CHAPTER
25
“WELL?” HEATH ASKED,
TURNING HIS HEAD JUST enough to feel Atira’s hair brush on his
face. “What do you think?”
Her brown eyes
glanced in his direction, and he drew in a breath at the softness
in her eyes—a quiet, desperate longing. But it was gone in an
instant, and she straightened and addressed Ismari. “They are
lovely. Where did you find them?”
Ismari gave her a
startled look, then laughed as she picked up the box. “No finding
the likes of these, warrior. I made them based on the Queen’s
description.” She looked into the box with a satisfied look. “They
need a bit of a polish, mind.”
“You never think your
work is perfect,” Heath chided her. “They are lovely just as they
are.”
A faint blush danced
over Ismari’s pale face. “Come back into the shop,” she gestured
them around the counter. “Dunstan is working a test blade, and
midday is almost on us. Come eat with us, if you don’t mind the
chaos.”
“I used to come here
when I was a runner,” Heath said as he guided Atira around the
counter. “I’d bring blades and buckles to be fixed, and pick them
up when they were done. Ismari and her brother Dunstan never minded
me squeezing into their table to grab a bite.”
Heath held open the
door and let Atira go first. “Of course, I had to push through the
apprentices to get anything worth eating.”
“That never stopped
you from reaching for the biggest piece!” Nathan protested, and
they both shared a laugh as they entered the forge.
Heath almost ran
right into Atira, standing dumbstruck, staring at the men laboring
over red hot metal.
IT WAS AS IF ALL THE
ELEMENTS DANCED AT THE big man’s command.
The heat hit her
first, like a blow to the face—heat so hot, it dried the sweat that
formed. Atira breathed in, tasting the acrid tang in the
air.
The room was huge,
with stone walls and a high-vaulted ceiling. Heavy wooden beams
arched over the room. There were clusters of men and boys around
the walls, working at tables. The noise was as loud as any battle.
Each group seemed to be working on something, but Atira’s eyes were
drawn to the ones in the center.
The heat came from
the middle of the room, where a circular stone ring sat, covered by
an arched dome. She could see flame flickering within the openings.
A young man worked some sort of odd wood-and-leather thing up and
down, and the fire at the center danced in response, crackling and
swaying with his movements.
“That’s the fire that
Dunstan uses to heat the metal.” Heath raised his voice to be heard
over the noise. “The apprentice works the bellows, see? It keeps
the fire at the right heat.” Heath pointed to three men, working
close by the fire. “See the anvil? That large metal piece
there?”
“What are they
doing?” Atira asked.
“Watch,” Ismari
said.
Nathan set aside his
sword and advanced to stand near Dunstan, gesturing back in their
direction. Dunstan looked over and flashed a grin, but returned to
his work.
One man was holding
something in the fire. He pulled out a long length of glowing,
orange metal. Dunstan and the other man held hammers and tongs. As
the metal hit the anvil, it started to change from a fiery orange
to a sullen red.
Dunstan grabbed the
metal with the tongs and bent it over on itself. The other man
started to tap it with the hammer, beating the red-hot metal in on
itself with a strong, regular beat.
The men worked as if
they were dancing to the rhythm of the hammers, never speaking to
one another, each moving precisely, folding the metal over and
over. Finally, the huge one backed off. “That’s it for now, lads.”
He picked up the piece of metal, now barely glowing, and thrust it
into a barrel that stood close by. Steam whooshed up, and he
withdrew the piece, looking it over with a critical
eye.
“Death of fire, birth
of earth,” Atira chanted softly, staring wide-eyed at the
forge.
“Dunstan,” Ismari
called, and Atira started, having forgotten everything but the
forging. “Heath has come and brought a Plains warrior with
him.”
That got everyone’s
attention, and heads turned in her direction. The huge man walked
over with a big smile on his face. “Heath, lad! It’s good to see
you.” Dunstan clapped Heath’s shoulder.
“Dunstan, meet Atira
of the Bear, warrior of the Plains.” Heath gestured, and Dunstan
turned and smiled at Atira.
