I could badger her until I discovered the defenses of her people and the location of the bloodstone, and then the binding would perish with her. Still… “Are there no other options?”
“None that I am aware of. This is the price you must pay for a deeper dream connection.”
A permanent link was not ideal, but I had no choice. If a dragon could not protect what was his, was he even a dragon at all?
“What do you need for the spell?”
IS THAT A HARPY?
Arioch
The pounding of metal led me to the brick outbuilding near the stables. I announced my approach with heavy footfalls. Leander’s hearing had begun to fail, and one simply did not creep up on a warrior surrounded by weaponry.
He towered over his anvil, smithing hammer gripped in one gnarled hand as he tempered the glowing metal. I cleared my throat and stepped in. Leander lowered his tool and dipped his head in deference.
“Lord Arioch.” The rumble of his baritone was deep enough to rattle the windowpanes.
“Leander.”
Most magical beings could heal non-lethal injuries, but the centuries had stolen that gift from the minotaur, whose years were carved into the deep lines of his face. A faded scar nearly cleaved his muzzle in two. The shorn horn had happened when he was a prisoner of war, as had the missing third finger on his left hand.
He would carry the evidence of his torture for the rest of his life.
Despite his advanced age, power still hummed from his handsand illuminated his cloudy eyes as he fed magic into the metal before him.
Beyond the minotaur’s broad back, a gnome child perched on an upturned bucket, watching the blacksmith work, seemingly enthralled by the sight. A smile tugged at my lips.
“Anker.”
The child startled, gaped up at me, and then remembered himself and jolted to his feet with a bow. Having seen only eleven summers, the boy stood barely over two feet tall. “Forgive me, m’lord.”
“Forgiven.”
“When he was your age, Lord Arioch spent time in the smithy, too,” Leander said.
Anker’s face lit up. “You did?”
“I did. And I highly recommend it.”
“You don’t think I should be out in the fields with my parents?”
Anker’s parents tended the estate’s crops and gardens with the innate earth magic of their kind. Their son, it seemed, had other ambitions.
“There is nothing wrong with a well-rounded education,” I said. “Learn what you can from whoever is willing to teach you. With parental approval, of course.”
“Yes, m’lord.”
“Speaking of your parents, where are they this afternoon?”
“Fixing the breach in the hedge.”
I should have known the gnomes would already be on the task and made a mental note to thank them for their diligence.
“I heard about the visitor we had last night,” Leander said.
“A thief who will be dealt with in due time,” I assured them both. Wanting to discuss anything other than the troublesome female, I studied what he was crafting. “Is that a hatchet?”
“Yes.” He released the flow of magic and assessed the blade before setting it aside. “Clymene says the estate will soon require one, but that can wait. Now, I must see to Silentium.” His gazedrifted to the hilt protruding from behind my left shoulder, and his fingers curled in anticipation of the opportunity to work with my blade.
