Since forging the knife of blue and gold, it had lain under a cover on the forge tables. Why, Scorpio had no clue. Each day made him more curious of how a blade could protect someone, if no one raised it up. But the short one who worked the forge merely smiled at him, shaking his head.
"Someday, clansman, you will understand what it is we do here, and why." It was all the dwarf would say to him about the subject.
Still, the work here, while not amid the sun and wind, had its own rewards. Not just guild items came from this forge, but weapons and tools of all sorts. Torozu's skills in working with metals was not limited to just the steels, chablys and bronzes. One thing the hunter loved working with was the softer metals, crafting items for utility and decorations. Silver, gold, platinum, white gold, even twice dealing with the careful blending of metals to create the alloy called electrum.
But all that would fade sometimes, as the yearning to wander the woods and hills of the land came upon him still. Several times the hunter would set aside a project, and walk out to climb the stairs, looking out over the lands around the city from the walls. This was something few were allowed to do. Something he had earned over the years. Scanning over the fields to the west of town, beyond the rising anncient towers of the castle, he often noted the beasts there, some tame, many still wild. Of late, more and more of the wilderness was returning to the prefecture. Not from a lack of effort by the people here, but the fall of the Imperial control and other prefectures slowly collapsing of late.
So it remained, until the morning the knife rang like a bell in the shop, as he broke the night's fast with his master. The dwarf sighed, a sad look on his face. "We will finish that blade soon, Scorpio. That song of the metal tells a tale you need to learn." Rising slowly, his injuries still stiff with the chill of a cold winter's night, where areas of the icy dew formed even within the walls of the city on the leaves of plants. "Come. There may no longer be a teahouse as fine as that of Itazaki, but we will not work today. Bring those parts, for we must talk over drinks, in a place away from a forge."
Scorpio had noted over the years that when Torozu spoke of things to teach him of the ways of the Allegiance of Blades, it never happened in the places one would expect assassins to gather in. Never some dark room over a tavern of ill-repute, run down tenement or other building. His master and mentor chose to speak in places more frequented by the common man, workers in metals, or on occassion, over drinks with other friends. Words within words would happen in those lessons, the hunter learned that play of meanings slowly, taking years to understand that some of the troubles and knives he had accepted could have been refused or lifted with more foreknowledge of the dangers and meaning of the job.
Something came to the half elf at that moment. "Master, we have made no hilt yet for this blade. Only the metal blade and pommel lay there now. Would not some material of honor be needed for such a blade."
Torozu laughed. "You never stop thinking, even when you sit on that dock drinking. I tell folks this, but none see the thoughts behind those eyes." Mirth fled from the dwarf's face. "I had an idea to make a leather and wood hilt, but you never speak up unless you have an idea." Leaning on the ironwood workbench, Torozu met the gaze of his student. "Spit out this idea, before we go outdoors. Something tells my still fogged mind that this is something not all ears should hear."
Scorpio glanced again to the knife, not sure if his clan's superstitions would be met with derisive mocking or many questions one rarely answered to one not of the Grass. "It is said that certain parts of the Fell Beasts of my home bear powers that can aid a hunter when woven into the making process in some way." He stopped, not sure of how to progress.
Torozu grunted, not the dismissive one so often heard when bargaining with customers. Few heard the thoughtful sound, often only uttered when speaking with the Mage of Shadows or Gyevo the innkeeper. "Good idea. I think going out of town for the conversation may be a good idea. That seer who you aided once with a blue knife, he sits out at the Inn of the Forsaken Crown by the fire."
That perked up the ears of the hunter of men and beasts. "You just wish to distract me by asking that we spend the day speaking of our times hunting across the Shifting Grey Sands." The blind seer once had ridden with the Custos, the guardians of the borders of the distant elven lands. That Scorpio hunted those lands himself gave them much to converse about. The lands and beasts, dangers of the desert as well the inns, waterholes and other things of that land that few saw with the eyes of those who tried to survive in them.
"Bring the metals, and that small chest over there. I think this may need the aid of others in choosing materials. Hold your thoughts until we reach the inn." The old dwarf settled his left arm into a sling for the long walk ahead. The shoulder wound ached still, despite many trips to see healers of all sorts. Still, the dwarf refused the offer of the young hunter to take him to a place he knew of. He never said why, just politely, and firmly said no.
