The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Garrett Robinson (poetry books to read TXT) 📖

before she was finished. But even the moment’s distraction did not matter. Mag’s shield was like a wall guarding her from harm, and wherever it could not protect her, the haft of the spear came in to block Smedda’s swipes and turn her jabs. Mag danced around Smedda’s every blow, barely even stepping back to avoid them.

I felt then, as I would go on to feel many, many times, the sheer awe of seeing Mag with that spear in her hand. She had already been a peerless warrior in my estimation. But in that moment—though I did not quite know it—she was taking her first steps on the road that would turn her into a legend.

After a short while of sparring, Mag finally turned the tables. Rather than blocking Smedda’s thrust, she caught the spear between her own and the shield, and then twisted to flip it out of Smedda’s hands. Finally, almost as an afterthought, she flipped the spear around and jabbed the butt of it hard into Smedda’s belly. All Smedda’s breath left her in a rush, and she fell on her rear on the sandy yard.

“My apologies,” said Mag. “Instinct took over. You understand, of course.”

“Of course,” said Smedda ruefully, holding up a hand for Mag to help her again. “Well, that settles it. You have to buy that spear.”

“What?” I said. “She could not possibly afford it. You said your prices—”

“Are considerable,” said Smedda. “And I cannot give you the spear for free. I have a reputation to uphold, and no warrior values a weapon they did not pay for—in gold, or in blood.”

“I would value this spear,” said Mag fervently.

Smedda grinned. “I imagine that is true. It belongs with you, and you with it. Therefore I will let you buy it for two hundreds of weights.”

Even as my guts turned a somersault, Mag said, “Done.”

“Mag!” I said. “That is more than either of us will earn in a year. If you paid for nothing else, if you avoided all costs for—”

“I may be green, but hardly any more so than you. I know full well what I am doing.” Mag sighed and removed her shield, then held the spear out to Smedda. “I will return when I can. Please, hold it for me.”

“I will hold it, but not for long,” said Smedda. “Before I can allow you to take it, it must be enchanted.”

Behind Smedda’s back, I threw my hands into the air and tried to mouth “No!” to Mag. Enchantment was a service provided only by wizards trained at the Academy, and it was fantastically expensive, beyond the reckoning of anyone but royalty. Mag did not even glance at me, but only nodded at Smedda.

“And how much will that be?” said Mag.

Smedda waved a hand. “The enchantments are simple. They will protect the blade from wear and keep the haft from breaking. The spear will not be wreathed in magical flame or anything so ridiculous. I have a shipment bound for the Academy next week already, and I will include the spear with the rest of them, for the same cost.”

I froze, my hands in midair where I had been trying to gesture to Mag that she should abandon this foolish idea. Now I cocked my head. Two hundreds of weights was already a bargain, even if Mag could not afford it. But with enchantment at no extra charge … that changed the nature of the deal considerably. I doubted if I could have resisted such an offer, and I knew Mag would never be able to.

“Done and done,” said Mag. “I imagine I can write you here, as I acquire the funds I will need before I can retrieve the spear?”

“I told you already, I will not hold the spear that long,” said Smedda. “You two are with the Silver Stirrups, yes? They will be in Dulmun for at least another half-year. Before you leave the kingdom, come and retrieve the spear. You can send me your payment later, or even in parts, as you are paid.”

Still behind Smedda’s back, I grabbed great fistfuls of my own hair, my face filled with delight as I looked at Mag. For her part, she seemed utterly thunderstruck, and it was a moment before she spoke.

“That is generous,” said Mag.

“I can afford to be generous,” said Smedda. “I do not know if you have heard, but I serve King Lannolf. I trust you to send the payment when you can; only a great fool would try to cheat the king’s own bladesmith, and you are not a great fool.”

“You still extend a great deal of trust,” said Mag. Where a moment ago she had sounded so self-assured that it annoyed me, now she seemed full of doubt. I almost thought she would refuse the deal. “The spear could be lost, or I could die in—”

“Ha!” barked Smedda—a single shout of laughter that I suspected was meant more to shut Mag up than to express mirth. “Girl, I just fought you. You, dying before you are able to pay me? You jest, and poorly.”

Mag seemed at last to be overwhelmed. She sank to one knee in the sand of the yard and bowed her head towards Smedda.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “You do me a far greater honor than I deserve, and I will not forget it.”

“I expect you shall not,” said Smedda. “But you honor me as well. Any smith has only one wish: to see their creations used well. King Lannolf and his kin are fine warriors, but when was the last time they went to war? The blades I make for them languish in training yards, or in fine halls where they are used as decoration. Fah! When you take this spear from me, you will take it and use it the way it was meant to be used. I could ask for nothing more.”

Mag knelt there for a moment, silent, looking at the spear in her hand. In her eyes was some trouble,