Nightlord: Shadows (89 page)

“I can do that,” he agreed, enthusiastically. “He doesn’t need to be all that good a smith, does he? Just someone who can, you know, tell other people what to do?”

“I suppose. I think he does need to know something about smithing, though, if he’s going to make intelligent decisions,” I suggested. “But you’re right; he doesn’t need to be an expert.” Kavel nodded.

“I’ll send someone to talk to you, for your approval, Your Majesty.”

“Send him to Tort, please; she’ll decide whether or not to hand him up to me.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything you want?”

“More of those rare metals, if Your Majesty pleases.”

“More?”

“Been using them all up,” Kavel said. “It’s hard to take metals out again once you’ve mixed them. Some of the mixes are good stuff; most aren’t.”

“Hmm. Let me see something that’s a lousy alloy, please.” He found a small ingot, maybe an inch long with a quarter-inch cross section. I bent it in my fingers and it broke; it was both weak and brittle. I saw his point, though, in trying to separate out the individual metals. We could try melting the thing and skimming off the different layers…

Then again, the mountain manages to produce refined metal. I ran through a quick communication spell, explained what I wanted to it, and put it into the mountain.

“I’m thinking that a waste bin is about to form,” I told Kavel. “If you have metals that seem useless, just toss them into the hole.”

“There’s a hole going to appear?” he asked.

“Should be. Probably in that wall,” I nodded toward it. “Just metal, though; don’t let anyone throw anything else in there.”

“As you say,” Kavel agreed.

“I’ll also make sure someone brings you lumps of metal to experiment with,” I added. “You’ve got your recipes written down somewhere, right?”

“Oh, yes, Your Majesty.” He dug out a stack of parchment. I was pleased to see he was using the grid system I’d suggested to keep track of the systematic experimentation. I didn’t recognize all the symbols he was using, though. Turns out he’d invented a code for things like hardness, malleability, ductility, and other words to describe metals.

“Very good. Keep that up. What else do you need?”

“Not a thing, Your Majesty. I’m all content.”

“Are you sure? This is a lot of hard work, and I feel like you deserve something. Is there anything at all that you could wish for?”

Kavel scratched behind an ear, thinking. I wondered how he could think amid all the noise. His sons were beating on metal and singing; other assistants were doing other noisy things. He wasn’t deaf, although he probably should be. He could hear me just fine. Or was he reading my lips? I decided it would be impolite to ask.

“Well, if I had a wish,” he said, hesitantly. “I guess I’d have my boys get lessons in magic.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I mean, I was taught forge magic, and how to sing to the metal, and I learned the stuff everybody does, but I don’t make, you know, magic swords. Swords that are real good for
being
magic, you understand, but nothing magic straight from the forge.”

“And you want your sons to learn how to enchant the metal they work, is that it? To make magic swords and other metalwork?”

“That’s what I’d wish, Majesty, yes.”

“I’m not sure who would be a better teacher for that, T’yl or Thomen,” I told him, “but I’ll talk to both of them and see what they think.” Kavel’s eyes widened.

“The old magician and the Master of the Guild?” he asked.

“Did you have someone else in mind?”

“No, Your Majesty. Thank you, Your Majesty!”

“I owe you that much, at least,” I told him. “You’ve been one of the most helpful and dedicated people in Karvalen, and I appreciate it. If you need anything else—anything at all—you come directly to me. Got that?”

“Yes, my King,” he said, and did that fist-on-floor thing. I restrained my annoyance. Instead of ordering him up, I just clapped him on the shoulder and left. It seemed simplest.

We strolled up, found Thomen, and told him about it. He seemed quite willing to teach the apprentice smiths; I think he likes teaching. He didn’t seem so pleased about T’yl, though.

“The magician,” he said, “will just have them memorize spells, not learn to use their talents.”

“How do you mean?”

“Their father sings to the metal as he works. If they have learned to do so, then we should expand on that method, rather than force them to learn the ‘right way’ of a magician.”

“You’re right,” I said, realizing he was. “I’m so used to the way I assemble spells, I forget there are other ways.”

