The rhythmic chink chink chink of hammers. Despite the weariness in his arms Olero found the regular striking of the pickaxe nearly musical in quality. The small sparks as they hit off the dark green rock the Vomens called kup ignited a slightly sulfurous smell. The hundreds of other picks working in the darkness were a chorus of tinkling bells. Of course this happy image was not really so happy. F
Olero was a Sanduvari and they could see in the dark. A