Helsop, a small and vulnerable village north of Fernland and East of Henge, was experiencing an unusual surge of activity. A year ago its people were starving and its headman, Dagon was at his wit's end as to what could be done to save them. All that had changed when he captured Electra, then Avor. With both King Geoffrey's children, he finally had something to bargain with. That Electra had agreed to become engaged to Dagon for the sake of Helsop's people, was the best thing that had ever happened to Helsop. Now his village had a treaty with Fernland, new outlets for their tools and weapons, and frequent shipments of lumber to build a more suitable dwelling for Electra's permanent cottage. The fact that she was no longer living in Helsop, and had instead taken up an apprenticeship at King's Lake, was a source of constant worry to the whole village. The fact that she might not intend to go through with the marriage was a very big worry to Dagon, who had fallen in love with her. He did have a plan that he hoped would bring her back to Helsop at the end of her apprenticeship—he was building her a school of medicine for women.
Dagon's customary visit to inspect progress on the school was twofold today. It also allowed him a good view of the road leading from Helsop, over the hills to Henge. Dagon held a string tied to a stone next to one of the upright posts framing the entry to Electra's school. True and straight, he decided. Progress on the school had been slow but steady. This medical school for women would eventually be the anchor that kept Electra in Helsop.
He saw a man on horseback, coming fast over the last ridge that separated Henge from Helsop. He hoped the man was Deimos. Deimos had been gone several days. Supposedly, he journeyed to Henge to trade some weapons for raw materials, but in fact he went to find out all he could about these new exploding arrows. Serafina had put on a demonstration of the enhanced arrows in the spring that was so unprecedented, they all assumed it to be some kind of magic. She had denied that it was magic and rumors out of Barburee supported her contention. If this was to be the new weapon of warfare, Helsop's people must learn to craft it for their own survival. Their only claim to fame was the superior weapons they produced
Dagon recognized the black horse that Deimos rode and walked out to the road to meet him. He waved and Deimos slowed his horse to a trot.
"Deimos, old friend. It is good to have you safely home."
Deimos, still straight-backed and imposing even after his long ride, dismounted and saluted, then shook hands with Dagon.
"In truth, it is good to be home."
Deimos took his horse's reins in hand and walked back to the command center with Dagon.
Dagon lowered his voice. "Were you successful?"
"I had some success, but there are problems we had not anticipated."
"Start from the beginning and tell me everything."
They reached the command center and one of the guards took the black horse from Deimos.
"Welcome back, Deimos," the guard said as he took the horse's reins. "I'll make sure he gets a good rubdown and feed."
Dagon led the way into the command center and both men sat down. Deimos breathed a tired sigh.
"Would you prefer to rest and eat before we speak?" Dagon asked.
"No. But it does feel good to sit down."
Dagon sat back and waited patiently for Deimos to begin.
"It went as we expected. I had no trouble at the border. Evidently Blackwell is still willing to buy our weapons."
"He knows our weapons are the best and he is still eager to have the best in all things."
Deimos nodded in agreement. "I checked in at the garrison and said I planned to look around at the bazaar and at the wharves for raw materials. I left the weapons I had brought with them so that they could take their time inspecting them. They were quite excited about the two swords."
"They would be. Dorian the Blacksmith is without rival."
"I changed into the workman's clothes I had brought with me in a grove of trees and made my way to the archery field. Luckily I found an abandoned rake and began raking leaves at the edge of the field. Most of the soldiers were shooting standard arrows at targets. But toward the end of the day, a wooden stool and a wooden post were brought out, set close together, and the straw targets cleared away. One soldier shot an arrow with a cylinder attached. He let fly as soon as the wick was lit. It turned the post into wood slivers. The force of the explosion knocked the nearby stool into the air but did not damage it.
"No one challenged you?"
"No one notices a groundskeeper. I was able to conceal several of the cylinders in my tunic. There were enough that they may not have missed them if they do not keep close count."
"Well done—though my heart races to hear the story."
"This all took less time than I imagined, so I decided to find a secluded spot and inspect the contents of one of the tubes."
Dagon leaned forward, clenching the edges of his desk.
"I removed the wick and cut through the thick paper with my knife. When the contents were sufficiently spread out I could see it contained three separate powders—one yellow, one black and one white."
"Do you have one with you?" Dagon asked.
Deimos took a cylinder from his tunic and placed it on the table.
"This is the one I cut open. I closed it up again with a bit of paste." Deimos carefully lifted the cut edge and smoothed the paper out. You can see the three powders clearly."
"Yes. And with careful separation we can determine the proportions." Dagon brushed a few grains to one side of the paper and looked at them closely.
Deimos pointed to each powder in turn. "The black, I learned, is only ground up charcoal. The yellow, if you smell it, you will recognize from the clinic. It is sulfur. But the white powder is not readily identified."
Dagon separated a few grains of the white powder and studied them.
"I asked a few traders from foreign ships who carried spices or medicines if I could look at their merchandise. I saw nothing like it. I took a bit of the white powder and showed it to a few of the traders. All but one said they were not familiar with it."
"And that one?" Dagon asked, his voice hopeful.
"That one recognized it. I could see it in his eyes. He asked me where I got it. I told him a soldier in a bar gave it to me when he lost at cards. I said I doubted the soldier's claim that it was equal to the debt he owed me. The man told me to wait while he looked in the back room. I quietly moved outside and watched. As I suspected, a boy ran out the back door. He was heading toward the castle. I left at once and found a place to change back into my militia uniform. No sooner was I changed than an armed group of Royal Guardsmen came riding down the street checking every man who matched my workman's description. They left me alone because I was no longer dressed as a groundskeeper."
"Too close a call. I wonder what the penalty is for possessing the white powder."
"I was happy not to have found out."
Dagon sat back, tilting his chair against the wall behind him while he considered Deimos' report. "So the white powder is a closely guarded secret. Yet Serafina was able to identify it." Dagon's eyes lit up. "Perhaps Electra would know."
Deimos nodded. "I had thought the same."
"You have done well Deimos. I never expected you would learn so much. I think it is my turn now to travel. A visit to Fernland is long overdue. I believe I will leave on the morrow and pay a visit to Fernland's royal family. I will ask Electra if she recognizes the white powder."
"I will go with you," Deimos offered.
"Stay. Rest. Be in charge in my absence. I will take Tandor with me. I have no reason to believe going to Fernland continues to pose a danger. In fact, I promised Electra a visit. I will keep this packet of powders to take with me.
Deimos pushed himself from his chair and stretched his tired muscles.
"We got a good price for our weapons." He sm
iled as he saluted.
"Well done. Let Dorian, our sword maker, know and give him his price." Dagon returned his smile and his salute.