the angry soldier, but Walegrin easily eluded him. “Molin Torchholder has only
paid me what is due me-for the work on Vashanka’s bell. Now it might seem
strange to you that such a man would come here himself-but the Hierarch has
taken a personal interest in this project from the beginning. Anyone in town can
tell you that. Besides, did I know you were going to be here this morning? Did I
suspect that today I’d hold Enlibrite ore in my hands? No.
“Now, I expect you’ll believe exactly what you want, but it was happenstance,
all of it. And Torchholder’s suspicions are not aroused; if they were he would
still be here, believe that. Mark me well: I know him and the rest better than
you imagine.”
It was not the first time Balustrus hinted that he knew more than he was saying,
and the notion did nothing to reassure Walegrin. Kilite had often done the same
thing-and Kilite had finally betrayed him. “Truly, metal-master, when can I have
my swords?” he asked in a slightly calmer voice.
“Truly lad, I do not know. The bell is finished, as you heard. I have no other
commissions waiting at my foundry. I’ll start testing your ore as soon as the
priest claims his bell. But, Walegrin, even if I stumble upon the right
temperatures and the right proportions at once-it will still take time. I’ve
only two lads to help me. I’ve agreed to payment in kind-but I cannot hire men
with unforged swords. Besides, would you want me to contract day-labor from the
taverns?”
Walegrin shook his head. He’d relaxed. His body could not stand the tension he