The shrill brass whistle of the morning work call dragged the Rust Hall laborers out of their straw bunks before the first pale ray of dawn touched the high mountain peaks.
Master Chai stood at the head of the long stone corridor, swinging a heavy iron link against a suspended brass gong while shouting out the daily work assignments with a voice like grinding stones.
"Listen up, you lazy mules," Master Chai roared over the echoing clatter of waking men. "The inner court alchemical tutors finished casting three batches of pill ingredients in the outer auxiliary chambers last night. The floors are ankle-deep in ash, the crucibles are caked with slag, and the junior tutors do not want to see a single speck of carbon when they inspect the hearths at noon. Squad four, take the west annex. Squ
