## Chapter 496 — Bathhouse Drain

By midmorning, the builder had laid his tools on the grass beside the collapsed outbuilding. Two spades, a narrow trowel and an iron bar rested near the exposed access point he had marked on his earlier visit. Lethira had spread the preliminary bathhouse plan across a board on the surviving wall, weighing the corners with small stones while she compared the drawn line of the old drainage with the ground in front of her. Sunlight had reached the exposed footing, but the shaded grass still darkened her boots when she crossed it.

The drawing had become familiar during its stay among the papers in the house. Out here, it remained harder to imagine the finished bathhouse than it had been at the table. The eastern section of footing still needed rebuilding, and one end of the proposed room lay across bare earth from the earlier inspection. Beyond the lengths they had already opened, a shallow depression traced the lower drain beneath grass and weeds.

The builder walked past the lengths he and his labourer had inspected and crouched where the disturbed ground ended. He scraped soil from the edge of the next flat stone, following it with the trowel until he had enough exposed to work safely. “The upper run was sound. Today we follow this lower part and find the outlet. Leave the foundation stones alone for now.”

Lethira crouched opposite him. Close to the ground, she could distinguish the cover from the smaller rubble around it, but nothing visible showed how far the buried run continued. “If there is a bend or a junction down here, will it need an access stone of its own, as well as the one beside the bathhouse?”

“If it does, I’ll mark it on the drawing.” He reached for the trowel again and loosened the soil along the other edge. “First we see what the lower run needs.”

Lethira stood, rolled her sleeves above her elbows and looked towards Ian.

Ian said, “OK, let’s see what’s there.”

The first cover they opened that morning was small enough that the builder could lever it up himself. He worked the iron bar underneath, tested the stone before committing his weight, then rolled it aside onto the grass. Beneath it lay a narrow stone-lined channel, dark with old silt and threaded through with fine roots that had not reached the upper lengths. Flat stones formed the sides; another course showed intermittently below the accumulated dirt. A little moisture darkened the lowest point without leaving standing water.

The builder scraped only enough silt away to expose the bottom, then sighted along the opened section. “The fall continues. That much is good.” He indicated the height of the channel against the surrounding ground. “Small here too. Could be there to keep water away from the footing. I won’t decide that from one hole.”

He moved to the next cover. It was longer, buried more deeply on one side and awkwardly placed for a man trying to lift it without damaging the channel beneath. After clearing the edges, he set the iron bar where he wanted it and looked to Lethira. “Give me your strength on this one.”

She stepped across without ceremony. The builder talked her through the direction of force rather than trying to match it himself. Lethira planted one boot on firm ground, took the long end in both hands and waited until his fingers were clear. At his nod she pressed down. The buried slab lifted with a gritty scrape. He raised one hand immediately. “Hold it there.”

Lethira held the weight while he knocked packed soil from the exposed edge. There was no visible strain beyond the set of her shoulders and the care needed not to move farther than he wanted. When he was satisfied, she lowered the stone again so he could shift the leverage point. The second lift brought it high enough for him to turn the near corner; Lethira changed her grip and helped ease the slab flat onto the grass instead of letting it drop.

The opened channel continued beneath it. The side stones were still seated, but roots had entered through one joint and the silt was deeper. The builder cleared a short length with the trowel while Lethira stood beside the displaced slab, brushing soil from her palms. Ian stayed where he could watch without getting between them.

“There’s enough left to follow,” the builder said. “If you want a useful job without being under our feet, pass me whichever tool I ask for. Otherwise you have the best view.”

Ian nodded and let them continue.

They worked along the channel a little at a time, opening only the sections the builder needed to see. When a cover was small, he shifted it himself. When a heavier slab needed moving, he set the iron and called Lethira over. After the first awkward lift they settled into an easy rhythm: he chose the leverage and watched the masonry; she supplied the force, stopped when told and held weights that would have needed two ordinary labourers. Once a cover began to cant towards the open channel. Lethira changed her grip before its edge could strike the lining, and the builder waited until it was safely on the grass before continuing.

