“Right. I remember. Not sure that I need to talk to the boy, though. Won’t really change anything, will it?”
“If only it could be that easy to make him suddenly gain talent,” Sam chuckled.
I blinked. He had a point. A conversation with the village magistrate wouldn’t make Alan absorb any blacksmithing skills. It was a silly suggestion.
My thoughts stuttered as I tried to remember why I had felt outraged this morning. I pressed my hand against my purse, feeling the ring mixed in with the coins. My outrage returned. Alan didn’t need to learn anything.
I looked at the Wrisons and knew that I wouldn’t find any answers—or help—here. I needed to go to the source of the problem. Though I had only finished half of my breakfast, I stood.
“Mina?” Eliza looked at me in concern.
I tried to smile. “Sorry, I just forgot about how much I have to do today. I need to get going.”
Since everyone knew that I spent most of my days drifting around the village, joining people at whatever tasks they had going on at the moment, my answer only made them more concerned.
“I promised Gemma I’d help her at the shop this morning,” I told them, which wasn’t a lie. Not that the other woman expected me so early. Which they would know. “And I forgot that I need to run an errand first.”
“What errand?” Sam asked. “Maybe I can—”
I shook my head. He wouldn’t let me get away with a vague answer, so I needed to give him one that wouldn’t lead to me being caught in a lie. “I broke my belt knife. I need to stop by the smithy and order a new one, and I have a few specific requirements. It will be easier if I go myself.”
Sam grimaced. “You’d be better off checking the general store. Powell’s knives don’t hold an edge very well.”
My lips parted in surprise. I had been prepared for suspicion, mentioning the smithy so soon after talking about Alan, not a critique of Master Powell. This was the first anyone had ever disparaged his abilities as a smith. I had heard grumbles about his work ethic and his willingness to make certain pieces, but no one had mentioned any concerns about his actual skill. Well, Sam had ridiculed the items in that display case, too. But those were different. “Just his knives? Don’t scythes need to hold an edge, too? If he can make farm equipment that holds an edge, why not knives?”
Eliza looked at her son with narrowed eyes. “I’ve heard nothing about any tools going dull prematurely.”
Sam shrugged, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Maybe larger tools are made differently. I bought a few knives from Powell once, and they couldn’t cut anything, even after I tried to hone the blades myself.” He stood up, grabbing his plate. “I should probably get to work.”
We watched him scurry into the kitchen and out the back door.
“Oh, dear.” Eliza turned to her husband. “He must have bought those knives recently to be that flustered.”
“Or his reason for the purchase was so ridiculous he is embarrassed even years later,” I added.
Conrad raised an eyebrow. “I can’t think of a single non-ridiculous reason for him to have bought multiple knives.”
???
Thanks to Sam’sunexpected revelation of his past purchases, Conrad and Eliza seemed to have forgotten my odd behavior from the morning. I left without facing any further questions. I followed the same path I had taken the evening before, going out beyond the houses clustered close to the village square and down to the stream.
Once I stood by the water’s edge, I hesitated. Did I really want to break my belt knife just to snoop around the forge? Whatever replacement I received—no matter the skill of the maker—wouldn’t be as good. Not because my knife was a particularly impressive piece, but because I couldn’t actually ask for a proper replacement without raising suspicions. My current knife looked like those used by any other woman in the village, but it was designed as a weapon rather than a common tool.
I was no warrior, but I had studied the basics of self-defense since I was a child. I could use a normal belt knife as a weapon if needed, but it wouldn’t have the same balance. Not that I expected to need a weapon in Skorsa. If there had been any hint of danger, I’d never have been allowed to stay in the village without a squad of guards. Actually, I wouldn’t have been allowed to come at all, even with a company of soldiers.
I had never in my life needed to defend myself from a physical threat. I didn’t need the knife.
Yet, I still hesitated. My thoughts spun, and this time I recognized the feeling. I pulled the rose ring from my purse, and my doubts faded away, my thoughts coming clearly once more. Whatever was going on sucked me into the village mindset too easily. I needed to remember that Alan was a skilled smith.
I slipped the ring onto my finger, a touchstone. A reminder that the man I had insulted the night before didn’t deserve such scorn.
Then I unsheathed my knife, stood next to the boulder I had sat on the evening before, and drove it tip first into the stone with all my strength. The shock of impact reverberated up my arm, and I heard the rewarding sound of metal snapping. I looked down to discover the strike had only broken off the tip of the blade.
Not exactly what I had hoped for, but good enough. Tucking the tip into my coin purse, I re-sheathed the rest of the blade. Time to see a smith about a replacement.
I ran my thumb over the underside of the ring as I walked, keeping my goal firmly in mind.
The sun had risen well above the horizon by the time I crossed the village square to reach the smithy. I nodded at the villagers as I went, calling out greetings, and after each one, I had to remind myself once more that there was a mystery to solve. The ring was the only thing helping me maintain my determination.
