Copper Ravens(28)

But then, Ferra had been an evil woman, no doubt about that, and Micah was her opposite in every way. Perhaps the demeanor of the ruler influenced their people, or maybe evil just attracted evil, and good did the same. Before I got the chance to ask Micah for his thoughts on the matter, we arrived at our destination.

The smithy turned out to be a lean-to that stank like burning rocks and belched thick, black smoke. The blacksmith, a burly Satyr called Ash, seemed to have earned his name from the substance he was smeared with. It coated him like a second, flaky skin, save where rivulets of sweat had worn away little valleys, his skin starkly pale against the soot. That crumbly layer, and his leather apron, served as his only garments.

Once Micah had explained the purpose of our visit, Ash grunted and set about examining my form with a level of scrutiny I hadn’t experienced since my college entrance exams. At least he only used his eyes.

“What sort, eh?” I blinked when I realized that Ash was directing his question at me.

“What sort of what?”

“Sword, lassie,” he replied gruffly. “Ain’t that what yer here for, eh?”

“Sword. Um…” I spread my hands and looked hopefully at Micah. The only sword types whose names I knew were claymores and rapiers, and I didn’t think either would be a good answer.

“Perhaps a short sword?” Micah offered.

Ash grunted again, which was evidently his all-purpose response. “Probably best. She’s a wee lassie, don’t want ’er to topple over, eh?” Before I could decide if I should be flattered or outraged at being called a wee lassie, Ash turned his back and rooted around for something in his shop, thus revealing his bare Satyr bottom and fluffy little Satyr tail.

“Like a little goat,” I murmured, a few lines from Three Billy Goats Gruff struggling to burst forth from my tongue. Micah, always one to sense my distress, decided to be unhelpful and quirked an eyebrow. That was way, way too much, and I nearly burst out laughing, right there in front of the blacksmith’s forge. I turned to face the street and became intensely interested in a butcher hacking up something. Then the something squirmed a bit, and I decided I’d be better off studying the shop’s awning. Yes, a fine awning it was, all green and shady and not at all blood-spattered…

“’Ere, lass, ’ave a go at these.” Biting my lip, I turned around and saw that Ash held out a few plain swords in varying lengths. I tried the largest first, which was so heavy I almost dislocated my shoulder. That’s what I got for laughing at the blacksmith’s behind.

Just as Ash had predicted, the short sword won out, with the second smallest and lightest sword feeling the best in my hand. The actual smallest probably would have been better, but I wasn’t about to give Ash the satisfaction of being that right. Once Micah and Ash had agreed on a price, and Micah gave the smith a small purse as a down payment, we left the smith to work his magic.

“That was fast,” I murmured. I’d imagined that ordering a sword would take all day, though I was a bit disappointed that I’d have to wait a week or more for it to be done. I do hate waiting. “So, why don’t you come down to the village more often?” I asked. The village was nothing if not exciting, with better live entertainment than anything on my old Picture Vision, and it wasn’t even noon. I couldn’t wait to witness the nightlife firsthand.

“I’ve no need to,” he replied. “I prefer the solitude of the manor.”

“Don’t you get lonely?”

“I have you to fend off loneliness,” he replied, his mouth quirking in that half-smile of his.

“You’ve had me for only a few months,” I pressed. “What about before?”

Micah began his reply, but for the life of me I couldn’t pay attention to what he was saying. We had turned a corner and there, right in front of us, was the apothecary. And, of course, the crone was standing in the doorway, staring right at me. “Love?” Micah said, and repeated before I swiveled around to look at him. “Is something the matter?”

“Do you…Do you think the apothecary has any tea?” I asked. “I mean, I know the silverkin can brew up anything, but sometimes I just want to make a cup without bothering with them.”

“It may, but there is an excellent tea shop next to the cobbler.” He slipped his arm around my waist and tugged me away from the crone. “Come, love, I’ll take you there now.”

With that, we made another turn and left the apothecary behind. Before we were out of sight, I dared to glance over my shoulder and saw the crone mouth the words, “Thank you, dearie.”