Page 23 of Her Orc Blacksmiths

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Aye, that’s Torren’s desk.”

I’ve never seen so much gold—and it’s just lying on the table. The door to the forge was locked, yes, but surely this kind of thing belongs in a vault?

I eye the piece he must have been working on before he left the forge. “Is he a goldsmith?”

I think Ritta said last night that they were both blacksmiths, but I could be mistaken. With everything that happened, maybe I remember incorrectly.

“No, he does iron work as well.” Morg motions to some shelves opposite the furnace. “He’s the one who makes most of the horseshoes for the clan, as well as tools like scissors and cutlery. But he does a lot of the fine decorative work, too, and that usually involves gold. He even forged King Gorvor’s crown.”

“That’s incredible,” I reply.

I survey the shelves, then turn back toward Morg’s side of the room. Swords and daggers hang on the wall, as well as the occasional axe. There’s even a wicked-looking mace with sharp spikes.

“So you make weapons?” I ask, “and he makes tools and ornaments?”

Morg is still standing in the middle of the forge, his arms crossed, his expression closed off. “Aye. We do tend to divide the work that way.”

I wouldn’t have thought that I could sense his mood from only knowing him such a short time, but there’s a definitive undercurrent of displeasure in his voice.

“You don’t like making weapons?” I press tentatively.

He walks over to his workbench and picks up one of the throwing knives. “No, I do. There’s a lot of precision work to be done, and it’s what I apprenticed for.”

I squint at him, suspecting he’s not telling me the full story. “But…?” I prompt.

He gives me a dry smile that lets me know he’s aware I’m probing on purpose. Then he sets down the knife and says, “It gets a little repetitive, is all. I try to give every piece a different design and all, but sometimes, it would be nice to work on something else instead.”

“I’m sure Torren feels the same,” I quip, pointing toward the shelves with stacks of iron horseshoes.

“Aye, but that’s just it,” he says, frustration clear in his voice. “We could swap out the work when one gets too tired of making the same thing over and over again. Not the fine gold work, perhaps, because I have little skill in that, but the rest?” He shrugs, then adds, “Torren refuses to make weapons, that’s the real issue. He won’t touch a knife, let alone a sword. He might make arrowheads for hunting from time to time, but that’s it.”

That’s unusual, I will admit it. “Have you asked him why?”

Morg inclines his head. “Didn’t go well.”

“Huh.” I take his hand, tugging him closer to me. “Is that why you fought the time before the harvest festival?”

“Aye,” he says. “Though I may have insinuated that no true blacksmith would refuse an order just because it has sharp edges.”

I give him a reprimanding look, and he shrugs again, though his cheeks flush a darker shade of green.

“Maybe you could talk to him again?” I suggest. “Tell him how you feel about sharing the work.”

He takes my chin and lifts my face. “Will you come with me? He might be more inclined to talk if you’re present.”

For a moment, I want to refuse, because this might be something that they need to work out on their own. But I’m curious, and the thought of spending some time with both of them does sound good.

“Lead the way,” I tell him.

“This is my room,” Morg informs me when we reach a corridor deep in the bowels of the Hill. He stops in front of a tall, rounded wooden door and inclines his head toward it. “If you’d like, we could revisit that plan of me spreading you out on the bed…?”

He makes the last part a question, adding a wicked grin at the end. But we’ve come here for another reason, so despite the tempting proposition, I nudge him forward again.

“Another time,” I promise him, because I do know it will happen, and soon. “Take me to Torren first.”

Morg clasps my hand again and continues down the corridor. “He might not even be here.”

He stops at a door only several paces away from his own and knocks.

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