Warcry

his every word. He was even more amazed when she took up the hammer and chisel and whacked at a piece of metal. She was an amazing sight, striking the metal and then listening carefully as the lad coached her.
    “Surprised?” Ismari said finally. She stood close by at her bench, finishing the polish on the smaller of the rings.
    “She always surprises me,” Heath answered softly. “But this . . . this is unexpected.”
    “Ah.”
    Heath glared at Ismari. “And what does that mean?”
    “Nothing.” Ismari picked up the larger ring and started to polish it. “It just seems to me that your lady friends in the past didn’t. Surprise you, that is.”
    Heath snorted.
    Ismari shrugged. “I am simply making an observation.”
    Heath smiled ruefully. “Well, it doesn’t matter, Ismari. I doubt she’ll stay. She’s talked about going back to the Plains. She doesn’t like the city. Or our ways.”
    “And she’s been in the city for how long?” Ismari said. “Give it time, Heath. You never know what—”
    “Heath, look!” Atira was standing before him, waving something in his face. “Look what I did!” She was smiling, covered in sweat and soot, stinking of the forge, wisps of her hair surrounding her head. Dunstan and Garth stood behind her.
    The nail was slightly crooked, and the head didn’t really appear round, but Atira held it up as if it were the Sword of Xy itself.
    “Well, look at that.” Heath plucked it from her gloved hand, then promptly dropped it. “Damn!”
    “It’s hot.” Atira gave him an exasperated look, then knelt down to retrieve her nail.
    “I know, I know,” Heath shook his hand, trying to ease the sting.
    “Let me see it,” Ismari said with a sigh. She grabbed his wrist. “Not bad. You had the good sense to let go.”
    “About all the sense he has,” Dunstan laughed. “What does every apprentice learn, very first thing?”
    “It’s all hot!” came the ringing cry from the lads.
    Heath joined in the laughter, even as Atira retrieved her creation from the floor.
    “Keep it, lady,” Dunstan said. “As a memento of your day at our forge.”

    IT WAS A BIT LATER, WHILE ATIRA WAS PUTTING her armor back on, that Garth approached with a few of the other lads behind him.
    “My thanks for the lesson, Garth of Xy.” Atira smiled at him as she strapped on her sword-belt.
    “You are welcome.” Garth seemed nervous. “Lady, may I show you some of my work?” He started talking faster, keeping an eye on Dunstan, who waited with Heath and Ismari. “I’ve been practicing with my chain links, ya see, and I was thinking—”
    “Firelanders wear armor,” one of the others blurted. He was smaller and younger than Garth. “And they go around naked.”
    “Let me tell it, Laric,” Garth said. “See, lady, we wanted somethin’ to sell, and we thought that maybe . . .” He put his bundle on the worktable and pulled back the leather. “See—”
    “What’s this, then?” Dunstan’s voice boomed, and the lads all flinched.
    “Armor,” Atira said. “At least, I think it’s armor.” She lifted a piece from the pile of chain on the table. “It seems rather . . . small.”
    “What in the blazes?” Ismari asked as she lifted another piece. “What is this supposed to be?” She held up the piece with two hands, and a faint blush came over her cheeks. “Oh.”
    “And this is the top, I suppose?” Atira asked. “Not sure what it’s supposed to protect.” She raised an eyebrow at Ismari, who laughed.
    “Or how you keep it from chafing,” she sputtered. “Really, boys. I think perhaps your imaginations have run away with you.”
    Heath, Dunstan, and the lads were all standing there as if struck by lightning.
    Atira quirked up the corner of her mouth and held the piece in her hand up to her chest.
    The men twitched. Atira was sure Garth was going to faint dead away.
    Atira and Ismari exchanged a glance as she returned her piece to the pile. “Well,” Atira said, taking a look at the links. “This seems well made. You fastened each link?”
    Silence.
    She looked back over her shoulder. “Garth? You fastened each link?”
    The lad blinked. “Yes. Yes, I did. It’s practice, ya understand?” he blurted out, his face aflame. “We made a bunch of them.”
    “Oh, I think I understand, all right.” Atira chuckled.
    “But they’re of no practical use,” Ismari said. “You should be making full sets, not these scraps.”
    “I’d give anything to see you