I landed with a solid thud.

  As my mind began to clear, I could hear laughter all around me and tasted blood where I had bitten the inside of my cheek.

  It hurt.

  But I still held the crystal bird, undamaged, in my outstretched hand. The bird sat cradled in my hand like it was perched on its nest. A couple of rough-housing boys had knocked it off its pedestal on the guild tour of brawler apprentices. My best friend, Biff, had both boys by the collar, and they were getting a strict scolding from the master who had led the tour.

  It was common to have guild tours as we neared springtime, when cohorts prepared to advance in rankings. Sundance was a prominent member of the city, and his jewelry store interfaced with many guilds in one fashion or another. Granted, it was usually through purchases on their part, but Sundance often hired a variety of young journeymen and promising apprentices from different guilds to work for him. His contract with the brawler’s guild was how I had met Biff several years ago.

  Sundance was at my side in a moment. “Are you okay, Gwyd?” He asked with genuine concern in his husky voice. He saw a little bit of blood on my lip and misread how badly I was hurt.

  It was so typical of him to think first about me and second about his merchandise. He was a very unusual dwarf, and I had often wondered whether he preferred the company of humans to his own kind because of how softhearted he was. But talking about his past was a taboo subject.

  “I am fine, Master Sundance. I just bit my cheek.” I gently handed him the intricately carved crystal bird as if it had been a living nestling. I knew he had spent many days making it just how he wanted. Many dozens of hours had gone into its fragile creation. It still amazed me that such beauty could be created from those thick, coarse, fingered Dwarven hands.

  He smiled in relief and accepted the crystal bird from me. Pointing toward the door leading into the back room of his shop, he said, “Head down to the forge; there is something I wish to share with you as soon as these young rascals depart.”

  As I dusted myself off, Biff escorted the two boys out of the shop. He gave me a sideways shrug by way of apology, and given his immense strength, the boys tiptoed more than walked as he held them by their collars nearly off the floor, one in each hand.

  I went through the door into the back office and then took the stairs to the cellar, partially concealed by crates off to my left. I knew my apprenticeship was nearly complete, and I would be leaving Master Sundance for my journeyman work in the enchanter’s guild. I was uncertain how my work would continue as a jeweler and gemologist during those forced years of wandering across the kingdom. Both gemology and jewelry making were respectable professions in their own right and ones held in high regard by enchanters and commoners alike. But my journeyman work could lead me far afield depending upon the wishes of my mage master in the Enchanter’s Guild.

  I quickly washed my face and the trace amount of blood from my lip and cheek at a cellar sink not far from where a small forge and a couple of jewelry-crafting workstations were housed. Sundance soon joined me. He rocked back and forth on his heels, which told me he was excited about something, even though his face gave nothing away about what it was.

  I walked over and stood before him. I bowed respectfully but did not speak. While he was generally quite laid-back in his dealings with his apprentices and journeymen, something told me this was more of a formal occasion, so I remained silent.

  He stared up at me for a few moments, then jerked his head toward the forge in a dwarven mannerism that was like our using a finger to point. Since dwarves often had their hands full of forging tools and occasionally molten metals, the use of their heads to point at objects or twitches in eyebrows and ears to express emotions was a cultural nuance that I had grown quite fond of over the past ten years or so that I have been with Sundance.

  I looked over and could just make out a parcel beneath a couple of his larger tools. I looked back at him questioningly.

  He rolled his eyes and said, “Fetch it, you daft human, before I have second thoughts.” He broke out into a smile, taking the sting out of his words.

  Quickly, I walked over and carefully retrieved the parcel from under his tools. It was colorfully wrapped and tied in a thin silver cord. It was so unique that I knew that he had to have kept this parcel in his safe because if it had been elsewhere in the shop, given my broad range of duties, I would have come across it.

  As I picked it up, he walked over to a low table where he sat in his favorite leather chair. I came over and sat on the floor across from him. I couldn’t sit in a dwarf-sized chair at the nearby table because the low table would look like an ottoman to me. I recalled the many lessons learned sitting on the cold stone floor across from Sundance. He preferred his cellar to the warmer office above us or even to his showroom filled with marvelous works of gem and metalcraft. He worked up there and met his varied clients in that space, but the cellar was his home.

