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The morning sun shone through the snow shelter, illuminating the interior with an eerie blue light. Tarn rolled out from his thick fur sleeping roll and began to pull on the few clothes which he had removed last night. He wore all his outer clothes, but he had removed his boots as they had been known to freeze to sweating feet in the extreme cold of the night that could descend when camping out. Having suffered frostbite once, he was careful to avoid it again. He sat up, pulled his boots on and strapped fur leggings over his breeches. After pulling on his overcoat, he added a huge fur cloak over the top. These garments were made form the pelt of one of the great white bears and made naturally warm and camouflaging protection for a man out in the ice and snow.
Peering out of the shelter he saw that Thynne had begun a fire, contained within in a thick bucket, and had prepared breakfast. Both Tarn and Thynne were in their element out here; Tarn was born and brought up on the ice, and Thynne had been sent out to join hunts from an early age. They both followed the usual routines. But this was not routine, and Tarn’s eyes followed the Corsairs as they slipped and stumbled on the ice, eager to start their work. Some used pickaxes and hammers to try and break through. This would work, but Tarn knew an easier way. He sat and watched while he ate, and he noted that the lad, too, was watching them with curious amusement.
“Why do they work so hard?” said Thynne, “When there is an easier way?”
“Hmm. What do you say, Thynne? Shall I show them?” answered Tarn, looking at the lad with a wry smile.
“What would be in for us…I mean, for you?”
Tarn laughed and almost slapped the lad on the back, then thought better of it. “You’ve learned something from the trek yesterday I see.” Tarn had taken a little time during the trek to talk to Thynne and tell him some tales of his own adventures. They had had an effect and the lad now seemed eager to help. Tarn could see that Thynne was much like he had been when he was young, and he thought that by taming that rebellious streak he would end up with a very useful assistant. Thynne was beginning to feel proud that he was assistant to the man with the frightening reputation and tall tales.
Tarn strapped a pair of overshoes with spiked soles to his boots and taking hold of a long leather bag, he headed off to where the Corsairs were struggling to make holes. Thynne put a lid onto the bucket containing the fire and followed. Once out on the ice, Tarn took out his harpoon from the leather bag and began to poke around for a good place to begin. He stopped and motioned Thynne to put the bucket down. Out of the bag he took a long spike which had a spiral ground into it, a drill. He removed the blade from the end of his harpoon and fixed the drill onto it, concentrating carefully. He knew that some of the Corsairs were watching him and muttering about “that idle Lossoth”, but he knew they would think differently once he had got going.
Thynne stirred up the fire in the bucket, which had now died down to hot embers due to the lid restricting the air. When Tarn was ready he plunged the end of the drill into the bucket and held it for a minute before placing it firmly onto the ice and pushing down carefully but firmly. As the drill took hold, Thynne held it steady and Tarn moved it rapidly down, held it and then pulled it out quickly before it froze, reheating it and repeating the process several times. A drill-hole soon appeared in the ice and Tarn was able to leave the lad to knock it wider into a man-sized hole. The ice gave way easily, but not so much that it made fractures which would pose a danger to anyone working nearby.
Some of the Corsairs watched and Tarn came over to the group and started to drill similar holes for them. They had been using a drill, but had been unable to get it far into the ice. When they asked about Tarn’s method, he explained it and told them “It is how we hunt for fish under the ice”. He stood back and watched other groups work as he waited for the drill to reheat. He smiled when he saw the female officer again, this time hacking at the ice in frustration. He had thought of offering to help her, but seeing the anger in her face, he thought she was probably best left alone. One of the men offered him a drink from a flask and told him a joke and he turned back to the task. It was a good plan, but Tarn could see they would need a lot more holes for it to work.
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