“I want to do that,”
Atira blurted out.
Dunstan roared out a
laugh. “Ah, lady, that has to be earned. I don’t let any but my
journeymen aid me in the forging of a blade.”
“They’ve come for the
rings,” Ismari said. “And I’ve asked them to stay for the mid-meal.
Wash up now,” she called out to the others as they started to put
their tools away.
The men and boys
scrambled to obey, moving quickly. Two of the youngest ran to open
two huge doors at the back of the room, letting cooler air and sun
into the area. Atira had to blink to see past the brightness. There
was a small courtyard out there, with a well.
“What’s that, then? A
new way to work a blade?” Heath asked as they headed toward the
back.
“Aye,” Dunstan said.
“Not sure that it will work or not, but I think the idea is sound.
Give me a minute to wash up, and we’ll talk over the meal.” He
paused, his eyes twinkling. “Besides, what’s this I hear of opening
the old trade routes?”
Heath shook his head
in admiration. “Now, how did you learn of that so
fast?”
Dunstan laughed.
“Come while I wash off this grime.”
“We’ll not just talk
business, either,” Ismari called after them. “I wish to hear of
your adventures on the Plains.”
Men and boys were
rushing around, setting up a long table in the sunny courtyard.
Others were running up with mugs and bowls. Still others were
bringing in pitchers of water from another room, and baskets heaped
with bread, cheese, and some kind of round meat.
A line had formed at
the well, and the boys were laughing and splashing one
another.
“Organized chaos,”
Ismari laughed, guiding Atira off to the side. “Come with me. We
can wash up in my chambers.” She led Atira over to another
door.
“Those rings are
lovely,” Atira said. “Would I offend if I asked you if you truly
made them?”
“Not at all,” Ismari
said, leading the way down a corridor to a small bathing room. “I
work in gold and silver, and sometimes with gemstones.” She held up
her hands. “It takes deft hands and a light touch. My mother did
the same.”
“But there are no
other women here,” Atira said carefully.
“Indeed, no,” Ismari
laughed. “They love the look of gold, but once they get a feel of
the heat, burns, and sweat, they lose interest in the work
quickly.” She took off her apron and set it on a hook. “But I love
creating beautiful things. The Queen’s rings were quite a
challenge.”
“You wear no ring,”
Atira said as Ismari started to pour water into a large bowl. “Are
you bonded?”
“No,” Ismari
chuckled. She gestured to the water. “We’d best hurry, for the lads
can’t start until we are all seated. They will gnaw the table if we
aren’t prompt.”
As Atira plunged her
hands into the water, Ismari continued. “I should warn you, the
younger boys recently discovered the wonders of girls . . . if you
know what I mean.”
Atira shared a
knowing look with her. “In that, there is no difference between our
peoples.”
Ismari
laughed.
When they emerged,
the boys were shoving one another, vying for seats on benches,
gawking at Atira. Dunstan was already seated at one end, Heath at
his left.
“Are you really of
the Plains?” one of the lads asked, his voice a high squeak as
Atira and Ismari walked toward that end of the table.
“Aye,” Atira said
with a smile. The boys’ heads followed her as she walked, staring
at her as if they expected her to breath fire or
something.
Well . . . not really
staring at her. They were focused a
little lower than that.
“Where are your
manners?” Ismari scolded as she took her seat to Dunstan’s right
and gestured for Atira to sit next to her. “Settle now. Dunstan,
say the grace.”
Dunstan rose, and
everyone else bowed their heads over clasped hands. Atira had to
smile as the apprentice’s sleeves fell back to show that their
attention to washing had ended at their wrists.
Dunstan clasped his
hands together and bowed his head. Atira did the same, but she
watched them all, curious. The youngest boys had their eyes
squeezed tight. Silence fell, abruptly, with no one so much as
shifting in their seats.
Dunstan drew a deep
breath. “Sun God, we thank thee for thy radiance and
light.”
“Sun God, our
thanks,” was the murmured response.
