Part Eleven: The Blacksmith
An hour later and Arka was stood in the Plaza. So much had changed! On the east flank were new buildings; almost a town in itself. There was a new blacksmith?s shop and a tunnel had been hewn though the rock leading to the West. And of course, the Temple! Looking like a strange mechanical being, it squatted at the North end of the Plaza, beautiful and strange in the early morning mists. An avenue of living flame led to the doorway, which was guarded by a huge Ynnwn. Arka wondered if the well was still open, but thought she would wait until she was feeling a little stronger. In any case, she needed a job.
She felt the hexa in her pocket. She would need more than that to get her through the next couple of days. She needed to work.
She noticed a small crowd gathered round the blacksmith shop and wandered over. She was amazed to see how cosmopolitan Hydlaa had become. At one time you would see Ylian and Dwarfs, with the occasional Enkidukai, visiting from Ojaveda, but now there were Xacha, Lemurs and Dermorians, Nolthrir, Ynnwn, even Krans and Diaboli. She had expected things to change while she was away, but she never thought to see so many races living peacefully alongside each other.
The Blacksmith was an aging Ylian. He was quietly sharpening a sword at his grindstone. He worked the wheel skilfully with his foot and a steady stream of sparks flew from the new blade. Arka watched for a while, lost in thought. She was thinking of her apprenticeship with Godwin Thraalson, one of the best weapon smiths of his day. He started her off sharpening blades, but she was soon turning out weapons that even he could not match. Golthart, her father, had been so pleased with her work that he took her on immediately as second smith. But that was so long ago.
She became aware that the smith had put down the sword and was staring at her.
?Well?? he asked.
?Sorry?? said Arka.
?What do you want? I?m a very busy man??
Arka coloured. Not a good start!
?I, um, I wondered if you had any work for an experienced weapon smith.?
The man looked at her closely. Arka could smell drink on his breath, even though it was early morning.
?You don?t look like a smith to me,? he said, finally.
Arka wondered what kind of smith drank so early, but refrained from saying so.
?I can show you??
?I?ve no need of a smith here, for weapons or otherwise. Be off with you! I have work to do.?
He turned his back on Arka and got on with his sharpening.
Arka sloped off, dejected.
?Harnquist giving you a hard time eh?? said a voice behind her.
She turned round. There stood a Menki, smiling at her. Two mugs hung from his belt and he had an air of importance about him. Arka bowed.
?I?m sorry?? she began.
The Menki bowed back, ?I?m Lordbug,? he said, ?Harnquist is never at his best in the morning ? not until he?s had a few drinks inside him.?
Arka found herself staring at the mugs.
?Ahh, err no, they are not what you think,? began Lordbug. He moved closer, his voice turning to a whisper, ?They are ?magic mugs!?
He gave a self-satisfied smile.
?I?m sure they are,? said Arka, backing away. She was beginning to have doubts about whether it had been a good idea to come back to Hydlaa.
?You were looking for a job,? said Lordbug quickly.
?Well, yes but Harnquist was my only hope. I don?t think there?s another forge here, is there??
?There are other things you can do.?
Arka looked closely at the stranger. He had an open face and kind eyes. Maybe she could trust him.
?Such as??
?Well, the sewers here have become overrun with rats. We need a few strong ?uns like you to keep the numbers down. There?s money in it. Harnquist will buy the skins and tails and err, the eyes.? Lordbug hesitated; he too had often wondered what Harnquist did with the rat eyes. He was too polite to ask.
Arka thought this sounded dreadful.
?Does it pay much?? she asked.
?Not a lot, but it will help keep your body and soul together.?
Arka shuddered. She needed the money, that was true, but killing rats! It was not her idea of a good job. Not with her skills. But beggars could not be choosers, as her mother had told her.
Five minutes later, she was standing at the top of the ladder leading down to the sewers. There was a hole in the paving where the roof of the sewer tunnel had collapsed; fetid air blew up from underground and made her heave.
?Down there?? she asked.
Lordbug nodded. ?It?s not so bad, once you get used to it,? he said.
Arka stared into the darkness. She didn?t want to get used to it.
?I?ve nothing to kill them with,? she said.
?Use your boots,? said Lordbug cheerily.
Slowly Arka made her way down the ladder. She noticed her companion was not following. Well, if this was what she had to do to earn a living, so be it.