“You’ve moved stone before,” he said.

“Some.” Lethira brushed the last soil from one palm and left the answer there. The next opening was more interesting. Beneath leaves and compacted dirt, the narrow run widened around a rough junction. One branch continued back beneath the old outbuilding; a smaller channel entered from the higher ground beside it. The builder cleaned the meeting point and sat back on his heels.

“That looks like site drainage. This side brings water in. That one takes it downhill.”

Lethira studied the angles. “Rain around the building?”

“Rain, wet ground, perhaps roof water when there was still a roof. I would be surprised if anyone built this to empty a bath.” He pointed along the downhill run. “But I want to see that it still moves water before we trust it.”

He looked towards Ian. “Could you fetch me a bucket?”

“Sure.” Ian headed to the house and returned with a bucket of water for him.

The builder took it and crouched at the smaller uphill branch. He poured a steady stream rather than emptying the bucket at once. Water darkened the stone, lifted fine silt from the bottom and pushed two dead leaves towards the junction. They caught briefly against the roots, slipped free and continued downhill beneath the next cover. Nothing backed up around the exposed stones.

He stopped with some water still in the bucket and waited. The open section drained to a wet ribbon along the bottom.

“That part works. It tells us nothing yet about where it finishes.” He stood and looked down the barely visible line in the grass. “I would rather find the other end than lift every stone between here and there.”

He asked for the coil of cord. Ian passed him the cord and let him continue.

The builder looped one end around a short peg near the exposed channel. Lethira held the other while he moved downhill, using the opened sections to establish the line before the grass hid it again. He stopped after a short distance, shifted half a pace and pressed the iron bar into the soil. It struck stone. A little careful clearing revealed another cover close to the surface.

They repeated the process only where the changing ground made it useful. One more opening confirmed the same narrow run; after that the cord and the shallow fall of the land were enough. Near the lower edge of their parcel, coarse grass and gravel thickened before the wetter town-controlled ground beyond. Lethira found the outlet first: two stones projecting through a low bank beneath dead stems.

The builder cleared the mouth carefully. The remaining test water appeared as a thin run and spread across an old fan of gravel on their side of the boundary before soaking into the ground.

“There it is.” He sat back, looking from the outlet to the wet ground farther downslope. “I thought we might reuse this for the bath. Seeing this end, I would keep it for rain and ground water.”

Lethira looked back uphill. “But not bathwater.”

“Not through this. I still want that narrowed repair by the footing reopened to its proper width, but it won’t enlarge the lower run or change where the water ends up. Soap, washing dirt and a bathful at once are a different problem.” He rose and brushed his knees. “We’ll clear this one and replace the bad covers. The bath needs its own drain.”

They walked the line back uphill, replacing the covers as they went. The builder handled the smaller stones; at the heaviest, Lethira took the weight while he guided its edges into the old seating, lowering it until it sat without rocking. They left the first cover opened that morning easy to lift for the full clearing. Behind them lay a line of flattened grass and damp soil.

At the surviving wall, the builder added the lower run, its uphill branch and the outlet to the preliminary plan in charcoal. Then he drew a separate short line from the proposed bath area towards the downhill side of the new work and stopped it well inside the parcel. “I’ll leave access to this run as well. We still need the office to agree where the bathwater goes.”

Lethira rested a hand on the surviving wall and glanced towards the failed eastern footing. “Any reason to think the drain caused that?”

“Nothing we opened proves it. Wet ground, movement, poor old work, something we have not exposed yet—there are several possibilities. I would rather repair what we can actually see than invent a cause.”

Lethira studied the change, then looked to Ian. “It makes sense to me.”

Ian nodded. “Yes.”

The builder made a fuller note beside the separate bathwater run before rolling the working plan around its board. “Same footprint, revised drainage. I’ll redraw it cleanly and take the sheet back. Until the office approves it, the eastern footing waits.” He gathered his tools.

