oran has forged the knives. After I brought them back to my workshop, I hefted each and tested its edge on a stick of kindling. They were identical in all ways (at least as far as I could tell).

Over the next few days, I tried to focus on catching up on my tasks. I renewed a few of the older enchantments around the castle. I warded Beglan’s garderobe to spare it from prying eyes, including those of the last warder, Kean. I mixed a salve for Marta son, the one suffering from blackbird’s pox. I cast longevity and durability spells to some recently mended armor for the guards (at Breck’s request). I attempted to help Ione, a servant girl who asked for a charm to woo a love interest. I didn’t have anything that would be particularly useful, and was not about to loose the Cant of Persuasion again, so I gave her a luck charm and face paint enchanted to draw attention to her pretty eyes. One of Lady Reiling’s handmaids asked for a charm against conceiving, and although Kean’s book contained a relevant ritual, it was too time-consuming and expensive for me to undertake. I advised her to seek out Temilla, the witch woman, instead.

I must have seemed distracted. My mind kept wandering back to the magical demonstration I had planned for Goran. Thankfully, all of these services allowed me to collect a few favors for later redemption.

Yesterday evening, I took the knives back to Goran’s forge. The flickering light and lingering heat of the forge were welcoming, and Goran sent a boy for beer when I arrived.

e traveled in silence for almost an hour.  It was pleasant hiking and I took the time to think about how fortune had favored me.  Fina loved me.  I had a loyal and true friend in Goran.  I was on an adventure, experiencing the world and learning the vagaries of travel, things that I could not learn from my studies alone.  Despite my few misfortunes, as the ghosts of my bruises reminded me, I had much to lift my spirit.

And the most important of these was Fina.  Every morning, even that terrible, aching morning after the stables, I woke with an excited energy.  To love and be loved in return is a wondrous thing.  The taste of its power makes me believe in all the love stories of old, Sir Andalen and the Queen, tragic Sir Gaunt and his elven love, Mary of Renald and the faithless troubadour, and so on.

I chattered to Goran.  I’m sure I talked of many things that he did not understand or did not care to know.  But he obliged me and listened, and queried and commented.  When the sun was high, my giddiness must have jogged a memory, for I remembered a song.

It was a simple song, and I had written it.

ate in the day, Morgan sauntered into the forge. I was bending a band of iron to fit inside a soldier’s helmet—covered in strips of leather, this would reinforce the helmet against a blow to the side of the head.

“Ho, good smith, thirsty smith!” Morgan called out. “Have a drink, my friend.” He was carrying two large wooden mugs in each hand.

“Thanks,” I said, and put aside my work.

“The Duke hasn’t returned yet,” grumbled the messenger. “Someone apparently sent word to Dalbach who rode in to try to convince me to speak to him instead.” He took a long draught. “Wizards. They make my skin crawl.”

t is mid-morning, and snow has been falling since last night.

I am leaning against the cold stones of the gatehouse.  Three children are running in circles outside the castle, shrieking and flinging wet handfuls of snow at each other.  One is a young girl, about the age of my youngest brother’s daughter.  Abruptly she stands still and commands the boys, “I’m an elf queen!  You’re my warriors!”

The boys are younger than she and are enthralled.

“Trigga’s leaky tits, I hate snow,” mutters Breck.  The poets call the snow an ermine mantle, but to a soldier it is wet feet and frozen fingers.  I knew Breck was standing duty today, so I had sent the forge boy to wheedle two flagons of warm spiced wine from Cook.  Breck had gulped his down quickly, with gratitude.

My father’s father used to say that snow was a harbinger of the elves, a fell wind sent by the elven magicians.