  While it was just a cellar that was not held in high regard by most humans, his lower level was cool, dry, and smelled of metal and stone rather than the more common dampness and mold of human buildings.

  I placed the parcel on the table before him.

  He rolled his eyes again. “It's for you, lad. Open it. It’s your graduation present.”

  “But I still have to pass the trials before I graduate, Master Sundance,” I replied.

  He dismissed my words with a wave. “Merely a formality. Besides, your next thirty days will be spent preparing for the trials, and I wanted you to have this before you begin.” He indicated the gift on the table before us.

  I reached over and picked up the wrapped parcel again, this time examining it. It was clearly a book—a thick, heavy book. I could also catch the subtle scent of mustiness, which suggested it was a very old book. Dwarves were meticulous in such matters, so it must have a significant age to it.

  I untied the silver cord and gently peeled back the copper-colored wrapping paper. The book had a thick maroon leather covering with a thin stone or plated inset missing from the center of the front cover. If there had been writing on it above the plating, it had faded away long ago.

  “It’s an antique,” I said, turning it over to inspect the blank and worn back cover.

  “It was given to me by my master upon coming of age,” Sundance said in nearly a whisper.

  A glint of gold caught my eye along the spine, and I turned it over and angled it near a wall lantern to make out the lettering. Two letters beginning two words were quite prominent despite the wear: the letters A and, further down the spine, the letter D.

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  I squinted and struggled to make out the first word. It appeared to be “Art-” but had more faded letters behind it. The second word was a little clearer, and with a moment’s concentration, I worked it out to be “Damascus.”

  I gasped.

  “Arturo Damascus,” I whispered, stunned beyond reasoning as I looked up from where I was kneeling into the smiling eyes of my master.

  He nodded once. “Arturo Damascus. Second Age master of all magical crafts. Unrivaled in history and lost to the world many millennia ago. This was one of his apprentice’s books. It has been handed down from master to apprentice at their coming of age in the Hold for countless generations.”

  When he said “the Hold,” I knew he meant his former home, the Dwarven stronghold in the Copper Mountains.

  I started to open it and hesitated.

  Sundance laughed. “It’s not made of glass, lad. It’s a book.” He paused. “But it does have some age to it and probably is worth handling with care.” He added as an afterthought.

  I opened the front cover and read the first page.

  Apprentice Traveling Handbook for

  “Rings and Things”

  by

  Arturo Damascus

  gifted to his apprentice

  Norsil Copperthane

  “His student was a dwarf?” I asked.

  “Indeed. You are probably the first non-dwarf to touch these pages since it was given to Copperthane several thousand years ago.”

  I turned to the next thick vellum page as Sundance continued. “The Copperthanes themselves hold a place of pride in near legend among my people. Norsil Copperthane was the first known dwarf who apprenticed with Damascus and created many amazing and powerful works, both beautiful and deadly. Much of our Hold’s knowledge of magical metalworking has likewise been lost to time, although the dwarves still know a few tricks that our human friends do not.”

  Sundance would often instigate a debate between dwarf and human ingenuity, but I was lost in the charms of the book and could only vaguely hear his words.

  The next page simply listed the book’s contents by chapter. There were twenty-one chapters in total.

  “I don’t know what to say, Master Sundance. This gift is priceless.”

  “A student like you comes along perhaps once in ten generations. I am proud to have taught you some little bit about gems, jewelry, and metalwork.”

  “But master, shouldn’t this go to a dwarf?” I asked.

  He was quiet for a long minute. “Had my wife survived our trip to this city-” he stopped abruptly, working his jaws side to side as tears came to his eyes. He had never spoken of his time before arriving in the city, and I suddenly understood why.

  But he continued, a single tear flowing down his right cheek. “But you are the son I never had, lad. My people are funny about such things. Long ago, we decided to forgo raising our children alone and decided to raise them as a community. As you know from our long debates, there were many reasons for this. Dwarves felt those best skilled at parenting should share those blessings across many, but we also did this to remove the jealousy, bias, and selfishness that often accompanied the favoritism shown to a biological offspring that usually did not benefit the Hold.”

