Eli had been trying to get into Slorn’s workroom since his first visit, and he was not disappointed. The room was in strict order and absolutely full of curiosities. Shelves filled every available bit of wall, and every available bit of shelving was covered with bins of scrap cloth, animal hides, and enormous spools of thread, some of which were glittering, others almost invisible. There were bins of metal as well, all obscurely labeled in Slorn’s spidery writing as “resentful” or “pleasant,” and one locked chest on the top shelf bore a red sign that read “bloodthirsty—for blade cores only.”
There was a large forge in the corner, which was surprising, considering there was no chimney on this side of the house, but it was cold and its anvil had been pushed to the side. Instead, a large loom took up what little floor space there was. It sat empty now, but its shuttles were twitching with exhaustion, coming down off of two days of solid work.
Eli hopped around like a magpie, examining the tool racks, the shelves of materials, the half-finished projects, anything he could get to. Josef, obviously not seeing what the excitement was about, strolled along behind him looking decidedly bored until he spotted something that made him stop midstep. He grabbed Eli’s sleeve, pulling the thief away from the chest of glass knobs he’d been gawking over, and nodded toward the wall. Eli followed his gaze, letting out a low, impressed whistle.
There, hanging from a large iron peg, was a sword unlike any they’d seen. To start, it was enormous, larger even than the Heart of War. The blade, guard, and handle were all the same dark metal, a steel blacker than iron with a red tinge that made Eli shudder. Strangest of all was the edge. The heavy, black metal tapered on one side, sharpening, not to a sword edge, but to a row of jagged, bladed teeth. They ran in an uneven line, like teeth in a sea monster’s jaw, and every one of them gleamed killing sharp. The sword’s surface had a strange, matte finish that made the blade look darker than it was, but when Josef reached out to touch it, Slorn was suddenly there, grabbing his hand halfway.
“I said don’t touch,” the bear man growled.
“Slorn,” Eli said, sliding between the two men with a smile. “I thought you didn’t make swords anymore.”
Slorn let go of Josef’s hand with a low rumble. “I don’t, usually. That’s a custom order for another client.” He glared at the sword. “The rabid piece of junk took me almost two months to finish and it’s not friendly, so I’d appreciate it if you left it alone.”
Despite the warning, Josef leaned in, more interested than ever. “It must weigh what, two hundred? Two fifty?”
“A ton,” Eli said. “Who’s it for, a mountain?”
“I have clients who are mountains,” Slorn said, “but no. And I was told weight didn’t matter, so I didn’t bother to weigh it. Can we move on, please? I don’t have all day.”
He stepped aside, motioning them to the far back corner of the workroom. Eli went cheerfully, Josef less so, but what they saw next put the sword out of their minds. In the corner stood a dressmaker’s dummy half eaten by something that looked like liquid night. Eli blinked and looked again, letting his eyes adjust to the soft light of the workshop, and slowly, the blackness arranged itself into the shape of a woman’s coat.
It was a long coat with a wide collar, flared sleeves, and buttoned straps to hold it closed. Silver flashed at the neck, and when he looked harder, Eli realized the flashes were needles. A small army of needles swam through the black fabric, moving in perfect unison, dragging the shiny black thread behind them. Still, despite that all this was happening less than three feet in front of him, Eli had a hard time seeing what the needles were doing. The light from the tall floor lamp seemed to slide around the coat, almost like the yellow glow was deliberately avoiding it. Eli marveled at the effect, wondering what kind of fabulous cloth Slorn had used, but when he looked at the scraps that lay scattered about on the floor, he realized the fabric was actually no blacker than any dark wool.
He mentioned this to Slorn, and the bear-headed man smiled wide.
“That’s the new layer of protection I put in.” His voice had an uncharacteristic note of bragging in it, the pride of a workman who has just made something unique. “It’s not that the coat is so black, but that the lamp can’t see it. Watch this.”
He grabbed the coat’s sleeve and began to move it toward the lamp. The closer he got to the light, the darker and less substantial the coat became.
“How did you do that?” Eli asked, snatching the sleeve out of Slorn’s hand to get a better look at it.