Lethira looked over the covered run. “Better than finding the whole thing collapsed.”

“Very much so,” Ian said.

The builder left with the plan beneath one arm and the iron bar over the other shoulder. Lethira waited until he was along the path before looking down at herself. Soil marked both knees of her trousers and one forearm almost to the elbow. A thin smear had reached the side of her face. She rubbed it with the back of her wrist and made it worse.

“We have a drain that works and a plan that makes more sense than it did this morning.” She looked towards the house. “Wash first or lunch first?”

“Wash, then lunch,” Ian said.

“Good.” Lethira took the first turn at the washstand. She rolled her sleeves higher and worked cold water over her hands and forearms, rubbing dirt from her knuckles and beneath her nails. The smear on her cheek survived her first attempt. When she caught the muddy streak she had added with her wrist, she laughed under her breath and washed it properly.

Ian washed after she finished. He had done less manual labour, so there was less to remove: dust from walking the site, dirt from the bucket handle and cord, and little else. By the time he finished, Lethira was already in the kitchen setting out bread, cheese and the remains of a jar of pickled vegetables.

Ian walked over and kissed her before sitting down to eat. “Yes, it’s moving forward, which is good.”

Lethira kissed him back, one hand briefly at his side, then sat opposite him. “It is.” Hunger occupied her for a while.

Ian continued to eat. “I assume the town clerk part of the process could be finished this week?”

“Could be.” Lethira took another piece of cheese. “They may accept the separate drain as part of the same plan. Or they may want the disposal settled before he rebuilds anything.” She tipped a little pickle onto her bread. “I wouldn’t promise the week.”

“Shall we see if there’s a Guild job this afternoon? Assuming it is the right time of day,” Ian said.

Lethira glanced through the window at the angle of the light. “It should be early afternoon. The morning jobs will mostly be gone, but the Guild will still be open.” She considered the rest of the bread and then him. “Yes. I would like to look.”

“If you’re sure? Shall we take a shortcut?” Ian smiled at her.

“I’m sure.” Lethira collected her cloak from its peg. “And I will accept the shortcut if it leaves us somewhere we can walk out of without explaining ourselves.”

Ian and Lethira appeared near the Guild hall where they were not visible to anyone living. The narrow space between two buildings had no occupied window or street line looking into it. The town reached them first as sound: a cart beyond the corner, boots on stone and somebody calling across the market. The Guild doors were only a short walk away.

Lethira looked around once. “Sensible.”

“I feel I’ve achieved something when you say I’ve been sensible.”

Her mouth curved. “You have.” She stepped out towards the street, and Ian followed her into the Guild.

The afternoon hall was quieter than the morning rush. Several adventurers occupied the long tables, one pair working over a hand map while receipts and completed notices moved across the counter. Lethira went to the boards. The raised-grade charcoal-burner notice they had seen before was still there, as was the smaller missing-chickens job. A fresh posting had been pinned among the local work: a riverside storehouse near the eastern side of town had something getting beneath its floor after dark. Packing straw and wool wrapping had been pulled from stored crates, and fresh scratching showed around a gap at the rear foundation. Workers were due to lift boards the following morning, and the owner wanted the cause identified first.

The posting asked for a competent field pair and made identification the priority. Lethira read the details twice, paying more attention to the instruction not to crawl blindly beneath the floor than to the value of anything damaged.

“That would fit the afternoon,” she said. “Close, and nobody is asking us to kill something before we know what it is.”

“Let’s do the storehouse one. You count as a competent field pair on your own, so we’re good.” Ian smiled at her from the corner of his mouth.

Lethira looked at him for a moment. “The Guild may have a more literal understanding of *pair*.” She took down the notice and started towards the counter.

“Oh, definitely. I just don’t think I can pass for competent.” Ian put his arm inside hers. “On *average*, we’re a competent pair.”

Lethira laughed and let his arm remain there as they crossed the hall. At the counter, Brannock checked the posting mark, found the matching entry in the day ledger and read through it before looking up at them.

