Page 177 of Keeper of the Word
Elanna opened the door. There stood a man with sweaty, dark hair wearing a heavy, leather apron. He was hammering a hot piece of parchment-thin metal that he held with large tongs.
“Good day,” Elanna said.
He hammered a few more times before regarding her. His eyes glanced at the club in her hand. No words came. But his expression was expectant.
“Have you—? Have you been waiting for me?” Elanna asked, flourishing the club. A strange thing to ask. Why would he be waiting for her?
His mouth set in a hard line. He did not move. She noted the piece of metal fastened in the tongs was a thin sheet of copper.Judging from the state of the dwelling, it might be worth more coin than he’d seen for a while.
Elanna gazed around the workshop. ’Twas as if a layer of film covered her vision. Movement outside the window caught her attention but disappeared before Elanna could detect what it was.
“Aye.”
The word startled her.
“I been waitin’ for you. Don’t know what you want made on this though.” He held up the thin sheet of copper.
“Made on that? I—I came for this,” she said, waggling the club.
He pursed his lips. “It’ll take me two days to make it.”
“Of course. I’ll return then.”
“Come straight here. Do not go to my dwelling. My Gertie cannot know about this.”
She nodded; her head felt heavy. Why did it feel as though a mist had settled in his workshop? ’Twas different from the remnants of smoke that escaped the forge.
“Why?”
He sighed as if it were painfully obvious. “She cannot know.”
Elanna cocked her head. “No matter. I shall come here.” This was becoming increasingly confusing.
The blacksmith eyed the window. “You must go soon. But first, you need to tell me what you want on this.”
Her brow furrowed. “I do not know. I only came for this.”
He studied the sheet. Her eyes followed.
Truly, ’twas a beautiful piece of copper. Smooth and glossy. Then, before her eyes, something etched itself onto the sheet. As if by magic, pinpricks appeared to line the surface of the sheet until ’twas covered with numerous prongs, creating some sort of…
She leaned over it. “’Tis a map.”
She blinked. The copper sheet was blank once again. The blacksmith met her eyes. “Of what?”
“Of—” She tilted her head. The engraved copper appeared again. “Of Lenfore. Yet there are differences. I know not some ofthese northern places. And Ashwin is…moved somewhat. And…” What was it? Her eyes roved the sheet. “But Asalle is where ’tis supposed to be.”
The blacksmith choked out a cough. “Asalle?”
“Aye, ’tis here.” She pointed her finger at the poked star in the copper that illustrated Asalle’s location along the Glendower River.
The blacksmith lingered on the copper sheet in a squint before he studied her with hard lines running across his face. “There is no such place as Asalle.”
Elanna stood straight. “What can you mean?” Her vision blurred momentarily. “Of course there is. That is why I am here. That is why I need you.” She inclined her head toward the club.
His nostrils flared as he tightened his jaw. “Show me then. Show me what to punch into this.”
Elanna narrowed her eyes.Can he truly not see the impressions?
