Chapter Nineteen: Circle, Steel, and Missed

The fire was burning but still too young to be hot enough for Brickit's purposes. Never wasting a moment, the Chief Smith lit a number of lamps and set them about the shop so that it was almost as bright as day. We weren't in my usual shop where I labored under the master - this one was deeper inside the compound and had a wider array of tools and equipment. This was where the Chief Smith worked to produce such swords and armaments as to be worthy of kings.

He began by tossing me a heavy leather apron such as the smiths wore and a pair of gloves that had spent many an hour over burning coal and metal. He proceeded to name all the tools we would be using - pincers and fullers, the different types of anvils, twist hammers and drop-face hammers and dog hammers and files - the list seemed endless. Then he handed me a rectangular ingot of cast iron and another of steel and I received a lesson on how the two could be married together by hammering and folding to make weapons with the durability of the cast iron and the hardness of the steel. I listened intently, dazzled by the sheer complexity of the craft and the amount of information being thrown my way.

"But this," and Brickit took the steel block from my hand and thrust it into the fire, "is what you'll work with."

He added a few more pieces of metal to the little blaze and extinguished most of the lamps, for work such as this depended upon gauging the hotness of the metal, which is best done in dim light. The Chief Smith then gave me a talk on color and forging heat, having me check the ingot often to gauge the color of the metal as it slowly heated through. The fire was too small for the metal to get white hot, but when it was yellow-orange he showed me how to pull it from the glowing embers with tongs. He showed me, and then he had me don the heavy gloves and fish the metal out of the fire myself. I had thought running coal was scorching work, but it paled in comparison to laboring directly over the furnace.

"Now what?" I squeaked, tongs and glowing yellow ingot in hand. It was so hot that I was afraid to move.

"Put it on the anvil, Spawn, what else? Hold it tight, ya dolt! Now," he yanked the glove off my right hand and gave me a hammer, "see about hammering this to be as long as the hammer itself. Practice, Spawn. Get used to the motion."

I was surprised to find that the actual hammering was easier than I thought it would be. As long as it was hot enough, the metal was malleable and obedient. When it cooled too much for me to proceed easily Brickit had me thrust it back into the fire to reheat. Once I was done mangling the ingot I had a chunk of metal that was no longer even, lumpy, bumpy, slightly warped, and as long as the hammer in my hand.

He examined my efforts with a wry look. "Well. That was industrious." He took the ingot, tongs and all, and turned it this way and that as he explained. "See here now, you pounded this side harder, making it thinner so the other side curved in upon itself. Don't fight it, guide it. Don't waste your strength by hitting harder than you need to. What you do for one side you must do for the other in shaping metal. Here." He shoved the ingot back into the fire. "Take another. Try again."

This time he stood beside and behind me, guiding my moves. I let him take me by the forearm to swing the hammer. He used shorter, more precise motions than I had, and a lighter touch.

"Turn," he ordered, and I flipped the ingot over. "Now try. Light. Even. You want to shape it, not kill it, boy. It's metal, not a cockroach."

I smiled. There was a certain beauty to this art, a unique music generated at the slight bounce of the hammer as it impacted the glowing metal. Even the anvil rang with its own notes as it cushioned and absorbed each blow. The metal was beautiful as it slowly cooled from yellow to orange to red, a thin sheen of carbon building up on the surface and marring the darker colors. Small, vicious sparks flew, burning bright and piercing when they penetrated my clothes, or dull and wasted when they struck the leather apron. I stole a glance at Brickit as I measured the ingot against the hammer and I was thrilled to see the pleasure in his expression as I worked.

Dawn slowly crept over the east and gradually the smithy woke up (if they hadn't already been roused by the racket I was making). Brickit and I had been at the shop for hours and we both were tired and dirty and content with the night's work. For my efforts I had a sore arm, a few new burns, and some elongated ingots. They weren't quite as smooth and even as how they started out, but each effort was slightly better than the previous one.

Brint stomped over, clearly looking for me since Baia and Brack would have discovered my empty bed. He looked us up and down, took in his brother's attitude and my handiwork at a glance, and nodded gruffly.

"Breakfast," was all he said, making it an order.

I realized exactly how hungry I was as I untied the apron and hung it up again. I paused, my hands still resting on the protective clothing. It was armor of a different sort. The leather had been worn smooth by use and sweat and fire. I looked at it a long moment, wondering whose it was and hoping I would not dishonor the owner with my efforts.

"Come, Spawn," said Brickit. "We'll work some more after we've had a meal and a rest."

I smiled, and for once I obeyed when he called me that. As we entered the long house silence fell. Gradually the talking resumed in hushed tones as if the Blue River Dwarfs did not quite know what to say to me after yesterday's events. I moved to take my usual seat at the foot of the table, but Brickit stayed me.

"No," he said. "Not down here. You sit with my family."

I blinked in surprise, staring at him speechlessly. I was well aware of the importance Dwarfs placed upon family.

Brickit grumbled, annoyed at having to explain himself to this ignorant boy he'd been saddled with. "You protected my niece and nephew. You saved two Daughters of the Clan. You defended this smithy with your life. You eat with my family or you don't eat at all."

Great Lion, how far had I come that I was delighted to be so threatened?

Without a word I followed him to the head of the table and he set between him and his mother. I would have sat on the other side of his mother, but he deliberately set me beside him. I looked about and noticed once again that children sat between their parents. I also noticed that every eye in the place was fastened on me. The scrutiny was intense and I wasn't sure what to do to remedy the situation.

