smiled, as he smiled at Walegrin, the dark eyes all but vanished.
Walegrin swallowed hard. “I’ve come with business for you.”
“So early?” the bronze man chided. “Well, come right in. A soldier in monk’s
cloth is always welcome for breakfast.” He hobbled back from the door.
Walegrin retrieved his sack and followed him into the shop. A single oil lamp
set over a counting-table cast flickering shadows on the metal-master’s face. He
rested a pair of iron crutches against the wall behind the table and seemed to
hover there, unsupported. Walegrin’s eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. He saw
the price sheets nailed to the wall and the samples of bronze, iron, tin and
steel; he saw the saddle-like perch in which the metal-master sat. But his first
impression of the eerie place did not change and he would have left if he could.
“Tell me what you’ve got in your sack, and why I should care?” the metal-master
demanded.
Forcing himself not to stare, Walegrin hoisted the sack to the table-top. “I’ve
found the secret of the steel of Enlibar-“
The bronze man shook with laughter. “What secret? There’s no secret to Enlibar
steel, my boy. Any fool can make Enlibar steel-if he’s got Enlibar ore and Ilsig
alchemy.”
Walegrin untied the sack, dumping the blue-green ore onto the table. Balustrus
stopped laughing. He snatched up a chunk of ore and subjected it to an analysis
that included not merely striking it with a mallet, but tasting it as well.
“Yes,” the wizened metal-master crooned. “This is it. Heated and ground and