Gathering the items asked, the hunter was surprised at the amount of the raw materials used left. Even the vial of blood still held nearly three-quarters of the original amount within its fragile grasp. The bits of ingots left, the other materials worked into the chablys, something Scorpio never dreamed of making before that day, all were in the chest.
As Hua, the new assistant shopkeeper had yet to arrive, the forge was banked with coals to keep the projects within it still ready for working, the small side chamber the gold and azure blade sat quietly fed the rocks that burn before the special clasp snapped shut, locking it to all but the master. Lifting the small chest to his shoulder, he followed the dyermo into the softly lit city, the grey of dawn's steel easing across the sky.
The gates of the ward were open, unusual for this early in the day, but a cart carrying in massive tree trunks to the shop of Nariko the woodcarver told them why. Repairs to the Shi's castle from goblin attacks just a few months before had at last begun. The good news of waiting for the long load to pass came from a guard. The main gates of the Bazaar were also open.
Cosarali was no longer the town Scorpio had come to, or the village beneath ruins of an ancient glory that Torozu arrived in decades before. Now the place verged on returning to the prominence the ruins being restored once represented. It was here that the Shou landed ages before, when blown off coarse from a distant land few even remembered now, save in songs and tales infrequently told. The rebuilding of the castle was only one of many signs of change. Outside the current town walls, new walls were rising, to protect the port area. To the north the new palisades already gave the peasants and workers huts more protection, even as stone masons and workers of other sorts laid the foundations for better protection there. Looking south down the broad avenue, now being lined with trees of many sorts, one could not longer see the dyke that kept Lake Tarafa Lake from shifting north after the great scythe-wind storms that came with summer and fall. New buildings, compounds and a stone wall were rising there as well.
Some said the Lake was haunted. To Scorpio it was a place he traveled to many times across, seeking the foes imperiling Cosarali in the city of the dead across the then choked and brackish waters. But his last trip to the south landing, outside the Noble's Gate, the water channel was clearer, still salty, but less tainted with stagnation and death. Barges with dredges worked there each day, slowly restoring the ancient protected harbor, under the watchful eyes of the sages come down from Thogras, to study the old stone works of the Old North Empire, and rebuild them.
Turning north, they passed the still standing compounds the goblins failed to damage, the temple compounds, the mansions of the lords, and the like. The still smoldering rubble of Gilstar Abonea's magic school told the other tale of those dark days. Few liked the mage, but he and his students had sacrificed much, including their lives in the end, to ensure Cosarali survived the invasion from the forest realms.
The walk to the Kasa-alar, the shallow river that for its short run marked the transition from the sprawl of clusters of huts amid fields back to fields and forests. Even here, marks of the recent battles marred the countryside. The fallen bridge forced them to use the old ford. Once a danger due to the bichir, the great lungfish that hunted even humans there, gullies marred the land above it, depositing their burden as a wider crossing, but still very unstable and muddy.
The sun had risen by several hands above the low teeth of the Iron mountains on the eastern horizon when they arrived at the just as battered and busy with rebuilding Dwarven Enclave. The palisades here were gone, but sticks and strings were being laid out by a small group of dwarves, marking the new street plan and walls to come. The strong walls and design of the tavern left it the only structure besides the small temple and forge to survive.
Inside, only one table, that by the fireplace, held any patrons. The regular crew, Coney, Semani and Billenius. For Scorpio, that table brought memories of another one missing. When he first came to the city, and up until three years before, Codi Duhn sat where the blind elven seer now rested. Gyevo stood at the bar, a dark look on his face. It was known that he and the dyermo had some quarrel, but business was business. The barmaid was sent instead of himself to take their order.
With drinks and a meal on the way, small talk and gossip took over the table. Until the blind seer turned his face to the two assassins, in the eirie way he had of seeming to see with empty holes where his eyes once resided.
