While the smithy workers crush the ore to gravel-size pieces, Trak begins constructing a tall cylindrical chimney from the bricks that Gerum procured. To provide the needed insulation he gives the flue a double wall with an air space between the two brick layers. Two feet above the chimney’s base, he leaves an access hole. A worker crawls into the chimney to seal its interior with clay. A second, smaller hole is left at the base of the chimney to drain the flowing slag. He reasons that soft charcoal could be crushed and compacted by the ore above, interrupting the flow of air up the chimney. Therefore, he selects large chucks of charcoal, which still retain much of the structural strength of the hardwoods from which they were made, and places them at the bottom of the chimney. He then seals the access hole with fresh clay into which he embeds six newly fashioned tuyeres.
After adding the first layer of ore and more crushed charcoal through the top to the chimney, Trak grows concerned that the flow of air through the three meter high chimney is all but shut off. However, when the charcoal is ignited, the rising hot gases create a strong draft that shoots up the flue and within minutes produces a raging inferno in the base. Gerum and his crew watch as Trak stands on a tall ladder adding ore and charcoal. They are delighted to see hot slag flowing out the hole in the base of the kiln. The fuel is rapidly consumed. Without waiting for the furnace to completely cool, Trak smashes through the clay wall that holds the tuyeres. With a bronze hook he pulls out glowing chunks of porous metal, which he immediately hammers into dense ingots.
When the metal cools, Gerum complains that it is too hard and brittle to make a good sword. Trak explains, “The raw metal must be placed in the forge until red hot and then repeatedly hammered. The hammering drives out impurities and makes the metal more malleable and flexible. When the metal has the required flexibility and shape, it is briefly returned to the glowing charcoal to give the surface a hardness that holds a cutting edge when sharpened on a grinding wheel. It takes practice.”
With Gerum’s entire workforce hammering away on the newly smelted metal, they have in a few days developed the required skills. Gerum produces a sword that when struck rings like a bell. His sword becomes the production standard. Gerum orders two more furnaces constructed and full-scale production to begin. When the workers complain the metal tarnishes and even pits, Trak shows them how to remove tarnish and retard rust by cleaning the metal with a solution of niter. It becomes routine to apply a light coating of oil to freshly polished swords and keep them wrapped in oil-soaked cloth.
For two weeks after returning from the ore collecting expedition, Trak never leaves the smithy. The workers become accustomed to seeing the cross-breed sweating over a forge. Once production is underway and sufficient iron is available, Trak facilitates the manufacturing of swords by fashioning iron hammers and anvils that have the strength to withstand the hammering process.
The king has not yet summoned him, so when he finishes making a set of iron tools, he begins experimenting with different techniques. From the pile of the first swords the workers produced, he selects two that are judged production failures. One is too brittle and the other too soft and easily bent. After heating the two swords in a forge, Trak stacks one on top of the other and hammers them together to produce a thin metal sheet that is dark grey on one side and highly reflective on the other. He folds the sheet repeatedly and continues hammering in a futile effort to get the two metals to blend together. Although the two components never blend, the metal takes on properties of both. When Trak shapes the metal sheet into a sword and bevels its edges, a swirling pattern appears on the blade. It resembles flickering flames. On the sword he etches the words “Dragon Fire” and his trademark, a zigzag placed over a sword. He keeps this sword for himself.
One day after Trak has been working with Gerum for nearly four weeks, Krage appears at the smithy door. “The king has asked us to report to him in the morning on your progress.”
Trak leads Krage to a back room of the workshop where four-dozen swords are stacked on a wooden table. Krage is pleased that everything seems to be on schedule. Trak asks Gerum to accompany them to the audience, “He is an excellent smith and has been of great help, but, in truth, to earn his cooperation, I have led him to believe that the project is a joint venture and he expects and deserves recognition for his achievement.”
