The Night of Avarice. It is not a festival I pay much attention to. The indulgences that Vorst and Siscern might wish upon us are not really to my taste. I am a man of moderate desires, and moderate indulgence. Sure, I have played music in taverns while others celebrate in the approved fashion, but beyond taking perhaps a few more drinks than I might otherwise consume, I do not over-indulge.
This particular Avarice evening, I had planned nothing more than relaxing at home with some ham and cheese and a jar of cider. As it was, it did not turn out that way, but I have no complaints. I had pleasant company and that without the pressure to indulge in anything more than conversation.
The evening also included a somewhat ambitious potential commission. I was crossing the square by the fountain when I encountered the good captain’s sister, Anariel, sitting by the fountain. We made polite conversation regarding various things, including some clothing she was having Mistress Nessa make for her. She said that it was fortuitous that we had met, for she had been seeking me. She asked if I was a crafter of instruments. Sadly, I could not answer her to her satisfaction. I could make minor repairs to those instruments I owned, and maybe fashion such things as bells, triangles and such like, but I had no experience in anything further.
What she wanted was definitely well beyond my capabilities, at least, for now. She wanted somebody to fashion for her a harpsichord. Now that set be back somewhat. That was a considerably more complicated project than anything I had considered before. 60 strings, instead of the 15 I am used to on the lute, plus minor details like a huge frame, a keyboard etc. I told her straight that I did not think this was something within my range, nor did I know anybody in Iero who built such things.
She looked somewhat disappointed so I said I would look into it. I couldn’t make any promises, I said, but, perhaps, just maybe, I could look at collaborating with others. I could, no doubt, make the frame and various parts of the mechanism. Anselm, the luthier, for example could possibly expand his repertoire to 60 strings. I know a couple of cabinet-makers, who’ve made presentation cases for swords and daggers, when something a bit fancier is required beyond my carpentry skill. I would have to research in the library, to see if it was even remotely possible. That’s all I could promise, that I would look into it.
We spoke a while about the various minor thefts that had been going on, with random items of clothing being stolen and deposited elsewhere. That led to talking about clothing in general and how Nessa was making clothes for her. I said I would probably have to look at having some grander clothes made now that I was part of the royal household. She also told me she had been having visions, but didn’t know what they were about yet.
We parted company and I made my way down to mid-docks. I was just passing the Shed when I encountered Rubi, the lady who had been in search of books the last time we met. We made greeting and spoke briefly of our previous encounter. She was still staying at the Cross Keys and I was on my way to acquire some supper, we decided to head back there. As we cross the market, we encountered an Aerial. It may have been the one from the other day, but I wasn’t sure, as I had only seen that one at a distance. This one at least spoke, and gave us blessings on this Night of Avarice.
We both returned her greeting and invited her to join us for supper. She declined, saying that another time, she might, but tonight, she had to hold vigil with the Sisters. She was glad, though, that we were not intending to give in to the indulgences of the Brothers. She flew off then, promising to intercede on our behalf with Iera.
Rubi and I continued to the tavern, where we supped on the mutton stew and ale and wine. We spoke of the Night of Avarice and the baser indulgences of the Brothers, and how neither of us were particularly inclined to succumb. I told how my mother had suffered no small number of indignities from men who were all too eager to assume that because she sang for them in taverns, she was willing to entertain them in other ways. That was one of the main reasons I avoided over-indulgence, because I didn’t want to be like them. She told me this was the first time she had been away from home for Avarice and was grateful for gentlemanly company. Such was the tenor of the evening after that, pleasant company without obligation or expectation.
I do not think that anybody who knows me would describe me as threatening or intimidating or in the least bit scary. At least, I try not to be. And yet, my presence is apparently sufficient to cause a duchess to faint. In surprise, I hasten to add, not swooning at my comeliness.
I was just heading from home to the shop when I encountered Mistress Weaver, the Duchess Cirice, and a gentleman of the Dark-kin persuasion that I did not know. I gave them greeting by such precedence as I knew, and introduced myself to the gentleman by name and profession.
I don’t know what the conversation had been about, but it seemed that the gentleman, one Mordecai, was seeking an introduction to the Crown, and Nessa was offering to go to the palace to enquire if an audience was likely. He was amenable to this idea and offered to remain here with “Mr scrap metal” until she returned. I’ve been called worse.
The duchess, however, despite my greeting, had not apparently noticed my presence, and when she turned and almost collided with me, fell in a faint on the ground. I immediately rendered what aid I could, that is to say, putting on of my cloth bags under her head as an improvised pillow, and gently trying to bring her round. Nessa, who had been about to go and find out if the Crown was receptive to a meeting, instead dashed off to see if she could find a healer. She took Mordecai with her, just in case an audience was possible.
It did not take long for Cirice to regain consciousness and start displaying the sort of manners I have come to expect from her. She began by complaining that I smelled of horse shit, then scrambled all over me in trying to get up from the disgusting pathway, before turning round and asking that if I was going to sneak up on her, at least to have the decency to stab her in the kidneys like a proper assassin.
I pointed out that it was likely the nearby stables she could smell as I had not been near a horse in over a week. I offered to fetch her something to drink, a glass of water or some brandy, which she declined, and I apologised for sneaking up on her, saying that perhaps next time, I should whistle as I walked, or wear a bell. As to stabbing her, I said, I did not know much about such things, but had always assumed that an assassin would go for slitting the throat.
She seemed to take the suggestion of a bell seriously, and then got all snotty about the state of the stables, as if it was any of her business. I promised I would speak to the hostler about it. She was insulted by the idea of having her throat slit, because she claimed she had a lovely neck and it would be an insult to the gods to despoil it. I wasn’t sure what to say to that, but played along, since she seemed to thrive on flattery and suggested that any stabbing would be an insult. She thanked me for my help and even described me as a good man, and well-mannered.
Nessa arrived back with a couple of the guards and the good captain Ithildin. I was glad of that, since I know her to be a healer, and she was pleased that I had been there to render immediate aid. The duchess, however, seemed disinclined to any further aid, claiming that she had no need since she had a fine head of hair that had shielded her from any injury. She would be fine with getting back to the castle, or somewhere away from the stables and having a bit of a rest.
