High Chieftain Durgan Embersmyth's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Durgan came to the forge before sunrise to check the carvers' new tools. The ceremonial anvil should have been cold. It wasn't. A senior smith stood beside it, hammer in hand, sparks already dying on the iron face. At his feet sat a small stack of pale river stones, balanced one on the other like a marker. A bundle of willow switches lay across the anvil's horn. Durgan knew the meaning before the smith opened his mouth. "I forged first," the senior smith said. "The day's work is mine. I'll be making my own pieces. Not the clan's brackets." He did not raise his voice. He did not have to. The rule Durgan himself had set two weeks ago had just been used against him. Durgan looked at the cairn and the willow. Old signs. A smith claiming his hands belonged to himself alone. Behind him the other smiths were arriving, watching to see if the High Chieftain would break his own law to keep them in line. If he did, the anvil system died today. If he didn't, the day's labor walked out the door. He set Kingsunder against the wall. He did not touch the cairn. "Then the rule holds," Durgan said. "You direct the floor today." The senior smith blinked. He had braced for a fight. Durgan turned to the watching smiths. "You heard him. His work, his orders." Then he walked out into the cold yard before anyone could see his jaw set. Bramblewick was waiting at the gate, somehow, business card already in hand. Winter Flint stood behind him, leaning on his staff, saying nothing. "Rough morning," Bramblewick said. "I have a course on institutional authority. Obviously." Durgan ignored him. Mervin Bogbutton popped out from behind a barrel with a sack of nails he swore were a bargain. Durgan ignored him too. Winter only said, "You kept the rule. That cost you something. Count it." By nightfall the senior smith had forged three blades for himself and dismissed the floor early. Twelve hours of clan labor, gone. Durgan sat with his scroll and wrote the loss in plain numbers. The anvil law had survived its first true test, but it had taught every smith in the hall a second lesson: the rule could be turned. Tomorrow, someone hungrier would rise earlier. Durgan blew out the lamp. The system held. The cost was the system itself.