by Cadman, Dean
“Smart as well. I like you, girl. Looks like they missed an opportunity to gain a skilled fighter by refusing you entry to their guild,” he replied, still smiling at her. Neala got the impression his last statement was as close to a compliment as the man had ever given, and she nodded her approval. “Come, let's go see what we can do about these knives of yours. My workshop is in the back,” he said, pointing towards the door he had first emerged through.
Neala followed him into the back of the shop, and was quite surprised at how much larger this area was compared with the part of the shop she had first entered from the street. There were two huge open doors leading out to what looked like a small private courtyard. Two forges stood in the centre of the room—both equipped with bellows, and chimneys that disappeared up through the high roof—and various containers of water, which must have been used for cooling the metal after it came out of the forges. Looking towards the back of the workshop, Neala noticed the whole wall was covered in all manner of weaponry. There were weapons of all shapes and sizes: sword, maces, axes, halberds, pikes, daggers and many other deadly looking items she didn't even know the names of. Slightly startling her from her thoughts regarding all the weapons, the blacksmith asked, “So, what kind of knives were you looking for?”
“Er … I was looking for a price on a set of throwing knives, and a leather belt to hold them, if that’s something you can do as well?” she replied, still glancing between him and the huge collection of weapons hanging on the wall.
“Well, for a standard set of six knives I charge two gold. I have a local leather worker who crafts the belts for another two silver. I can have them made in three days time for you, along with the belt. I would need one gold as a deposit before I start to make them however.”
Neala was quite shocked at the cost of creating a set of throwing knives, and thought of how foolish she would look when she informed him that she couldn't afford his services after all. She had never bought any weapons for herself in the past. They had always been provided for her by one of the blacksmith shops owned by her guild. Seeing her hesitation, the blacksmith added, “I can assure you, my weapons are of the finest quality, and made from the highest grades of metal money can buy.”
Now feeling a little foolish at not asking the price when she first entered the shop, she quietly replied, “Yes, I'm sure the quality of your weapons are second to none, but unfortunately, I only have one gold at present. I apologise for wasting your time sir.” Looking away from the blacksmith and waiting for his angry reply, she was surprised to only hear a good humoured laugh instead.
“I might still be able to help you. There's a reason I take a one gold deposit on such items. The kind of work carried out by the people who order such weapons can be, dangerous, as I'm sure you already know. They don't always come back to collect what they have ordered, as you can see from my wall over there,” he said, pointing towards the large assortment of weapons. “I do have a set of six throwing knives that were ordered around two months ago now. The man that ordered them has never been back to pay the balance and collect his weapons. I always inform my customers that I'll only keep them for one month after making them. After that they get sold or smelted back into raw materials, and they lose their deposit. If they aren't happy about that, they can always come back and … discuss it with me, if they choose,” he said grinning at Neala.
Neala had no doubts about how that conversation would resolve itself, and she was very sure no refunds would be forthcoming.
“The knives were ordered to his specifications. If you're willing to live with that I can let you have them for your one gold. You wanna take a look at them?”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks,” Neala replied, not believing her luck. The blacksmith walked over to a large table near the back of the shop and sorted through a pile of items, before returning with the set of throwing knives, and handing it to Neala. She took the belt from him and walked over to an empty table, where she could better inspect the knives.
The first thing she noticed was the belt. It was skilfully made and very robust looking. It was a little heavier than the one she used to own, but that was probably because they were made for a time when she was a little younger. The knives were also very skilfully crafted, and much better quality than her old ones, but again, they were larger and heavier. They were made from one solid piece of steel, and the handles had been drilled to balance them. Lifting and twirling them in her hand, she noticed they weren't entirely balanced correctly. Confused as to why such a well-made knife wouldn't be balanced correctly, she said, “These knives are certainly very well-made, but I noticed the balance isn't quite right on them.”
“I see you also know your weapons well,” he replied, nodding at her keen observation. “You're correct. The knives are not perfectly balanced. The man who ordered the weapons favoured a slightly heavier handle. The reason he preferred them that way, is only known to him I'm afraid. Like I said, if you're willing to live with his specifications, they're yours for only one gold.”
Neala couldn't deny the quality of the weapons in front of her, nor could she afford to buy a newly crafted set to her own specifications from him, or probably anyone else for that matter. After thinking about the various options available to her, which were definitely limited given her current funds, she decided to go out on a limb, and said, “Okay, I'll take them, on one condition. At that price, you throw in a small metal file, so I can balance them myself. I'm sure you know unbalanced throwing knives aren't going to be at the top of most people's shopping lists, and you could be stuck with them for a long time.” The blacksmith roared with laughter, so loud that it made her jump. “Okay, you have yourself a deal, girl. Looks like you bought yourself a set of throwing knives. Most people who come in here I take an instant dislike to, but you, I like. You have spirit girl. If you ever decide you want to join a guild in Helveel, come and see me first. I know a lot of people. I'm sure I can pull some strings and get you into one of the top guilds here,” he said, slapping her on the shoulders, and knocking the wind right out of her.