"The dreams I've had of late may gain me some answers. Worry sits on your auras like a crow above a cornfield, my friends." The seer's voice was a soft, broken baritone. Few could gaze upon his face for long, unless in fascination that a man so injured had lived. The marks of one burnt flesh, healed but still leaving terrible scars on his face told the story of his fight with a dragon.
Scorpio started at the reference to the black bird of death's omen. Even learning the faith of his mother's people, the new faith of the goddess he helped return to activity, and other events, the totem's and their meanings as he grew up with them haunted him. Crow brought many things, fire, warnings, omens of all sorts. But when the black bird lingered, one had to worry about death. Billenius had seen the black bird for him before in visions, but always it was the death he took to one, or the dangers that nearly killed the hunter, not his own death.
Torozu, though, with his age and injuries, could be the one spoken of.
The dyermo smith barked a sharp laugh. "Yes, and for a change, I come to folks with a question." His face turned to the two healers. "Leave if you must, but this is a matter for my guild. My asking this breaks many rules and oaths, but I have learned that not all those can be kept and still do the job."
That Torozu was also the assassin Jinotazu was not news to these ones. The healers knew the origins of the injuries of the guild members yet kept closed mouths. Billenius was a different story. Scorpio's amazement grew with each passing meeting of his skill at using the senses he still possessed, and the strange "inner eye" that let him still percieve auras of the world around him. Even the long trip years before with the full blooded elf left him no more immune to the feeling of being watched by those holes in his head.
Billenius sat back, quietly letting the conversation move from there, but his focus was on Scorpio, not the smith.
Tozoru spoke hesitantly. "First I need to assure you all, this is a blade you will all approve of. My problem is that it is conditional. And may cause a conflict within my guild."
Scorpio started at that admission. Such things had started the recent rebellion in the midst of the invasion against the guild master. Some even claimed the invasion was part of that rebellion, or supported by some other faction that desired the master out of the way or occupied for a long time.
Tozoru held up his hand to silence the young apprentice. "The blade is Gold, and blue. But somehow I still worry about how this blade comes to be made. Billenius, I ask for your reading and intercession with our host. He still is upset to have one of our folk revealed as taking the back alley path to power."
All jumped at the closeness of Gyevo's voice, even Billenius and Scorpio failed to note his approach. "No, my objection to you lies in something else." Scorpio started to reach for a weapon, but found the hand of the blind seer on his, which made the hunter hesitate.
"Kragyevozar. Shame on you, you nearly made me spill my tea." The voice was stern in tone, hoarse still from breathing dragon-fire not once, but several times in his life. "But sit, and set aside the animosity. Tell us what drew you here to speak."
The younger dwarf sniffed a bit, then took seat. "Bill, stop that. I'm a year older than you." A cup of coffee settled on the table as he sat on the bench next to Scorpio. "Three men came here three moons ago. I'm betting they are your customers, Tozoru, if that really is your name." The insult seemed not so much to provoke a fight as acknowledge something.
Tozoru refused to rise to the bait. Something in his posture spoke to Scorpio's instincts. Not the ones all had, but the ones that gave him the edge in the past. "Three. Strange. Only one came to me."
"The duplicity of Domorushtuuns from the Dark Coast is well known, Tozoru."
The guild master leaned forward, suddenly intent. "Domorushtuuns? Describe these men."
Gyevo seemed less inclined to answer until Billenius leaned in. "Yes. Describe them, think of them, comittes. Let me see the echo of their inner flames on you mind. For I think I know the ones, and the flame is familiar to us."
Tossing his old companion a look of irritation and worry mixed, Gyevo complied. "Your one would be the pirate from the islands, after they cleaned him up." The dyermo nodded soberly. "The other two, well, I got a name, if I heard it right. Damned Heart. The other was darker in skin tone."
The silence of the healers was broken. "They asked not to speak of it. Threatened us, actually. But these two came to us at the temples, asking for things. Things we were reluctant to give. Items and texts were stolen that were not given." Semani rarely spoke, letting her older husband speak instead most times. "But these, they sought something I am not sure should ever be given to mortals."
"The blood of a reborn goddess." Billenius said the words, to the surprise of all save the priestess of Varew.
