Rebuilding Bridges
ㅤI stared into the bottomless chasm, legs dangling over the deep nothingness. The sharp shadows of rocks spread before me. The salty smell that had been drifting through my nostrils disappeared with a change in air currents. I didn’t notice.
ㅤI was supposed to be good at these sorts of things–several cities selected me out of all their architects to solve the problem. Yet I was daunted by this task! How am I supposed to design a bridge that accommodates these peaks? I shivered as a bluster rode through the rocks, pulling warm air out of my thick furred hood. I pulled my arms closer. One of these nights, I will come up with the answer. Sitting here and analyzing–it will come. Moving mountains were powerful things, and permanently bridging between their peaks was nigh impossible. Several loose planks of wood strewn about attested to my crushed previous attempts. Trade and advancement demanded constant access to the Olmeaus people on the other side. So here I was.
ㅤI heard muffled footsteps approaching, magnified by the echoing rock around me. I stood up, careful of the edge, to face my dear Ezmeryl. She was draped in as many flapping layers as I was, her rounded face framed by fur and straight black hair. Must be important if she walked all the way up here… Pebbles were kicked out of the way as she walked toward me.
ㅤ“Do you have any idea how late it is, Girdon?” She asked, wind blowing between them. I checked my internal clock, Yep, its late… Bedtime even… “Call has been in bed for a while now,” she stood there for a moment of silence. “Have you had any ideas? You know how insistent the letters have been getting…”
ㅤ“Yes…” was all I managed to say. We selected a slab nearby and sat down. She is right, you need to start another attempt, or people will start doubting it will ever happen. You’ve have known that for a while. You have the basics of the bridge figured out. It needs to support the heaviest of wagon loads, and it has to span the peaks no matter the distance as they move back and forth. But how? If the peaks pinch the bridge as they contract, the incline would be too steep for any wagon to cross. Only an overhead bridge–tied arch or truss–would work. Anything under the road will be squashed by the contracting peaks every four weeks.
ㅤ“–so I was wondering if you could come back earlier tomorrow?” Nwaery! What had she been saying?
ㅤ“I’ll try my best,” I said. I shift my legs, feet kicking pebbles across the path and over the edge. Down they tumble, never to see the light of day again. The edge that goes to the innerworld. Which is another reason I must figure this out, can’t have people risking that fall just to trade. I sat there thinking for a while, revisiting past concoctions and why my employers would reject each one. Elastic bridge? Needs to stretch too far, and is very unreliable weight bearing-wise. Folding bridge? Only works in increments. It still wouldn’t have constant access. The ideal bridge might need an operator, unfortunately. Let’s open up that possibility anyway. Perhaps it could be–
ㅤ“Are you even listening to me?” my head snapped up to face Ezzy’s. I was not listening.
ㅤ“Sure, I’ll… draw tomorrow. At home.” I assumed she was asking about my time away from the rickety cottage we must call home. Time I spent thinking of designs, worrying over my disappointed employers and betrayed sponsors. Her head drifted into her mittens and sighed. Then her head rolled over toward me–eyes meeting mine, fading light reflecting off her smeared tears.
ㅤShe whispered just over the echoing breeze with unlimited patience, “Gird, I am just not sure how much longer we can last up here. The sponsor’s food is running low I know this job is important for us, for you, but you have to look after your family! I’d give us about another three days up here before we need to ask for more.” I sighed. She is right. But I need plans before I can face my sponsors again. I will have decide on a final plan tomorrow, at home. “At least promise me this, you have an idea, right? You’ll have it drawn tomorrow?”
ㅤ“Yes, yes I do” I assured her. I do have a plan, one that will work. Hopefully I’ll have one that will please Ythrene by tomorrow as well. “Let’s go home, Ezzy,” I said, standing up and offering my fuzzy gloved hand to hers. She took it slowly but stood up on her own. For now, I will think of the potential solution on the way home.
ㅤ“Daddy play with me, please!” Call bounced up and down beside my drawing desk. Having set aside the compass and square so they didn’t fall off my wooden workspace and onto my energetic son, I sighed.
ㅤ“Lad, I have got work to do. I’ll play with you before bed tonight.”
ㅤ“Da-ad! That’s all day away!” Call flopped to the floor.
ㅤ“Yes, son. Maybe you could play with your blocks until then.” I turned back to his drawing board.
ㅤNothing. Absolutely nothing. That’s what this morning amounts to. That’s what your mind amounts to. What happened to the incredible architect who designed the Inn Here, Traveller? The Tcheen’s largest warehouse yet? Where had the inspiration gone? The paper in front of me was full of half-finished sketches I knew wouldn’t work. Gardener, I even revisited the last-option pulley system to pull items across suspended by only rope. Of course, it would work, but it would be slow as a diticre and about as strong, too. It’ll be ages before any trader will trust me enough to get himself pulled across in a harness. I shuffled the papers to find a blank one. There is always room on paper with thoughts this empty.
