Maddock shielded his eyes from the bright sun as the juddra wagon emerged from the deep shadows of the tunnel and into the wide open space of the Workshops' lower guild-yard. The guild-yard was easily large enough to park a hundred such wagons, and was normally a busy place, but as his eyes adjusted and he looked around, it seemed a lot quieter than usual. Facing the barbican-fort and its two dark gates were the tall square buildings of the Guild headquarters, their lines following the curve of the yard. Even though its tall double doors of decorated metal stood open, many of its windows were shuttered.

"Thanks!" Maddock called to the wagon's driver as he jumped down to the tightly set square stones which paved the entirety of the wide oval space.

The Engineer, who had been kind enough to offer him a seat on his wagon for the long climb through the barbican tunnel, lifted one thumb from the reins of his juddra in a wordless acknowledgment of the gratitude. Then he steered his train of wagons towards the office of the Guild stock-chief, set in the narrow curve of the yard's end. Opposite the stock-chief's offices, the guild-yard ended in a high curving wall punctured with two tall archways. From one of those archways the road, set with the same neat square stones as the yard itself, begin its long zig-zag climb up the slope of the Workshops, and a narrower road led down from the other to the juddra pens.

On a plinth in the centre of the yard stood the towering structure of the Engineer's clock, and Maddock made his way over to it, clambered up its high steps, and sat down. He had arranged to meet Dak at one o'clock, by fortress time, so had left the Enclosures at twelve, after the hour of Fortak had drawn to a close. It couldn't have taken him that long to make his way to the Workshops, so he reckoned he still had a little time to wait.

He looked up at the Engineer's clock, but he couldn't understand the complex system of rings and dials on the three faces of it. He could, with some concentration, read the time on the clock at the top of the battle-ground's observation tower, and on the smaller clock that stood in the centre of the Enclosures, but the Engineers used a different system of timekeeping, so he had no idea just how long his wait would be.

Timekeeping had never been so important on the farm, as the hours of the day had been dictated by the sun. When it came up, you got up and went to work, when it went down you went to bed. You ate a meal when you first woke up, one before you went to bed, and another somewhere in the middle of the day when your stomach told you it was hungry. At the fortress, Field-hands were expected to be able to tell the time, so he had started to learn, mostly with Dak's help, because Dak had always been good with numbers.

Maddock had not.

As well as time telling, numbers and sums were something else he considered to be fairly unimportant. In fact, it had only been a few years previously that he had started to fully understand the value of being able to add and multiply and take away, when his father had asked him the question 'If a man can't count, how will he know how much of his harvest the Order is taking from him?'.

After that, Maddock had concentrated harder on his sums. He was still only marginally good at them, still a complete dunce compared to Dak, who could calculate things with numbers as easily as she could breathe, but he knew enough to get by.

As he waited and watched the comings and goings of the guild-yard, he looked down at his hands and grimaced. Had they not already been thickly calloused by his labours during his previous life at the farm, they would probably have been covered in weeping blisters from his morning's work. High Madriel-master Sprak, as Maddock had found was usual, had been loath to give his Field-hands the time off for Glok's Ascension Day. The garrulous Master had consoled himself by ensuring that they had all been woken before first light, and had then worked them cruelly all morning. All the madriel, even the cubs, had been released to the great-bailey, and Master Sprak was not one to miss an opportunity to give the place a good cleaning.

The memory of the work made him thirsty, so he hopped down from the steps of the clock tower and went to the drinking fountain that stood in the shadow of the Guild headquarters. The fountain, and its attached trough, was not like those found at the Enclosures, which were all curved and ornately decorated. This one was tall and square, with a simple circular decoration along its edge.

As he drank, a group of Guild Elders emerged from the tall doorway of the Headquarters, deep in conversation. Though they were not as tall as the Forge-guard, or as heavily built as the weapon smiths and armourers like Dak's father, they still had an awesome presence, which was increased by their ornately decorated tunics and waistcoats. They paid Maddock little attention, and only one of them spared him a brief inquisitive look before returning to her conversation.

