At the southern quarry anchor, the body backlash of moving eight million cubic paces of bedrock struck Kezra Venn like an iron sledge across the shoulder blades. Her knees buckled beneath her, plunging into the frosted grass. The leather-bound notebook slipped from her numb fingers onto the stone.
A violent, uncontrollable tremor seized her limbs. The terrifying earth-measuring chill that mappers called ‘bedrock shivering,’ caused by the sudden, massive discharge of sympathetic deep ring through the central nervous system. Her teeth chattered so hard she nearly bit her tongue. A wave of acute nausea drove her onto her hands and knees, dry-retching into the dirt while sweat broke out cold and greasy across her forehead.
“I have you, Kezra,” Paxa Sel’s calm, steady voice cut through the roaring in her ears.
The physician dropped to her knees beside her. It wrapped a thick, sheep-wool blanket around Kezra’s shaking shoulders. Then it pulled her head against her chest. Paxa right away checked the wool ear plugs. They were intact, having protected Kezra’s good right ear from the bone-shaking low-hum snap of the shifted weight. Paxa produced a small horn vial of warm peppermint water laced with salt and powdered ginger. That forced three sips past Kezra’s chattering teeth.
