The hammer rang against the chisel. Clang. The sound was sharp, metallic, final. It echoed off the cliff face and rolled out over the water. Ezra swung again. Clang. Dust puffed from the stone. Grey powder settled on his eyelashes. He blinked it away. His shoulders burned. His hands were wrapped in leather strips, but the blisters had broken through days ago. Now the skin was hard. Calloused. Like the stone.
"Break," Varen shouted. His voice was hoarse. He stood at the base of the quarry, holding a ledger. He looked thinner than he had a week ago. The dark circles under his eyes were permanent fixtures now.
Ezra lowered the hammer. He leaned on the handle. His breath plumed in the air. Even here, fifty feet up the ridge, the air was warm. The heat radiated from the rock itself.
"Ten min
