Chapter 8 Bram

The fire had burned low by the time they noticed the draft. Cold air crept in through a gap in the window frame, making the flames flicker and dance.

Lyra pulled her coat tighter and looked at Edric.

"The window's been like that for years," she said. "Nobody ever bothered to fix it."

Edric studied the gap. "Do you know someone who could fix it?"

"Bram. He's a handyman. Works on most of the buildings in the lower district."

"Can you get him?"

Lyra nodded and stood up. "I'll be back."

She left and Edric sat in the quiet, watching the fire struggle against the cold. Garrick was still asleep in his chair, snoring softly.

Edric thought about the fragments in the tunnel, the pulse beneath the mountain, the pattern that wasn't random. He thought about the council and their quiet countdown.

Lyra returned an hour later with a man Edric hadn't met before.

He was older, maybe fifty, with graying hair and hands that showed years of physical work. His coat was worn but clean, and he carried a tool roll under his arm.

"This is Bram," Lyra said.

Edric stood up and extended his hand. "Thanks for coming."

Bram looked at the offered hand for a moment before shaking it. His grip was firm and brief. "Lyra said you had a window problem."

"It's letting in a lot of cold air."

Bram walked over to the window and examined the gap. He ran his fingers along the frame, feeling the draft.

"The seal's rotten. I'll need to replace the wood and put in new insulation."

"How long will that take?"

"An hour. Maybe less."

"Then go ahead. There's tea if you want it."

Bram nodded and set to work. He was methodical, his movements efficient and practiced.

Edric watched him for a moment, noticing the way he handled his tools, the way he measured the gap with his eyes before cutting the wood.

"Have you lived in Hollow Crest long?" Edric asked.

Bram paused. "All my life."

"So you know the town well."

"I know the buildings. The people, less so."

"How about the mines?"

Bram looked at him. "What about them?"

"I've been trying to understand what's happening down there. The collapses, the accidents. Something doesn't add up."

Bram was quiet for a moment, focusing on his work.

"The mines have been trouble for a long time. Before the explosion, before the council closed Shaft Seven." He paused. "People have been getting hurt for years. They just didn't talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Because talking doesn't change anything. And some people get punished for talking too much."

Edric filed that away. "What about the workers who survived Furnace Three?"

Bram stopped working. "What about them?"

"You must know some of them. You've been here all your life."

Bram was quiet for a long moment. "I know a few. They don't talk much either." He turned back to his work. "Most of them left. Those who stayed learned to keep their mouths shut."

Edric sat down at the table and poured himself a cup of tea. He didn't push, he just waited. Bram worked in silence for a while, replacing the rotted wood with new pieces he'd brought with him.

The only sounds were the scrape of his tools and the crackle of the fire.

"Your tea's getting cold," Lyra said from her corner.

Bram looked up. "I don't drink tea."

"Then what do you drink?"

"Water."

Lyra poured him a glass and set it on the table. Bram glanced at it but didn't stop working.

Edric watched him. "You do good work."

"I've had practice."

"How did you learn?"

"My father taught me. He was a carpenter." Bram paused. "Died in a mine collapse thirty years ago."

"I'm sorry."

Bram shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

"That doesn't make it easier."

Bram looked at him. For a moment, something flickered across his face, then it was gone. He went back to his work.

Edric let the silence stretch. He took a sip of his tea and stared into the fire, letting Bram work at his own pace.

"You know the council's been lying," Bram said suddenly. "About the mines. About the collapses. About everything."

Edric looked at him. "I know."

Bram met his eyes. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to fix it."

"The council won't let you."

"The council doesn't have to let me. I'm going to do it anyway."

Bram studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly and went back to his work.

The room was quiet for a while. Bram finished the window, packed his tools, and stood up.

"I should go," he said.

Edric stood as well. "I have a proposition."

Bram stopped.

"I need someone who knows the town," Edric said. "Someone who's been here long enough to see what's really happening. Someone who can help me figure out what the council is hiding."

"What are you offering?"

"Work. Real work. Not just fixing windows. I need someone who can help me rebuild this place."

Bram stared at him. "You're serious."

"I'm always serious."

Bram looked at Lyra, then back at Edric. "I need to think about it."

"Take all the time you need."

Bram nodded and left. The door closed behind him. Lyra looked at Edric.

"That was fast," she said.

"He seemed like a good man."

"He is. But he doesn't trust easily."

"Neither do I."

They sat in the quiet. Garrick stirred in his sleep but didn't wake. Edric stared into the fire, thinking about the fragments and the council and the countdown.

An hour later, Bram knocked. Edric opened the door. Bram stood there, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"I'll do it," Bram said.

Edric nodded. "Good."

"One thing."

"What?"

Bram hesitated. "Old Perrin. He's been collecting deep shaft rock samples for thirty years. He lives on the north edge of town. If anyone knows what's down there, it's him."

Edric went very still.