“Very well,” said Krage, “but be careful what you promise. What may seem to you to be simple fairness may inadvertently involve the smith in an intrigue that has yet to be played out. I will send someone to move your swords to the palace where they will be available for presentation to the king.” Trak questions what intrigue Krage is referring to, but the Thaumaturgist leaves before he can ask.
In the morning, Trak meets Gerum at the delivery entrance to the temple. He is dressed in his best clothing, but still looks tawdry when compared to Trak in his finery. When they arrive at the king’s waiting room, Krage and four guards are waiting. They have brought the newly minted swords with them. When announced, they enter and bow. Trak forgot to inform the smith of the protocol, but somehow he knows what is expected. The guards unroll the swords from their cloth wrappings and lay them on the marble floor. The king leaves his throne to inspect their work. He seems pleased and asks Trak if he would have his thousand swords on schedule. Trak replies, “Yes, My Liege, with the able help of Gerum Firemaker, your master smith, you will. He gestures with his hand toward the smith.
The king glances indifferently at Gerum. “Of course, you understand that a thousand swords is just the beginning of what the kingdom needs.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the cross-breed responds, “for that reason I recommend you establish a smelting operation nearer the source of the ore where it will be less costly to produce the steel required.”
“As you say, it will be very costly to the kingdom to produce thousands of swords a year. I have yet to determine how we will finance the operation.”
Without hesitation Trak replies, “Your Majesty, iron swords will be highly coveted by your nobles. They will give almost anything to own a rare and powerful weapon and even more to equip their soldiers. Without the new weapons their fighting forces are obsolete and next to useless. I could manufacture a handful of distinctive swords of unprecedented artistic quality. Your Majesty could award these ‘swords of distinction’ to those who come forward with resources to build your smelting operation.” Krage worries that Trak is involving himself too deeply in a political situation he doesn’t understand.
***
While Trak is strengthening his bond with the king, his relationship with Myrel is going nowhere. When he returns from his ore collecting expedition, he finds her promised note under the flowerpot. He meets Myrel at the appointed time on the balcony where they first met. She seems cool toward him and he doesn’t understand why.
Trak doesn’t realize that Myrel in her excitement shared with her friends her story of meeting Trak. They warned her not to trust the stranger and repeated the rumors they heard about a cross-breed sorcerer who had arrived in the capital. Tinga gossiped, “I heard from Lord Farg’s soldiers that he used magic to bewitch an entire squad of Blue Daggers and led them into a trap where they were massacred. He is now working with the king’s metal smith to conjure up enchanted weapons to be used against the men in the south.” Myrel found the tittle-tattle disturbing.
On the balcony Myrel cautiously probed Trak about his childhood. Trak is again vague and circumspect. Trak shares with her an experience with the old mother in the forest. Myrel thinks his story about how a blue glow coming over the old goblin and her claim of teleportation smacked of sorcery. She asks Trak about his work in the king’s smithy. Trak reveals no details but admits a worker was killed during the operation. He confesses it was his fault for asking too much of the worker. He adds that he hopes the worker’s spirit finds peace in the home of his ancestors. Trak’s religious comment causes Myrel to ask if Trak received training from the priests in the Halban enclave. Trak says he knows
nothing of the religion. Myrel finds this odd because so much of Trak’s thinking parallels Septan’s teachings.
Everything Trak says seems to confirm what her friends have told her. She concludes that this likeable lad is not to be trusted. She feels his attraction for her and hers for him. It scares her to think he is gaining power over her. She pulls back.
Myrel doesn’t show for their next scheduled meeting. The lad leaves a note under the flowerpot requesting another opportunity to meet. Two more weeks pass before he is again able to return to the temple. He finds his note where he left it, unanswered. Trak hopes his ancestors would help him reconnect with Myrel, but once again, his ancestors seem indifferent.
