“You have my word.”
They retreated to the surface together, and Khollo quickly retrieved parchment and charcoal sticks from the smithy, handing them off to a village worker to pass off to Hamon. Then, true to his word, Khollo retreated to his bed in the smithy and lay down, though the sun was barely touching the horizon. A promise was a promise, even if he would rather be exploring the cavern himself. He dozed fitfully until night fell, and finally found sleep as the world darkened and the stars began to come out.
Gray light was seeping through the entrance to the smithy when Khollo was shaken awake by a gentle hand the next morning. Khollo opened his eyes, blinking slowly, and recognized Janis’ bearded face. The warrior’s eyes were red and bloodshot, his features sagging with exhaustion, his shoulders slumped. But despite his beaten-down appearance, there was a barely contained tension and excitement in the older man’s voice.
“A promise is a promise,” Janis said, extending a handful of papers towards Khollo.
The young advisor all but snatched them from his uncle’s grip, scanning the pages, digesting the crude measurements and the rough notes scrawled in the margins. He spun the top page around, orienting it properly so that he had an accurate layout of the bottom of the cavern, then began flipping through the other pages.
“There are tunnels and caves that more or less fit into four levels,” Janis explained. “All branching off of the central cavern. Probably ancient water courses or some such, hollowed out over time. No telling where the water all went though.”
“It won’t be back,” Khollo muttered. “Not for a long time. There’s no serious body of water for leagues. These must have been here for ages, just waiting to be discovered.”
“And discover them we did,” Janis said. “Hamon’s team is having the time of their life exploring, by the way. Although, they were less than enthusiastic about writing it all down.”
“Yes, I can see that they were in a hurry,” Khollo murmured, squinting at a scribbled note in the bottom corner of a page. He rose and moved to his work table, absently brushing other pages aside and arranging the maps of the caverns on the flat surface instead.
Janis hovered awkwardly behind Khollo for a few moments, then sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it. Anything you need?”
Khollo shook his head. “I have enough parchment and writing sticks, now I just need some time. I’ll have new plans drawn up as fast as I can.”
His uncle nodded distractedly, then retreated from the smithy, leaving Khollo alone. The young advisor absently drew a stack of fresh sheets across the table, then grabbed a stick and started sketching his thoughts. There was so much space to work with, so many caverns . . . but they were irregular, imperfectly spaced, downright inefficient in many areas. How to make the best use of them?
Khollo sketched and scribbled, measured and pondered. While tracking the movements of the vertaga had been a challenge, this task was much more. This was a puzzle, and an exceptionally difficult one. So many possibilities lay before him, and all he had to work with were these flattened sketches that could only tell him a fraction of the story of the caverns below the West Bank.
The sun rose outside, and Tarrik and the smiths arrived to start the day’s work. They didn’t acknowledge Khollo though, but merely let him carry on with his work. Khollo didn’t acknowledge them either, save to tune out the sharp peals of hammers on metal and the roar of the forges.
He crumpled up one sketch, pitching it over his shoulder and into the furnace. Not good enough, not by a long shot. He needed a solid plan, one that the foremen could execute easily, one that would prepare the caverns for human habitation as quickly as possible. What did that require?
Access, Khollo thought immediately. We have the space, but the only way to get to it is a rope right now. We need the stairs still, but we can’t cut them into the rock like we planned since they were going to go where the cavern is . . . We could still keep them there, but we’ll have to build them instead. That may actually be easier though.
Khollo drew in a couple of centrally-located stairways in the spacious cavern, continuing from the half-finished passage that had already been cut from the surface. Now to divide up the caves . . . four levels, roughly, with some a little above or below a true level. Only three levels in some places where they vary more. That can’t be helped, I suppose. But with some adjustments here and there . . .
He quickly copied a couple of Hamon’s maps, then made notes around the tunnels and caverns of the top level, indicating which passages needed expanding and which rooms could safely be enlarged. The new boundaries of the spaces he marked with dashed lines, careful to leave enough support behind to hold the ceiling up. They could add additional supports too, to make things more stable. Columns and pillars in the main cavern, arches holding up the staircases and framing the entrances to rooms and halls. The knowledge in Tarrik’s book would be invaluable there.
Khollo kept working for another hour, making slight changes until he was satisfied. By then it was past noon, and the West Bank was fully active. The central courtyard was bustling with people coming and going, carrying messages, moving rock and stone, transporting supplies, and all manner of other tasks.
The young advisor stood back from the table and watched them for a moment, pausing in his own labors to appreciate what he had done. In a single morning, he had scrapped his plan and come up with something completely new. It
