listen to builders.”
“I thought it was why tired kings should listen to builders.”
“Both.”
Mary handed me a piece of bread.
“Eat.”
“I am working.”
“You can chew while moving stones.”
That seemed reasonable.
I ate.
The work continued.
People began arriving from the settlement.
Not because we summoned them.
Because they heard what had happened.
Farmers brought shovels. Carpenters brought timber. Families carried lanterns. Children collected small stones from the cleared trench.
Beatrice arrived from the kitchens with a cart carrying two barrels of boiled water.
“Drink,” she ordered.
Everyone did.
Melody returned shortly before midnight.
She carried a sleeping boy on her back.
Daniel wore a green coat.
His mother followed beside them, crying so hard she could barely walk.
They had found him inside an abandoned watchtower near the southern wall. He had climbed the broken stairs to look at the settlement lights and become trapped when part of the floor collapsed.
Melody delivered him to his mother.
Then she found me in the channel.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
She took a shovel from one of the workers.
“What do I do?”
“Clear dirt between the chalk marks.”
She jumped into the trench.
No one told her that royal companions did not dig drainage channels.
That was another reason I liked Greykeep.
Near midnight, the workers uncovered the first junction.
Its bronze control wheel had rusted solid.
Eleanor examined it.
“We replace the mechanism.”
“How long?”
“A day if the forge works through the night.”
I touched the wheel.
Rust fell away.
Cracks sealed.
The bronze straightened beneath my fingers.
Eleanor turned it carefully.
A stone barrier moved inside the channel.
She grunted.
“I suppose that is useful.”
“High praise.”
“Do not become accustomed to it.”
We reached the second junction an hour later.
The third had collapsed beneath an old stable.
Removing it required us to dismantle half the remaining wall. I held the roof while carpenters installed supports. Dwarven masons rebuilt the channel below.
My arms shook by the end.
Holding the roof did not physically require my arms.
My body did not seem to care.
“Done!” Eleanor shouted.
I lowered the roof onto its new supports.
Then I sat in the mud.
Mary appeared above me.
“Are you injured?”
“No.”
“Can you stand?”
“Probably.”
“That word again.”
“It remains useful.”
She offered her hand.
I took it.
Workers gathered along the restored trench. Eleanor walked the entire length, inspecting every repair.
At the northern edge of the settlement, two men opened the spring gate.
Water entered the channel.
Slowly.
It flowed beneath the wall, passed the first junction, and continued south. People followed it with lanterns.
At each branch, Eleanor watched for leaks.
There were three.
We repaired them.
The water reached the new stone basin shortly before dawn.
Clear spring water spilled from its mouth.
No one cheered at first.
Everyone was too tired.
Then Beatrice filled a cup, examined it, and handed it to Eleanor.
Eleanor drank.
She passed it to Mary.
Mary drank and offered it to me.
I emptied the cup.
The water was cold.
It was the best thing I had tasted since arriving in this world.
People cheered.
Not for me.
For the water.
That felt more appropriate.
Mary sat beside me on the edge of the basin.
“We still need shelters,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Kitchens.”
“Yes.”
“Latrines.”
“Very much.”
“The sick may become worse.”
“The healers are watching them.”
I looked toward the thousands of tents.
“We are not ready.”
“No.”
“They came anyway.”
“Yes.”
The answer should have frightened me.
It did.
But beyond the new basin, people were already organizing water lines. Someone placed barrels beside the channel. Two carpenters began building a roof over the distribution point without waiting for instructions.
The work had taken hours because I had not done it alone.
It would have taken minutes if I had.
But Eleanor now understood which sections needed continued repair. The masons knew the channel’s structure. Workers knew how to clear it. Carpenters knew how to support the buildings above it.
Tomorrow, they could maintain it without me.
That mattered.
Perhaps more than speed.
Eliza approached from the northern road.
She had not slept either.
“Another group is coming,” she said.
I closed my eyes.
“How many?”
“Approximately six hundred.”
“Of course.”
“They are not refugees.”
I opened my eyes.
“What are they?”
“Builders.”
Eleanor looked up sharply.
Eliza handed Mary a sealed letter.
“Stonecutters, engineers, carpenters, and surveyors from Valewood. Lady Evelyn sent word before we left Westmere.”
Mary broke the seal and read.
A smile slowly appeared.
“What?”
“She included plans for water systems, public kitchens, bathhouses, roads, and waste removal.”
I looked at the northern road.
Lanterns moved through the early morning darkness. Wagons followed them, carrying tools, timber, stone, and people who knew how to use all three.
Eleanor held out her hand.
“Give me the plans.”
Mary passed them over.
The dwarf unrolled the first sheet across the ground.
She examined it.
Then she frowned.
“What is wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“That is an unhappy face.”
“It is an ambitious plan.”
“For what?”
Eleanor turned the page so I could see it.
Lines spread beyond Greykeep’s inner walls. Roads divided the open land into districts. Water channels crossed beneath them. Squares had been marked for markets, wells, kitchens, storehouses, clinics, and schools.
At the center stood Greykeep Castle.
Around it was not a camp.
It was a city.
I stared at the plan.
“How many people is that designed to hold?”
Mary found the number written near the bottom.
“Twenty-five thousand.”
I looked at the five thousand people already filling the fields.
Then at the steady lights approaching from the north.
The Crown warmed on my palm.
Once again, I suspected it knew something I did not.
I pointed at the plans.
“We are going to need more toilets.”
Eleanor nodded.
“At last, the king understands governance.”