The midsummer humidity held the valley in a warm, motionless suspension as the sun crested the high pass, drawing the scent of baked pine bark, flowering clover, and damp slate from the earth. Down in the meadow, the tall native grasses had begun to seed, their plumed tops bowing under the weight of light morning dew. Far below the eastern terrace, the river had narrowed into a clear, steady stream that glided around smooth granite boulders with a soft, subterranean hum.
I stood in the shadowed bay of the masonry forge, holding a copper drafting rule against a thick sheet of vellum. The draft before me detailed the layout for our autumn grain storage—a stone-lined pit system built into the bedrock beneath the workshop to maintain a constant, cool temperature year-round. It required absolu
