“This isn’t what I expected at all,” I muttered.
Zadok said nothing.
“C’mon, let’s go see if your sister is ready.”
We got back to Sivan’s and Myra was sitting in the only chair, waiting. Damaris was in the back, but came out at the jingle of the bell on the door.
I requested to have their clothes ready by the evening as well. After the cobbler, I expected a battle or at least some extra fee tacked on for such a request. However, Damaris surprised me.
“That won’t be a problem. My father is already working on Zadok’s trousers now. I only ask that you allow a little extra time when you return for the final fitting. You can pay for the clothes then.”
I smiled, genuinely. “Thank you.”
It was nice to be treated with some sense of courtesy. I had almost forgotten what that was like.
On the street, Zadok asked. “Where to next, Pa?”
“The blacksmith.”
“Why there? You need some work on your sword?”
“Not exactly.” I turned to Myra. “Is Joram still running the smithy?”
She shook her head. “No. His place burned down when one of his apprentices got careless. I don’t know the new smith’s name, but he’s over on the corner, there,” she said, pointing.
It looked nothing like old Joram’s place. Twice as large with two chimneys, each billowing smoke. A large sign painted with a hammer and anvil hung over the wide, open door capable of fitting a horse and carriage.
I sighed. Had anything not changed?
The rhythmic banging, clanging, and pounding of hammer and anvil served as the backdrop to my conversation with the new blacksmith at a table in the middle of his shop. I allowed Myra and Zadok to wait outside rather than suffer through the heat.
Sered went about five and a half feet. However, what he lacked in height Sered made up for elsewhere. His sleeveless, leather apron exposed thick arms, neck and shoulders bulging with rope-like cords of muscles. Shaking his hand felt like trying to squeeze a wooden beam.
“My apprentice said you’re looking for a sword.” He nodded to the youngest of three boys running around the place, busy with various duties. He stoked the forge and a wave of heat pressed against my face.
“I am. Two if possible.”
He gestured to my waist. “Something wrong with the one you have?”
“No. I’m actually looking to give something to my children. We’re about to do some traveling and it would make sense to give them something for protection. I’m not looking for anything special, something more workmanlike. Needs to be light with good balance since I don’t think either have used one before and I don’t want them hurting themselves.”
He grunted, still studying the hilt and scabbard of my sword. He gestured to one of my daggers. “Those markings look familiar. Where were your blades made?”
I frowned. It seemed odd for a business owner to be more concerned with what a potential customer already owned rather than what the person was willing to buy. “Might I ask why?”
“The markings on the hilt look like something you might see out of Hol.” He grunted. “High quality, but cheap. A common choice among those in the military.” He met my eyes. “You served?”
I smiled, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. I was not ashamed of my time in the army, but it seemed like most people took issue with it. I wanted to come across as friendly as possible in the hopes it would contradict any of the rumors he had heard over the years.
“I just got back home yesterday, actually. Denu Creek is where I grew up.”
Sered stared without emotion. My smile faded as he worked his jaw, like he was reaching a conclusion he didn’t like.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said.
“What about the swords?”
“I don’t have any for sale.”
I glanced over to more than a dozen laid across a table on the right. “And those?”
“Spoken for.”
“What about a couple of good daggers?” I asked.
His brow furrowed. “I can’t do that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t. It wouldn’t be good for business if word got out that I helped someone like you.”
“You mean a soldier?”
He nodded.
“And why is that?”
He paused, fighting with what to tell me. “I can’t get into the details.”
I scowled, voice rising in frustration. “Why? Tell me, and we can talk through this.”
Sered shook his head. His hand slowly drifted to the hammer laying across his anvil. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you, but I can’t. I think you should leave.”
Despite Sered’s obvious strength, I wasn’t intimidated. Still, that was no reason to get into a fight.
I walked away without responding, heading for the exit.
Once outside, Zadok asked, “Did you get what you needed?”
I shook my head, noticing Myra’s furrowed brow as she stared into the smithy. “What’s wrong?”
She faced me. “Nothing.”
I followed her gaze, seeing that the apprentices had been staring back at her with a mix of lust and disdain. They looked away as I met their eyes with a sergeant’s gaze.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s go. We still have several more places to try before we circle back to Sivan’s.”
* * *
“Why in the name of the Molak not?” I yelled at the town physician.
The bristled old man gave me the stink eye while standing with arms crossed. He jutted his cleanly shaven chin out with arrogance which made it tempting to slap that chin right off. A lesser man might have.
“This is my business and I can choose to do business with whomever I desire,” the physician said.
I was in his place seeking some herbs or potions to take on the road in case we got into trouble. I had tried the local apothecary first, but the owner never opened for the day. I learned that he was going through some nasty sickness and couldn’t make it in. Not sure how highly that spoke of the man’s work that he hadn’t known how to cure his own ailments.
“But you know nothing about me. You haven’t asked me anything.”
“I don’t need to ask you anything. I can see what you’re about and I don’t want your kind in my town.”
“This is my town too! I grew up and lived here for over twenty years before being pressed into service. My family ran a farm for three generations just down the road. I’ve got more of a claim to this town than you or half of the other people who are here now!”
“Maybe you did at one point, but not anymore. This place has changed. This town is no longer yours. It’s ours, and we don’t want your kind here.”
I kicked a chair across the room in anger. “My kind?”
“Yes. The kind of person who burns the countryside so families starve. The kind of person who rapes women and kills children.”
It was the same story once again.
I wanted to explain all that I had before to the old man, but I knew I’d be wasting my breath. People like him didn’t understand. They liked to believe that if everyone adopted their moral insights the world would be a better place. They would never understand the world just didn’t work that way.
In fact, it never had.
The world would be a better place without violence. The problem was that it was hard enough for only two people to agree on all points. Asking an entire population spanning countries, cultures, and religions to find common ground was, in many ways, a fairytale of the highest order.
I left the physician’s shop, trying to find a positive to take with me from the encounter.
There wasn’t one.
Shouting greeted me as I stepped outside. At first I thought they were directed at me. Then I saw they belonged to a handful of young kids a short distance from my children. Myra and Zadok had drifted off down the street, going against my instructions to stay where I left them.
Zadok said something to the group, acting like he was going to take them all on despite being outmatched and outsized. I admired his guts, but not his thinking. Myra looked visibly upset, but did the right thing in trying to separate herself and Zadok from the others, one eye always watching their movements.