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“Both.”
“Not really.”
Sometimes she brings a bit of mending to work on. Cloaks or shirts or dresses that she stitches up—but for the most part, shewatches me, as though she could learn something. But my gift isn’t something that can be taught. Magic is there or it isn’t.
“Who are you?” I ask her one day. “Why does Ravis have you watching me?”
She shrugs. “He hopes I’ll learn a thing or two. And there aren’t enough guards to go around.”
At that, my gaze whips to her. “You’re a prisoner, too?”
“Not really. Ravis is my employer, but he doesn’t trust me entirely.”
“But he trusts you with me?”
“Guess so.”
“And what does he employ you to do?”
She rolls her lips under her teeth but doesn’t answer, and I’ve no choice but to let the subject drop.
While the newest batch of blades is cooling, we set to forming hilts for the swords. The steel process is started again, but this time we hammer the heated metal into a cross guard. That done, I set to shaping metal, chiseling at it while it’s still hot.
“What are you doing?” Elany asks.
“Shaping.”
“It’s already shaped like a hilt.”
“Embellishing, then,” I say, and I realize my mistake. When I look up, Elany is smiling at me gently.
“You’re an artist, Ziva, but Prince Ravis doesn’t want art. He wants practicality. As long as there’s a place for a soldier to grip the sword, no extra embellishments are required.”
I’d been preparing to add the designs of some of the local fruit I’ve tasted, adding what I think the blossoms of such trees might look like.
But my skills are not what Ravis wants.
Only my magic.
I sigh, trading the chisel for a hammer so I can pound the hilt back into a smooth shape. As I do so, horse hooves clop into view, pulling a heavy cart laden with iron ore.
“Another shipment?” I ask.
“Every Tuesday and Saturday,” Elany responds. “The prince doesn’t ever want his stores to run dry.
Since the capital of Ravis’s Territory is the farthest from the Southern Mountains, I can’t imagine where he’s getting the ore from. I ask Elany about it.
She says, “Prince Ravis has friends in the southern territories. There are many who recognize the need for a unified Ghadra.”
I take that to simply mean the prince has deep pockets, and he’s buying the ore from men who have no idea where it’s being taken or what it’s being made into. There could be miners in my own city of Lirasu aiding the prince without knowing. The thought makes me sick.
I search for Kellyn through the countless guards stationed to watch me. He’s where they always keep him, far enough from any of the smithing tools that he can’t get any ideas. Instead of watching me, as he usually does, Kellyn only has eyes for the newly arrived cart of iron ore.
Every Tuesday and Saturday.
As Elany’s words echo in my mind, Kellyn looks up. He looks back at the cart, then at me. I nod slowly, taking his meaning.
A team of horses arrives on the premises twice a week like clockwork.