"Best say something," muttered Brickit sternly, reminding me of Aslan's instruction to talk and set their minds at ease.

I smiled faintly and addressed the assembly. "Good morn."

That broke the spell and a rush of relief spread through the room. Normal conversation resumed and quickly rose to the usual deafening levels. Bly set a pitcher of beer on the table and with a resigned sigh I reached for it, pouring cups for me and the Chief Smith. Food was served, and for the first time I realized that Brickit was the last one served in the hall. I learned in later days that this was a Dwarfish tradition - the Chief had to be sure his people were fed before he partook. From my old vantage point I was too far (and too busy eating) to see, but a sense of manners and fairness made me set my fork down. Brickit said nothing, but I knew he waited and watched. Gran set her own food down, then fed her son, and it was only when she sat that I began to eat.

The grand old dame gave me a long, assessing look. I smiled to reassure her, realizing how badly I must have frightened her and her family.

"Hasn't worked you too hard now, has he?" she asked, motioning at her eldest.

"Not at all, my lady. He's teaching me."

She nodded and I strongly suspected that Brickit would be getting an earful the moment I was out of range. We ate in silence, and gradually I came to realize I was quite weary with having been up and working the forge all night. I paused, and then smiled at the thought that I had indeed worked the forge.

"Rest for the now, boy," ordered Brickit, snapping me out of my reverie. "We've come far in a night. Get some sleep. After we eat at midday we'll resume."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Peter,

Please sit down and refrain from panic as you read this. I'm fine. The Werewulf can't say the same. Celer was right - it doubled back up river and happened on the smithy this Seventhday past. We managed to slay it before it could hurt anyone at the smithy, though I'm sorry to say it did kill a Duck and her clutch. It was quite a nasty piece of work and I want to thank you for all the warnings and reports you sent. The Dwarfs thought it was all a bit much at first, but in the end you were quite right and there's one less Fell Beast to account for. I will say that the Werewulf's appearance went far towards securing the good will of the Dwarfs here at the smithy. I'll tell you everything when I'm home. Now go back and read that again, Peter. It's dead. I'm fine. I just got a few scratches. I do not snore. Stay at the Cair. Do not come charging out here with half the army! You can fuss to your heart's content when I get home and I promise I won't complain.

Word reached us from Lithin. It seems Susan settled things nicely and the wives of the Lithin Satyrs are going to establish a school of their own. I saw lots of children in the area when I went, so with some royal backing they'll do very well. She's probably home already so you know that, but the locals were very excited to receive two royal visits in a sennight.

Pray remain seated, brother. There's more. I'm going to stay another week here. The diplomacy is done with and we have the good will of the Blue River Smithy, but I'm not done learning. One more week, please, Peter, and then I'll be back. Tell Martil I want the bath tub filled to the brim with boiling hot water and very clean clothes and anything but beer to drink when I get back.

I must go. Brickit has decided I'm to make my first project. He's starting me very, very small - a ring. I suspect I'll be at it all day and night, considering what I've done to metal so far. If you've stayed seated this far into the letter I promise to make you one.

My love to the girls. I miss you terribly.

Ed

I stared at the letter. It didn't say as much as I wanted to, but some things, like the fight with the Werewulf, would be better told in person. I folded up the note and melted wax on it to seal it. Across from me the Fruit Bat shifted in excitement. This wasn't one of the ones I had employed previously. She was younger and smaller than the original twenty or so Bats that had taken my letters to the Cair and she had been followed by only five other would-be couriers.

"Where are your brothers?" I asked, eyeing the motley assortment of Bats that matched her in age and wingspan, neither of which was as considerable as the first slew of Bats I had employed. When I asked one of the local Robins to fetch me a Fruit Bat courier, these six curious youngsters had arrived before I could start this letter letting Peter know the Werewulf had been killed. They were happily exploring the long house and the wonders it presented. Luckily most everything here was made or wood or metal so they couldn't break anything. Removed from their element they tended to be clumsy.

"Halfway to Cair Paravel, I suspect, Sire," she said with a laugh. She was eager to be off and see the castle and its lord for herself. Behind her, one of the Bats was well on his way to getting stuck in one of the pitchers used for serving beer. As she spoke I saw him slide in head first and not come out.

I frowned and stood to rid the pitcher of its new occupant. It hadn't been washed from lunch and I feared the beer fumes might do him in. "They went to the Cair? Whoever sent them?"

"Brickit. This he did in the morn, with three letters for your king and queens."

"He did?" I paused, confused, the upside down vessel in my hands as I tried to pour the Bat onto the table. I heard a muffled giggle and looked into the pitcher. The Fruit Bat grinned up at me, the cheeky little scamp. "Pull your wings in, sir."

Why on earth would Brickit be writing to my siblings? And oh, sweet Lion, what if he up and called my brother Nancy? I would kill him. There would be nothing else for it. I'd just have to pray that Aslan would understand.

"Well. Bring this to High King Peter. And remember . . ."

"I must not hand it over unless he's seated and promises to stay that way," she replied, reciting my instructions back verbatum.

I shook the pitcher and dumped the Bat onto the table, petting his fuzzy black head. "You can stay a few days at Cair Paravel if you like and if your colony can spare you. There's lots of Bats there and you'll get to see the Eastern Sea."

They rustled their wings in excitement at the invitation and whispered amongst themselves. I smiled and handed over the letter.

"I have to go, good cousins. Brickit expects me back. Aslan between you and evil."

"And between you and the Chief Smith," answered one of the Bats. I laughed, but I was unable to keep from wondering why Brickit would be sending messages to my family.