She also told Nessa about the bell, saying that I was going to fashion one and wear it about my neck, lest such accidents were to happen again. Nessa was most amused by that, joking that I was a handsome fellow, but not so much as I would send any woman into a swoon. I explained that it was a matter of the duchess being startled, rather than a direct result of my appearance, which I insisted was quite ordinary.
Cirice thanked Ithildin, and me, for our help and tried to proffer some gold coins in way of a reward. She was most offended when the good captain and I both refused. Ithildin for she had done little, and besides, she owned her own airship, so had no need, and I said that I was merely the man on the spot and rendered such aid as I would to any citizen who had need. And likewise, I was well enough served by my business and my royal appointment. She got quite irritated by that, and the continuing smell of the stables and insisted that somebody escort her back to the palace. I left her in the care of the guards to do that. I would have stayed and spoken with the other ladies, but Nessa had business elsewhere, and Ithildin was summoned by a messenger and likewise had to depart.
I wandered off, then, intending to get some supper, when I noticed an aerial swooping down from the sky and alighting on the roof of the stables. I gave her polite greeting, for such beings are, I believe, considered as bringing good fortune, but also warned her that the horses could be skittish with strangers.
As I turned, I almost ran into a gentleman of the elven persuasion, one Thandir Meneluva, as he introduced himself. I introduced myself after he asked if I was the hostler, explaining that I was not, but as resident smith, I had shod most of the horses, so they knew me well enough. It turned out that he was a metalworker too, though in precious metals, rather than the base metals of my work. Not that I am unfamiliar with precious metals, as some clients wish such as embellishment on their weapons and armour. We spoke a while about this, and the possibility of collaboration – me making the weapons, and him providing such gold and silver decoration as needed. He did not stop long, as he was on his way to do some warding on a ship. He gave greeting to the aerial in his tongue and headed off.
I likewise gave further greeting to the aerial. She was watching me, but did not seem to be making any move to come closer. I wished her fair winds, which she appeared to acknowledge, but then, with a swift beat of the wings, took off and headed skywards. I waved, and then, lacking further company, took myself to the Cross Keys for some ale and some supper, preferably without causing any further people to swoon.
It amuses to know that I am still, apparently, infamous. Well, according the djinn, Quas’alma anyway. It’s very likely true. There have always been odd rumours about me, or at least, my past. My own fault, I will admit. I have told many a tale when I have been performing, various stories in between songs and pieces of music, and many of them have been about myself. Some may have had an element of truth, but only a minor element. It amused me to tell them, and it amuses me when stories come back – are you really from some far-away land – and such like.
Quas’alma came into the Cross Keys while I was dining there this evening. I gave her good evening and then faltered, for I could not, for the life of me, recall her name. I apologised and admitted my lapse of memory.
She looked at me and said that a girl’s ego could get hurt if somebody did not remember her. She joined me at the table nevertheless. I apologised again and said that I did indeed remember her, for she was most memorable, save that it was only her name I could recall. In my defence, I said, I had been very busy of late.
She looked at me still, saying she could understand why I might forget her, for she was not the flashiest person around and then introduced herself as Quas’alma of House Ulstrand. And I, she said, was the infamous blacksmith who very much likes ham.
I was tucking into a well-filled plate of ham at the time, courtesy of Millicent who always seems to give me a more generous portion than most, so I could not deny the latter. Nor, I said, could I deny the former. I was most definitely a blacksmith, and as for infamy, well possibly. There are fanciful rumours, I said, I know because I probably started some of them. I told her she did herself a disservice, for I had not forgotten her, only her name. I said I didn’t care for flashiness. Some flaunt their clothes and jewellery, others don’t. It was of no matter to me. My mother taught me to treat all people equally, albeit with all respect due to a person’s rank.
She seemed to agree, saying that we all have our class or rank, and we all have our roles, and people deserve the respect due their position.
I told her that Savaric, who had taught me my trade, had made sure I knew how to address customers, be they farmer or a lord, appropriately. Even so, I would rather treat somebody like Millicent as a lady, than treat a lady as a serving girl. I opined that the Crown seemed to be of like mind, for he had always treated me well, inviting me to dine even, as well as making me Royal Blacksmith. I asked what her role might be.
She told me she was house guard to her noble family and had been for three generations. Aside from that, she loved to dance. She wasn’t royal anything. She had no position in court, and neither had she sought one. I said that this was a very worthy role indeed. I was no dancer, but I loved to play music so others could dance and suggested that she might seek out the Cania, for she was seeking artisans and performers for her festival. She was not so keen on that idea, claiming she was only good enough to dance for herself, and occasionally for her noble family. I suggested that so long as she danced with joy in her heart for the dancing, it would be a delight. Or so my mother had assured me while I was learning to play my instruments.
The door opened and in came the good captain, Ithildin, herself, followed, coincidentally, I think, by another woman. I told Ithildin it was a pleasure to see her, as always. Quas’alma greeted her as Ambassador and echoed my invitation to join us.
The stranger bade us good evening, so we all introduced ourselves and asked her to join us. She did so and told us she was Rubigine, or Rubi for short. She was new to Iero and was in search of tools, books and more suitable clothing. She was rather elegantly dressed for the Cross Keys.
Quas’alma and Ithildin both recommended the mincemeat pie and then Ithildin asked how I was getting along with my new appointment and her corset. I told her about dining with the Crown the previous evening and that the corset was progressing well. All leather was cut out and all the metal parts made, so it just needed a final fitting and adjustment and then I could finish it off.
Rubi perked up and asked if I was a tailor. She said she needed more clothing and also, she was here in search of books and tools. Ithildin explained that I wasn’t a tailor, but I did work with leather, hence the commission. I told her I was a smith, so she should definitely come by the Tool Shed if there was anything in the line of tools she needed. If she wanted books, we told her, there was the book stall in the market, quite nearby my shop. And, there was the library in the Great Hall. Except you mostly weren’t allowed to take books away from the Great Hall.
Rubi was just asking about a place to stay, and Ithildin was telling her that here at the Cross Keys was probably her best bet, when a young lad turned up with a note. Hawisa was in need of some help with something at the house, so I made my excuses and departed after asking Ithildin to pop round some time so I could do the fitting. They all bade me farewell, but Ithildin addressed me as Master Radulf, which seemed a bit off. A mild reproof perhaps? I do hope I haven’t offended her in some way. Maybe we are not yet fully on first name terms. I shall have to watch out for that in future.
