I picked at the slice of bread I had taken. “Doesn’t it make more sense that Alan used those two days to make the pieces the farmers needed?”
“He doesn’t have the skill,” Sam said.
His father looked thoughtful. “How do we know he doesn’t have the skill?”
All three Wrisons had matching furrows in their brows.
“He just . . . he never . . .” Sam took a deep breath. “We all know he doesn’t.”
“We do. I did.” Conrad shook his head. “Now, I’m not so certain.”
“He showed promise before his father’s death,” Eliza said softly. “That’s why it was so disappointing to learn he lacks any skill.”
“I think,” Conrad said after another moment, “I might pay Alan a visit in the next few days.”
I finally ate a spoonful of stew. Conrad's sudden wariness didn’t reassure me. It shouldn’t have taken my questions to make him realize something odd was going on with Skorsa’s smiths. He never formed an opinion until he understood every facet of the situation. Yet he had never even thought to question his assumptions about Alan.
Two days before I could pick up my necklace. Two days before I discovered if I had been duped or if the entire Wrison family had made a mistake.
???
It felt likean eternity, but the two days finally passed and I returned to the smithy. The small shop was empty, but I heard pounding from the forge. It gave me hope that I had judged Alan correctly, while making me wonder even more about the Wrisons’ opinions of him. I went to the door along the side wall and eased it open.
Heat washed over me, eclipsing even the natural heat of summer. The muffled pounding transformed into the clang of metal on metalnow that no barriers stood between me and the source of the sound. Alan stood at an anvil in the center of the space, hammering a rod of iron with measured strokes. Slowly, the straight length of metal took on a graceful curve. After a few more blows, he set the piece back among the coals to reheat and saw me.
“Miss Devale.” He dropped his tongs onto a workbench and walked over to the door.
“Master Smythson.” I stepped back into the relatively cool shop. “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time?”
Alan skirted past me and went directly to the cabinet along the back wall. “Now is fine.”
He wiped soot-covered hands on his leather apron, then reached up to the same spot behind the decorative finial. He pulled down a gold chain and pendant, smoothed the necklace out along his palm, and brought it over to me.
I stared so long that Alan began to shift his weight from foot to foot.
I reached out and traced the fall of the chain. As he had suggested, Alan had made two chains of each type of gold, entwining them around each other. They linked together at irregular intervals. There were more twists and styles of links than I remembered from the copper chain. My finger continued its journey down to the pendant, which dangled beneath Alan’s palm. I hooked the kite-shaped pendant and pulled the necklace away.
A sapphire peeked out of the gold at each corner of the pendant, which Alan had made from a marbled combination of both gold and rose gold. It hinted at the style of the original necklace, while appearing even more seamless. Delicate and refined, the necklace proved its maker’s mastery as a smith.
Why did the Wrisons doubt his skill? Even if they had never had a reason to see him fashion jewelry, that level of craftsmanship must shine through on all he did.
“It’s gorgeous.” I tore my gaze away from the necklace and met Alan’s walnut-brown eyes. I didn’t want him to doubt my sincerityfor a moment. He was so tense. “You surpassed my wildest hopes. I wish I could keep it for myself.”
He relaxed enough to smile, the slightest tilt of his lips.
I wanted to see that smile grow. I wanted him to meet my eyes while he grinned. So, I kept talking. “You are an amazing smith.”
Suddenly he was even tenser than before, the smile gone as if it had never existed. “The rest of the gold is in the forge. I’ll go get it for you.”
“No need,” I said, trying to figure out what had caused the change in Alan’s demeanor. I wrapped the necklace in a clean handkerchief. “You can keep the rest of the gold as your payment.”
Alan shook his head, still not quite meeting my eyes. “The chain and pendant barely used up any of the gold. There’s far too much left for an appropriate payment.”
I waved the wrapped-up necklace at him. “Do you have any idea how much a goldsmith would charge for this necklace in Haiwella? Keep the gold.”
“We’re not in Haiwella.”
“Listen, I’m not taking the gold. I meant to gift it to Aunt Eliza, and now I have an even better gift out of it. You made that gift, so you earned whatever remains. Besides, even if it is too much, which I do not concede to be the case, it would still be worth it to see what you can make now that you have the materials. Your talents are wasted on blacksmithing.”
