Huge Ajax's Arc

Chapter 220 of 619

The smith rode in at dawn. Grayson brought him through the gate himself, one hand on the bridle, so the ward would not burn him. The man was short and thick through the shoulders, with soot worked into the creases of his hands that no washing would ever lift. A leather apron hung folded over his saddle. He did not look at the walls or the sea. He looked at the smithery door and nodded once. "Vello ," Grayson said. "From the grove. Two hundred silver for the season, room and board, forge is his to run." Ajax put out his hand. The smith took it. His grip was dry and hard. "Bellows?" Vello asked. "Inside. Bran cut the chimney to Rowan's width." "Then I'll light it." He walked past Ajax without waiting. Ajax let him go. A smith who needed watching was no smith. By midmorning the forge chimney was pushing gray smoke into a clean sky. Ajax stood at the door and watched Vello lay charcoal, feed the fire, set his hammers along the anvil in an order only he understood. The armory walls were already going up beside the smithery, Bran hauling squared stone while Chalam cut the next course with his staff. Two days left. The armory would close before the Keeper reached the road. Rowan sat on a stump against the south wall with a lap full of shafts. He had a bundle of goose fletching between his knees and a pot of pine glue steaming beside him. He split a feather with his thumbnail, trimmed it against a small knife, and set it to a shaft. His hands moved without pause. He did not look up when Ajax came over. "How many?" Ajax asked. "Sixty by dusk. Another sixty tomorrow." "Enough?" "For the slits. Not for a long fight." Rowan tied the wrap and reached for the next shaft. "Get me another bundle of feathers and I'll do a hundred." "You'll have them." Rowan glanced up then. The gold chain lay against his bare chest where Ajax had set it the night before. He gave a short nod and went back to the shaft. Ajax found Marco at the kitchen wall, alone, one hand flat on the stone and his eyes closed. Marco had been quiet all morning. Ajax waited. "Feel her?" Ajax said. "No." Marco opened his eyes. "That's what I'm telling you. I reached for the Keeper the way I reach for a rider on the road. There's nothing there. Not gone. Hidden. I hear her men, though. She and her men have been delayed.” "Since when." "Since dawn. Same hour the smith came through." Ajax looked back at the smithery. Vello was hammering already, a slow steady ring off the anvil. The sound carried clean across the shelf. "She's closer than we thought," Ajax said. "Or she's learned to sit dark." Marco pushed off the wall. "Either way, we lost our warning."