Who would have thought that I, a humble craftsman, might sup with royalty? I certainly never thought so. But yet, here I am. I am still adjusting to the idea that being Royal Blacksmith makes me a member of the Royal Court of Iero, rather than being an employee thereof.
It was Nessa who told me. She was already on her way to the castle, following Narandir, when she saw me and told me that we were invited to dine with the Crown and begged me to come so she wouldn’t be alone with the nobs. Fortunately, I was moderately well dressed and needed only to stop by my dwelling to collect my citole. I figured that if I was to be hosted by the Crown, the least I could do was to offer music in return.
I caught up with Nessa at the castle gates and teased her by asking why she didn’t want to be left alone with the nobs. She hissed at me that I wasn’t supposed to say that bit out loud. I just grinned back at her. We caught up with Narandir, where Nessa introduced me as Royal Blacksmith and Bard. She wasn’t to know that we had already met. Narandir said we were already acquainted, but he knew me only as a craftsman. I pointed out that the Royal appointment was only for the blacksmith part. There were surely plenty of people better qualified to be Royal Bard.
We went on in, where were welcomed by Sevestryn, who bade us make ourselves comfortable and told us that this was to be an informal affair. Well, I thought, as informal as any gathering with the Crown can be. Ornendil was there already, talking about working on his orchard, doing little repairs and building a habitat for some falkeo. He had also made a pie, which had brought with him. He was not the only one. Nessa brought some almond cakes and honey, which she admitted she had purchased rather than made, and Narandir had brought some pear brandy. I was a little worried, for I had not thought to bring anything with me and apologised, saying that at least, I could play a tune or two later. Sevestryn assured me that bringing things was not necessary, especially given the short notice, and that a tune would be much appreciated.
Elain turned up a few minutes later, apologising for being late and blaming it on her cairn being unwell. Then the duchess turned up, elbowing her way past the guards and sounding as though she felt she was entitled to be there. Her manners did not seem to have improved since last time I saw her. She did make a weak attempt at an apology, saying that she had been told her remarks at the market were perhaps a little hasty and asking if we could all start again. She at least greeted me nicely enough. She didn’t stay very long. Just long enough to make some other greetings, compliment Nessa on her dress and say something about being a neutral observer at the proceedings, despite Sevestryn assuring her this was a purely social gathering. After a while, having asked if Ithildin had been invited, took it upon herself to go find an errand boy to seek her out. As she left, she ordered one of the servants to bring her soup in her room, so I guessed she didn’t intend to return.
Dinner was a few steps above my usual fare. There was a pumpkin soup, a dish of eggplant with cheese, stuffed olives, bread and cheese. Those last two at least were more akin to my usual fare. There was also a dish of honeyed ham for the meat eaters among us. Sevestryn did say it was largely non-meat dishes in deference to Ornendil’s eating habits. We talked of various things – carpentry and similar skills, the care of cairns, Zeluren’s cooking experiments and alchemy. Sevestryn praised Ithildin’s skills as an ambassador, but couldn’t comment on her skills as an airship captain, for he had not witnessed them. I would have spoken of that on her behalf, but then Sevestryn proposed a new topic for discussion. What is the strangest thing you have ever eaten? His was cheese made from cairn’s milk and fermented in pigs’ intestines.
Ornendil said that he had eaten roasted culabara and would not recommend it. Presumably from a time when he did eat meat. I’ve never actually seen a culabara. I know them to be some kind of flying lizard, but that’s it. I doubt I would be that keen were I ever offered it. Narandir said he had once had a broth made from needled tree branches. He said that no amount of honey and lemon could erase the memory of that flavour. Elain thought that sounded quite nice, with honey and lemon. She declined, for the benefit of our appetites, to describe the strangest thing she had eaten.
Nessa’s story was more entertaining. She had purchased some mushrooms from a pixie, who assured her that they were edible. All she remembers after eating them was being fascinated by the movement of her hands, and the next thing she knew, she was naked on the roof of her house, which she had somehow painted in yellow and pink stripes. Sevestryn said that the moral was probably to beware of pixies selling mushrooms. That sounded like good advice. I know Hawisa was always careful to distinguish between mushrooms for cooking and those she used for her potions. Elain clearly knew what type of mushroom it was – whitish and shaped like an arrowhead.
I had to think about it, for I have not been overly adventurous in my cuisine. The strangest thing I could think of, I said, was snails. Pleasant enough, I told them, but it seemed most like a rather rubbery way of eating garlic butter. That was the strangest thing I could think of having eaten deliberately. Accidentally, it was probably the time I ate a grasshopper that had landed on my sandwich just as I was putting it in my mouth. That was not so tasty. Then I remembered the Docker’s Finger from that time down in the Traps. A finger that some docker had lost in a fight and had been preserved in alcohol ever since. The drink was a glass of rum with the finger in it.
That caused a certain amount of comment and I had to explain that you didn’t consume the finger itself, you just had to drink rum with the finger in it and you had to let it touch your lips. It was some sort of rite of passage. I had gone to the tavern, I said, to play some songs – very different ones from those I was likely to perform tonight – and had been persuaded to try it. In my defence, I had been somewhat drunk at the time.
That led to a new discussion on rites of passage. Sevestryn asked if there were others we had undertaken. Ornendil would say only that there were various during his martial training, but they were not worth telling. Narandir said only that he gained his name after wandering far from home, so that was perhaps a rite of passage. Elain said that hers were not appropriate for the dinner table. I mentioned that there were various rites during my training as a blacksmith, but I could not divulge those. There were also all the informal ones – the first time you hit your thumb with the hammer, the first time you picked up a piece of hot metal and so on. Sevestryn said that during his priestly training, he had to sit a vigil and guard a candle to make sure it burned all night. What he did not know was that his fellow priests had played a prank on him, and given him a candle that would go out after an hour, no matter what he did with it.
I got up then, and offered to play some music. Conversation continued while I did so on various subjects, including more discussion on the care of cairns, looking after falkeo, people going exploring around the island, and some fellow called Saeka’hn that Ornendil wanted to help by teaching him to paint. All in all, it was a pleasant evening in pleasant company. However, it had been a very busy day, so after a few tunes, I begged pardon to take my leave and get some rest, and after fulsome thanks from our host and the guests, I departed for home, well satisfied with the day.
