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?
Anvil and Strings 