Warcry (17 page)

“Heath!” she said, her smile warm and bright.

“We’re on an errand for the Queen, Ismari,” Heath started. “This is Atira of the Bear.”

Ismari nodded. “We were wondering when she’d send for them,” she said. “Wait here.”

She vanished behind the door, but it never got the chance to close before a lad stepped through, his own apron as burned and stained as the woman’s. The air around him was scented with heat and smoke and something tinged with metal. But Atira was focused on the naked blade in his hand.

Atira reached for her sword, but Heath stilled her hand with his own. “This is Nathan, one of the journeymen. There is always a guard when Ismari displays her wares.”

“If I’d known it was you, I’d have not bothered,” Nathan said with a grin. “But I’m just as glad of the break. Dunstan’s got a new idea for working a blade, and he’s got us sweatin’ over the anvil for hours now.”

“Really?” Heath asked. “What did he come up with?”

“Now you’re asking guild secrets,” Nathan teased as Ismari returned. The opened door let in heat and noise before swinging shut behind her.

Ismari set a polished wooden box on the counter and opened it, turning it to display the contents. “What do you think?”

Atira stepped closer and looked. Heath moved with her, his body pressed against hers.

“Amazing,” Heath breathed over Atira’s shoulder, and she had to agree.

There were two rings in the box—one slightly bigger than the other, each of the same design. Each ring showed two hands—one of gold, the other of silver, the fingers intertwined. It took a moment for Atira to realize that the gold hand was slightly larger than the silver. A man’s hand, then, the fingers intertwined with a woman’s, the tips of the thumbs just touching.

Atira caught her breath. It was the gesture that she’d glimpsed between Lara and Keir, something that had significance to both of them. Something private and rare, and ever so precious. Something more than just a sharing of bodies.

“Well?” Heath asked as he leaned in, his breath warm on her ear.

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.