One thing I have learned over the years is that nobles are not always noble, and often are far from it. More recently, it seems, that royals are not always royal. Or, at least, aren’t always entirely comfortable in that role. The crown likes to spend time visiting the ordinary people, and his niece, who I met this afternoon, struck me as very un-royal in her attitude. Perhaps she is not yet used to courtly life. Oh, and gravity is apparently optional. But that, at least, has nothing to do with royalty, or nobility.
I was on my way down to the market to fetch something for supper, when I heard my name being mentioned. There was quite a gathering around Ornendil’s stall, though he himself was absent. From my vantage point, I could see the Crown, the good captain Ithildin, Nessa, Cirice, Elain, Quas’alma and a couple I did not know. A young woman and another djinn who seemed to have forgotten where the ground was. Either that, or had some aversion to touching it.
I made greetings as I should and asked if my ears should be burning, for I had heard my name mentioned. Ithildin said that they should for Ornendil and I were apparently the talk of the town. She did not elaborate further, and after a brief word with the duchess, had to depart, which was a shame.
The conversation seemed to be about thinking of a name for Sevestryn’s pet agamid. Ithildin had apparently suggested something in the elven tongue, but that was considered too hard to pronounce. Sevestryn was thinking of Icicle or Icy for short. Quas’alma suggested Mischief, Chief for short. Sevestryn wasn’t sure about calling it Chief, as it already thinks it is in charge of him.
He was pleased to see me. He complained that he had been left at the mercy of all these beautiful women, who, he feared were going to bedazzle him and burn his eyes out of his sockets unless I came along to share the burden. A little dramatic, I thought, so I responded in kind – the gods forfend, sire, that I should ever fail to defend my crown. Although, I added, my very ordinary visage might not be enough to attract attention away from his. I forbore to comment that anybody would choose a baseborn artisan over a royal.
I assured him that he was most likely safe, the ladies present, at least, the ones I knew, were of good character, and mindful of the law. Though I couldn’t help adding, glancing at the floating djinn, possibly save the law of gravity. I could try distracting them with a song, I said, and quickly made up one, using a tune my mother used to hum sometimes.
Gravity Seems it’s not the way it used to be For this lady floating before me Defies the laws, of gravity
Assorted introductions were made. The floating djinn was Kokochin and the other young lady was Sevestryn’s niece, Shynne. And she was the one seeking me. Or, at least, she was seeking somebody who could shoe horses and Sevestryn had mentioned that I might be able to do so. Nessa also made introductions and suggested that we might become friends. She also said that she had found something that I might enjoy, but did not say what.
Shynne was pleased to make my acquaintance and said that we would indeed be friends for she had often need of a blacksmith’s skills for various things, too many to list now. She asked if she could entrust the ponies at the royal stables into my care. I assured her that she could indeed do so, for I had started learned the ways of shoeing horses when I was yet small enough to walk under a horse without ducking. It was only later that I noticed that her own legs and feet looked more horse-like, so perhaps she might need shoeing. Now that would be a first. She did say she had a couple of buckets of old horseshoes I could have. I won’t complain about that. No sense in wasting good metal.
Meanwhile, the duchess seemed to be continuing to be in a grumpy mood. Last time I saw her, she left in a huff for some reason, possibly something Quas’alma said. Today looked to be going in a similar vein and she eventually stalked off, grumbling something about the fruit and vegetables being tainted by the common rabble. Not very noble, but then, as I said, nobles don’t always behave in a noble manner.
The gathering was starting to break up. Quas’alma asked if her lord had come to me yet with the schematics of the various items he had asked me to craft. I said that he had not, but I would be sure to chase that up with him. I left then, deciding to forgo a ham and cheese supper in favour of a drink and some stew at the tavern.
I had not thought, when I accepted the role of Royal Blacksmith, to enquire as to the scope of the appointment. I suppose that, as a member of the Royal Court, it is incumbent upon me to provide such services and counsel as the Crown demands, however, one might be forgiven for thinking that such services and counsel would be those appropriate to the position. On matters pertaining to my profession, I am well-placed to give service and counsel. On other things, such as matters of the heart, or the continuation of the royal line, I am less qualified. And yet, I found myself being so asked.
I was on my way to the Cross Keys when I ran into the Crown. He was chatting with Ornendil and buying some cider. Even on short acquaintance, I have come to learn that Sevestryn is no ordinary Crown. Rather, he is one who likes to get out among the people, perhaps because of his previous calling to the priesthood. That said, it still struck me as a little incongruous to see the ruler of Iero out doing the shopping himself. Albeit, with guards in tow to do the carrying.
Lord Zeluren was there too, although he was hovering, as if undecided about joining the Crown. Or possibly, he was checking on the performance of the Royal Guard, since he growled at one of them to stand up straighter. I gave greeting, first to the Crown, then to Zeluren and then to Ornendil.
Sevestryn greeted me in turn and asked if I had sampled Ornendil’s cider. I told him I had and recommended the spicy chutney too, which I said I was very fond of with a bread and cheese supper. Sevestryn said that he had not had a good cheese in a while. Apparently the palace cook thinks cheese is unnatural. He and Ornendil started talking about pears, and a pear tree that Sevestryn had tried to tend, with little success, in the temple grounds. Meanwhile, Zeluren decided to join us, greeted us and started asking about apples. Ornendil recommended the cooking apples. It seems that Zeluren is fond of cooking, which seemed unlikely, but then, who knows what life is like up at the palace.
Ornendil asked about the wheelbarrow, which momentarily confused me for a moment until I remembered that was what we were calling our secret project. I told him I was gathering information prior to commencing the design. Zeluren commented that it was a compliment to my abilities that I had so many commissions and Sevestryn wondered how it was that I found time to do them all. It was a fair question. I’ve always done what was needed. If I’m busy, then I work more hours, it’s as simple as that. It’s my job to find the time, I told him. Besides, aside from visiting my former mentor’s widow once or twice a week, I have no family, nor a wife, to take up my time.
Sevestryn was surprised that I had no wife and lamented that he did not have one either. He suggested that we could perhaps go out on the town together some day in search of women, if we could find any that would have us. I was not quite sure what to make of that. I am not unacquainted with the fairer sex. I have had my share of lovers, but none that suited me well enough to be more than a short-term dalliance. I could have plenty more, for transient amusement, were I so inclined, for there are always those who cast a beckoning eye, or tweaked décolletage at a man with a lute. But, I am not so inclined. So, while I am no virgin, I am not sure I am equipped to give counsel to the Crown on finding a suitable consort. I told him as such. I meet plenty of women, I told him, when I am playing in the taverns, but while those might be suitable for one of my station, I doubted that he would find one suitable as Royal Consort there. I would not know where to go to find such suitable ladies. Besides, I said, if we were to go out seeking women together, what chance would I have compared to him, whose visage was much fairer than mine?
