Chapter 17
Marcus shook his head at the tall, lanky but muscular blacksmith. “My word is my bond,” he promised.
The air in the smithy in le Carla was thick and smelled of sulfur.
“Ha,” the blacksmith answered, brushing his shaggy black hair from his eyes. “I’ve heard that before.”
Frustrated, Marcus glanced at Sage. She leaned against the wooden wall of the blacksmith’s shop, watching him with crossed arms. She clearly disproved of his admission that he was not going to decode the book. But it didn’t matter. They would go their separate ways now. He was still angry with her for endangering their lives by carelessly and recklessly leaving that trail. He had hoped that telling her he wasn’t going to decode the book would make her leave.
The blacksmith was not helping to ease his anger. Marcus was anxious to be out of le Carla before he was recognized. Yet, there was a problem. He didn’t have enough coin to pay the blacksmith to reshoe his horse.
“No work without pay,” the blacksmith said and turned away, walking back to his anvil. He sat behind it and picked up a hammer to continue pounding out a piece of steel.
The banging was in time to the throbbing in Marcus’s head. He shook his head in frustration before strolling to Sage. “You don’t have to stay.”
She stared at him for a quiet moment, her brown eyes sad yet defiant. “Where am I to go?”
There it was. That twisting of his heart. At least some of the fire had come back to her tone. “Fine. But you are not leaving this village with me.”
She looked over his shoulder at the blacksmith. “Is he going to shoe the horse?”
Marcus shook his head. “No. I’ll find someone else.”
“Why?” she asked. “What’s wrong? It will take over a day to walk to another village. Why can’t he do it?”
It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it. Marcus knew he would have the same problem anywhere he went. He had no coin. No blacksmith would shoe a horse for free. He didn’t have any items to barter with and no time to offer his services. He was hesitant to tell Sage that. She didn’t need to know he was out of coin. She might think he was unprepared for this mission. He grimaced. What did he care what she thought?
“He doesn’t have time,” Marcus lied quickly. “I’ll leave the horse and—”
“Doesn’t have time?” Sage mumbled in disbelief and stepped past Marcus to the blacksmith before he could stop her. “I know you are busy, but certainly shoeing one horse won’t take much time.”
“Sage,” Marcus called.
But it was too late. The blacksmith looked up in irritation, running a hand across his sweaty forehead. When he saw her, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Sage?” he asked.
She put a hand on her hip, nodding.
Marcus groaned inwardly. He had been concerned someone would recognizehim. He had not even considered Sage. He stepped up behind her, murmuring, “We should go.”
The blacksmith stood. “Sage Hawke?”
Dread filled Marcus, and his hand dropped to the pommel of his sword, ready for a battle.
Sage raised her eyebrows. “I should be insulted you didn’t recognize me.”
The blacksmith put his hammer down and came out from behind his anvil. “If you were with two other beautiful girls and a hulking man, I would have recognized you instantly.” He grabbed Sage in a huge bear hug, lifting her feet from the floor.
Stunned, Marcus watched and slowly removed his hand from the handle of his sword.
When the blacksmith set her down, she took a step back.
A grin lit his soot-stained face. “Heavens, girl!” His gaze skimmed over her. “I haven’t seen you in two harvests.”
Sage grinned. “Good to see you, Peter.”
They were acquaintances. Maybe even friends. Marcus clenched his jaw in anger. She had lied to him. She had somewhere to go. She could stay with this man.
“Where is your family?” Peter, the blacksmith, asked, looking toward the door and then at Marcus.