“Berren Kelm. Storehouse off the riverside road beyond the denser workshops. Three nights of scratching under the rear floor. Packing straw pulled from two crates, wool wrapping torn, and fresh marks at a foundation gap. Nobody has seen the animal.” Brannock entered Lethira against the job and, lower on the same line, Ian in the familiar place as her unranked aide. “Kelm wants an identification before his workers start lifting boards tomorrow. If it is safe and simple to resolve, resolve it. If it is not, come back with something more useful than speculation.”

Lethira folded the notice. “Fair.”

Berren Kelm’s storehouse stood far enough from the market that the town had begun to loosen around working yards and stretches of open ground. Ian took Lethira’s hand and they walked promptly to the storehouse. The smell of the river strengthened as they went, mingling with damp timber and smoke from the workshops they passed.

The building was broad and low, its weathered timber walls resting on a stone base. A man in a work apron waited near the double doors. He looked first at Lethira’s Guild tag and then at the folded posting in her hand.

“You’re here for whatever is under the floor?”

Lethira nodded. “Show me what you have found outside first.”

Kelm led them around the building. Packing straw had been pulled through a narrow opening beneath the rear wall, where weeds and loose soil partly hid the gap. Fresh pale scrapes marked the darker earth. Kelm stopped several paces away and pointed. “That is how I found it this morning. I have not put a hand near it.”

Ian had a look around as Lethira started her assessment. The rear of the storehouse faced rougher ground than the road side. Roof runoff had kept a strip of earth damp enough to hold impressions, while the ground beyond firmed before sloping gradually towards the river. There were no heavy tracks or signs of anything large forcing its way against the building.

Lethira began outside the disturbed patch and worked inwards. Several of Kelm’s own boot marks crossed the soft ground, but beneath and around them a smaller route repeated along the wall: narrow toes, a longer rear print and scratches where an animal had gone in and out through the same gap. She checked the dragged straw and the hair caught on one rough stone without reaching beneath the wall.

“Something is using this regularly,” she said. “I want to see what it has taken from inside before I decide what it is using the place for.”

Kelm led them inside. Ian followed.

Light from the open doors and two high shutters crossed rows of barrels, sacks and wooden crates raised on low runners above the floor. Kelm had pulled two crates away from the rear wall. One had lost most of the straw packed around a stack of glazed jars; another had a strip of coarse wool wrapping torn loose and dragged towards a wider crack between the boards. The jars themselves were untouched.

Lethira crouched beside the disturbed packing and followed the loose fibres towards the wall. “This looks like nesting material.” Near the crack she found a tuft of coarse brown-grey hair caught on a splinter, longer than rat fur and close in colour to what they had seen outside. She bent closer, then looked towards Ian. “Could you bring the lantern over?”

Ian brought the lantern over. Lethira lowered it close to the floor and angled the light across the cracks. Dust and stray fibres showed first. Then the beam caught packed straw beneath the boards near the rear wall, much more of it than Kelm had found outside. Something moved inside it: a small shift, then a faint rasping scratch.

She eased the lantern back. “There are young under there.”

Kelm stared at the boards. “Can you tell what they are?”

“Not yet. The tracks and hair narrow it. I would rather see the adult than pull up the nest just to satisfy myself.”

Ian leaned closer and whispered to her, “Is that easy to do?”

“Sometimes.” Lethira kept her voice low. “If this is the den, the mother is likely to return. We can give her the chance instead of opening the floor around the young.”

Ian and Lethira went to wait outside. Lethira chose a place along the side of the building where the storehouse itself hid most of them from the rear gap while leaving a view of the approach. Kelm stayed for the first few minutes. At Lethira’s suggestion, he eventually returned to the front doors; three people shifting near the den would only make the wait longer.

The river sounded faintly beyond the rough ground. A cart passed on the road. Two small birds worked through the weeds near the wall and then left without alarm. Lethira settled against the timber rather than crouching for an unknown length of time, her attention returning to the rear corner whenever the grass moved.

