Aric measured his own hand, made some calculations, checked again. The metal bars were the same color as the forge’s interior. “Here we go!” he said. He and Ruhm drew the hot bars from the fire, folded them, and did it again. More times in and out of the fire, folding and welding. More time passed. Aric removed the bars, now seemingly a single piece, and worked them on the anvil, he and Ruhm each with a hammer, one striking and then the next in a steady cadence. This way they welded the metals together in the sequence that Aric wanted. They sprinkled on more flux, put it back in the fire, brought it out later and did it again, working from the other end.
When he was finally satisfied that the different metals were joined permanently, Aric and Ruhm used a hot cutter, striking the chisel end with a hammer to shave off the unwanted metal. They heated it again, then brought it out and pounded it flat. More heat, and they held it at an angle against the anvil while they gave it edges and a point. More heat, and quenching in clay.
Night had long since fallen by the time they had crafted a blade the shape and size Aric wanted, with a long tang at the end that would run through the grip to a threaded pommel. They left Mazzax in the shop, filing the edges.
In bed that night, Aric could still hear the ringing of the hammer in his head, still taste the metal filings in his teeth, feel the minute burns on his arms from the sparks.
But he thought he had a good start on his sword. It would, he knew, be the best he had ever made.
The steel told him that, and he always listened to steel.
XVII
The Way
Siemhouk had been relaxing in a cool tub, soaking in water sprinkled with flower petals, when Kadya tapped her.
Where are you? Siemhouk had asked. You should be here by now.
We are still days away, at least. Perhaps longer. Getting all the metal out of the cavern proved difficult, and there have been other … issues, since then. We were attacked by beasts and lost an argosy, so had to redistribute its load among the others.
I have no interest in excuses, Kadya.
Of course not, my sister. I am not excusing, merely explaining. We are en route again and making good time.
Then why are you in touch with me? What can’t wait until you see me?
It’s Aric.
The half-elf?
The same.
What about him?
He ran away. I’ve been searching for him, but haven’t seen any sign. He may be headed for Nibenay. If he gets there, he’ll be full of false stories, filling our husband’s head with lies.
What kind of lies? Siemhouk was beginning to lose her trust in Kadya. If her sister templar accused someone of lying, Siemhouk suspected that person must be telling the truth.
There was more, too. Siemhouk had, when that undead mercenary visited, felt the presence of someone else, close by, guiding her. That presence had been powerful and comforting, persuading Siemhouk that she was doing the right thing. Since Kadya had begun extracting the metal from its underground vault in Akrankhot, though, that presence had grown dim, like a shadow paled by the sun’s rays, and now it wasn’t there at all. She found that she missed it.
Kadya’s response was hesitant, reinforcing her certainty that her sister was lying. Stories about me, I’m sure. I don’t know exactly what he’ll say, but I know it won’t be the truth.
You should have killed him.
I know. I meant to. Somehow he must have figured it out.
I’ll set things right, Siemhouk told her. If he makes it back here, he will not have the reception he desires.
That’s good, sister. I knew I could trust you to do the right thing.
Always, dear sister, Siemhouk said, then she broke their mental connection.
From the research Dhojakt had turned up, she knew the presence she had felt from the dead man was a vestige of Tallik, the demon imprisoned beneath Akrankhot. It had come to the city in the undead man’s head, then moved into hers, which was no doubt far more welcoming and pleasant.
But since Kadya had dismantled the demon’s prison, he had been gone from Siemhouk’s mind. Tallik had found someone powerful, but closer, who he could possess more fully. Now he came toward Nibenay, in Kadya’s body. Kadya had an agenda of her own of course, and always had, but that agenda would have been altered by Tallik’s presence, his guidance.
Together, Tallik and Kadya would be a powerful enemy. Siemhouk had to play this carefully, to use them without antagonizing them. At least until she could wrest the demon away.
She believed she was in a good position, though. The metals Kadya brought back would be valuable in their own right, and because Siemhouk had sent a templar loyal to her, but of a lesser station, Siemhouk, not Kadya, would be credited with the riches. The Shadow King would be grateful to her. In the Shadow King’s case, profound gratitude often came with increased power.
With that power, she was sure she could either bind Tallik to her, or bend Kadya and Tallik both to her will. Either way, she would wind up with so much influence that she would be the only logical choice to succeed her husband and father—should anything happen to him. And these were perilous times for sorcerer-kings, everybody knew that.
So perilous, in fact, that for his own good, she might just have to exercise her newfound influence to force him from his throne. If, of course, that was the only way to protect him …
She chuckled, and splashed her bathwater. It was getting too cold. Time to get out, and let the water dry on her skin in the warmth of the day.
Dhojakt had been on his way to see his sister. He liked to visit with Siemhouk every day or two, because although he had his spies in her quarter, they couldn’t always read her like he could. She was skilled at keeping secrets, at disguising her deepest thoughts. In person, however, Dhojakt was able to lightly probe, and although she thought she could control her expressions, her tone of voice, in reality they always betrayed her just enough.
Before he had reached her, this time, he sent a psionic probe to check on her mood, and he caught bits of a conversation she was holding with Kadya, the ambitious templar she had sent to Akrankhot in her stead. Because Siemhouk was distracted by the effort of maintaining that mental link, she didn’t detect Dhojakt’s presence, allowing him to listen in, to the discussion and to some of Siemhouk’s thoughts surrounding it.
It was all most intriguing. Especially the part about deposing their father and taking the crown of the Shadow King’s court for her own.
At that revelation, he withdrew from her mind. He didn’t want her to know he had that information. He would keep away from her for a day or two, just to be sure she didn’t realize he’d been around.
At any rate, it had suddenly become urgent that he paid a visit to their father. He found Nibenay in a shadowy corner of his residence.
“Dhojakt, my son,” Nibenay said when he shambled into the chamber, his many legs clicking against the cool marble floor.
“Father, I’m glad to have found you.”
“And I to see you. I’ve heard disturbing news.”