Maddock sat back down in the shade next to the fountain, rather than return to the steps of the clock tower. He was lulled by the musical sound of its waters, and tired from his early rise and subsequent labours, and must have dozed because suddenly Dak was standing over him, red in the face and looking worried.

"Hello, Maddock," she said in a nervous tone.

"Hello, Dak," he replied, rubbing at his eyes. "What's up?"

"Are you alright?"

Maddock pulled himself to his feet.

"Fine. Why?"

"Because, when I entered the guild-yard, you were lying there having bruises on your face. Have you been beaten?"

Maddock's hand went instinctively to his face.

"What? Oh, that! No I ain't been beaten. Not today anyway. It was just a knock I took at the Enclosures. It's nothing."

Dak still looked worried.

"It's nothing, Dak. Come on, what do you want to do today? You said you were going to show me the juddra pens."

Dak's expression changed from worried to sorrowful.

"I am so sorry, Maddock, we cannot be doing that today. I have to go up to the fortress."

"The fortress? Why?"

"I have had a message from my friend. She told me that I have to go and see her and that I should be bringing you with me."

"Friend! What friend?"

"Her name is Tahlia..."

"Tahlia!"

"Yes, Tahlia."

"Scruffy little wench? Good at getting people in trouble?"

"Well, I would not be saying scruffy, and she has never put me into real trouble as such. Why? Are you knowing her?"

"Oh I know her all right, and her thug of a brother. He was the one who gave me this bruise."

"Grifford," said Dak helpfully, then she apparently noticed the angry look on his face. "Oh," she finished quietly.

"I ain't going with you to see her."

"But her message..." began Dak. "She told me..."

"Do you always do what she tells you?"

"No! Well, not always, well, most of the time..."

"We had plans, Dak, and you know I don't get time off much."

"But her note said you should be coming, and I was thinking that if you did then we could still spend the afternoon together, and Tahlia would still be happy with me."

Maddock sighed at the forlorn look on his friend's face.

"Sometimes you can't keep everyone happy, Dak."

"No, but I have the possibility to try."

Maddock could not help but smile at the hopeless look of optimism on Dak's face. It reflected the part of her character that made him like her. He thought it strange that she could ever be friends with someone like Tahlia.

He bent to the fountain and splashed water on his face, partly to finish waking himself up, but mostly to hide the smile. Dak was easily embarrassed by people smiling at her.

"How do you know the girl anyway?" he said as he wiped his face on his tunic.

"I have known her since last summer. My mother caught her sneaking around our workshop yard one day."

"Without invitation, I expect."

"Well, yes. To get through the barbican fort, she had hidden away inside a waggon carrying cickracol, and mother should have been reporting her to the Forge-guard and having her removed, but instead she invited her in and gave her krakla juice. Now Tahlia is my friend. She is quite insistent on it."

"Sounds like her."

"So will you come? She will be expecting you."

"Well, I suppose..." Maddock frowned. "How does she know that you know me?"

"I believe that I have mentioned you to her."

"And did she know you were supposed to be meeting me today?"

"Well, I did mention that I would be seeing you..."

"The devious little ruteia!"

Dak jumped at the sudden rancour in her friend's voice, and then stood watching him warily, as though he were a dormant fang-bush. He pulled his tunic into shape and ran his fingers through his wet hair to flatten the worse of the tangles.

"Right, come on!" he said when he was done, and set out across the guild-yard.

"Where are we going?" asked Dak, following in his wake.

"To see your sneaky little friend, of course."

"I thought that you were not wanting to see her."

"Well now I am. I want to know why she thinks she can mess around with people's lives."

"Oh," said Dak. "You are not going to be arguing with her are you?"

"Remains to be seen, that one."

"Oh dear," said Dak as she hurried after him.