Two miles above the village terraces. There, the northern spur of Mount Sunder narrowed into a razor-sharp ridge of gray chert, sat the High Sluice House.
It was a fortified stone compound built like a border watch-tower. It was surrounded by an eight-foot wall of dressed cut stone stonework and topped with iron spikes. From the base of the tower ran a massive timber water chute four arm-lengths wide. It was built from pitch-soaked pine baulks banded with forged iron hoops. The water chute didn’t flow toward the village terraces below. It angled sharply north. It carried fifteen thousand miner’s inches of water toward the private quartz-crushing mills and gold-washing ponds of the Dragon-Slayer Heritage Trust.
Tomas Reed, Captain Sile Rook, and Nessa Vale arrived at the iron-studded gate of the compound. Just then, the morning bell was striking eight in the valley below.
Beside the gate sat six armed guards wearing the scarlet-and-gold wool livery of the Dragon-Slayer company. They were armed with heavy hunting crossbows and short arming swords, lounging on wooden benches. Meanwhile, an iron kettle boiled over a charcoal fire.
“Halt there, wagon drivers,” the guard sergeant barked. He set down his tin mug and resting his hand on his sword handle knob. “This is private guild property. The High Sluice is closed to canton traffic by order of Master Julian, Trustee of the Great Karst Promise.”