Picking up her new set of throwing knives she fastened them around her waist. The belt was wide and comfortable, and she doubted she would have to make any alterations to it. She accepted the small file and bid him farewell, before returning to the front of the shop and exiting back out onto the cobbled street. The comforting weight at her waist made her feel like she was fully dressed again, for the first time in a long time.
Neala decided to buy their provisions in the west quarter marketplace, while it was still early enough to get the better quality items. After she'd bought what they needed, she turned and headed towards the north quarter of the city. The journey would take more than twice as long, but she didn't want to go back through the west quarter alone again.
The journey back to the shop was long and uneventful. Although Neala was almost sure no one was actually following her, and it was all just in her head, she still fell back on her years of training, and took a route back to the book shop that would lose any potential pursuers. She entered several shops that she knew had more than one exit, switching streets and alleys as she left each one, entering via one door, and quickly exiting through another. Staying within crowds wherever possible, and making it almost impossible to follow her path back to the book shop. When she finally arrived at the street where the book shop was located, she quickly checked that no one would see her entering the shop, before opening the door and slipping inside, she then swiftly closed the door behind herself.
The shop area was empty, so she called out to the back of the shop to inform them it was only her entering, and so there was no need to come through to serve any potential customers. She thought she heard a reply, and continued downstairs to meet up with Lusam again.
Entering the book room she almost walked straight into a large pile of books floating through the air towards where Lusam was standing.
“I've got us some breakfast,” Neala said, holding out a sweet past
ry wrapped in brown paper and an apple.
“Mm-mm … thanks, I'm starving. I don't know why, but doing magic always makes me feel ravenous,” he said. Lusam took the two items from Neala, opened the packet containing the sweet pastry and completely wolfed it down, even before Neala had opened hers. “I think I'd better start buying you more food if you're going to eat it that fast,” Neala said laughing at Lusam's face, which now had sticky fruit sauce all around his mouth.
“Sorry,” he replied, trying to clean around his mouth with his tongue. “Did you manage to find what you were looking for?”
“Yes, kind of. I got a set of throwing knives, but I'll have to balance them myself. It's a long story,” she replied, before filling him in on all the details. Lusam looked quite worried when she recounted the part of the story where she had fought the blacksmith, but he didn't comment on it.
“Sounds like you had some fun this morning,” Lusam said, still trying to get every last bit of the apple from its core.
“Yeah, nothing like an early morning workout,” she replied laughing. Neala decided not to tell him about the strange feelings of being followed, in case he thought she was just being paranoid. “How's it going with the books? Seems you have a large stack to sort through at the moment,” Neala said, trying to change the subject.
“It's going much faster now that I can move large numbers of books with my magic. I guess we don't need that wheelbarrow anymore,” he replied. “It should be a lot easier on our backs from now on too.”
“If you don't need me to move books for the time being, would you mind if I start balancing these knives?” Neala asked hopefully.
“No problem at all,” replied Lusam. He was happy that she would have something to occupy herself with, while he continued cataloguing the books.
“Do you have any of that chalk left you used on the walls?” Neala asked.
“Yeah. There are a couple of sticks of it here. How many do you need?”
“Oh, just one is fine thanks. I found an old table in one of the rooms a while back. I was planning to take it into the large room. I figured that if I stood it up against the wall, and drew some targets on it with the chalk, it would help me balance my knives.”
Lusam found the chalk and handed a stick to Neala. “There's more if you need it. Do you need a hand with that old table?” he asked.
“Thanks, but it didn't look very heavy. Besides, I doubt it matters if I damage it slightly by dragging it around if I'm going to be throwing knives at it anyway,” she said laughing.
“True, I guess,” he agreed laughing along with her. “If you do need any help, just let me know.”
“Okay, thanks. I think I'll eat my breakfast first, then go get the table,” she said, finding a seat on a pile of books and opening her own sweet pastry. Noticing Lusam hungrily eyeing up her breakfast, she just laughed and tossed her apple to him. “Here, eat this. I'm not that hungry at the moment, and I can't train on a full stomach anyway.” Lusam deftly caught the apple in mid-flight, smiled at her, and started munching on the juicy apple. Neala just smiled at him, shaking her head ever so slightly to herself, and continued eating her pastry.