Nodding head was her only answer. In the silence, Billenius used hearing of shifts to make judgement. "Semani, unlike Gyevo, there are no rocks in your head to rattle in varying ways to let me know your response." That drew laughter from all but the dwarves, and the vocal answer.
"Yes. We denied them even admitting it was in our possession." Her voice was soft, contrite.
Scorpio started. He knew something of this. "I think we should speak to others about this." Student met master's eyes. "Certain things get to my ears. Things about blood, smoke and shadows."
Most in the room failed to make the connections. The few who did merely nodded soberly. Billenius sipped his tea, softly humming some tune of the western tribes of elves. Notes tickled the back of Scorpio's memories, a song that either Chanti or his mother had sung, which one, he could not remember. Such songs often left the half-elf grasping for the connections to his past, or even the present.
The mention of the by-product of fire nearly went over the dyermo smith's head for moments, then the connection to the dusky skinned thief happened. "Ahhh. Yes. I see. Perhaps we should find shade or the breath of fire to consult."
Billenius chuckle drew all eyes, even dark scowling ones those of the owner. "More than you know, my friends, more than you know." He sipped his tea, using the moment to allow other eyes and ears to drift off their group, as others began to enter the building for the noon meal.
When he felt it was safe, he spoke softly, but with no intent of secrecy. "Now I understand the dream I had last night. Hear me out, I think it shall guide you somehow." Another long sip, and a lifted cup to indicate to the dryad a need for more tea.
The others waited, knowing the elven seer often to need time in choosing the words to convey what his goddesses let him see. Crackles of the fireplace and the murmur of the patrons blended into a soft, soothing sound to all but the hunter. Scents of pastries from the kitchen spoke of delights to come after the meal time rush.
"I have seen blue chablys, a rare thing, with ripples of the metal of honor laid upon the tusk of the great felix amid strange alabaster grasslands." The words were soft, just above a whisper. "Against it comes another blade, one of black and red, moving so fast I cannot see more than the colors and general form. Sparks fly from the meeting of these weapons, setting the grass on fire. The blaze consumes cities, mountains of stone and even dance across the sea. Amid it all, a seat of marble shatters down to fine dust. Until a silver blade with an amber hilt weaves amid the burning fingers to break the combating weapons, with a wind that extinguishes the conflagration, revealing a onyx bench and two sheaths, one of unicorn horn, the other of sable and bronze."
Noise rose in the room, as the workers from the walls came in, shouting orders for food and drink, making conversation impossible for a goodly time. Each person at the table sat, pondering the words, the meanings they carried.
The Emperor sat on a marble throne. The thought churned in Scorpio's mind, promises of a new seat meant little to him. He knew those of the Imperial Family. Stood with them, dined at their table in reward for his services. To think of them being slain, or worse to die by fires started by a weapon he helped forge left him deeply worried.
Meals and drinks went to other tables, as each was served hearty portions, a reward for strenuous labors. None left the tables hungry, many were slow to leave, discussing their work, the overseers' mistakes and other work issues, amid compliments for the cooks.
The seer sat still, as he often did. Few would guess this ruined one to once have hunted men and beasts himself. Watching his face, Scorpio noted for the first time that his burns took the form of a spider battling a scorpion with hints of other insects. On his forhead, a section of damaged skin resembled a hornet, while the flesh on his neck gave hints of ants and the wood eaters. Perhaps this was just some trick of light from the hearth. But when he noted the marks on the elf's arms that evoked the eagle of his clan to his mind, Scorpio felt doubt at that thought. When that bird appeared, the totems were talking to him.
The peak of Jzhan passed, and she began her descent to the western horizon before the inn became once more a place populated by few others. Several times those at the table refilled their drinks, a few broke fasts. The hunter let his master order for them, tossing out the last few of his coins to cover his fare. He never noted which of the menu items came to the table to soothe the beast of hunger. Instead his eyes and mind roved the room, seeking more signs of from the totems. None stood out in the moment, save the occasional resemblance of the hearth to the blazes of the Desert of the Grey Shifting Sands, where the fire grass often exploded with little urging into wild conflagrations Billenius conjured in his words.