The adult appeared low in the weeds. Movement showed first, then a long brown-grey body crossing a bare patch: larger than a ferret, well below fox size, with a darker tail and pale fur at the throat. It paused near the scent they had left at the wall, tested the disturbed earth and slipped through the foundation gap.

“A marten,” Lethira murmured. “That fits the hair and tracks.”

They gave it time to settle beneath the floor before moving away from their watching place.

“How easy to get them out, though, or is this a more... final solution?” Ian asked.

“Not if we can avoid it.” Lethira considered the storehouse and the gap beneath it. “If the young are developed enough, the mother can move them herself if the den stops feeling safe and there is somewhere close she accepts instead. If they are very small, I would rather leave them until we have a better plan than reaching under floorboards.” She glanced towards the front of the building. “The problem is Kelm has workers coming tomorrow. I need to see the young before I tell him whether that schedule survives.”

Ian nodded at her. Lethira waited a little longer, then brought Kelm back inside. She showed him the section of floor above the nest rather than asking for a broad search. “One board, if it comes cleanly. Enough to see them. We put it back immediately.”

Kelm fetched a short pry bar. One plank near the rear wall had been lifted before; its old nails sat slightly proud and the edge had enough wear that he could work beneath it without splitting the board. Lethira moved the lantern back from the crack and crouched where she could steady the plank.

Ian watched without getting in the way as Kelm leaned on the pry bar a little at a time. The nails complained before they moved, each rising with a short metallic squeak. Lethira took the loosened end only after his fingers were clear, and together they raised the plank no farther than necessary.

The nest occupied the shallow space between two floor supports: packing straw, dry grass and scraps of softer material worked into a compact hollow. Three young martens lay pressed together inside it, fully furred but still small. One lifted its head at the change of light and made a thin rasping sound before pushing itself against the others.

Lethira’s expression eased. “Old enough that moving them is possible.”

She watched only long enough to count them and check their condition from above. “Put it back.”

Kelm lowered the board without driving the nails home. Lethira remained still until the rustling underneath settled. Then she looked around the storehouse and asked what sheltered containers he had that he could spare. Kelm produced an old packing crate with one side partly broken away. Lethira checked it for nails and splintered points before carrying it outside.

She chose a dry place beneath an old timber stack near the rear wall, close to the mother’s established route but out of the open. Kelm added a thin layer of clean straw. Lethira rubbed a small handful of the straw already dragged from the storehouse entrance against the inside edge, then stepped back.

“We leave the floor alone now,” she said. “If the mother decides the den has become unsafe, this gives her a nearby shelter. She may ignore it. She may choose somewhere else. If she has not moved them by evening, we reassess rather than force it.”

Kelm looked relieved by any plan that did not begin with his hand beneath the floor. Lethira told him to keep people away from the rear wall and not to close the entry gap while the mother remained inside.

“Maybe a little walk then come back?” Ian asked.

Lethira looked towards the river. “Yes. That gives her a better chance than having us sit here watching the door.”

Lethira told Kelm they would return before dusk, and she and Ian followed a riverside path away from the storehouse. Once the building had fallen behind them, Lethira slowed and slipped her hand into Ian’s. The river showed between the trees in broken flashes, bright where the late light reached it and dark under the banks.

Ian squeezed her hand. Lethira squeezed back. The path curved on beside the river under the late-afternoon light.

At a low rise with a view over the river rather than the storehouse, Ian placed his hand on her cheek and kissed her. Lethira turned into the touch and kissed him back, unhurriedly. When she drew away she stayed close, her hand resting at his waist.

“What sort of jobs did you do when you adventured in the past? I don’t imagine you’d get to rank B by doing the sort we seem to be doing.” Ian smiled. “Although I enjoy this time with you.”

“So do I.” Lethira walked a little farther before answering the rest. “I was C-rank for a long time. Tracking, hostile beasts, Warden patrols, work around roads and settlements when something dangerous had started using them. Some jobs came through Guild branches. A great deal of it was Warden work, and sometimes we were simply the nearest people with the right experience.”

