Care Becomes Structure

Erik’s house smelled of stew, sawdust, clean linen, and rain.

Rishi stopped outside the door. For several days, every room had smelled of old magic, opened stone, burned flesh, or paper recording the cost of all three. The ordinary warmth beyond this threshold reached him before anyone answered.

Maeril stood beside him with one hand against her bad leg. “If we remain here much longer, they may mistake us for burglars.”

Rishi knocked.

Orren opened the door with a half-carved fitting in one hand. He looked them over. “You look terrible.”

“Good afternoon to you too,” Maeril said.

Sella appeared behind her son, wiping flour from her hands. Her gaze passed over Rishi’s shoulder and Maeril’s limp. She moved Orren aside. “Come in. Both of you.”

Erik sat at the table with his injured leg straight in its brace. A charcoal sketch of a broken drain junction lay beneath one hand. He had marked three places where the surrounding foundations would need support before anyone entered.

Linna sat near the hearth in her padded chair, a blanket over her legs and the wooden disk hanging from her wrist. She tapped it against the chair arm when Maeril entered.

Maeril bowed. “Yes, I survived. I accept your admiration.”

Linna tapped again and lifted her hand toward Maeril’s cloak.

Maeril sat in the chair Sella brought for her and held the edge of her cloak within Linna’s reach. Rishi set his staff against the wall and sat opposite Erik.

Erik studied him. “You brought something.”

Rishi took a folded document from inside his robes. The paper had softened at the folds. He placed it beside the drain sketch, with the seal of the city’s repair authority facing Erik.

“What is it?” Erik asked.

“The city is forming permanent recovery crews. They want you as a foreman. I gave them your name.”

Erik looked from the seal to Rishi. “Because I need work.”

“Because you know how to keep men alive under a broken street.”

Erik’s hand remained on his sketch. Rishi could see the charcoal along the edge of his thumb.

“The men who worked with you have been asking whether you will lead them again.”

Erik took the document and opened it. He read past the appointment to the pay, then slowed. Sella came to stand beside his chair.

“If I say a wall is unsafe, I can stop the work?”

“Yes.”

“And the men?”

“They are still paid while you make it safe. That is written in.”

Sella read the line over Erik’s shoulder. “You asked your old foreman for that often enough.”

“He did not listen.”

“He listened. Then he counted what it would cost him.”

Erik glanced up at her. She rested her hand on the back of his chair and let him read.

Rishi waited while Erik turned the last page.

Erik laid the pages flat. “Was this your doing?”

“We took the workers’ accounts to the repair office. I wanted this settled before I brought it to you.”

“What did asking cost you?”

“Several mornings.”

“Three,” Maeril said from beside the hearth. “He would not bring you the first offer.”

Erik looked at the way Rishi held his left arm, then at the staff against the wall. “You had enough to do.”

“I think of you as a friend, Erik. I wanted to do this for you.”

Erik lowered his eyes to the paper. He smoothed a crease with his thumb, then left his hand there. Rishi waited without reaching for it.

At last Erik drew the document clear of his sketch. “Tell them yes.”

Sella brought the ink and a pen. Erik signed, then looked at his name beneath the seal.

“I can begin tomorrow.”

“After the healer clears your knee.”

He looked up at his wife. She waited.

“After the healer,” he said.

Maeril leaned back in her chair. “I adore this household.”

“Do not encourage them.”

“Far too late.”

Sella served the stew without asking whether they intended to stay. It held more beans than meat, with barley thickening the broth.

Maeril ate the first spoonful and closed her eye. “I should have brought the difficult books here.”

“You could bring yourself here without them,” Sella said.

Maeril opened her eye. Sella was already serving Rishi.

Linna struck her disk sharply and held out her hand toward the bread.

Orren passed the loaf to Sella, who broke off a piece for her daughter.

Rishi’s shoulder eased a little against the chair. He ate while Orren described a carving he had begun and Erik objected to the way he was holding the knife. The signed appointment lay beside Erik’s bowl, its corner held down by the salt.

Erik walked them to the door after the meal, using chair backs and the wall for the turns his braced leg could not make. Rishi kept pace beside him.

Outside, a Watch wagon passed carrying shoring beams. Work crews called measurements across the street. Somewhere nearby, a hammer struck a steady sequence and stopped while another voice checked the timber.

Erik tucked the appointment beneath one arm and held out his hand to Rishi.

Rishi took it.

“Thank you,” Erik said.

“Build it well.”

Erik closed his grip once. “I will.”

He offered the same hand to Maeril.

“I was considerably less polite than he was.”

“You stayed until they listened.”

She took his hand. His grip was careful around her fingers. “You will have to do that part yourself now.”

“Come back when the road brings you through Waterdeep again.”

Maeril’s smile faltered. “You expect to miss me.”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Yes.”

Linna’s disk tapped against her chair inside. Maeril looked past Erik. “Goodbye, Linna.”

Linna lifted her hand.

Orren waved from beside her. “Bring us a strange story next time.”

“That I can promise.”

They stepped into the street. Behind them, the door closed on an argument over whether public service exempted anyone from washing bowls.