Not a question, a statement, and one Zhou could have cheerfully heard if it had not been accompanied by a sour look and worse smell. “We are here, on time. The surfacing crew will complete the work within two days,” Zhou said to the Yaart foreman who had been waiting for him where the two roads joined. “Ours is done. Been done over a week.” The Foreman spat a globule of phlegm onto the uncovered foundations. “You didn’t come out of the mountains with winter storms at your back,” Zhou said, quite proud of his turn of phrase. “That’s true, but then we didn’t choose to live holed-up in a cold, wet and windy wasteland.” The Foreman smiled at Zhou, an evil little grin that made Zhou’s hand move involuntarily towards his dagger. “Just words, friend. Don’t take them to heart. You Wubei are a touchy lot, ain’t you.” “We lost men in the mountains, and more to bandits on the way here.