Later that morning Neala managed to move the old table into the main chamber. She removed the legs from the table quite easily. In fact, it almost removed its own legs, as it stood swaying from side to side. It looked like the old wood had dried out completely, and the joints had become very loose. It had been a simple task of pushing it to one side, and the legs had just folded under the table with the sideways pressure. She was now left with a large board: which had once been the table top. It was about the same height as her when she stood it up against the wall, and maybe twice as wide as a person. For a few moments Neala wondered what type of target to draw on the large board, before deciding it might as well be human-shaped. Standing with her back to the board, she traced, as best she could, around her own body with the chalk onto the table top, switching hands with the chalk several times in the process. When she had finished she took a few steps back and looked at the outline. 'Not bad,' she thought to herself. A few minutes spent on strengthening the lines and smoothing parts out, and she was left with an accurate outline of a person of average height. She added a few targets within the outline to represent various kill points, before moving back ten paces to have a go at throwing a knife at the target. She knew the knives were not balanced, but decided to see how they would fly anyway. It didn't take Neala long to realise they were a long way from perfect for her. Over half of them hit the target handle first, which for obvious reasons, wouldn't be much good in a fight of life and death. Neala knew she could adapt to them eventually, but that meant almost having to relearn the skill of throwing knives all over again; something she wasn't prepared to do. An advantage of centre-balanced knives was the fact you could throw them accurately from either the handle or blade, something you couldn't do with an unbalanced knife. If you trained to throw balanced knives, you could throw any balanced knife accurately. If you normally used unbalanced knives, you would have to learn each knife set individually, which could be a big disadvantage, especially if you happen to have just picked up a random knife during a fight, only to find out you couldn't throw it accurately.
Thinking about the knives, her best guess was that the man who had originally ordered them, had been taught to throw using an unbalanced set, and therefore he would always order them that way if he could, to maintain his accuracy. Neala knew she preferred them balanced, and so, she started the long process of filing the handles of each knife to achieve a perfect balance point. It was hard work, and she estimated she was only about half-way through balancing the first knife, when Lusam came into the room and announced he was hungry again. Rolling her eyes, she pointed towards the package of food near the door, before continuing to file her knife handle.
“That looks like a laborious job,” Lusam said, nodding towards the knife and file in her hands.
“No kidding. The metal that blacksmith used is very good quality, but it makes it incredibly difficult to file anything off, because it's so hard,” Neala replied, slightly out of breath and sweating.
“Can I take a look?” Lusam asked, holding out his hand. Neala handed him the knife, and then watched as he inspected the file-work she had already done on the handle. “How much more do you think you need to take off?”
“I'm not sure. Maybe about the amount same again. I prefer the handle and blade to be perfectly balanced at the half way point, or as close as possible,” she replied, pointing to the centre of another knife.
“I see,” he replied, studying the knife carefully. “I noticed you're filing off the weight from the handle. Would it make any difference if the blade was slightly longer, and the handle equally slightly shorter?”
“No, not really. I'm making the handle shorter anyway by filing it. Balance is the most important thing for a throwing knife. Why do you ask?”
“Well … remember when I made those gold coins? I think I could do something similar with your knives. I could put them in a force-field, heat them up, and lengthen the blades slightly. Metal from the handle would be added to the blade section as I manipulate the force-field,” he replied, with a thoughtful look on his face.
“Really? You could do that?” Neala asked, a little shocked at his suggestion.
“I guess there's only one way to find out, but they're your knives, so you have to decide whether to take the gamble or not.” Thinking for a moment longer, he added, “Worst case scenario; I mess them up, and you'd have to wait a few days until Seventh-day, until I could make a few more gold coins. Then you could simply go back and buy some balanced knives from that blacksmith. As long as you don’t kill him this time,” he said, laughing at his own joke.
“Hey!” she said, slapping his arm. As she hit his arm he dropped the sharp knife, and it sank deep into his foot. Lusam screamed with the sudden pain in his foot, stumbled backwards, and found himself sitting on the floor staring open mouthed at the
knife protruding from his foot. “Oh gods! I'm so sorry Lusam,” Neala said, panicking at the sight of her knife in Lusam's foot. “What shall I do? Shall I go get the healer to come down here? Oh, I'm so, so sorry!” Neala was almost beside herself with grief at what she had done to Lusam.
Breathing through the pain, Lusam replied, “It's okay, just wait a second.” He concentrated on the area of his foot where the knife was sticking out, and searching his, newly acquired, knowledge of healing magic, he applied a spell to stop the pain emanating from it. With a huge sigh of relief, he lay back on the floor. He then took several deep breaths, desperately trying to stop himself from feeling so nauseous. Now that his mind was free of the pain, he could think much more clearly for a solution to his predicament. He realised the book had taught him how to heal wounds, and although he was confident he could complete the spell successfully, he would have preferred his first attempt had not been on himself.
“Neala, I need you to pull out the knife,” he said, still lying flat on his back. “If I do it myself, I think I'll just throw up.”
“But, if I pull it out it's going to hurt you even more. I've already hurt you enough,” she replied almost in tears.
“No. Don't worry, it won't hurt me. I've already blocked the pain with magic. I definitely need you to remove the knife though. I've never been good with blood, especially my own,” he replied, still looking at the ceiling.
“Okay … if you're sure you want me to do that?” she asked, looking at his very pale and sweaty face. He nodded his agreement to her, so she quickly bent down, and removed the knife in one swift movement. Much to her relief, Lusam didn't make a sound, but now she was stood holding one of her knives, coated in her best friend's blood. She had seen blood many more times than she cared to remember, but never had it effected her this way. Putting the knife down, she went to Lusam's side and took hold of his hand. Lusam looked up at Neala and smiled at her, then squeezed her hand.