Storm Season

It was a market day at the bazaar, with every extra stall crammed with winter's produce: jellies, sweet breads and preserved fruits. He shoved past them, untempted, until he reached the more permanent part of the bazaar and could hear the ringing of Dubro's hammer above the din. She had found herself an able protector, at least. He stopped before the man who was his own age and height but whose slow strength was unequalled.

"Is niyra inside?" he asked politely, knowing he would be recognized. "Is she scrying for someone or can I talk to her?"

"You're not welcome here," Dubro replied evenly.

"I would like to see my sister. I've never done anything to hurt her in the past and I don't intend to start now. Stand guard beside me, if you must. I will see her."

Dubro sighed and set his tools carefully back in their proper places. He banked the fire and moved buckets of water close by the cloth door of the simple structure he and Illyra called home. Walegrin was about to burst with impatience when the plodding giant lifted the cloth and motioned him inside.

"We have a visitor," Dubro a

"Who?"

"See for yourself."

Walegrin recognized the voice but not the woman who moved in the twilight darkness. It was Illyra's custom to disguise her youth with cosmetics and shapeless clothing-still it seemed that the creature who walked toward him was far too gross to be his half-sister. Then he saw her face-his father's face for she took after him that way-and there could be no doubt.

She slouched ungracefully in the depths of Dubro's chair, and Walegrin, though he had little knowledge of these things, guessed she was late in pregnancy.

"You're having a child," he blurted out.

"Not quite yet," she replied with a laugh. "Moonflower assures me I have some weeks to wait yet. I'm sure it will be a boy, like Dubro. No girl-child would be so large."

"And you're well enough?" Walegrin had always assumed she was barren: doubly cursed. It did not seem possible that she should be so robustly breeding.

"Well enough. I've lost my figure but I've got all my teeth, yet," she laughed again. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes-and more," Walegrin didn't trust the smith who stood close behind him, but Illyra would tell him everything he said anyway. "I've brought back the ore. We were betrayed by treachery-I lost all but five of my men. I have made powerful enemies with my discovery. I need your help, Illyra, if I'm to protect myself and my men."

"You found the steel ofEnlibar?" Dubro whispered while Illyra sought a more dignified position in the chair.

"I found the ore," Walegrin corrected, suddenly realizing that the great ox of a monger probably expected to make the swords himself.

"What do you need from me?" Illyra asked. "I'd think you'd need Dubro's help, not mine."

"No," Walegrin spat out quickly. "I've found one to make my steel for me Balustrus, metal-master. He knows forging, grinding and tempering-"

"And Ilsig alchemy," Dubro added. "Since he cast the Prince's god-bell it would seem good fortune falls to him."

Walegrin did not like to think that Dubro knew of Balustrus and the making of steel. He attempted to ignore the knowledge and the smith. " 'Lyra, it's your help I need: your sight. With the cards you can tell me who I can trust and what I can do in safety."

She frowned and smoothed her skirts over her great belly. "Not now, Walegrin. Not even if I could use the cards for such things. The baby-to-be takes so much from me; I don't have the sight. Moonflower warns me that I must not use the gifts so close to my time. It could be dangerous."

"Moonflower? What is moonflower?" Walegrin complained, and heard a giggle from Dubro.

"She is S'danzo. And she takes care of me, now-"

"S'danzo?" Walegrin said in disbelief. "Since when do the S'danzo help you?"

Illyra shrugged. "Even the S'danzo ca

"Forgotten?" Walegrin leaned forward to whisper to her. "Illyra, this Moonflower who tells you not to use your sight-does she see those who used to come to you?"

"She-or her daughter," Illyra admitted.

"Illyra, breeding has clouded your mind. They will squeeze you out. They never forget."

"If that were true, so much the worse for them. Since the mercenaries came to town scrying is not pleasant, Walegrin. I do not enjoy looking into the future of soldiers. I do not enjoy their reactions when I tell them the truth." She shifted again in the chair. "But, it is not true. When my son is bom the danger will be past and I will see again. Moonflower and Migurneal will not keep what is rightfully mine," she said with the calm confidence of one who has the upper hand. "You need not worry for me. I will not send you to Moonflower, either. I'll answer your questions myself, if I can, after my son is born-if you can wait that long."

It seemed likely that she would be delivered of her child well before Balustrus finished making the swords, so Walegrin agreed to wait.

4

Balustrus' villa-foundry had fallen from fashionability long before the first Rankans reached Sanctuary. Weeds grew boldly in the mosaic face of Shipri in the attrium. There wasn't a room where the roof was intact and several where it was non-existant. Walegrin and Thrusher threw their belongings into a room once co

The work was hard and dirty, with little time for recreation, though Sanctuary was in sight down the gentle slopes. Balustrus treated Walegrin and his men like ordinary apprentices, which meant they got enough food and more than enough abuse. If Walegrin had not borne his share so stoically there might have been problems, but he was willing to sacrifice anything to the cause of his swords.

For three weeks they lived in almost total isolation. A farmer delivered their food and gossip; an occassional mercenary came seeking Balustrus' services and was turned away. Only once did someone come looking for Walegrin himself, and that was after Illyra bore twins: a boy and a girl. The soldier sent them a gold piece to insure their registry in the rolls of citizenship at the palace.

"Is it worth it, commander?" Thrusher asked as he kneaded a soothing balm into Walegrin's burnt shoulder. "We're here three weeks and all we have to show for ourselves is fresh scars."

"What about full bellies and no problems from Kittycat? Yes, it's worth it. We should know how steel is made; I had always thought the smiths just took the ore and made it into swords. I had no idea there were so many steps in between."

"Aye, so many steps. We've gone through two sacks already and what have we got? Three half-decent knives, a mountain of bad steel and a demon grinding away in the shed there. Maybe we would be better ru

"He's mad, but no demon. And I think he's getting close to the steel we need. He's as eager to have the steel as we are-it's his life."

The little man shook his head and eased Walegrin's tunic over the sore. "I don't like magic," he complained.

"He only added a little bit of Ilsig silver- hardly enough to make a difference. We've got to expect a little magic. We found the mine with magic, didn't we? Balustrus isn't a magician. He said he couldn't put a spell on the metal like the Wrigglies put on steel, so he thought he'd try to add something to the steel that already had a spell on it."