  I saw the merits of his culture’s practices, but we had often argued about love, history, honor, and legacies. It might not be a topic we ever fully agreed upon.

  Sundance continued. “All children of the next generation are considered sons and daughters since we could not know which was our own. Even our kings and queens arose anonymously through the ranks. At least, that is how it worked for ages past. My wife and I broke away from tradition and abandoned everything in the hope of raising our own family out among you big’uns.”

  He grew silent once more.

  This explained why he related so well to humans and never wanted to talk about his past. He had given up everything, and tragedy struck him on the way south to Keelwell.

  He wiped his eyes briskly and reached into his pocket. “The book is a gift that I am honor-bound in the tradition of my masters to award to the greatest of my students.” He withdrew a small jewelry bag. “This,” he said with an emphasis on the words, “is from me to you. Father to son.”

  I opened the velvet bag my master handed me. Inside were diamonds. I poured them into my palm and counted ten. They were worth a small fortune.

  “Master, I-” I began, but was interrupted as he raised his hands.

  “Look at them, apprentice. Look past the sparkle.”

  I examined the diamonds, and in moments, I realized that they were not merely diamonds but magically cut diamonds. Each could hold seven casting points for magical use and be placed in the sockets of rings, weapons, armor, and other assorted magical constructs.

  This was not just a small fortune but something of even greater value to me as a mage. These extra magical storages for casting points could mean life, where only death awaited me otherwise.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “You can create amazing works, and I would like to see you on your way sooner rather than later. You learned humility and kindness long before coming to me. There is no need to make you suffer as a starving artist to learn such things. Besides, your family is wealthy and will likely have something special in mind for you at graduation, so I wanted to gift these to you first.”

  Our relationship was always professional, and he was always kind. But at that moment, I realized that he truly considered me the son he would never have. His people wed for a lifetime, never remarrying. As the keeper of a millennia-old legacy, he could not let it end with him.

  I jumped up and hugged him.

  He froze for a moment and then returned my hug. Patting my shoulders with those strong Dwarven hands capable of bending an iron fire poker with casual ease. My shoulders were bruised, but I did not care.

  Sundance pushed me away gently and said, “Apprentice, read through this book. I was told by my master that it contained secrets that Damascus shared with his brightest apprentices. Neither I nor my master before me could discover any new secrets beyond the words of forging, but this book's crafting skills and knowledge are worthy even if no magical enchantments are learned.”

  He motioned toward my corner, where a desk and small forge workstation were located. “Spend the rest of the day studying. Read the first chapter and see what you can achieve.”

  As I began to rise, he held my arm. “Sorry lad, I almost forgot. Your other master and I mutually attested to the Bank of the Realm to give you one additional gift to help you on your way.”

  He removed an envelope from his vest and handed it to me. I opened it and read the contents of the single velum sheet held inside. My eyes widened as I completed the quick read.

  “This authorizes me to produce ten, 10oz silver bars of the highest purity for use by the Bank of the Realm and the enchanters guild,” I said in surprise.

  “It is not a large commission,” Sundance began, “and it will not take you very long as it requires only three separations by guild standards, but it allows you to use your jeweler’s stamp for magic-grade silver separation. That is a privilege rarely provided to any below the rank of a master or grandmaster.”

  My jeweler’s stamp was a birthday gift when I turned twenty-one this past year. It came in a rolled leather pouch with fourteen different-sized stamps that looked like modified chisels. The stamps ranged from the smallest for use on delicate jewelry to an oversized stamp with a mark large enough to fit on a large coin or magical-grade purified metal bar.

  He patted my arm since he could no longer comfortably reach my shoulder while I was standing. “You’d better get to it. You have much to do, and this commission is good for only one week from yesterday’s date.”

  I rose and walked over to my station, lost in thoughts and emotions. I planned to stay in close contact with Sundance even after completing my journeyman work. I hoped we could partner on some projects together, even as I traveled. We often talked about my returning and taking over the business one day. I looked forward to a long and bright future working together, although it would be many decades before I stood in his shoes as master of a shoppe.

  I had a lot to do, and time was limited.