Page 61 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

The blacksmith glanced up, seeing Cahra. He looked a hardy man, as most smiths did, younger than Lumsden but older than her. His whiskers were greying, unlike his hair, cut close to the scalp as was typical. One less thing for sparks to set alight.

He dipped his head to her. ‘Morning! You’re up and about early, woken by the smell of Fabiel’s rye, were you?’

Cahra smiled. ‘I like this time of day.’

‘As do I.’ The man smiled back. ‘I am Quillon. What can I do for you this morn?’

‘I’m Cahra,’ she told him, then nodded to the forge. ‘What are you smithing? A blade?’

Quillon laughed, a deep, warm sound. ‘Nothing so grand, just a few nails. But my boy’s fetching water and won’t be back for a half hour.’ As he leaned heavily on the counter, she noticed his left leg ended in a metal prosthetic. Smithing was physically demanding work, yet here was another who knew its joy and wouldn’t give it up. She grinned.

‘Nails are a two-person job,’ she said. ‘Want a hand?’ Quillon noted her own build, and her clean shirt and trousers. She looked at herself and laughed, rolling up her sleeves, the shirt tight around her biceps as she told him, ‘Honestly, these could do with a little soot.’

‘Suit yourself,’ he chuckled again, gesturing in welcome as she entered the workshop, the joy hitting her like a hammer as she drank in the sharp, smoky scent of coals burning in the fiery forge-light. She wanted to stand in Luminaux’s smithy and stay like that forever. But there was work to do.

‘Right, the nails,’ Cahra said.

Quillon pulled a rod from the forge’s coals, its tapered tip glowing yellow, and placed it on the anvil. ‘Hold the rod steady,’ he said, then picked up a chisel and struck the metal. Once the nail was quickly cleaved off, Quillon set to work splitting the next.

After they’d worked through a handful of nails, Cahra gathered the courage to ask, ‘Can I try?’

He smiled. ‘Don’t be disheartened if it takes more than one go.’

Cahra sunk onto her thighs, feeling the familiar weight of a hammer in her hand as her palm hooked around the handle, an extension of her arm, the chisel light in her opposite fist. She watched Quillon move the rod closer, and the moment it was motionless on the anvil, Cahra began.

One strike, and the nail was split clean from the rod.

Quillon’s eyebrows flew up, as Cahra said, ‘Quick, the header.’ He scooped the nail and dropped it onto the header tool, hammering the nail’s head flat.

He tipped the finished nail onto the anvil, peering first at it, then at Cahra with respect. ‘So, you’re not only a striker, you’re a trained smith. Where did you learn to do that? How have I not seen you around before?’

‘I’m not from Luminaux,’ she told him.

Quillon scratched his chin thoughtfully. ‘Well, if you decide the Wilds aren’t for you, we could use your skills.’ He offered Cahra a broad smile. ‘Think it over, will you?’

She nodded, the lump in her throat wishing she could, as she wished that him thinking she was a Wildswoman were true.

Quillon’s apprentice returned then, humming and carrying two wooden pails. The boy leaned over the nail to see what all the fuss was about.

‘Seers, that’s a clean break!’ He whistled, looking at Cahra as Quillon frowned at the boy’s cursing. Cahra hid her smile, the scene reminding her of Lumsden. ‘I’m Leon.’ The boy grinned. ‘Who are you?’

Cahra introduced herself, then stayed and chatted with them as they started their morning’s work. They moved around the smithy, and her eyes were drawn to the intricate designs etched onto various pieces of metalwork, including Quillon’s polished foot.

‘You’ve got such a talent for detail,’ she said, her tone appreciative.

Quillon patted the metal of his leg lightly, a proud smile on his face. ‘Designed, forged and engraved. Some of my proudest work.’

‘I’ll say! It’s impressive,’ she told him.

For a brief moment, Cahra found herself transported back to the smithy in Kolyath, seeing Lumsden, his balding head bent over his ledger full of notes. But the image faded into the memory of a high-born with blue goldstone eyes clearing his throat, opening his mouth and upending her whole world. She exhaled.

Cahra knew, though. Where she was, and where she wasn’t. What had happened after that lord, that Prince, had entered her life. It was time to accept the way things were.

Lumsden was gone. And she could never return to Kolyath.

She was alone, again.

Only here, inthissmithy, there was no lord to clear his throat behind her. Cahra opened her eyes, squared her shoulders and turned to the hill that would take her back to Luminaux’s palace, and the next fateful leg of her journey.

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