in the walls of his self. Herewiss was slightly aware of Sunspark watching him from the forge, of bright eyes in the fire, looking at him with concern. But he dared not let himself respond to the look; to do so would have been to waste precious time. He let the hammering take him and use him for its own purposes. It was rather pleasant to not think at all, just to be arms at the end of a hammer—
(Herewiss.)
He dared not stop. He kept on hammering.
(Herewiss. You asked me to let you know about that binding at intervals.)
'Mmph.' Again and again and—
(It's holding rather nicely — under the circumstances, that is. But you're going to have to try to control your fear a little better. When you discharge so strongly, the binding weakens.)
'I'll remember.'
(But Herewiss — how can you expect to control yourself properly with as little sleep as you've been getting? An hour here, two there—)
'Spark,' he said, pacing his thoughts between the hammer-blows. 'My loved. I haven't time. Something is happening. The Fire's going out. I have to hurry—'
(Your fear is killing it,) the elemental said softly. (I couldn't have understood that before. Now I know. Freelorn has gone off to Osta without you, and there's been no word all this month and more. You fear for him. I hear the terror singing while you sleep; it runs from you like blood. And you feel that you should be with him, though if you were, you couldn't be working—)
'Some things are even more important than Flame.'
Sunspark was silent for a moment. (And the hralcin,) it said, (the matter of its unbinding that troubles you so. That fear is killing your Power too. I hear the sound of it every now and then: 'If I had the Fire,' you think, 'what kinds of things would I be letting loose by my carelessness?' You are working against yourself, my loved—)
'Sometimes, Sunspark, you hear too much for your own good.' The thought was a slap of anger, and Sunspark shrank away, out of Herewiss's mind entirely, dwindling down to a few uncertain tongues of fire shivering among the coals. Herewiss sighed then, ashamed of himself, looking at the elemental in the firepit and realizing that it was the first thing he had really seen all day.
'Spark,' he said as gently as he could. 'Love, I'm sorry. Oh, come out of there.' He put the hammer down on the anvil, atop the blank he had just finished.
(You are angry at me.) Its voice was subdued and fearful.
'It passed. Spark, you have to learn that around these parts it's possible for two partners in a union to be angry with one another without the union being destroyed. Come out of there—'
It put up a few cautious tongues of fire and then flowed over the edge, a bright firefall that pooled and rose upward to envelop him. Silently the elemental wrapped its warmth around and through Herewiss, filling all his cold empty places with its glowing self. They were joined for a few minutes, and Herewiss looking inward saw all his fears flare into incandescence. He could see the shapes of them clearly now, and while the union persisted they were not fears any more. He saw them as Sunspark perceived them, as energies bound into strange fanciful shapes that meant little against the larger scale of things. The sensation was pleasant, and Herewiss stood there for a long while, eyes closed, letting himself be cared about and reassured.
'You matter, Spark,' he said softly. 'You matter very much.' It pulsed warm within him, a deep silent flare of fulfillment. 'But I have to work . . .'
It unwrapped itself, slowly, regretfully. (Let us work that sword to red heat again, so you can quench it, and I'll go watch the binding.)
'That sounds fine. Back in the pit then . . .' Herewiss tried to chuckle, but the sound came out wrong. All the places that Sunspark had filled and warmed so thoroughly with itself were bleak and cold again, and his fears were back, all the more shadowy for having been so bright.
He laid the blade of the sixty-third sword in the forge and turned away, wishing that Sunspark would melt it accidentally.
The grindstone was useful for times when Herewiss didn't want to think. The noise of it rasped on his nerves, and the vibration rattled so far down his spine that any session with it left him in a state of profound and unfocused irritation. For this reason he usually didn't use it, preferring to blow up the sword before putting a good edge on it. Today, however, anything that would shut out thoughts of the hralcin was welcome.
He sat there behind the stone, pumping away at the pedals until his legs threatened to cramp (which diversion he would also have welcomed). The irritation fed on itself, making him pump faster and press the sword harder against the turning stone, until sparks sprayed from it, and again and again it grew too hot to handle. By the end of a couple of hours, the sword had an edge on it that was much better than it needed, and in some places had become wire- edged and would have to be stropped.
(Herewiss?)
'Mmm?' He was working at it with the horsehide strop now, holding the sword between his knees as he worked and taking a certain cranky pride in the quality of his work. The blade would need some finishing work with oil and smoothing stone, but the edges had already acquired that particular silvery sheen that swordsmiths strive for, the mark of a blade that will cut air and leave it in pieces.
(We have company.)
He looked up from his work. 'Who?'
(From the feel of them, Freelorn and his people. They are in high good spirits. No-one else would be feeling that way out here, if the Waste is as ill-omened as you say.)
Herewiss frowned, and then smiled. 'He has a talent for showing up when I have a piece of work in hand . . .'
(But then you're always working, loved. How could it be otherwise?)
'Hmph. True, I guess . . .' And Herewiss became cold with fear. 'But, Spark, that binding . . . !'
The elemental shrugged. (I'm watching it. So far none of the parameters you described to me has changed. The hralcin hasn't bothered testing it in a while.)
'That could be good — and then again—'
(Well, whatever. Probably it will be all right if you don't get in another fight with Freelorn. The extra stress of having more people around might wear it a little, but you can reinforce now and again.)
'Yes . . .'
(So keep things subdued. I for my part will do the same. There's a stand of brush to the north of here that could use a fire, and I could use a meal. Maybe I'll be away for the night; that might decrease the stresses.)
'It's a thought. How close are they, Spark?'
(Some miles. You have time to finish that, at least.)
'All right. Watch that door . . .'
(Oh,) Sunspark said dryly, (if anything comes out of it, you'll know shortly . . .)
Herewiss thought of slime and the smell of burning, and stropped harder.
The polished outer walls of the hold had a walkway recessed into the top surface, sort of a double non-crenellated battlement, accessible by a long flight of those oddly staggered steps which led up from the inner courtyard. Herewiss leaned on the outer battlement and watched Freelorn and his people approaching. Sunspark, beside him, wavered and shimmered palely in the sunlight like heat-shimmer above a pavement in summer.
'Look at all those mules. I wonder who he stole them from?'Sunspark made a don't-know-don't-care feeling. (There's something,) it said, (something that I couldn't catch while they were further away -
Herewiss reached out with his underhearing. Because of his fatigue, all he got was a faint confused impression of a number of emotional systems going about their business, and a fainter one of two specific systems somewhat at odds with themselves.
'Slight unease,' he said to Sunspark. 'I'm a bit off today, and I don't usually do too well anyhow unless I'm at close range. They're half a mile away.'
Sunspark shrugged. (Freelorn,) it said, (and Segnbora, I think.)