"What do you need from me?" Illyra asked. "I'd think you'd need Dubro's help, not mine."
"No," Walegrin spat out quickly. "I've found one to make my steel for me Balustrus, metal-master. He knows forging, grinding and tempering-"
"And Ilsig alchemy," Dubro added. "Since he cast the Prince's god-bell it would seem good fortune falls to him."
Walegrin did not like to think that Dubro knew of Balustrus and the making of steel. He attempted to ignore the knowledge and the smith. " 'Lyra, it's your help I need: your sight. With the cards you can tell me who I can trust and what I can do in safety."
She frowned and smoothed her skirts over her great belly. "Not now, Walegrin. Not even if I could use the cards for such things. The baby-to-be takes so much from me; I don't have the sight. Moonflower warns me that I must not use the gifts so close to my time. It could be dangerous."
"Moonflower? What is moonflower?" Walegrin complained, and heard a giggle from Dubro.
"She is S'danzo. And she takes care of me, now-"
"S'danzo?" Walegrin said in disbelief. "Since when do the S'danzo help you?"
Illyra shrugged. "Even the S'danzo cannot remember forever, you know. The women have the sight, so the men feel free to wander with the wind. The women stay in one place all their lives; the men-It is forgotten."
"Forgotten?" Walegrin leaned forward to whisper to her. "Illyra, this Moonflower who tells you not to use your sight-does she see those who used to come to you?"
"She-or her daughter," Illyra admitted.
"Illyra, breeding has clouded your mind. They will squeeze you out. They never forget."
"If that were true, so much the worse for them. Since the mercenaries came to town scrying is not pleasant, Walegrin. I do not enjoy looking into the future of soldiers. I do not enjoy their reactions when I tell them the truth." She shifted again in the chair. "But, it is not true. When my son is bom the danger will be past and I will see again. Moonflower and Migurneal will not keep what is rightfully mine," she said with the calm confidence of one who has the upper hand. "You need not worry for me. I will not send you to Moonflower, either. I'll answer your questions myself, if I can, after my son is born-if you can wait that long."
It seemed likely that she would be delivered of her child well before Balustrus finished making the swords, so Walegrin agreed to wait.
4
Balustrus' villa-foundry had fallen from fashionability long before the first Rankans reached Sanctuary. Weeds grew boldly in the mosaic face of Shipri in the attrium. There wasn't a room where the roof was intact and several where it was non-existant. Walegrin and Thrusher threw their belongings into a room once connected to the main attrium but now accessible only through a gaping hole in the wall. Still, it was a better billet than most they'd seen.
The work was hard and dirty, with little time for recreation, though Sanctuary was in sight down the gentle slopes. Balustrus treated Walegrin and his men like ordinary apprentices, which meant they got enough food and more than enough abuse. If Walegrin had not borne his share so stoically there might have been problems, but he was willing to sacrifice anything to the cause of his swords.
For three weeks they lived in almost total isolation. A farmer delivered their food and gossip; an occassional mercenary came seeking Balustrus' services and was turned away. Only once did someone come looking for Walegrin himself, and that was after Illyra bore twins: a boy and a girl. The soldier sent them a gold piece to insure their registry in the rolls of citizenship at the palace.
"Is it worth it, commander?" Thrusher asked as he kneaded a soothing balm into Walegrin's burnt shoulder. "We're here three weeks and all we have to show for ourselves is fresh scars."
"What about full bellies and no problems from Kittycat? Yes, it's worth it. We should know how steel is made; I had always thought the smiths just took the ore and made it into swords. I had no idea there were so many steps in between."
"Aye, so many steps. We've gone through two sacks already and what have we got? Three half-decent knives, a mountain of bad steel and a demon grinding away in the shed there. Maybe we would be better running. Sometimes I don't think we'll ever leave Sanctuary again."
"He's mad, but no demon. And I think he's getting close to the steel we need. He's as eager to have the steel as we are-it's his life."
The little man shook his head and eased Walegrin's tunic over the sore. "I don't like magic," he complained.
"He only added a little bit of Ilsig silver- hardly enough to make a difference. We've got to expect a little magic. We found the mine with magic, didn't we? Balustrus isn't a magician. He said he couldn't put a spell on the metal like the Wrigglies put on steel, so he thought he'd try to add something to the steel that already had a spell on it."
"Yeah-the Necklace of Harmony!"
"You went to the temple and looked at the statue of Ils. You yourself said there was a silver necklace on the statue. You yourself said there wasn't a rumor in town to the effect that the necklace had been touched, much less stolen. It's not the Necklace of Harmony."
Thrusher bit his lip and looked away in thought. It was just as well that he didn't look at his commander's face. Walegrin had been present at the moment the smith added the bits of silver to the molten metal. He could truthfully say he didn't believe the metal was the Necklace of Harmony, but after seeing the burst of white-hot flame he knew it was no ordinary piece of jewelry.
The whine of Balustrus' grinding wheel dominated the courtyard. The furnaces had been sealed; the piles of crushed ore glittered in the sunlight. Everyone awaited the results of the latest grinding. It seemed to Walegrin, as he turned away from the sound, that it was different this time. The metal shrieked like an agonized, living thing.
Thrusher gave him a sharp nudge. The courtyard had become silent and an apprentice was running toward them. It was time, the youth shouted, for Walegrin to witness the tempering of the blade.
"Luck," Thrusher added as Walegrin rose.
"Aye, luck. If it's good we can start thinking of leaving."
Balustrus was polishing the freshly ground blade when Walegrin entered the hot, dusty shed. The bronze man's tunic was filthy with sweat and dust from the grinding wheel. His mottled skin glistened more brightly than the metal.
"She's a beauty, isn't she?" he said, giving the blade to Walegrin while he sought his crutches.
Fine, wavy lines of black alternated with thicker bands of a more silvery metal. The old Enlibrite sword he kept rolled in his mattress had no such striations but Balustrus said an iron core would ultimately yield a better steel; so much could be learned from the Rankan armorers. Walegrin thumped the flat of the new blade against his palm, wishing he knew if the metal-master were correct.
"We've done it, son!" Balustrus exaulted, grabbing the blade back. "I knew the secret would be in that silver."
Walegrin followed him out of the shed to one of the smaller furnaces which the apprentices had already fired. The youths ran when the men approached.
"But there was no silver mentioned on the pottery fragment; and there's no silver in ordinary steel, is there?"
The metal-master spat on a weed. "Wrigglies never did anything without a spell, lad. Spells for cooking food, spells for bedding a whore. Big spells, little spells and special spells for steel. And this time we've got the steel spell."
"With respect-you said that last time and it shattered in the brine."
Balustrus scratched his rutted chin. "I did, didn't I? But this .feels right, boy. There's no other way to explain it. It feels different and it feels right. And it has to be the silver-that's the only different thing this time."