“For the work we have
done, and will do, in your day.”
“Sun God, our
thanks.”
“For the rest that we
had, and will have, in your night.”
“Sun God, our
thanks.”
“May your light
illuminate our hearts now and forevermore.”
“Sun God, our
thanks.”
Atira reared back as
the table exploded into action, everyone talking and reaching for
food at the same time.
“You’d think they
were wild dogs.” Ismari rolled her eyes as she snatched up a basket
of bread and served Atira before she served herself. “I’ve given up
at this meal, but I demand better at the evening meal. They’ll not
leave our service without some manners.”
“Pull your tongues
in, lads!” Dunstan bellowed. “Stop your wandering eyes and eat.
We’ve work to do this afternoon, and if it’s not done to my liking,
you’ll celebrate the Queen’s wedding over a hot
forge!”
The boys promptly
buried their faces in their food, stuffing it in their mouths as
fast as they could.
Dunstan grunted in
satisfaction and turned to Heath. “Now what’s all this about the
trade routes?”
HEATH COULD
SYMPATHIZE WITH THE YOUNG APPRENTICES. He liked staring at Atira’s
breasts, too.
He tried his best to
answer Dunstan’s questions while watching Atira and Ismari. Ismari
seemed fascinated by the Plains warrior, asking all kinds of
questions about that land.
But Atira had a fair
number of questions herself, all centered on blacksmithing, and it
wasn’t long before Dunstan was trying to describe his new idea for
forging a sword.
“Folding, that’s the
key,” he rumbled, waving a piece of bread in the air for emphasis.
“If the metal holds layer after layer, it will
withstand—”
Ismari looked down
the table, where the boys had eaten their fill and were twitching
to be away. “All right, lads,” she nodded.
The boys bolted off,
clattering mugs and pitchers, clearing the table, carrying away the
benches. Heath chuckled as Atira tried to watch it all out of the
corner of her eye.
“Aye, it’s back to
work.” Dunstan pushed back from the table. “The streets will be
filled with dancing tonight, and the lads will be worth nothing in
the morning. We’ll need to get the work done this day or not at
all.”
“Knowing you, you’ll
be dancing in the streets with the best of them,” Heath chuckled.
“Still,” he said, shrugging, “I’m just as glad to hear that you
want to celebrate. Not everyone does.”
“You think the hate
will disappear like that?” Dunstan said bluntly, snapping his
fingers. “Nay, that will not happen. Takes time, lad.” He shook his
head as he gathered up his apron and started to put it on. The boys
were pulling the doors closed again and getting their own aprons
on. One of them was already at the bellows. “Some will dance for
joy, some will just want to dance, some will scowl and sit in their
bitterness. But in the end, we have a Queen, and soon an heir, and
Xy continues.”
Heath nodded, then
grinned. “I’m not going to argue with a man who molds hot metal all
day.”
Dunstan bellowed out
a laugh, clapped him on the back, and headed to his
forge.
Heath turned to
Ismari. “I’ve the means to settle the Queen’s debt.”
“After what she did
for us?” Ismari shook her head. “She offered herself in willing
sacrifice, Heath. I am proud to craft the ring for her and her
husband.”
Heath raised an
eyebrow. “She won’t expect you to work for free.”
“If she makes it
known that I did the work, I’ll be well repaid,” Ismari said
simply. “And . . . I’ve heard tell that there are some rare
unpolished gemstones in the vaults of the castle. I’d ask for a
chance to see them, and perhaps buy them from Her Majesty.”
Ismari’s eyes sparkled. “Moonstones, perhaps?”
“I’ll ask,” Heath
said. “After the wedding.”
“After the babe,”
Ismari said firmly.
Heath chuckled and
turned to Atira. She was staring at Dunstan. The smith was
examining his work, talking in low tones as the apprentices worked
the bellows. The heat of the fires was building in the room again,
and the apprentices had started hammering their own projects.
“Ready?”
“No,” Atira said
firmly and stalked over to the smith’s side.