He laughed and said that he did not know where to go to meet suitable ladies either. Perhaps he should become like me and learn a musical instrument, he said. I do not know much of court life, or royal circles, but I would have thought there were plenty of ministers and advisors who would work assiduously to locate a suitable consort and secure the succession. And, I also would have thought that there were many noble families plotting ways of making their daughters catch the royal eye, but perhaps that is not so. He disagreed regarding looks, saying that he did not think women went for fair faces so much as liking a man with a big hammer.
I am glad I was not drinking at that moment, for I would surely have spat out my drink laughing. This was not the sort of salacious language I would expect from the royal mouth. I managed to contain myself and said that I would rather hope to find a woman who desired me not for my face or the size of my tool, but for my company, for my conversation and companionship; the things that would remain when my face was lined and I had laid my hammer down. On that, he agreed, though he was not sure where he would find such a woman, He said he wanted one who was also kind and considerate and could laugh in times of adversity. I could not disagree with him there. We chatted a while more, before he went off in search of other diversions.
There were quite a few other people around while this discussion was going on. There was a djinn lady, who I think the Crown addressed as Quas’alma, who was apparently quite pleased to have acquired some oranges. The fae lady, Elain came by in search of a compass, and was pointed in my direction. She required one to orient herself for some ritual of enchantment. I told her I had the means and materials, that is to say, lodestone and soft iron, to make such a thing. We agreed on the price of one silver piece for that.
The duchess, Cirice, I had met a day or so hence came walking by in search of some amusement, although she did not look to be overly impressed with the market, complaining it smelled of pig-shit. She greeted me amiably enough and asked if I had fared well with my reading, which I had. She did not stay long, exchanging a few words on fashion with Zeluren, and then leaving in a huff, offended by some slight on the part of Quas’alma.
We had another mysterious stranger, his face concealed by a hood. He had some quiet conversation with Quas’alma, but his intentions seemed to be towards the person of Zeluren. Eventually, they spoke to each other. About what, I could not easily tell, save that the stranger wished to convey some information to Zeluren and wanted to set up a meeting. Zeluren on the other hand, wanted to discuss whatever matter it was now, and so they headed off in the direction of the lower docks. It all looked very cloak and dagger, but, ultimately, not my concern. The intrigue and affairs of the court and its officers are not my business unless I am asked.
As to affairs of the heart, in which matter, the Crown did seek my counsel, I would rather it were not my business either, for I would not know where to begin. The women I was likely to company with in the normal course of affairs would not have status that would be suitable for consideration as royal consort. Otherwise, the only women of status I know are the Cania, and I do not know if she is married or not. Then there is the duchess, Cirice, who is definitely married, or so she told me. And then there is the good captain, Ithildin, who is definitely worthy, although her position as ambassador might be a complication. I would not presume to suggest anything in that direction. Besides, I enjoy her company, and selfishly, would resent anything that might diminish the time I can spend in said company. I know that such as me could not hope to be anything but a friend to such as her, but a man can always have aspirations.
My talents were forged, if I may be so bold as to joke, and why not, since this is mine own journal for mine own eyes, in learning the ways of metal. But metal alone does not a finished creation make. A knife is seldom a knife without a handle. A dagger or sword is not complete without a hilt. And these things need sheaths. Armour need straps and tunics. And some of these things require boxes to put them in. And so, I gained skills also in wood and leather to make these things. All these are skills pertinent to my trade – necessary to make those things that I sell. There are the tools and appliances of everyday life. There are the specialised tools and appliances needed by other trades – retort stands for alchemists, scissors for the seamstress and so on. And, of course, there are the weapons and armour for those that need them, plus shoes for horses and any number of things that can be made in metal, wood and leather.
Sometimes, I get asked for stranger things, such as when a certain unnamed nobleman wished me to make a set of restraints made that might have been for some prisoner’s dungeon, save that he wished it decorated in a ladylike style and the restraints lined with soft fabric and rabbit fur. I did not ask further. It is no business of mine what goes on in the bed chambers of others, as in is no business of anybody else what goes in in mine. Which is precious little other than reading and sleep, but that is still nobody’s business but my own.
Today, I had an even stranger commission. And I have to admit, I am not entirely comfortable with it, for it involves magical items. Now, I am not unacquainted with magic, of course. Such things are a part of the blacksmith’s art, even if we do not advertise it. However, this was something else entirely.
It came from a most unexpected place. Ornendil, the elven gentleman who has the stall opposite mine in the market. The maker and cellar of fine cider, chutneys, vinegars and jams; produce, I believe of the orchards he keeps in the Sapisio Mountains. I had always found him a fairly unassuming fellow, amiable, if perhaps a little shy, and have oft enjoyed his produce. He approached me somewhat diffidently, nay uneasily, and asked if he might have a few moments of my time, for, he had been told, I was a man of both fairness and varied skills. He spoke softly, as if he did not wish to be overheard.
I said that I hoped this was the case and asked if it was my skills or my fairness that he needed. He told me that he had come into possession of an artefact. It was, he thought, one of the boons rained down on the land by the gods in their recent game, but one from one of the less kind gods, he suspected. It was a blade encased in stone. A blade that was enchanted or even cursed, and a powerful item that could be used to do great evil in the wrong hands. He asked if I might use my skills to extract it from the stone, without handing it or damaging the blade. And also, he wished that our transaction go unrecorded, so that nobody but ourselves should know of it.
I could not help but think of a story that featured in some of the songs Mam used to sing about removing a sword from a stone, except in that story, the sword was used for good rather than evil. Stonework is not my area of expertise, but of course I have made bolsters, chisels, mallets and other tools for the stonemasons. Assorted clamps and leather gloves should take care of the handling. All these thoughts went quickly through my mind. Ever practical I am. I’ve been in business long enough to know what I am capable of. However, I had other concerns. If this was an item of power, then should it not be dealt with by the proper authorities, such as the Crown? Also, I asked, without wishing to cause offence, how I was I to know that his were the right hands? How did I know that he would not be dangerous in possession of such an artefact?
