The Hammer of the Sun by Michael Scott Rohan Read Free Book Online Page A

seized the proffered hand. "Roc my lad! So you're back, then!"
    "Sort of looks that way, don't it?" grunted Roc gracelessly. Elof looked at him narrowly; though Roc was nominally a Guildsman, he was seldom seen in the Halls. There was no mystery about that. In the Southlands he had been a respected master of his art; but what status had a smith here, skilled as he might be in the mechanics of his trade, who lacked the least trace of true smithcraft? The short man grimaced. "You're the only waking soul in the place! And here's me just in the gate, all the hostelries still shut up snug for the dawn, and me too dry with the dust of twenty roads to make the climb up to the palace -"
    Elof took the hint, and poured them both wine from a jug on a side-table; Roc downed his in one gulp, and held the beaker out for more. "Not bad," he wheezed. "Distinctly passable, in fact, though the soot's got into it again. Don't your forgeboy keep it covered up?"
    Elof peered suspiciously into his own goblet ."I don't keep a forgeboy anymore; I get the prentices in to help as I need them."
    Roc snorted. "No wonder place is a mess, then. I've half a mind to take up my old post again; you're not fit to look after yourself. What's this that's got you out of your bed so early?" He glanced at Elof from beneath his bristling brows. "Or kept you out of it all night, eh? My, my, must be something good and juicy!" He squinted at the small moulds, into the cold crucible. "Silver? Not stuff for the fleet, surely?"
    "Hardly!" smiled Elof. "That's day-labour. This is to be a gift, a surprise, so not a word of it. Even to Marja…"
    "Scant danger of that!" grunted Roc. "Smithcraft's not a thing we talk about; jewellery least of all. Well, these moulds look about ripe for cracking. Want a hand?"
    "If you're not too weary," grinned Elof, striving not to let his misgivings show. But it would be a worse risk being seen to hide anything from Roc; he was no fool. And since he could see nothing of the craft within the metal, what harm was there? His stubby hands were every bit as deft as Elof s as they prised apart the metal shells and chipped at the crumbling clay within. Below lay the chalk, sintered now to the hardness of the rock it came from; but under Elof s impatient grip its edges flaked away, and he shelled it like some strange fruit, catching his breath at the gleams of bright metal that showed through. He brought down a jar of corrosive from the high shelf and mixed a weak solution in water.
    "So!" said Roc, as they watched the chalk fizz and bubble away, revealing the clear outlines of the pieces. "Not bad. Not bad at all. Neat as Marja could manage, or any other master jeweller I know. But that's no surprise. They the way you wanted them, then?"
    With great care Elof hooked the gleaming pieces out of the cleansing bath, ran them a moment beneath the waterchute and held them up, first to the red-tinged duergar lantern, then to the thin light that was filtering down the air-shafts. "Yes," he breathed, seeing the intricate pattern of lock and feather wind its way around them without the tiniest flaw or bubble to break its inexorable course. "Yes! They are. Indeed they are." They set a catch in his voice, for he had the true smith's love of all things harmonious and fair. Yet not only their perfection moved him, but the sight of the shimmers and flickers that to his eyes darted this way and that in the metal, like fish below clear ice.
    With a friend's privilege, Roc reached up and plucked down one of the gleaming things, like rare fruit. "Bracelets, eh? But why open like that?"
    Elof smiled. "Anklets, rather."
    "Mmmh. I see; so they'll fit over the foot. But won't they need hinges?"
    "No; the natural spring of the metal…"
    Roc nodded, and his powerful fingers closed around the thick ring of silver, narrowing the split. "No!" barked Elof, and wrenched the fair thing from his hand. Roc raised his eyebrows mildly, and Elof smiled in apology. "After it's