Chapter Twenty-Six
The smith, a stocky, heavy-set man with a balding head and thinning grey hair wore a light grey shirt stained with both sweat and soot. His face was a rugged reddish hue from too many long hours at his forge and it had the hardened appearance of rough leather. His iron-hard eyes spoke of a strength further exemplified in his cord-like muscles and his barrel-shaped chest. Truly, a man to be reckoned with, Coragan thought, then placed the dagger he’d been studying back on the wall.
The smith’s voice sounded thick and throaty. “Silver? You want your weapons made of silver?’
“Yes,” Galladrin said. “Four daggers, a rapier, a broad sword, and a battle axe.”
“Silver’ll dent with the first blow. You got to be mad!”
Coragan stepped forward and took a quick survey of the room: a tidy shop, with supplies sufficient for the needs of almost any warrior. Swords and axes hung along one wall while daggers and spears covered another. A large table to the right held an assortment of different weapons: metal-tipped darts, throwing knives, several short swords, a rapier, and even a few steel-tipped arrows. All useless for their purposes. The bounty hunter locked eyes with the smith. “How many hands do you have working for you?”
The smith beamed. “Five. Mine’s the biggest shop in Drisdak.”
Coragan glanced at Galladrin, then smiled at the smith. He reached carefully into his belt pouch and pulled out the small yellow sash Regecon had given them. He closed his fist tightly about the fine cloth, obscuring it from view and making no attempt to brandish it while he spoke. “How fortunate. We need those weapons by afternoon tomorrow. And they will be made of absolutely pure silver. Nothing else will be acceptable.”
The smith’s jaw dropped. “Tomorrow? You’re mad for sure. It can’t be done. Even if I drop all my other orders and call in all my lads. It’d still take a week.”
Coragan didn’t even blink. “You will have assistance.” The bounty hunter tossed the silken patch onto the counter table. It dropped squarely in the center and unfurled, revealing the black-etched symbol of the wizards’ guild. He turned and motioned toward the door. “Come in now, Arzon.”
The young earth wizard stepped through the doorway into the room, the look in his eye hard and serious.
The smith uneasily studied the symbol on his table, then looked up at the wizard. “You’re still mad… Where am I to get the silver?”
Coragan hefted a large sack onto the smith’s counter, then a second. Each clinked melodiously with the sound of coins inside. “The islands of Aloria have always prided themselves with the fact that they only use pure silver for their griffons. We had them checked. They do.”
The smith stared at the two sacks for a moment, then gingerly reached down to open one and look inside. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed suspiciously. “How’re you going to pay?’
Galladrin hefted another sack onto the counter; it groaned from all the weight. “In gold, of course.”
Drasmyr (Prequel: From the Ashes of Ruin) Page 51