He did not take offence. Conversely, he said that asking that question did me honour and great credit, leading him to believe that I was worthy of the trust he was placing in me. He was of the opinion that royal houses were not the best keepers of such things, for they might use it to defend their houses and not always in the best interests of the people. He had not informed his own Cania either. He knew of a safe place where it could be kept hidden, a place which he would keep secret from everyone, even me. It was something that should not be used except in dire emergency, and he did not want it accidentally discovered.
I was still not entirely convinced. Presumably the item had been encased in stone for good reason. Would it not be best left there? Or disposed of properly. Dropping it into the Abyss seemed like a good idea to me. He would say only that he did not want it destroyed for fear of offending the god who had created it and gifted it to Aluvyn. As to whether his hands were safe, he said only that I should consult with others – Narandir, Elain, Nessa, Ithildin – as to his character.
I had reservations still, but reluctantly said that I would give him answer after I had consulted those he had mentioned. We agreed that the transaction would be disguised in my books as the purchase of a customised wheelbarrow, for the sum of 75 silver.
We ceased to speak in hushed tones after that, for fear that people might wonder. I told him we had a deal, provided he threw in a couple of jars of his chutney, which I had a fondness for on my supper of bread with cheese and ham. I was not a cook, I told him, save that I would sometimes cook a piece of meat in foil over the forge to take home with me. If I wanted cooked food, I went to the tavern. He said that I should come to his orchard some time, where he would be pleased to cook for me, although he could not promise me meat, for he did not eat flesh. I thanked him for the offer and said I would take him up on it sometime soon. With that, we parted company. Him to his stall and thence to his orchard, and myself to the Cross Keys. Despite the acquisition of the chutney, having spoken of meat, I felt the urge to some mutton stew or similar, and for that, I needed the tavern.
I am still not entirely happy with this transaction. I may well ask for some further guarantee that the item will be safe. If he will not tell me where it is, perhaps some key or other means by which he may not retrieve it without consulting with another, which would have to be myself unless he has told somebody else. And means to deal with this should either of us decease. What have I gotten myself into?
I am, by no measure, a learned man, and by no means a scholar. I am a skilled craftsman, a Master Craftsman if you will. Skilled in metals and to a lesser extent, wood and leather. I am not without some level of artistic skill, else how could I embellish items with such decoration as the customer requires? And I do not lack book learning. I learned to read and write at an early age, and learned mathematics too, at least, such as I needed for keeping the accounts and calculating dimensions and quantities that would enable me to fabricate items to order. More so, Savaric encouraged me to read, so that I would know the theory behind the work I did – the whys and wherefores of the treatment of metal, for example. He introduced me to a friend of his, a scholar by the name of Evan, who showed me the library in the Great Hall, and how to look for things there.
And so, I have some learning. In the matters relevant to my work, and to ancillary matters, such as heraldry. Oft-times a client would require that their weapons or armour be embellished with their arms, and so I learned such things, from books. And I know to go the Great Hall when there is something I need to research. Such as the arms of our Crown. Not the arms of Iero, but his personal arms. We had had some brief discussion on the matter, so I had some idea of the tinctures and the divisions of the field, and such charges as he thought were appropriate. But, he was not sure of the details, so I took myself to the Great Hall to investigate.
Therein, with the assistance of Evan and some other scholars, I was able to determine that there were two arms likely to be appropriate to his family. And they were similar enough that they obviously had the same roots. They were:
The first – purpure, a chevron argent, in chief, two roses gules, in base, a lion passant or
The second – per chevron, purpure and argent, in chief, two roses gules, in base, a lion passant or
I made sketches from the blazons and such illustrations as were found in the records. There was nothing we could find that would indicate which of the two arms were most likely his, so I took note of both, intending to present both to his majesty and let him decide which he preferred. I took these notes, and a couple of more general volumes that the Librarian was kind enough to let me borrow and returned home.
It was a nice afternoon, so I took myself to the gardens close to my dwelling, thinking to sit outside and peruse my borrowings in the fresh air and tranquil surroundings of the gardens. As it turned out, I was not the only person with this idea, for I found myself in the company of an elven lady. I would have said young lady, but after my conversation with Anariel yester eve, I realised I had no way of judging the age of an elf. She could have been several hundred years old, but in human terms, she looked as if she were in my age bracket or younger. She was not, so far as I could recall, anybody I had met before.
I made polite greeting, as is my wont. She greeted me likewise, apologising for daydreaming. She gave me a curtsey and asked I was there seeking solace, offering to leave if I needed solitude. I said that no apology was needed, after all, I had disturbed her, and I was sure there was plenty of room I the garden for us both. I gave her my name and told her I was the friendly neighbourhood blacksmith.
That appeared to confuse her. She introduced herself as Cirice, the friendly neighbourhood… and did not complete that sentence. She was somewhat preoccupied by the books I had under my arm, and seemed to be somewhat surprised that I could read, as if being a blacksmith meant I was otherwise unlearned.
I tried not to take offence. Her manner suggested she did not company much with artisans and the like. A sheltered life, perhaps. I assured her that I was indeed able to read and write, and told her how Savaric, my mentor, had insisted I learn, else how would I run a business? How would I write to clients? How would I maintain the business accounts? How would I research further information to better achieve a client’s requirements? I showed her the books and told her I was researching some heraldry for the Crown.
I will give her her due, she apologised for her hasty judgement. She was pleased that there were learned citizens here, for she had been told it was a place full of ignorance and that it was dangerous to even wander the markets. She had deliberately evaded her bodyguard so that she might see for herself. She also apologised for disturbing my studies.
Bodyguard, I thought. Was she somebody of rank to warrant a bodyguard? I assured her that here in the mid-docks and such like, it was safe enough. Maybe down in the Traps or the Maw, there might be vagabonds and the like, but rarely up here. I asked her where she hailed from, since she knew not the city, and asked forgiveness if I had addressed her inappropriately, if she held rank enough to need a bodyguard. As to apologies, none were needed. The sound of a cultured lady’s voice was much preferable to the ringing of a hammer on the anvil.
She smiled and played with her hair a bit, as if preening. She was pleased that I was somebody conscious of my rank. Her husband, she said, was a duke. She didn’t want to bore me with details, and nor did she want me to go tittle-tattling to her father about evading her guard. Perhaps some day we might learn more of each other.
