Thieves World 4 – Storm Season by Asprin, Robert

The metal-master shrugged. “It is not like telling a cloth-cutter to make a

tunic, boy. The formula is old; the ore is new. It will take time. I must melt

and grind carefully; tempering is an art to itself. It could take years.”

Walegrin’s blue eyes came alive with anger. “It will not take years! There’s war

in the north. Already the Emperor has called for men to fill the legions. I will

have my swords by summer’s end or I’ll have your life.”

“I have,” the metal-master said with bitter irony, “been threatened by experts.

You’ll have your swords, my boy, as soon as I’m ready to give them to you.”

The blond soldier had a ready reply, but withheld it as commotion rose in the

street and someone hammered loudly on the bolted doors.

“Open up! Open up in the Prince’s name! Open your doors, merchant!”

Walegrin snatched up the sack. He glanced around the room, aware for the first

time that it offered no hiding places.

“You look as if you’d seen a ghost, boy. If you don’t want to see the Prince’s

man, just step behind the curtain. Take your ore with you. I’ll be but a moment

with these fools.”

Unable to force coherent words through his tight throat, Walegrin simply nodded

and, still clutching the sack, eased behind a curtain and into a dark

passageway. He could see narrowly into the room he had left without, he prayed,

being seen in return.

Balustrus struggled with the heavy bolts. He got the door open just before the

Prince’s man threatened to break it down. Three men immediately surged past: two

huge brutes in dirty rags and a third man in common dress.