During the weeks that Trak is busy building his new smelting furnace, Farg and the duke’s soldiers leave the capital and return to their island. For several weeks Krage has made no effort to contact him. It appears to Trak that Krage has severed their tie and he is now on his own. The cross-breed decides that his future hinges on becoming permanently attached to the royal smithy. He collects his few belongings from the temple and moves into the loft above the storage room where the newly minted swords are stored. Trak clears a corner in the back of the loft and brings in clean straw for a bed.
Trak concentrates on making weapons, but sometimes in the evening he dons a hooded cloak and explores the city. On his first outing, he inspected the exterior of the king’s palace, consisting of a dozen interlocking, white minarets of differing heights. The roofs and window frames of the minarets are decorated with brightly colored tiles that reflect moonlight. Trak realizes that much of the palace, and indeed the parts he visited, is built in the ground beneath the minarets, reflecting the goblin preference for living in caves and tunnels. The palace faces a huge square where public gatherings are held. Three sides of the square are surrounded by the elegant homes of the city’s elite merchants and military commanders. He recognizes the headquarters of the Blue Daggers by the banner that flies from its roof and the constant flow of armed men going in and out of the building.
The royal smithy is located in an enclosed courtyard near the palace grounds. Workers arrive at the smithy each morning in the dark to fire the forges before the smiths arrive at dawn. The palace kitchens provide the workers with a noontime meal. The smiths diligently toil until sundown when they leave for the day. When Trak doesn’t leave the smithy to explore the city, he lights a lantern and experiments with forging methods.
Two weeks after moving into the loft above the storage room, it was still dark when Trak is awakened. As he comes out of his sleeping state, he thinks, where did the night go? Are the workers already here to fire the forges? He starts to roll off his straw bed when he hears the lock on the storeroom door being rattled. “Get a hammer and force it,” growls a voice that he doesn’t recognize. Trak realizes a burglary is in progress and the target is the cache of swords stored in the locked room. He suppresses a swell of panic. “If I’m quiet, I might go undetected, but then I will lose fifty newly forged swords. What should I do?” The thieves are probably armed. He hears several intruders milling about below him. He moves quietly but quickly to the shelf where the smithy’s chemicals are stored. He grabs the familiar bottle of niter that the smiths use to remove tarnish from metal and removes its cork. In the limited light provided by the dying forges, he locates a jar of powdered sugar that is used in a technique for applying silver to glass and copper surfaces. He pours the contents of one jar into the other and shakes the two together. He then moves to the edge of the loft and flings the jar into the glowing coals of the nearest forge. The noise of shattering glass startles the thieves.
“Someone’s here,” shouts the leader. “Find ‘im an’ kill ‘im.”
“In the loft,” exclaims a second voice. Trak hears someone climbing into the loft. He kicks at the head that emerges at the top of the ladder and hears the body hit the floor with a thud and a groan.
The sound of swords being drawn and voices shouting make it apparent he faces at least five intruders. He begins cutting an escape route in the thatched roof when the concoction he has thrown into the forge ignites with a loud whoosh and spews a dense cloud of acrid smoke. Trak grabs glass jars from the shelf and commences throwing them into the smoke to strike the intruders and shatter on the stone floor. The thieves, believing they are under attack, panic. Voices cry out as the assailants swing their swords blindly in the smoke to clear a path out of the workshop. Trak’s eyes burn and tears cloud his vision as he blindly returns to cutting a hole in the thatched roof and climbs out.
Trak stays hidden in an alley until the forge maintainers arrive; together they carefully approach the workshop. The smoke has cleared. A goblin lies on the floor ripped open in a pool of blood. The lock on the storeroom is broken, but the swords are undisturbed. Trak finds no clue to indicate the identity of the intruders.
The next evening, Trak is still shaken by the previous night’s attack. He feels uneasy sitting in the workshop even though the master-at-arms has assigned two guards to stand watch. With coins he has borrowed from Gerum, he goes in search of food and drink. He selects a tavern in a back street. It is bustling. The customers seem not to notice his entrance. He is sitting in a corner table eating a pleasant stew and sampling the local ale, when the same tall officer that detained him on his first day in the city sits down across the table and says, “I thought that was you.” When Trak looks toward the door to see if his escape route is clear, the officer speaks reassuringly, “Relax, I am just curious to know why you are still in the city. As I recall, you said you brought a message for the Blue Dagger commander. I assumed you delivered your message months ago and returned to your unit in Halban.”