ㅤ“Daddy! Look at this tower! I am gonna be a builder, like you!” I turned toward Call and smiled as he placed another tempered wooden block on top of the stack. CRASH! Call slumped to the floor with a groan to clean up the ruins. Huh. That looked sturdy. Must have been a block I couldn’t see.
ㅤKNOC–KNOC–KNOCK! Resounded through their wooden door and around the petite cottage. I stood from my makeshift drawing board and ambled toward the door. Whoever this is, they can stand to wait for a moment longer–or not. A little man shoved the door aside and hurried in, shivering and muttering apologies under his breath. He glanced from side to side, arms hugged close to his body. He locked inhuman eyes onto Girdon, hopeful.
ㅤ“S-sosorry, I-I haft-ta get w-w…warm!” I pointed toward the kitchen, where the hearth distributed heat. The man’s face was wooden and full of crags. He was mintish. I watched the mintish man as he hopped through the kitchen doorway on stumpy feet. What in the Gardener’s domain is a mintish doing this high in the Splitting Peaks? The man spread his four twiggy arms in front of the now-open clay hearth, sighing in relief. He looked over his shoulder and smiled.
ㅤ“Oh, tank ya! I do apologize for ta sudden entrance and… unceremonious intraduction. I am Trieden, ambassada of ta Council of Ytrene,” He took his hat off, and turning around, stuck out one of his hands. I accepted the little man’s shake. I hope I don’t snap this tiny arm! A mintish, huh? If they sent him from Ythrene, this is for the bridge design, but then why a mintish? They do terribly in the cold. The city is full of dreamers anyway…
ㅤ“How do you do?” I said, remembering my manners.
ㅤ“Just fine tank ya! I am here on… trading business, ya might say. Ya got ta goods?”
ㅤ“…Goods?” What is he on about?
ㅤ“Sure!” He gave my calf a playful punch. “Ya’ve been gattering them for two pois now!” My silence was the only answer he got.“Ya toughts! Ya drawings, man! Ya ideas! Ta bridge!” So it is about the bridge after all. What am I going to say… How can I explain? Who could understand this task…
ㅤ“Daddy? Who’s that?” Call said from the doorway, giving me more precious seconds to think.
ㅤ“Nothing, son, go back to your playing. This man is friendly.” A friend… maybe not. Call wavered, hands clutching the frame, but obeyed. “Why’d they send a mintish all the way up here? That’s seems–”
ㅤ“Eh… It’s not so bad, espesally when you are on the cusp of a promoton!” He winked at me. “But tey sent me instead of a dreamer because we needed to get in and talk ta ya!” Like, in my house? How does being a mintish change that? Oh… “But let’s get on with it, sall we? Your employers are getting… what sall we say… feisty? Tey are ready for ta plans, Girdon–where are tey?” His eyes were intense now: slits between the veins of bark. I stood up and motioned for Tierden to follow me to the drawing room. Better to be honest, right?
ㅤEzmeryl, clad in layers of fur, opened the front door. In her arms was a bucket of snow to melt over hearth. She had made a stack of snowballs in the bucket with twigs-like-arms. Water, for up here at least, comes from heat. Strange when you think about it. Tierden didn’t miss a beat.
ㅤ“How do ya do, milady?” He waved his replaced hat down and bowed slightly. Ezmeryl stiffened at the courtesy. Is she trying to appear in control, or does she not like the attention? She glanced at me and I tried to project worry from my face to hers.
ㅤ“Fine, thank you.” She set the large bucket down. “What is your busin–excuse my manners–could I get you some tea?” She began hanging her furred gear on the pegs I had added.
ㅤ“Nah, tea isn’t needed, miss. I am here for your husband’s expertise. The Splitting Peaks will be crossable soon!” He rolled on his roots and headed to my propped-up wooden drawing board. My wife and I followed. Call watched from the corner of the room. I breathed in deeply, trying to calm my nerves.
ㅤ“I have several ideas. After my original fail, I don’t think this is possible wit–”
ㅤ“Cut to ta chase, man. What’s your soluton?” Tierden asked, mounting the chair I usually sit on. Ezmeryl leaned in, listening. Call jumped up from his blocks the see the board. Which should I say? None would satisfy. Pulley system it is. Or maybe…? No. The drawbridge failed. I peeled back the large pages until I found the design.
ㅤ“This is the best I could come up with. These pairs of pulleys on either side are coupled with the pai–”
ㅤ“Tis isn’t a bridge.” Tierden noted, his face souring.
ㅤ“Yes. All the bridges I came up with were worse. At least with this one we can safely move supplies over the chasm in the time betwe–”
ㅤ“Let’s see tese oter designs. Tere has got to be one tat works.” Tierden said, grabbing the remaining broad papers and started looking through them. No! No, he cannot! He will see! I reached out to yank my drawings back, but a touch on my arm halted me. It was Ezmeryl. Her eyes were tearing up.
