Page 78 of Flameborne: Chosen
To my surprise, the leathersmith—usually quite a solemn man—listened and smiled as she explained what she wanted, then helped her use the massive counterweight machine to carefully stitch the leather as she instructed.
Brenhummedas she took the knife and cut more straps. It was eye-opening to see her relaxed and confident. I wished Ronen and her squad brothers were there to watch, but I knew inviting them would only make her self-conscious. So, I said nothing and waited, watching, until Bren had all her pieces cut and measured.
When the smith turned from the machine to take the next piece, she bit her lip, fingering the long mounting strap made of our heaviest leather. Then she looked at me.
“What are the rules about the harnesses?”
I frowned. “Rules? Only that they’re kept safe and clean—well oiled, continually safety checked. Why?”
“Are there rules against loops or handles?”
“No. Unless you’re using them to keep you on the dragon—we don’t tie down. We clip in for safety. Tying down is asking to get tangled or trapped under an injured dragon if there’s a problem in battle.”
She inhaled sharply, then turned to the Leathersmith. “Do you have any type of hide that would remain strong, but keep the grain rough?” she asked, and I saw her nerves return, though I didn’t understand why.
The Leathersmith frowned and rubbed his chin. “I do, but it will stretch a great deal. Perhaps not a problem for the mounting strap, butyou’ll have to be prepared. You may need to cut it after a few weeks if it gets too low.
She nodded, but she was still chewing her lip.
“Any remnants that might work to make a pair of climbers’ clutch?”
His head jerked back a hair and his brows pinched down over his nose, but then his expression brightened. “Oh, I see! I think… yes. But is it pliable enough for the knot? I’m not certain, let me see.”
He turned to open a long, thin drawer in the widest set against the wall and pawed through it, muttering to himself.
“I think we’ll need the dragon hide if you need grip,” he said thoughtfully, pulling strips of leather out of the drawer. “Or perhaps to add roughened bone… but no, you’ll risk the bone snapping at an inopportune moment, or the leather abrading too quickly. But the tension… will the knot work?”
He continued speaking quietly, Bren watching and pointing out the width she wanted—but they both agreed the flat nature of the leather meant it wouldn’t grip.
I was stunned. I’d never considered a climber’s clutch for mounting strips—and I wasn’t convinced it was a wise idea, even if it worked. But I wanted to see how she managed it, so I kept my mouth shut.
Then she bit her lip, looking disappointed and turning back to the table where she’d been working. Her eyes fell on the wide piece of dragon hide and then her brows rose.
“Wait, could we roll it? Grain side out?”
The leathersmith looked at her, his expression thrilled. “I think… yes—the dragon hide. It would be pliable enough, and if it was rolled…”
I watched, bemused, as the two of them excitedly dug through the drawer for strips of the leather, then worked to roll it so the flat surface of the strip turned back on itself. It took some time for them to get it tight enough, but eventually they’d created a round rope of leather.
There was great consternation about how to fix it, but it was Bren who figured out that tying it onto the mounting strap would work—only she needed two.
By the time they’d finished, I was slumped in a chair in the corner. The noise in the workshop stopped and the quiet snapped me out of a doze.
Bren stood, the harness spread out on the table in front of her, the leathersmith at her side, both of them staring at it. He checked every join and stitch, while she stood back and waited.
When he looked at her, he smiled. “I think it will work—can you lift it?”
I saw the fear flash in her eyes. She swallowed once, but turned and slipped her arms under the spots where the leg straps were stitched to the main harness, then paused. Her gaze rose to meet mine like she was afraid I’d order her not to, but then she bit her lip and lifted and relief washed through her.
“I think I can do this!” she whispered, hefting the big harness in her arms, over and over. “I think I can!”
She dropped it then and turned to hug the leathersmith exuberantly, gushing her gratitude that he’d stayed so late to help her.
The man was clearly surprised and took a moment to return her embrace, but then he patted her back awkwardly and smiled. “It’s been very interesting. You’ve given me some ideas for how we might improve the new harnesses. So, thank you.”
His cheeks were pink when she let him go, but then she slid her arms under the harness again and looked at me. “Can we try now?” she asked, apparently afraid to hope.
“Of course,” I said, clearing my throat that was rough from my unplanned nap. Then I led her out of the building while she carried the harness herself.
