Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 246
under the lurid light of bonfires, gangs of prisoners labored
through the night to create missiles for their steam cannon.
Lavin and Hesty dismounted, and the colonel led him
into the pit, where captured royalists cursed and wept on the
stones they were chiseling, while Lavin’s men whipped them.
Over the years workers had taken a large bite out of the
hillside. The layers below proved to be made of salt. Lavin
had not been here before, and he marveled at the cleanness of
the carved walls. In daylight they would probably glow white.
The whole place stank of ocean-side. The scent made him
smile.
The salt was precious, and the entire site was under guard
because his men wanted to walk off with the stuff. They had
tried quarrying for proper stone but it was a good distance
underground. Lavin wanted a heap of rock the size of a house
near his cannon when it came time to fire on the city. The salt
was available; precious or not, he would use it. His men could
collect the shards off the street later and buy their own rewards
with it. Lavin couldn’t buy what he wanted, so he was
indifferent to its lure.
"It’s over here!" One of the overseers waved at them
from across the pit. A large crowd had gathered there,
numbering both soldiers. The prisoners showed no fear, but
glanced up at Lavin with frank eyes as he strode past. Their
attitude made him uncomfortable--they were her creations, and
he didn’t understand them.
"Sir!" The overseer saluted hastily. His broad belly
gleamed with sweat in the torchlight. He stood over a large
slab of white salt, perhaps twice the length and width of a man,
and at least half a meter thick. Two brawny soldiers were
brushing delicately at its surface with paint brushes.
Lavin cocked his head skeptically, and looked at Hesty