around her.
‘Yes, and I answered all his questions. He has the formula now for Enlibar
steel, whatever that is, and if his purposes are true he’ll make much of it.’
Her body released its tension in a series of small spasms and Dubro held her
tighter.
‘Enlibar steel,’ he mused softly. ‘The swords of legend were of Enlibar steel.
The man who possesses such steel now would be a man to be reckoned with … even
if he were a blacksmith.’
Illyra pulled the linen over her ears and pretended not to hear.
‘Sweetmeats! Sweetmeats! Always the best in the bazaar!
Always the best in Sanctuary!’
Mornings were normal again with Haakon wheeling his cart past the blacksmith’s
stall before the crowds disrupted the community. Illyra, one eye ringed with
kohl and the other still pristine, raced out to purchase their breakfast treats.
‘There’s news in the town,’ the vendor said as he dropped three of the pastries
onto Illyra’s plate. ‘Twice news in fact. All of last night’s watch from the
garrison took its leave of the town during the night and the crippled scribe who
lived in the Street of Armourers was carried off amid much screaming and
commotion. Of course, there was no watch to answer the call. The Hell Hounds
consider it beneath them to patrol the law-abiding parts of town.’ Haakon’s ire
was explained, in part, by his own residence in the upper floors of a house on
the Street of Armourers.
Illyra looked at Dubro, who nodded slowly in return.
‘Might they be connected?’ she asked.
‘Pah! What would fleeing garrison troops want with a man who reads fifteen dead