The Order War by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page B

grinned. “Forget already?” He swung the metal over the forge fire once more.
    Clerve blushed. “It seems so silly.”
    Justen silently watched the iron heat for a time, then nodded. In moments, the orange-white section of the iron rested on the cutting plate and Justen’s hammer lifted and fell…lifted and fell…until they swung the iron back onto the forge.
    “The reason for not using shears on engine parts isn’t silly. It’s a question of what works. You cut the iron with something like that and you twist the fiber too much. We have the same problem with casting iron, or even steel. Youneed a wrought-iron base for black iron.”
    “They say the Nordlans can make a steel that’s almost as good as black iron,” ventured Clerve.
    “Almost as good isn’t always good enough.”
    They swung the iron back onto the cutting plate, and Justen took up the hammer again. “A little better this time. Only two heats.” He set aside the hammer and used the tongs again to set the second iron section next to the first on the forge bricks. “Let’s readjust the brackets. A couple more sections and we won’t need the crane.” He wiped his forehead, but did not swing the metal onto the forge.
    “I suppose I’m like an old magister, but I need to finish what I was telling you about the shears. After using shears or some sort of wrenching cut, when you try to order the metal into black iron, the order bonds don’t match and you have to tear the whole thing apart. That’s why it took ten years to build the Dylyss .”
    Clerve shook his head. “Just because they used shears?”
    “No…because they used violence to cut the metal. There’s a difference between force and violence.”
    “Teaching again, Justen? Here in the engineering hall?” Altara stood behind Clerve, who stepped aside with an averted glance.
    Justen blushed.
    Altara smiled at Clerve. “I don’t eat apprentices, Clerve. Really, I don’t. Nibble perhaps.”
    Clerve, in turn, blushed.
    “You can take a break.” Justen nodded at the apprentice.
    “Are you where you can stop?” asked the master engineer.
    Justen nodded. “It’s slow going.”
    “Most engineering is.”
    The two engineers watched as Clerve trudged toward the side porch, where both a breeze and the water spigot provided cooling and where the apprentices usually gathered.
    “Have you thought about joining the engineering group that’s going to Sarronnyn?” asked Altara.
    “No.” Justen blinked, trying to dislodge a speck of grit from his left eye.
    “Do you want to come with us?” asked Altara.
    Justen looked at the thin-faced master engineer with the muscular shoulders and dancing green eyes. “Why are you going? Dorrin couldn’t stop the Whites. How do you think you can?”
    “Do you want to sit around Nylan for the rest of your life mooning after Krytella while she hunts down Gunnar?” Altara grinned and waited.
    “Hunts down? You make her seem like a mountain cat.” Justen felt himself flush again, and not from the heat of the forges.
    “I know women, Justen. After all, I am one, you know.”
    “You don’t let most of us forget it.” He managed a grin.
    “That’s what I like about you. You can say something like that and it doesn’t sound nasty. You almost—almost—make it sound like a compliment. I also enjoyed your little match with Firbek.”
    “How’s the arm?”
    “Still a bit sore.” Altara paused. “Why didn’t you join the marines? You’re certainly officer material, and you’re the kind that people would follow.”
    “You know what I think about hand weapons.”
    “I know.” Altara sighed. “That’s one of the few things I think you’re wrong about.”
    “Why?”
    She gestured around the engineering hall. “We’re cheating on Dorrin. We still have only ten ships—except that we don’t. We have eleven for purposes of the Balance. And if you—Have you ever compared the size and tonnage of the Black Hammer? ”
    “How could I?