“Where’s Snowflake?” Emlyn asks, “She earned her treat with that performance on the road.”
“Back here,” Daki calls out, “We’re just getting her settled in.”
Emlyn wanders toward the back of the barn and finds a slightly younger and darker-haired version of Benger tossing sand and straw into Snowflake’s stall. Another marginally younger boy, with white-blonde hair and gray eyes, is scooping out measures of grain into buckets. Meanwhile, a third boy, even younger, with reddish-blond hair and brilliant blue eyes, comes sloshing up with buckets of clean water.
“Oh good,” Benger grins, pointing to the lad tossing straw, “This is my brother, Rovid.” Pointing to the boy scooping grain, “That’s my brother, Arrock. The one with the water buckets is my brother, Rand, who must have lost another bet with Arrock; otherwise, Rand would be dishing out the grain instead of lugging around heavy buckets of water. I’d like all of you to meet my friend, Nia.”
Looking between Emlyn and Benger, Rand asks, with the candid honesty of all young children, “Are you and Benger getting married?”
Before Benger can make what looks like an angry reply, Emlyn steps smoothly into the breach. Laughing, she tousles his hair and laughs harder at his slight frown. “I hate to disappoint both of you,” Emlyn replies, “but no. We work together.”
“Oh,” Rand says, eyes wide, “I didn’t know girls could do that.”
Patting her swords, Emlyn grins back, “These aren’t just for show. I’ve promised to take Vonham out for a bit of a ride on Snowflake after dinner. If Snowflake feels like showing off what she knows, I’ll show you how your horse is more of a partner than just a beast to be commanded.”
“Should I tack her back up?” Rovid asks.
“No, she’s definitely earned her rest,” Emlyn grins, “and a treat or two besides.”
Emlyn holds out the carrot trimmings and Snowflake snuffles for a moment before lipping them off her outstretched palm. As Snowflake chews contentedly, Emlyn reaches up to scratch under her chin, and once Snowflake lowers her head, the scratching moves to the top of her head, right between her ears.
Without thinking about it, Emlyn begins to murmur to the mare in her own language, praising her. “Rydych chi'n ferch dda. Rhoesoch chi stompian da i'r thasg hynny. Rwy'n falch iawn ohonoch. (You are a good girl. You gave those thugs a good stomping. I’m very proud of you.”
When Snowflake nudges her looking for more treats, Emlyn pats her affectionately and steps away from the stall.
Looking curiously at Daki, she asks, “Do you keep your tools here? Things like scythes, sickles, hoes, plows.”
“We do,” Daki nods, “Why are you asking?”
“I’m wondering about the quality of the steel,” Emlyn explains, “I’m having trouble finding proper steel in Harito and was hoping that there might be better steel available here.”
“What do you consider proper steel?” Daki asks.
Gesturing to her sword hilt, Emlyn says, “May I? I swear that it’s not an attack on you or any of your beasts.”
“They’re works of art, Da,” Benger grins, “Just don’t grab the hilt.” Emlyn wraps her hand around the hilt and feels her grandfather’s presence, “I’m still Nia to everyone here, but they need to see Cymry steel to see the difference between what they have and what I want to make.”
“I’ll play along…and warn Terwyn,” Melfyn chuckles, “Show them and be proud of our craft.”
At Daki’s odd look, Benger adds, “It’s a superstition among her people. They say that their swords can talk to them.”
Daki nods cautiously, and Emlyn draws the sword and lays it across her palms. The watered blade catches the light, and Daki’s eyes go wide. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Daki breathes, “Where did you get them?”
“My family made them,” Emlyn explains, “We worked in metals.”
Taking a careful finger, she taps the blade, and it produces a clear, bell-like sound. Without thinking, Rand reaches for the blade and frowns when Emlyn snatches it away from him.
“Don’t ever grab for the edge like that,” Emlyn warns him, “They’re so sharp you can cut yourself quite badly and not realize it for some time.”
“It must be a lot of work to keep them that sharp,” Daki says, “I can’t imagine how much time you spend honing them.”
“Actually, no,” Emlyn sighs, “Proper steel will hold an edge unless something’s done to blunt it, like hitting a rock or a tree. I’ll still look at what you have here, but what you just said tells me that your steel isn’t much better than what’s in Harito.”
“If we didn't have to stop to sharpen the scythes and sickles constantly,” Rovid says wistfully, “we could finish the harvest in half the time.”
Emlyn looks to Daki for confirmation, and Daki nods, “It’s true. It might not be half the time, but even if we only stopped to do it at lunch, it would still be a lot faster.”
Stolen story; please report.
"Oja told me that you break tools a lot and it’s expensive to have them reforged,” Emlyn says, “If I can pry a bit, do you happen to know how much that costs you each year?”
“Why are you asking?” Daki frowns.
“It’s a bit rude to ask people about their finances so soon after meeting them,” Benger explains.
“I’m sorry,” Emlyn explains, “I don’t mean to be rude. I’ve a pet project and I’m trying to decide whether to see if I can interest Duke Arnet in it or not. Benger says that anything related to farming catches Duke Arnet’s attention. I’m quite dissatisfied with the quality of the steel. I know that it can be so much better.” Emlyn waves at herself and Benger, “We need it to be better so that we have proper armor and weapons. You need it to be better so that you stop breaking your tools and spend less time trying to keep them sharp. I’m hatching a plan to solve that problem, and it will be extremely profitable once it’s up and running, but it’s going to require a significant investment. More, possibly, than the temple can afford. If I can show the financial benefits to the duke…”
“Can you get me a new plow out of it?” Daki asks, “We broke ours again when we hit a rock.”
