Chapter Five: Sparks

"Why is he sleeping on the floor?"

"Maybe boys don't sleep in beds or he doesn't like his."

"Do you think he went to sit down and missed?"

"Quiet, Brack! He'll wake up!"

"That's only why Gran sent us here, Baia!"

Voices - young voices - penetrated the thick, heavily reinforced walls of sleep that protected me from the world and the world from me. I ignored them, desperate to go on dreaming of a hot bath.

"But he's so tired! He fell asleep in his work clothes! Gran would let him sleep!"

"Gran's not the Chief Smith any more, is she? Come on, we have to wake him or Uncle Brickit will be angry."

My shoulder was seized and I was shaken a little too roughly for manners. I woke up all at once and with a savage growl, my right hand going for my left hip even though my sword was hung on the wall. I swung at the hand on my shoulder at the same time, knocking someone away and shouting something incomprehensible to anyone, myself included. Two small shrieks rang out and there was a tramping of feet as my visitors . . . attackers . . . awakeners ran off.

I let out a groan as I forced my eyes open and my situation came back to me in one great and unwelcome rush. I was still seated next to the pallet. Every muscle in my body seemed to have seized up and cramped simultaneously. I had the most horrid taste in my mouth and when my stomach gave a growl I realized I hadn't eaten since the midday meal yesterday. When I tried to move I discovered the tarry stuff I'd gotten all over myself had solidified and cracked. I hadn't even removed my boots. I dropped my head back with another groan, longing to just drop back into sleep and suspecting it was futile. I was awake and I was not happy about it.

That's not to say I dislike the morning. I like it very well. I just dislike being woken up. Peter knew, from years of trial and error, how to go about it best: a poke here, a call there, a pillow whipped across the room. Grabbing me and shaking me is not the wisest course of action.

With effort I stood and made my stumbling way to the wash basin. I didn't dare look in the mirror - not that my bleary eyes could focus so well yet - and I splashed icy water on my face. It didn't help and in moments the water was too filthy to use. There was nothing else for it. I had to wash in the river despite the temperature. Muttering under my breath, I took soap, took a towel, forgot clean clothes, and shuffled out into the damp morning air and straight into Brint.

Hands on hips, his features twisted into a scowl, his surly crossness was not nearly as impressive as his brother's. He looked about to upbraid me for my rude awakening but before he could draw breath, I let out a vicious sound between a hiss and a growl that shut him up and made him take a step back. I was almost at the edge of the compound when he finally sputtered at my back,

"And a good morn to you, too, Spawn!"

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By the time I made it to the long house, breakfast was almost over and word of my conduct had spread throughout the smithy. By the heaping plate of food the old dame set before me and the pinch she gave my cheek as I thanked her, I gathered I had either impressed or intimidated the lot of them. Seeing as how she smiled and the men tried to suppress their laughs, I suspected it was the former case. Still, I needed to apologize to my unfortunate victims. Well, the children sent to rouse me, anyway.

"Do you always wake up so well?"

I looked up to see Brickit standing across from me. I noticed he kept the table between us. Perhaps I had intimidated them.

"Not always so well," I replied, telling the truth. I took a mouthful of that awful 'beer' and he laughed as I grimaced. With effort I swallowed the stuff and asked, "So what will I do today?"

Shrewdly, he scrutinized me. "Today . . . you run coal."

I had no idea what that meant, but I did not like the sound of it any more than I trusted his smug grin. I dared not sigh out loud, but I knew full well I was in for another exhausting day. I could only hope I'd have enough energy left to make it as far as my bed.

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At least I couldn't complain about being cold today, because I spent most of time next to a furnace. I was assigned to a team of four Dwarfs - a master smith and three apprentices - and it was my job to fetch and carry. We worked in a structure with only two walls and a roof, one of four such buildings that comprised the heart of the smithy. Initially the Dwarfs were all churlish and rude, but as the work started in earnest there was no time for bad manners.

The work they were doing fascinated me - they were forging spearheads and it was amazing to see the plain metal being turned into beautiful, shining points. Somehow they were able to make each one exactly the same. The ring of the hammers and the hiss of steam mixed with their voices and the roar of the fires blended into an odd sort of music and I enjoyed the day even though I could not watch as much as I wanted to.

"Coal!" snapped the Master and I tore myself away to shovel more coal into the furnace. It was dusty, sweaty work, though I had to keep my leather jerkin on to protect against the flying sparks. None of them resisted the impulse to call me Spawn, though when I didn't respond they all learned my name quickly enough.

More sparks flew at the end of the day. Brickit came by to inspect the two dozen spear points that had been produced in our little corner of the smithy and he grunted with approval at the wares laid before him. He found a flawed one that got tossed into the heap of shavings and bits to get reworked. I was eager to see why he had rejected it and I strained for a glimpse of it. Catching sight of my intense interest, he picked it up again.

"See here?" he pointed to a wrinkle in the shaft. "Looks like a caterpillar? Uneven blending of steel. Apprentice work, that. If this were to break, it would happen here. But," he tossed the spearhead back into the scrap heap, "it won't get the chance. Restock the coal then put up your shovel and barrow, Spawn. You can clean out the ash in the morn when it's cooled. The rest of you, clean up!"

I nodded my thanks, surprised at being dismissed so lightly but anxious to go wash. I was done in minutes, a few barrowfuls of coal sufficing to refill the bin. As I put the shovel back on its hook one of the apprentices called,

"You! Put these tools away. Make sure they're cleaned!"

"Aye," another added, "and give the floor a good sweep."

I turned and faced them. The Master had already left and it was just me and three Dwarfs twice or thrice my age and not quite my size. I recognized their bullying tactics all too well and I knew I had to end this right here and now.

"I don't think so," I said. "I'm here to do my own job, not mine and yours. If you're so lazy that you don't wish to do your own work, then don't. I believe the Master and Chief Smith will know who's responsible for what."

And without another word I left, well satisfied with the day.