Chapter 33: Ironwood's Price
On the road to Ironwood, Violet rode an old gray mare. Gray Bone had lent it to her, saying this horse knew the way, no whip needed to reach Ironwood. The old mare indeed knew the way. Slow but steady. Hooves sure on the loose stones.
By the time she reached the Ironwood camp, the sound of forging rang even louder than last time. A steady clanging, as if hundreds of men were striking stone at once. The blacksmith stood beneath the largest forge, stripped to the waist, swinging his hammer over a piece of red-hot iron. Sweat streamed down his back, running along the furrows of muscle into his belt.
Violet didn't call to him. She crouched outside the forge and waited. Waited about the time it takes for a meal before the blacksmith hammered the iron into the rough shape of a blade. He tossed it into a water bucket. A sharp hiss. White smoke billowed up.
"You're here." He finally saw her.
"I'm here."
"Come to watch me forge?"
"Come to talk about whether your blades are worth the price."
The blacksmith wiped his hands on a dirty cloth, walked out from under the forge, and crouched opposite her. "Speak."
Violet pulled a hide from inside her coat. Unfolded it. Spread it on the ground between them. A table was drawn on it. Two columns. The left column read "Ironwood Equipment." The right column read "Water City Orders."
"Long blades. Two hundred. Spearheads. Three hundred. Arrowheads. One thousand. Iron ingots. Fifty." She pointed at the numbers on the table as she spoke.
The blacksmith looked at those numbers. His eyes narrowed. "You're buying this much?"
"Not buying. Ordering. Deliver before the beast tide."
"What price are you offering?"
"Market price. Not one coin more. Not one coin less."
The blacksmith stared at her. "You didn't come to haggle?"
"No. I came to tell you. Your blades are worth market price."
The blacksmith was silent for a moment. He picked up a loose stone from the ground and wrote a number beside the table. Violet glanced at it. Calculated in her head. Ten percent higher than her budget.
"This price. Ironwood accepts."
"Accept. On one condition."
The blacksmith's fingers paused. "What condition?"
"Blades, spearheads, arrowheads. Water City's self-defense force uses them first. After they've used them, if there are any left, you can sell to others."
"Why?"
"Because Water City's self-defense force uses the best equipment. The best equipment fights the best battle. When the battle is won, others will see Ironwood's blades have killed Thorn Wolves. Then your blades will be worth this price."
The blacksmith stared at her for a long time. He tossed the stone to the ground, stood, and walked back under the forge. He picked up the rough blade he had just forged and looked at it again.
"Do you know what Ironwood lacks most?" He didn't turn around.
"I do. You don't lack iron. Don't lack skill. Don't lack strength. You lack an opportunity for others to know 'Ironwood's blades are good.'"
The blacksmith turned around. "You're not a merchant. Merchants haggle. You don't. You offer high prices, place large orders, and don't haggle. What do you want?"
"I want your blades. The beast tide is coming. My soldiers need the best blades. You give me the best blades. I give you the best price."
"I'm not talking about coin."
Violet stood and brushed the dirt from her knees. "I know you're not talking about coin. You're talking about whether Ironwood's goods are worth this price. I'm telling you they are. Not because your iron is good or your skill is fine. Because you dared to say to my face, 'Ironwood's blades aren't cheap.' A man who dares say that doesn't make shoddy goods."
The blacksmith was silent. He placed the rough blade on the anvil, picked up the hammer, then set it down again.
"You're sturdier than you look." He said.
"What?"
"I said you're sturdier than you look. At the last assembly, I said you had to prove you could fight first. You didn't argue then. I waited for you to argue. You didn't. I thought you accepted it. Now I know. You didn't accept it. You went back and prepared."
Violet didn't deny it.
"This order. Ironwood accepts." The blacksmith picked up the hammer and brought it down hard on the rough blade. Sparks flew. "Before the beast tide. Two hundred long blades. Three hundred spearheads. One thousand arrowheads. Fifty iron ingots. Not one item missing."
"Thank you."
"No need for thanks. You pay. I deliver. Fair."
Violet gathered the hide from the ground, folded it, and placed it back inside her coat. She turned toward the old gray mare. The blacksmith's voice came from behind her.
"Cecilia."
She stopped.
"Last time I said you had to prove you could fight. I take that back. You're not trying to prove you can fight. You're trying to prove your soldiers won't die."
Violet didn't look back. She mounted the horse and left.
By the time she rode out of the Ironwood camp, the sun had begun its western descent. The old mare walked slowly along the dry riverbed, hooves crunching on the loose stones. She pulled out the small notebook and drew a horizontal line through the row marked "Ironwood."
Crossed out.
Two left. Ice Wolf Clan's "wanting face." Silver Spring's "not wanting to lose again."
Tomorrow, to Ice Wolf Clan.
She placed the notebook back inside her coat and touched the egg. The egg moved. Stronger than yesterday. She pressed her hand to her chest and felt that small vibration. A little bigger. More and more like a small living thing, no longer just "an egg."
By the time she returned to Water City, the sky was dark. The torches at the city gate were lit, illuminating her face. Tor the gatekeeper recognized her and called out, "Cecilia is back." She didn't respond. Led the horse through the gate.
Leon was on the city wall. She didn't go up. He didn't come down.
She led the horse back to the small house beside the granary, tied it to the post outside the door, and pushed the door open. The room was dark. She didn't light the lamp. Felt her way to the bed in the dark and pulled off her boots. The old injury on the arch of her right foot ached again. She rubbed it and remembered the shaman's words. Those dark marks beneath your eyes. Weren't there last time. Are there now. She hadn't slept well. Truly hadn't slept well. But tonight the effect of that bowl of herbs hadn't yet worn off. Maybe she could sleep well.
She lay down and lifted the egg from inside her coat, placing it beside her pillow. The shell gave off a faint glow in the darkness. Not moonlight. Its own light. Very faint, but visible.
She stared at that light.
"What are you really?" She whispered.
The egg didn't answer. But the thing inside turned over, and the shell wobbled with it.
She closed her eyes.
Tomorrow, to Ice Wolf Clan.
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End of Chapter Thirty-Three
Ironwood's account can't be settled by haggling. Only by "worth the price." Violet placed her largest order. Two hundred long blades. Three hundred spearheads. One thousand arrowheads. No bargaining. No haggling. Market price, not one coin less. The blacksmith said, "You're not a merchant." She said, "I am. But I know some things can't be haggled over." The account is crossed out. Two left. The egg glows beside her pillow. The thing inside turned over. She closed her eyes. Tomorrow, to Ice Wolf Clan. Face is harder to negotiate than water or iron.