Trak’s lie is discovered. He sees no point in denying it. Trusting his gut instinct about the captain he responds, “The story I offered when you detained me was a fabrication. I was on king’s business and couldn’t afford to be delayed.”
The officer is taken by Trak’s frankness and responds in kind. “Actually, I know you have been working in king’s smithy for the last few months. My police say you are the sorcerer that brought the secret of iron making to the capital.”
“Apparently, the secret is well known,” replies Trak.
“Yes. I suppose that between my city police, Melkerei’s secret police and the king’s palace spies, you can’t take a piss in this city without someone reporting it.”
“With so many police watching my every movement, where were they last night when thieves broke into the royal smithy and tried to kill me?”
“What makes you think the police were not there?” replies the officer.”
“Do you mean the authorities observed the attack or they were the perpetrators?” The officer smiles but doesn’t answer the question. Trak asks, “What is the connection between your city police and Melkerei’s secret police?”
“As little as possible, but Lord Lizardthroat is resourceful; he has members of my police force on his payroll. Melkerei knows you are the one who led the attack against the troops guarding the Western Pass. Apparently, one of Lord Farg’s men was persuaded to reveal the details. You are alive because, for some reason, Lizardthroat hasn’t ordered you killed.”
Trak tries a different tactic. “I am no more than a smith from the south looking for an opportunity to practice my trade.”
“You may be a smith from the south, but I doubt that is all you are. Too many highborn are interested in your every move. Take my advice and don’t travel the city alone at night. If you need my help, ask for Captain Humock Gutcutter. Take care, cross-breed.” With that he leaves Trak sitting at the table thinking about their conversation. The mention of the Western Pass causes Trak to wonder what became of Grenab, the man who Krage sent back to the Blue Daggers bearing the bogus tale of sorcery.
***
In the next few weeks, he and Gerum initiate their plan to construct a new smelting operation along the banks of the small river that flows through the mining district. Their expe
rience with the first three kilns has taught them that a brick furnace will last about ten firings before the interior bricks deteriorate to the point that the structure has to be rebuilt. In the new smelting operation they plan to dedicate a team to constructing and repairing furnaces. They hope to keep six operational at all times. Another team will set up a logging operation in the forests. They will transport the charcoal they produce to the furnaces. A third group will haul bricks to the site, and return to the capital with the newly smelted iron for the smiths to hammer into weapons.
The staff balks at the prospect of living in tents far from the city. Many have families to attend to. They complain that their occupation is becoming dangerous. One miner has already died following Trak’s schemes and armed robbers have tried to steal the iron swords. To quell a minor rebellion, Trak works out a schedule where the workers rotate back to the city after two weeks in the mining district.
The labor required to build the new operation would have exceeded the manpower available had not the master–at-arms made conscripts available. He also diverted rations from the army to feed the construction crew. While Trak builds his iron works, Gerum and his smiths keep the original furnaces operating and continue to hammer new swords. It is to Gerum’s credit that he doesn’t let production standards deteriorate. By the time the new furnaces are ready, Gerum’s crew has manufactured a thousand swords. By then, winter has arrived, and the opening of the newly constructed furnaces must wait until spring because heavy wagons can’t traverse the accumulating snow and ice.
Trak returns to the city and finds his note to Myrel still under the flowerpot—unanswered. He becomes resigned that his opportunity has been lost. He reminds himself that he is after all not of her social class. He reluctantly returns to the smithy to concentrate on designing and producing the most elegant weapons he can conceive. He makes extensive use of the Dragon Fire technique, and each new weapon is more ornate than the last.