“Too much magician in your diet, Your Majesty,” Thomen suggested, almost playfully. “Some people sing their magic into spells that only last for a song; others dance until their will is done. A few draw pictures that either change the subject, or foretell the future.” He shrugged. “Most of these can only do one or two things—a talent for some effect, rather than true spells, and easily mistaken for sorcery. Many of them can learn spells, though. We can see if Kavel and his sons are such.”

“No, I think you’ve got the right idea,” I told him, because it appealed to the teacher in me. “Whatever their strengths are, help them develop them. If they want to study magic, that’s fine; if they want to find new songs to sing to the metal, that’s fine, too.”

“As you say, Sire.”

After some testing with my new hammer-storage-spell, I think I’ve got it down to a final version. A year from now, T’yl will probably have it squared away into a super-efficient application, but while mine is brutal and solid, it’s also effective.

I got out the chalk and did a lot of careful scribbling on the floor, going around each arrowhead several times. I even did the chanting and the handwaving. My objective was to build a storage medium inside the metal. The forces directed into the arrowheads would be shunted into the metal and contained there, balanced against each other. Later, when I wanted those forces released, they would be shifted out of alignment and allowed to run unhindered—just as if all the hammerblows were to hit at once, from all directions, starting at the inside and headed outward.

I have no way of measuring the power it can contain, but I can certainly test it. A quartet of knights with sledgehammers, all working in unison, can beat out a rhythm that sounds a lot like Bronze at a fast walk.

Bronze could have stomped on it repeatedly, but not as rapidly. I suppose she could just hold it between her teeth and clamp down on it, but there’s a real risk she might eat it. It’s like asking a regular horse just to chew the sugar cube. Metal scraps are treats to her.

After making sure they understood to stop hammering each one when it started glowing, we checked in on Torvil. He was completely encased in a black substance and more layers were visibly forming.

“Comfy?” I asked.

“Not at all, Sire,” he informed me. “I don’t like the way this feels.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt. It’s just… really strange. It’s… it’s
growing
on me, Sire.”

“It’s supposed to do that. The spells are fitting a suit of armor to you, exactly—tailor-made for you and you alone.”

“I understand that. It still feels strange.”

“If it’s any comfort, it’s moving along pretty quickly. I think it’ll be done by morning.”

“
Morning?
” he yelped.

“Yep.”

“I hate to bring this up, Sire, but I’m going to need the privy before then.”

I kicked myself, mentally, for forgetting. Biology.

“You raise a good point,” I told him. “Now?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Let me check on the suit’s progress.”

It took a few minutes of examination and testing, but, yes, it seemed strong enough to endure a pause in the process and the attendant manipulations for a toilet break. Torvil moved carefully, but, sadly, still cracked a thigh plate when he sat down. Fortunately, running a spell to repair it was both fast and simple. We had him back down and in the process again in no time.

“Well, I’m off to Mochara,” I told them. “Got to see a man about a weapon.”

“Sire?” Seldar said. “Do you plan to bring me?”

Bodyguard problems.

“Sire?” he asked. I realized I was staring at him while thinking about what to do with him.

“I don’t think so,” I said, finally. “No, I want you here, helping Malana and Malena.”

“In what way, King of Vagueness?” he asked. The twins looked interested, as well.

“I’m not fully convinced that they’re fully recovered,” I lied. “I want you to make sure their bodies are working at healing, and I want you to work them both over with your physical enhancement spells. I also want you to keep an eye on Kammen.”

“Me?” Kammen asked, surprised.

“Yes. If you’ll allow it, I want to try a low-powered version of the spell that helped make Malana and Malena so fast.”

“Hey!” Torvil said, from the floor. “I wanted in on that!”

“You can’t get up and fight with them,” I countered. “Lie there and be protected, will you?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“So,” I continued, “Kammen starts getting faster, the twins get stronger, Torvil gets armored, and Seldar gets more practice. I also want you to pay attention to the spell on Kammen; if it doesn’t send him into twitching convulsions, you may be using it on everybody, Seldar.”

