A slight sound woke Colin from sleep he had not intended to take. Angry at being caught out twice over, he clumsily scrambled to this feet, his fists up and ready.
"Heh, good to see the rogue in you hasn't fallen too far out of the tree," Duglas said over the dogs' growling. He shushed them and tossed a handful of cloth at Colin's feet. "I found you a shirt and a leather apron. They say the pour is ready."
Colin accepted the proffered clothing with the grim thought of a future delousing and then gave the garments a vigorous shake before shrugging into them. Duglas led the way to the forge, the dogs bringing up the rear. The four slot ingot form and one for a short dagger were lined up on a low bench. The crucible had already been raised out of the fire pit and the two men carrying it were carefully walking it to the forge. Behind them followed another man, the kilter judging by the long pole in his hand. Colin pushed past Duglas to see if the forms had been properly cleaned and prepared.
He waved the men away when they stopped in front of the dagger mold. "Pour out some to the ingot mold first," he said pointing at the other form. "I want the heart of the pour for the dagger."
Without saying a word the men shuffled to the side so to reach where the ingot form lay. The kilter latched his pole to the underside of the crucible and at a word from one of the men, the kilter pulled and the molten metal flowed into one of the slots without a single spill. They were a good and experienced team, Colin noted with satisfaction. After the dagger form had been filled there had been enough to make another ingot while the third slot lacked half as much to be filled.
The color of the molten ore was like that of the sun's glory and the world's blood and a deep place within him rejoiced as its heat washed over him. He felt good about the pour now and eagerly waited for the moment he would have the metal under his hand. The white fire joy of making again raced through him as he remembered how the metal would sing as he shaped it and hardened its cutting edge. Suddenly it wasn't too hot anymore.
...
Colin looked up from his first polish of the blade to find he had an audience. The man they had met at the fountain - Duglas had called him Hawlsey; or had it been Holly? - and one of his men were standing just out of reach. They didn't say anything so he continued his work after shaking out a crawling sensation between his shoulder blades. He had been so engrossed in his work he hadn't noticed them coming up on him.
The metal had a strange sheen, not unlike the cloth of Danea's favorite dress. He had never seen the like on any other blade. There were darker and lighter flecks throughout the blade as if the different metals had not completely mixed. Was that the truesilver's fault? Would the blade shatter at the first throw?
The two men had not moved. Colin swallowed his worry and walked over to them, knife in hand. "I need to test it," he said, holding it out to the leader who didn't move to take it. "Or you can."
"Take it," the man said, his words meant for the lackey at his side though his eyes never left Colin's face.
Colin lightly tossed it in the air to save a cut to his hand and the man caught it with a graceful snatch that was almost theatrical. They turned to go outside and Colin followed them, a forgotten dog at their heels. He paused in the doorway of the forge to allow his eyes to adjust to the bright daylight. At first he was puzzled that the sun was at the same height as he had last seen it and then he realized he'd lost an entire day working on the dagger.
The other two men had walked on and had stopped in front of a deserted house. Colin jogged over to them just as the lackey threw the knife at one of the thick beams framing the doorway. It flew straight and true and sank a good two finger joints into the dead wood. The man walked up to where it stood proud and hit the side of the blade with his fist. Colin nearly cried out in horror. The metal had withstood the blow however and even seemed to have flexed under it. He eyed the weapon, completely mystified by its strange properties.
The two men stared wordlessly at each other and then at Colin. "You got yourself a job, mister," the leader said as he pulled the knife free. He nodded to the man beside him. "Take him in."
"Wait," Colin said as the lackey started for him. "What about my friend?" The leader turned and went back to the forge without acknowledging he had heard his shout. The other man jerked his arm, spinning him about and then pushed him towards the barn. Apparently that was all the answer he was going to get.
The inside of the barn was dimly lit, the lamps placed to leave shadows in the corners rather than to illuminate the large room. Colin took a moment to let his eyes adjust and the lackey didn't push him on - a tribute to his new status perhaps? At one time the barn must have been glorious, as barns go. The floor was a good quality flagstone and the woodwork had discrete decorative finishes. As they went further into the building, he saw bundles of shovels and picks leaning against the walls as well as stacks of shaped wooden planks and posts. He decided they were not too concerned about housekeeping when he saw the picked clean skeletons of two oxen, still in harness, in their stall.
The other man led the way up a set of stairs to the hayloft which had a large wooden panel hanging on the back wall. Stopping at the far edge of the panel, he bared his teeth in a malicious smile at Colin before sliding it to one side, revealing a huge opening. He stepped out onto another walkway and whistled loudly. The sound echoed for a long time before fading. Then Colin heard running feet, the sound changing as they passed over different materials, until their owners came to a standstill outside the door.
"Go get Marisa and Rhahk'Zor and tell them I have a new toy for them to play with," the lackey said to one of the runners. He leaned back into the doorway and motioned at Colin to follow him. "This is going to be good," he said and threw back his head and laughed.