After a while, Gyevo returned, pulling up one of the stools to the end of the table. "Grim faces chase off customers, my friends." Gravel of mountains streams in flood came to mind with his voice. "Maybe you would share what burdens you? As the Fordai spoke to my folk ages ago, 'more shoulders make a load lighter'."
The attempt at levity fell flat upon the table, no face lightened at it. Some turned in shame away, afraid of repeating what had been said. One set of eyes only met the dwarf's. Those of one of his kindred.
"Prophecies and contracts. Blood, steel and coin. Willing to dirty your once royal shoulders with that, (exile)?" Tozoru gave not a bit of compassion, the venom at the hints of a duty selfishly set aside burning not just the victim, but his own tongue.
The enmity between them was old, honed to a terrible, yet comfortable edge by many conflicts over the years. Gyevo shrugged off words like a water from a duck rising from water. "Sometimes, poisoned one, even my face is covered with dirt. As my old tovarishch here was the last to speak, I assume visions are involved." Statement of fact, not a question. Leaning forward, the former prince spoke with sudden harshness. "Make no assumptions as to how filthy my hands and shoulders have been, or ever will be. I know from Dyadya you were one who crossed the shadows of the Grey Sands, but know this, the Paths of Damnation were just as dark. Those and other places you may have heard of or not, my feet have walked."
A scarred and still callused hand rose, as Billenius stayed both dwarves. "Peace. Yes, commites, my words were obscure as the goddesses intend, for the Parcae have to honor free will, even as they weave our lives as predestined to be, and actually chosen to live." The faint rasp of damaged vocal chords gave no calming to that voice, despite its soft volume. "This is something I cannot see a reason for, why the goddesses care about the fates of those not of my blood."
All fell silent again, leaving only soft clinks and rattles of dishes and pots dancing in the air, while the fire died to silent though still warm embers. All knew a seer could not lie about what the powers of Fate let them see, but what one could read of that, and relate to others often became the issue.
Scorpio spoke at last. "Never before have I broken the oaths. Bent, but never to the point of breaking. But this I must know." He paused, looking over the table, none meeting his eyes. "Are we sure the knife is one of true purpose? Or is it tainted by deciet?"
Anger flared in his master's eyes, a rage at how close to the deaths of all in hearing his student danced with his words. Deeper ire at the possibility he, and by proxy the guild, was being tricked. "You should not go further, Scorpio."
"Then pretend it is young Tagrun, come to see your wares, still unknowing of the vows of blood and steel, short one." There was a fire in the words rarely seen of late in the hunter. "We are being played, the healers have warned us, if too late for it to matter. Dare we walk blindly into the brush that the grartagrun hides within?" His eyes sought the blind one's face. "Could this be the tooth you speak of? The tooth of the hidden hunter?"
Billenius spent moments making another cup of tea. Despite the hunter's urgency, the seer refused to be rushed to a judgement or interpretation. Hands moved deftly, seeking the carefully laid out items he desired, using each instrument with care reminiscent of the tea hostesses in the distant capital. Leaves entered the special chablys device, so like to the "stinger" the hunter used in combat at times. Then the ball was lowered in a series of dips, orchestrated almost to a tune heard only by the last of the augurs among his mother's kindred.
Those at the table knew this pause, each having asked such things of the prophet about his or their own dreams in the past. Even the anger of the dwarves with each other seemed to lean back from the table in patient waiting. Bodies spoke of minds in reflection, seeking some clue in knowledge they had, while considering what others let slip so far.
When Billenius at last spoke, lanterns were being set out for the evening to come. "For mortals, knowledge is both a dangerous thing to possess, and a weapon to defend themselves with. I think it best that I walk the path of the Realm of Dreams, seeking clarity amid the shifting fogs. yet, to enter those may not gain us any firmer ground to stand upon."
Scorpio stood slowly, to not alarm one's who could read the hunter's tension. "As you wait, I shall look for clues as well. The totems already have hinted I must enter the woods to speak with them." He drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly, deep in thought as the others. "This is a thing I have come to know too well. That once taken up as a tool of your gods, you ever after shall serve their will."
Billenius eased his cup and saucer aside gently. "Walk in care, beware of shadows, yet I sense that shadows and smoke indeed will come to you, somehow."
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