Well, it is true that I know my place. I have never pretended otherwise, and I always give people the courtesy due their rank, and respect that goes with it if earned. I told her that it was true that I was no noble, but I did not consider myself any the less for that. I said I treat people as I find them and have always maintained it is better to treat a serving girl like a duchess. Manners cost nothing, but are worth a great deal. I gave her my word that I would divulge nothing of our meeting or her little adventure. We parted company then, on amiable terms and a loose wish that we might converse again. It was still a nice evening, so I continued with my plans, to peruse my books in the peace of the gardens.
I am human-born, human-raised and I expect a human lifespan. Sometimes I forget that is not the case for others. This was quite unexpectedly pointed out to me this past evening, when I happened upon the Lady Anariel, the good Captain Ithildin’s sister, in the Cross Keys.
I had gone there for a spot of supper and something to drink, and I found her seated by the fire. She looked to be on her own, so I asked if I might join her. She was pleased of the company and welcomed me, saying she was lonely that night. It being the night of the New Moon, she was planning in staying in, quietly and not venturing outside where she might encounter such things as were abroad at dark of moon.
I must confess, I had not given it much thought, and barely remembered it was dark of moon. I said that I was not in fear. While I was no warrior, I had my dagger, Amaris, to defend myself. She asked then if I might tell her tales of my livelihood, saying I must have many stories. What was on my mind?
I was not sure what I might say of that. I am fortunate that my profession does not weigh heavily on my mind. I do my job, and then, I go home, and do not fret or worry about it, save perhaps, when there is some construction or fabrication problem I have not yet solved. Today, I said, I had little on my mind, save wondering about the ramifications of my recent royal appointment. Otherwise, I had spent my time thinking about the commission for the Cania, the manufacture of the corset for Ithildin. A typical day involved cutting up pieces of metal, wood or leather, hitting bits of metal with my hammer, shaping them, and the wood and leather to form whatever it was I was making at the time. I was not sure that these would be the stuff of stories.
She was still convinced that I might have things on my mind. My profession was a valued one, she told me, even if it was, at times, hard labour and repetitive. The realms, the kings and queens, oft relied on the craft of the blacksmith for weapons of war, and the tools of peace. I should not let things weigh on my mind and trust that the gods had a purpose for me. I could not disagree, though I pay only such devotions to the gods as are appropriate for a man such as myself.
Anariel said that she was not experienced with weapons. Indeed, she had been strictly raised never to wield any forged weapon. Her sister might be skilled in such things, but she knew nothing. She, herself, tended to the family business, a winery, so her attention was given to the handling and mixing of fruit and grain and the process of brewing.
I said that this was well with me. I like a drink well enough, but know little of the processes involved in making the drinks. I had, of course, at times, manufactured retort stands, small vessels and such like for brewers and distillers, but wasn’t involved otherwise, save as a consumer of the end product. I could not comment on Ithildin’s skills with weapons for I had not seen her using any. She seemed skilled at piloting her ship, that I knew from observation, but of her martial skills, I knew nothing.
I realised that I had not yet ordered food, so asked a bread and cheese supper of Millicent, to go with my ale. Anariel had already eaten, so did not need to join me when I asked. She changed the subject then, and asked if I liked music.
Now, that was a question I could answer. Had Ithildin been talking about me? Of course I told her that I loved music, and told her how I had learned from my mother. I told her briefly about Mother and how she came to have me. I had the citole with me, so extracted that from its case, in case she felt like hearing a tune. She was delighted to meet a fellow performer. She played various instruments, though her favourite was the recorder. She came from a long line of performers. Ithildin had not spoken of my music during their girl-talk. She had said, however, that she admired my work and was very proud of my appointment. I started to play while we talked.
When I had spoken of the reason my mother was cut off from her lover and patron, she told me that elven nobility may not marry outside their caste. She also said that is she was not married by the age of 400, then her parents would arrange a marriage for her.
That caused me to splutter on my drink. I knew the elves were long-lived, but had not appreciated it in that sense. I told her that I was 37 years of age but could not reckon 400 years. At least, until she told me that was equivalent of mid-20s in human terms. I was glad of that comparison. That I could reckon better, and in that sense, I was older than her. Of course, I said, nobody was arranging any marriage for me, at least, that I knew of.
After a while, she yawned. She was glad of the company, and glad that it had been an uneventful night, despite it being dark of moon. She was headed back to the Sapiso Mountains the following day and asked what my plans were. I could say only that I intended to work on various current projects, such as Ithildin’s corset and the commission for the Cania.
She bade me farewell and departed, heading for bed, leaving me to my supper. It had been a pleasant interlude and I thought that perhaps I had misjudged her. The previous evening, she had come across as a little condescending, especially towards her sister, but maybe they had sorted that out during their girl-talk. I hope so. Maybe, then, we could all be friends.
I did not have much in the way of formal schooling. Such schooling as I had was from my mother, from Savaric and from Hawisa, and at a dame school run by Mistress Parker. If I did wrong, then my chastisement was immediate and direct. I am told by those who have had more formal schooling that being summoned to the presence of the dean or head teacher, was a thing of dread. Outside of school, being summoned to the presence of a shire reeve or a justiciar might convey the same sense of dread. And they are representatives of the Crown, so what then should one make of being summoned to the presence of the Crown himself?
Thus was my first thought when I was unexpectedly approached by a page at the shop and asked if I could visit with the Crown. I quickly dismissed the thought. So far as I knew, I had committed no misdemeanours, I had paid all duties on my business. Perhaps then, he had in mind some commission or other, so I gathered my pack and followed the page. At least, today, I was dressed for the shop rather than for the workshop, so was presentable. At least, I hoped I was. I had not been to the castle before, I never had need to, and so I did not know what might be considered appropriate dress.
I did not get there unchallenged, nor had I expected to do so. The person of the Crown, and the caste itself, I would have expected to be well-defended. But there was no problem. I am a citizen in good standing, I bore no weapons save for my faithful Amaris, though there were a few weapons in my pack, samples if you will, and, most of all, I had been invited and was thus expected.
I was escorted to a terrace outside the castle. His Majesty was there, as was Nessa, and an impossibly tall and slender individual. They were talking about Nessa’s trade, the various things for whom she had made clothing, and the Crown seemed to be enquiring about her making clothes for other members of the Royal household, including the aforementioned tall individual.
