Osha returned the following morning with a quarry mason.
Gevren had expected another purse. He found the mason considerably harder to refuse. She carried a bundle of measured tubes, a wooden mallet, and the air of someone who had already been paid for her time and did not intend to waste it on people’s opinions.
“These,” she said, laying the tubes on the ridge, “are copies. With cleaner bores.”
“I don’t need cleaner bores. Those work.”
“Good. Then we’ll set these beside them and find out whether the copies do.”
Edris had left Osha the purse and the order. Purchase the stakes. He had not said to ruin an orchard. When she asked for replacement work before removal, he had agreed at once. His patience with such details made disagreement more difficult. A cruel man would have been simpler to leave.
The mason inspected Chaska’s lashings and grunted approval at the safe turning cords. She approved less of the knot nearest the reflected wall. Osha helped her move the copy into position, though her hands were better suited to thin archive tools than rough rope.
For an hour the ridge sounded appalling.