A branch official from years ago came back to her with enough clarity to make her smile. “I kept doing work above the grade on my tag. Eventually somebody made me take the assessment because the alternative was clerks explaining me every time I crossed branches. I had forgotten the promotion until Brannock found the old record here.”

She looked towards Ian. “There were much harder days than the ones we have been choosing. Some involved corrupted beasts or long pursuit; sometimes people were already hurt when we arrived. There was also a great deal of rain, checking sign, walking boundaries and discovering that a frightening noise belonged to something irritating rather than dangerous.” Her thumb moved once across his hand.

They gave the marten more time before turning back. When they returned to the warehouse, Kelm was still near the front, but Lethira went around the rear first. The foundation gap looked unchanged. The broken crate did not. Fresh straw protruded from its entrance, mixed with darker nesting material that had not been there earlier.

Lethira stopped several paces away and crouched. A narrow trail through the weeds showed repeated movement between the storehouse wall and the crate. “She has started moving them.”

Ian and Lethira continued to watch.

For several minutes nothing changed. Then the mother appeared at the storehouse gap with one of the young held carefully by the loose skin at the back of its neck. She crossed the short stretch at a low run and vanished into the crate beneath the timber stack. When she emerged again, she went directly back under the storehouse.

The second trip took less time. She appeared carrying another youngster, followed the same route and disappeared into the alternative den. After that the wait lengthened. Lethira shifted her weight once but did not approach. The last light reached the upper boards of the storehouse while the gap beneath them remained dark.

At last the mother emerged with the third young marten. She crossed to the crate and went inside. This time she did not come back out.

Lethira waited several more minutes. “Three trips. Three young.”

Ian smiled at her. “Job done?”

“Almost. I want to check the old nest is empty before Kelm closes anything tomorrow.”

She went around to the front, and Ian followed.

Kelm met them near the rear wall with the pry bar. He raised the same board as before while Lethira looked beneath from both angles. The nest hollow held scraps of straw and fur but no fourth youngster and no adult tucked beyond the support.

“That’s all of them.” Lethira had him lower the board again. “Leave the gap open tonight. In the morning, check the crate from a distance before anyone starts work. If she and the young have moved on again, good. If they are still in the crate, leave that stack alone.” She indicated the loose board. “Lift this again immediately before the repair. She may bring them back overnight. If she has, postpone the work, leave the gap open and come back to the Guild. If it is still clear underneath, you can repair the floor and close the gap. She chose this place because it was dry and accessible; do not give her the same entrance back.”

Kelm nodded. “And that is enough for the Guild?”

“It is enough for the job you posted. The animal is identified, the young are out from under the floor, and, provided that check is clear, you can make the repair without lifting boards over them.”

Ian looked at Lethira. “Good, let’s walk back to the Guild.”

They reached the Guild while the desk was still open. Brannock took the notice and listened to Lethira’s report in the order that mattered: the tracks and hair, the adult marten, three furred young under the rear floor, the mother moving all three into the sheltered crate, and Kelm’s instructions for the morning. She asked whether anyone had been bitten and whether the storehouse opening remained accessible to the animal overnight. Lethira answered both, and Brannock marked the identification and immediate removal complete.

The posted fee was modest. Brannock counted it out to Lethira, entered the completion against her record and glanced down at the familiar aide line. She made no change there before closing the ledger.

Outside, the market was thinning towards evening. They walked home rather than taking the shortcut again. The busier streets gave way to the western road, then to the quieter stretch beyond the gate where the day’s warmth was already leaving the shaded ground. Lethira took Ian’s hand once there was room to walk side by side.

The holding came into view through the trees with the collapsed outbuilding dark behind the house. Lethira looked towards it as they approached, then down the path in front of them. When a rut forced them briefly into single file, she let go, stepped across it and reached back for his hand on the other side.