“It probably won’t be soon enough for planting season,” Emlyn shrugs, “but I will promise that when we start making plows, I’ll see that you get one of the first ones. Even if Duke Arnet isn’t interested, if I get this thing going, we’ll be making all manner of tools. I’ll want to tap into your expertise to determine what works best for each purpose. There will be some experimenting involved, so I’ll need some of your time to help figure that out.”
“In that case,” Daki grins, “I’ll take a peek into the farm ledger and get you a total for what we spent last year reforging tools before we have dinner.”
Emlyn grins back at him and sheathes her blade, “Let’s take a look at that plow, then.”
Daki leads her to a tool room at the front of the barn and opens one of the wall panels, allowing light and air to enter. Sitting in the middle of the floor is a plow, cracked and dented on one side. Emlyn crouches, scrutinizing it. Pulling a dagger from her boot, she tests the plow’s turning blade to see if her dagger can scratch it, and it does.
Standing, she stares thoughtfully at it for a moment. “We’re making harder steel than this in Harito now,” Emlyn says with a nod, almost to herself. “If I were to promise to have this back to you by… say the spring thaw, could I take it with me? I doubt that Master Lokrag knows much about making plows, so having one to study would be useful for him. Once he works out the process, it should be something he can assign to one of the apprentices. If the Temple can make you one, you can try one with the slightly better steel we have now and see if that’s better or worse.”
“Why would it be worse?” Rovid asks, “If your dagger scratched it, doesn’t that mean your dagger’s steel is better than what our plow is made from?”
“It only means that it’s harder. I don’t know enough about plows to say if that’s a good thing or not. Steel is an odd thing to work with,” Emlyn shrugs, “To hold an edge properly, it has to be very hard, but when it’s too hard, it’s brittle. If it’s too soft, it won’t hold an edge or even its shape properly. You can dent it with your fingers. For every use of steel, there’s a proper mix of the two to make it suitable for what you want to do with it. Your father said it was damaged when it hit a rock. I’d rather see it crack and bend like this than shatter because it hit a rock. Maybe even have a piece of it fly off and hit someone.”
“I guess that could be bad,” Arrack says, “but maybe not so bad. Rovid and I fight all the time. I’ve been hit lots of times.”
“The problem with that is,” Emlyn explains, “much like your icicles, except that you can’t see that the plow is about to hit a buried rock. When steel comes apart like that, it’s got tremendous force. It’s not just going to give you a good thump. It’s going to cut into you. It can be pretty bad.”
“It can be lethal,” Benger adds, “If Da decides to try this new plow out, I want all of you watching from up here by the barn. You can have a basket of bandages and other supplies ready, but keep your distance, just in case. And make sure you keep the others back, too. Especially Vonham and Dubor, even if you have to sit on them, Promise me?”
One by one, the younger boys promise. Nodding, Benger grins at them, “Now let’s go see if dinner’s ready. Since we have a guest, I’m sure Mama’s making something special for dessert.”
Eyes wide and speculating wildly about what the dessert might be, the younger boys tear off at a run toward the house.
Daki chuckles, “I wish I still had that much energy after a full day of chores.”
The trio walks more slowly back to the house, and Daki looks at Emlyn, “Benger mentioned that you’re not from here. Where are you from?”
“I think it’s called Ibartica now. Penfro was destroyed.” Emlyn says slowly, “It’s hard to tell. Nothing’s left.”
“I’ve never heard of this Ibartica,” Daki muses, “but I don’t get away from the farm, and when I do, it’s usually no further than Harito. I don’t think I’ve ever been out of Tassatung, now that I think of it.”
“This is the first time I’ve ever been somewhere,” Emlyn shrugs, “where no one knows of the Cymry. The Goddess brought me to Harito. I was badly hurt at the time.”
“That’s an understatement,” Benger says, “There were several betting pools on you. One of them was if you were male or female because you were so badly off, we couldn’t tell for sure either way.”
“What were the others?” Emlyn asks.
“There were all sorts of bets made about where you were from, how you got hurt so badly, why the Goddess brought you to the temple, who you were,” Benger replies with a grin, “The ones who guessed you were female are the only ones who’ve won. Everyone else is still waiting to find out.”
Laughing, Emlyn elbows him, “They’ll be waiting a very long time for those answers.”
“Yes,” Benger grins back, “I suppose that they will.”
“How did you two meet?” Daki asks.
“I was still in the infirmary,” Emlyn explains, “and just starting to come back to myself. I’d made a promise to the Goddess that I’d take my oath as a paladin as soon as I was able. Once I could talk to one of the healers, I made it known that I wanted to talk to one of the paladins before I took my oaths. They sent Benger. Once I was able to start walking again, well,” Emlyn grins, “toddling around really, Benger was kind enough to make sure that I didn’t crack my head when I exhausted myself. He’s been a huge help and very kind to someone he barely knows.”
“Since we’ll be serving together,” Benger replies, “it seemed like I ought to get to know you. I’d rather do that in calmer circumstances than in the middle of a fight.”
“That seems entirely reasonable,” Daki nods, “So if you didn’t bring Nia home to meet your family, when will you be bringing a girl home?”
Benger blushes, “Da…”
Daki laughs, “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
“You and Mama are incorrigible,” Benger says with a mock glare, “There are plenty of girls at the Temple, but I haven’t found one that I think I want to spend the rest of my life with. You’ll know once I know.”
“He’s had his heart broken a time or two,” Emlyn grins, “if the rumor mill is to be believed, but mostly what I’ve heard is that he’s broken quite a few himself.”
Wagging a finger at Benger, she continues, “You’re quite the subject of gossip yourself, you know. Since you’re oblivious to some of the girls who have set their cap for you, I’ll have to make sure you're aware next time it happens. If I approve of them, that is. I did save you from the cowpies, after all.”
Midwinter is a time of celebration in many cultures. What's your tradition? Let me know in the comments.