![]() ![]() Three arrows shoot out of the wall and hit me right in the chest, one after another. I step on a tile that sinks under my weight. I realise that no one in my life has ever said this to me in so many words. He says it with humour and levity and care and just a note of sadness, like I’m his only friend in the world and he’s too shy to admit it, and I realise that he wants me to stay with him, that the world is full of peril and he’s worried sick every time I leave, never sure if he’ll see me again. Be careful out there.” He doesn’t have to say this, but he does, like a kiss on the cheek, or a signature. When I leave he says to me, “ I’ll be seeing you, then. His services are priced fairly, even though he has such a monopoly on the blacksmith market that he could ask for whatever he wanted and I’d pay it. ![]() He sharpens my sword, makes it more lethal. He’s working, always working, his hulking body glistening with sweat, but every time I speak to him he sets his hammer down. There ’s a blacksmith, one floor below me. I wake up to the tender crackling of fire and the steady, rhythmic pounding of steel on steel. ![]()
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