13th Day of Summer, 513 A.V. Nazim's Folly, fifteen days east of Yahebah, late at night... The ringing of Steel spread out across the Desert night. Screaming in short, angry intervals. A small hut at the edge of the folly brimmed with the light of a blistering forge. Every window thrown open in a desperate attempt to catch the midnight breeze. The Moon hung low in the night sky, swollen to the point of bursting. Lumara crouched over a barrel of dirty peanut oil. Dipping in the blade and watching as it exploded in flame with a satisfying crackle. A faint smile dancing across her sooty mouth. Peanut Oil was a rare commodity but one Nazim was happy enough to provide. well, it was cooked with time and time again. No longer worth more than a few coppers at best. It went through the strainer several times but bits of food were bound to get through. She wondered what kind of imperfections it would create as she pulled it out with tongs. Waiting for it to cool as she sat on a short crude bench. Tomorrow it would be the grindstone to finish and after that another blade. None of the knives were for keeps. All would go to Nazim to repay him for his kindness and lodging. The trade was definitely uneven but that didn't matter. Nazim was a valuable asset on the Burning Sands. If he was happy, she was happy. A firm knock on the door made her jump. She hadn't noticed herself drifting off until fear shoved her into alertness. Grabbing a hammer she scurried to the door and out of sight of any windows. I thought I told him not to bother me here. Working with forges in any climate was enough to make someone dehydrated and faint. But doing so in the Desert could be fatal. Clean Water must be on hand at all times and clothing wasn't an option. Especially the heavy robes Lumara was accustomed to. Leather apron, gloves and boots were all that was needed for safety, and even that was boiling. Despite her race being known she didn't need anyone getting an eyeful. Nazim agreed not to come around for these reasons. She leaned her back against the door, bracing it as she called out. "Nazim?" |