ㅤ“The… date…” came from Ezzy’s blank face. Tierden laid a haphazard pile of papers back onto the table.
ㅤ“Well, send me to the innerworld! I really tought you could do it!” Tierden looked up at Girdon. “I tought out of all the architects, you could do it. What happened to that determined engineer I heard about? We’ll set up ya pulley system, but write me down, tey will get anota architect to finis ya job!” I glanced at my papers.
ㅤ“You… you lied to me…” Ezmeryl said through tears, through unbelieving tears. “You said that you had a plan and you were going to draw it today! You drew this one weeks ago!” She hammered an accusatory finger into the pulley system. Something crashed to the floor on the other side of the room. Oh no… Is that what I said? “Where is the one you said you would draw today, Girdon?!” She started a frenzied analysis of the papers for dates as she shoved them aside.
ㅤ“I-I am sorry,” I managed. Tierden just stared. Callwas out of the room, he must have ran up to the attic. When the last paper floated to the floor she collapsed, sobbing. “I… I can’t do this… Girdon… so tired…” she said between choked tears.
ㅤ“I am sorry… Ezzy. I… I didn’t mean to…” I eeked out again. Ezmeryl picked herself up and wobbled into the kitchen, wiping her eyes. Tierden, quiet, rolled the paper with the pulley diagram and slide it under two of his arms.
ㅤ“I’ll… Be taking tis back to Ytrene.” He looked up, an almost sympathetic look in this wood-chiseled eyes. “You want my advice? Get away from Ytrene. At least the capital. Unless you come up with a ground breaking idea, don’t see my cohorts again.” He extended his branchy hand to shake. “It-It was nice meeting you and yours.” But I just stood there. Staring. Tierden left, whistling, out the door.
ㅤI fell to my knees in the living room. What did I do wrong? I tried my hardest to solve our problems, but Ezzy… Ezmeryl I am so sorry… Call… Is she going to leave me? Should I have accepted defeat long ago? Should I have told the council the project was impossible? Should I have let another take my place, risking my reputation? Should I have suggested the drawbridge again? Hoped I could design it better? A tear trickled down my right cheek.
ㅤI glanced around the room. Searching for something else to focus on. My empty desk sat against the wall, papers and tools flowing from it to the floor. A starfruit jar cast light from the doorway, illuminating chair took up the other corner. The chair Ezmeryl would read stories to Call in as she rocked gently back and forth.
ㅤThen, in the corner of the room I saw Call’s blocks. Two wooden cubes, one slightly larger, sat distanced apart. A long block protruded from the top of the larger cube, hovering over the smaller one. It seemed all that was left of Call’s latest creation. I scooted myself over to the blocks. Blocks are fun… They looked like a bridge. I grabbed the support cube and slid it across the rough wood floor closer together. The bridge block moved with it. What am I going to do what am I going to do what am I going to do? Then I slid the block back into position. The bridge block moved as well, maintaining the distance in a bridged state. I slid the two blocks all the way together, and the bridge block still connected them.
ㅤI leaped to my feet. I scrambled the papers until I found a blank one. I started sketching my idea on the blank page. The pencil sitting behind my ear was pulled out. A sliding bridge! A fixed extension on one side, spanning the gap and overlapping the excess on the other side! Nothing underneath to get crushed! This is it! Trusses, rails, tracks to keep the bridge in place and connected… I stopped right as I was about to draw the first line. Spanning the chasm…To maintain the connection… I’ve been a fool! I left the paper and walked into the kitchen. Ezzy turned from the snow-melting hearth to see me.
ㅤ“Ezzy, I have been a fool. It’s a wonder Nwaery hasn’t killed me. I–I love you–” Another traitorous tear rolled down my left cheek as I sniffed. “Please. Please forgive me for–for doing you wrong. I need to be a husband and a dad before an architect,” another stupid tear. “Let’s move away from here. Get back to the city–to our home, Ezzy.” Ezzy, paused, looking for something, and then stepped forward and wiped my tear away. “Please say you will. I can’t…”
ㅤ“I–I would love that… Girdon,” She said with a twinged smile on her face. “But you can’t do that again. I–”
ㅤ“I know. I was misleading… I… I just couldn’t stand not having the answer. I couldn’t admit it to myself. I am s–so sorry!” I wrapped my big arms around her and she embraced me back. My tears flowed down my face, where they mixed wonderfully with my beautiful wife’s tears. Our feet rocked back and forth on the kitchen floor. Our mouths muttering apologies and assurances through the tears.
ㅤWe held each other until I loosened my grip, reaching instead for her hands. “Thank you, Ezzy, for being so forgiving to this old man.”
ㅤ“What are we going to do? About the bridge? Our payment?” Ezmeryl said. I smiled, tears having eroded away years of age.
ㅤ“I figured it out. The bridge, I mean. Let’s go talk to Call first, I’ve got a playdate scheduled.”