The Crown welcomed me, commenting that he had heard of my ceaseless pursuit of my art, bade me sit and offered a drink and made introductions. Nessa, of course, I already knew, and the other was Zeluren, which name I had heard him mention, who was head of the Crown Guard. I also heard later he was also known as the Lord Sabre, perhaps the official title of his role.
There appeared to be some discussion regarding the Cania and relationships between Mindon’i Anor and Iero. Nessa was telling the Crown some of what the Cania had said of him, including, apparently, calling him a prancing pony. There was also some bad feeling caused by the return of some artefacts in a chest. So far as I could make out, this was stuff that had been taken some years previously during the reign of Sevestryn’s predecessor, when relations between Iero and Mindon’i Anor were more fractious than they are now. Nessa ventured her opinion of the Cania, which was pretty much in accord with mine, which I also ventured when asked; that she was forthright to the point of bluntness. I further added that I thought she would appreciated openness and honesty and plain-speaking. Zeluren was less impressed with the Cania’s approach, especially in sending ambassadors. It was hoped that some future meeting could be arranged face to face.
That was not, it seemed the main purpose of the meeting. After asking Nessa’s advice on clothing for himself, his niece and even Zeluren, the Crown then offered Nessa the position of Royal Mistress of the Robes, with authority to designated which seamstresses and other clothing crafters were to be permitted to create and provide clothing for the royal household.
Then attention was turned to me, and I was asked if I had samples of my own work. I had to catch my breath for a moment, given what had just been said to Nessa. I dared not hope for something similar. It is well that I had the forethought to grab my pack before I went, for indeed I did have examples. No large weapons, for those would not fit. But, I did have an assortment of items, a couple of pairs of scissors, a small sickle, a pair of couters, and a few daggers. Mostly workaday stuff, but I also had my own Amaris at my belt, which would serve well as an example of more elaborate work. I laid these out on the table, somewhat nervously, even though I know full well the quality of my skill and my work.
Sevestryn looked the weapons over with interest, but mostly passed then to Zeluren for his opinion. In the discussion earlier about clothes, he had said that he had originally trained for the priesthood, so perhaps he was not so familiar with weaponry. Zeluren hefted the daggers and inspected them with the air of one who was familiar with such things and pronounced them good quality. We spoke briefly about the items, and others I had made, and about my other abilities. Then the Crown spoke and offered me the position of Royal Blacksmith! It was not a full-time position, so much as consultative. I would be first port of call for any weaponry, armour and other metal-crafting requirements of the royal court. Apparently that also makes me a member of the royal court, allowing me to come to the castle whenever I wish. Oh, and it’s a paid position, on top of any commissions etc.
How could I say no? Of course I could not. I accepted, humbly, of course, saying what an honour it was and such like. The Crown spoke of him needing a sword, as Zeluren was teaching him how to use one. Zeluren would come and see me to discuss weights, lengths etc. Zeluren himself also asked if I might make him a weapon. From the way he described it, it seemed like a double-ended pikestaff, but with sword blades at each end. A novel weapon, I grant you, but well within my capabilities. I asked him to come to the shop and we would try to work out the details. I could probably knock-up a trial version out of some hickory handles and a couple of spare blades.
We also spoke briefly of the visions and the supposed boons. Vestryn was of the opinion that these should belong to the people who were willing to seek them out, and provided they did no damage to the city of Iero, it was not the Crown’s business. He left us then, followed quickly by Zeluren, but said we could stay – we were now members of the court, so were free to make use of the castle facilities at will.
We would have done so, but Nessa and I both had business back home, so we walked back together, talking of our new good fortune and other matters.
That was not to be the end of the evening’s adventures. I was rummaging in my store cupboard to see what I might have for supper, and contemplating if I should go get more from the market, or celebrate by going to the tavern, when the matter was decided for me. It was the good captain Ithildin, knocking upon my door and asking if I wished to go to the tavern. How could I possibly refuse?
We had barely gotten as far as the stables, and before I had the chance to tell her of my good news, when we encountered another lady of the elves. She looked surprised, said something in the elven tongue before greeting Ithildin with familiarity, saying something about how long it had been and hardly recognising her.
This, it seemed was Ithildin’s sister, Lady Anariel Elennan. She introduced me as her friend and a merchant of the Mid-Docks. Anariel made greeting with a curtsey and said she was pleased to meet me, addressing me as Lord Radulf. I greeted her formally in return, with a kiss to the back of the hand, but I had to disclaim the title. I am no lord, I told her. I am but a master craftsman, as well as merchant, I said, giving Ithildin a look. I then told them, that as of half an hour ago, I was Royal Blacksmith, by appointment to the Crown of Iero.
Ithildin greeted that news with great delight and accepted the mild reproof, saying that indeed, she should introduce me as Master Craftsman in future. She looked to be less pleased by the presence of her sister, despite her outwardly pleasant greetings. Perhaps they did not get on well as siblings. I would not know, never having had any. Anariel asked if she might join us, having overheard we were heading to the tavern, unless of course, we wished to have some private time together, presumably imagining more of our relationship than there was. We assured her that there was no need of that and bade her welcome to join us. Anariel looked a little unsteady on her feet. I gathered she had not overly enjoyed the journey from the mountains. I offered my arm to support her and we made our way, at her pace, to the Cross Keys.
We ordered food and wine and chatted about various things. Anariel was, apparently, not a fan of air-travel, hence feeling somewhat queasy. She waved off offers of healing from her sister. They had some catching up to do, having not seen each other for a year or more. Anariel was surprised about the ambassador appointment and offered advice on aristocratic matters in what struck me as a slightly patronising way, as if she did not believe Ithildin had the necessary skills.
Ithildin and I spoke a bit about the ongoing relationships between Iero and Mindon’i Anor and mentioned some of what had been discussed earlier. She was not surprised that there was some scepticism, indeed, she would have been surprised if there had not been. But, she would work through it. I offered what help I could from the point of view of the common man, for which she thanked me.
After I had eaten, I found myself surprisingly tired, so, much as I would have enjoyed further company with the ladies, I had to make my excuses and leave. It had, after all, been a surprising day, and I needed time to digest my change in fortune. Radulf Chadwyck, Royal Blacksmith. So sad that old Savaric was not around to hear that. I cannot wait to tell Hawisa.
Anvil and Strings 