He’d insisted upon having her opinion and she’d been brutally honest instead of mouthing polite lies.

The anger rose from his conviction that she was right. She had only to point it out to make him see everything through her eyes and recall that his mother had complained of how miserable it was in the castle—the cold, the damp, the drafts and on top of that the filth from so many people living virtually on top of one another for more months out of the year than they were able to leave the castle and move about freely.

There was nothing that could be done about the miserable weather. That was something many generations of ancestors had had to deal with since the new planet had entered their solar system and ousted Aiper from its place, the sister taking the comfortable zone for herself and leaving brother god Aiper in the cold.

But he realized they had spent far too much time focused only on survival rather than focusing upon a future where there was more to life that surviving and getting drunk to celebrate that they had made it through another hunt, another raid, another year.

His grandfather’s grandfather had built the fortress to guard his domain from his enemies, to protect himself and his men from both enemies and nature, and to preserve and protect their food supplies. Not only had no one since that time accomplished more, but they had fallen into the rut of fighting war after war, raiding the sister world for supplies and women in the winter when the weather was too brutal to fight their endless wars and simply waiting out each winter until they could go out and do more of the same. They’d done only the minimal upkeep on the fortress his ancestors had built and the end result was that the few comforts that had been designed into it had fallen into disrepair and become useless.

He’d claimed the only suite that still boasted fully functional plumbing—the suite that had originally belonged to his grandfather’s grandfather.

They weren’t progressing. They weren’t even maintaining an even keel. They were losing the little that had been gained since the great cataclysm.

He’d listened to the tales of the teller in his childhood. He knew the history of his people, what they’d had before, the almost miraculous things they’d accomplished. He’d had some half-baked idea that stealing any remaining technology he found and guarding it in his treasury was his way of preserving the old life, the old ways, but he’d done nothing but collect. There were none left who even knew what the crumbling, rusting pieces of a bygone age were, let alone how they worked or how to fix them.

More thoughtful than angry by the time he decided he’d had enough of the battering, hot water, he shut it off and climbed out, dried himself, dressed, and left his suite. By the time he’d reached the stairs leading down to the great hall he’d completely forgotten his anger. In its place simmered an energy of excitement, of purpose.

He debated joining the men in the hall briefly. Instead, after a little thought, he summoned Kulle with a motion of his hand when the man looked up and headed to his solar.

He was seated at his desk when Kulle arrived with a serving boy bearing a tray of food. Surprised but gratified that Kulle had thought to have his breakfast brought up, Drak directed the boy to leave the tray on the corner of his desk and dismissed him.

“What is your opinion of my woman’s understanding of the mechanicals?”

Kulle assumed a more comfortable stance since he had not been invited to sit and considered the question carefully. “She seemed very interested in the things there and curious, but it did not seem to me that she understood them. She sat with one and began to take it apart, but then she was diverted by Terl’s comment regarding the short growing season we have and began to discuss something she called a greenhouse. She said that it would enable us to grow food all year.”

Drak stared at Kulle for several moments in disbelief. “What?”

Kulle shrugged. “I was skeptical myself. But she said it would be like spring always and the plants would grow.”

Drak’s lips tightened in irritation. “When did you and Terl plan to inform me of that?” he growled.

Kulle gaped at him. “You did not say we were to report everything. Only that we were to watch her.” He shifted uncomfortably. “The drawings were on the desk when you arrived and took her away.”

Drak contained his impatience with an effort and turned his mind to the reason he had summoned Kulle. “You have had time to assess the boys we brought back with us?”

Kulle blinked, apparently slow to change gears. “Not … not entirely, Sire.”

Disappointed, Drak considered for several moments and decided that assessment could wait. “You have certainly had time to assess the elder boys. I would like for you to find the brightest among them who does not seem to have either the disposition or inclination to become a warrior and we will see which, if any, can be taught other skills that will be useful to us.”

Kulle frowned in confusion. “Instead of sending them to the servant’s quarters?”

“Yes. Instead. That is the sort of thing that anyone can do. It requires very little skill.” He shrugged. “I suppose the cooking does, but otherwise …. We will see if we have young men who can understand the mechanicals and perhaps repair them. Take a few each day when you take Noelle to the vault and we will see if she can teach them anything.

“According to what Terl told me, she said that she was not trained to do this. It was something she simply enjoyed doing and could do because she was interested. If that is true, then others may also be inclined to learn because it is something they are interested in.”

Kulle looked unhappy and uncomfortable. “Pardon, my lord, but …. They may destroy the mechanicals.”

Uneasiness flickered through Drak, but he resolutely dismissed it. “They are not doing us any good at all at this point. They are useless except as curiosities. If they could be fixed we might discover that they are very useful.

“We will learn who may have an aptitude for this sort of thing and those who do not should be settled with others who have skills that can be taught. If we are to build this thing Noelle has called a greenhouse we will need men with the skills to build it.”

“It will cut into our army considerably, my lord,” Kulle pointed out hesitantly.

Drak frowned. “They can still be taught to fight, but if they have no heart for it and no talent they are more in the way in battle than helpful and pretty much useless as anything beyond presenting a target that might divert the enemy from cutting down our finest warriors!

“As far as that goes, I see no reason why our warriors must be useless for anything beyond fighting, hunting, and eating up our supplies! Tell them I expect them to make themselves useful by cleaning up the mess they have made in the great hall. They can repair the tables and stools they have broken in their brawling while they are at it!”

Kulle gaped at him. “What are they to do with the … uh … manure and rotting scraps of food when they have collected it?”

Drak frowned. “Toss it over the wall. I do not want it in the courtyard either.”

Kulle shifted uncomfortably. “The doors are frozen shut, Sire, and have been for nigh a week now. And there is mayhap five feet of snow in the courtyard.”

Irritation flickered through Drak. “Then they will dress warmly and start the cleaning there. First you will send men to climb down from the second floor into the courtyard to clear away the snow and break the ice that has frozen the doors. While they are doing that, you can give those inside the task of cleaning up the mess and then they can remove it when the snow has been cleared and the doors opened.”

Kulle nodded and turned to depart. He paused at the door, however. “When am I to take your woman back to the vault?”