“A wizard-knight’s work is never done, Sire,” he said, cheerfully. Then he sobered. “I am still not pleased with the idea of you being unprotected.”

“I’ll have Bronze with me at all times, and I’m in my armor,” I pointed out.

“That’s why I’m considering it, Lord of Targets.”

“That one hits kind of close to home,” I pointed out.

“Then it is correct?” he countered, smiling. I had to agree he got me.

“I can pick up Tianna while I’m in Mochara,” I went on. “She’ll help protect me.” Seldar nodded, slowly.

“Yes… that might do. Very well. You may go, Sire.”

Is that irony? It’s certainly a sense of humor. I’m very pleased.

I made it to Mochara well before the evening meal. Amber was not against Tianna escorting me around town, and Tianna, of course, was delighted to hold on to Bronze’s ears.

While I visited Flim, Bronze paced around the large, open area, keeping Tianna’s hair rippling in the breeze. Jessa wanted to cook something special for dinner, since the King and the littlest Princess were visiting; I didn’t really want to stay for dinner, but she seemed so earnest about it, how could I refuse? Besides, Reth was watching Tianna and Bronze. Tianna persuaded Bronze to stop and let Reth ride, too. Tianna had to help him up by hanging over one side while Bronze held her ankles with loops of wire mane. When that didn’t quite manage it, Bronze cocked a foreleg for use as a step and boosted Reth. Eventually, they were both aboard and parading around.

My horse is a nice person. I could probably learn a lot from her.

Flim had worked diligently on his assignment. He understood many of the practical details of extra-large crossbows, now, and was amazed at how strong a wire cable could be.

“I think I’m about ready to build something more siege-engine-sized,” he said. “With both wood and metal layers, I think we can get something about the size of a cart to throw a bolt farther than anything I’ve ever seen on a ship.” He indicated some drawings on a wax tablet; I made a note to get him some paper and to reinvent the pencil.

The drawings looked good, though. Flim really did have an inventive mind. The only thing I changed was part of the “bowstring.” Instead of one long cable, I drew in two shorter ones. Each connected one end of the lever arm to a metal block that ran down the launching channel. This saved wear on the center of the cable and reduced the likelihood of it snapping and whipping. The block also acted as a good anchor point for winching it back to a ready position, as well as a good pushing face for launching projectiles. I gave him the basics and he promised to work it out.

“You can get busy on that later, though,” I told him. “Right now, I have a priority project for you.”

“Anything you want… um?”

“‘Sire’ will be fine,” I sighed. “Right now, though, I want a bow. Make it about six feet long.”

“A bow?” he asked, puzzled. “That’s all?”

“A bow meant for
me
,” I clarified.

“So… fancy?” he asked, still not getting it. I told him to wait a moment and I hunted up an old length of chain. I held it in my hands as though it were an arrow, then
pulled
. The links slowly stretched as I exerted myself; I stopped before any of them actually snapped.

“Make it strong,” I said. “Make it impossible to pull. That should be about right.”

Flim’s eyes gleamed. He was looking forward to the challenge.

I called Tianna and Reth in when Jessa announced dinner and we all sat down around the family table. Two of the chairs looked very new, as did all of the plates. Flim’s family was a trifle more prosperous, these days. Well, government contracts for weapon R&D is a profitable line of work.

Tianna and Reth sat next to each other and kept talking, mostly quietly, while Flim, Zaren, and I discussed spring steel and cable. Jessa was proud to serve dinner, and I did my absolute best to make appreciative noises over every dish.

It would have broken her heart to discover that I couldn’t stand her specialties. Which wasn’t the case; I could stand them. I just hated the way they set fire to my tongue. She liked her spicy dishes. But I substituted “Mmm!” for “Ack!” and swallowed anyway.

Tianna and I said our goodbyes; Reth, apparently, was invited to the House of the Flame, sometime. I made a mental note to make sure Tianna’s skyrocket spell was in good working order, then took care of it as soon as we were at the temple.

While she was sitting in a magic circle and I was scribbling around her, she asked about it.

“Grandpa?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you sometimes draw stuff?”