“Still need silver,” Frost said.
That’s when Tressa stepped forward. Although it took a bit of work, she managed to wrench a ring off her finger. “I was supposed to give this back when I returned the chieftain’s ring, but…” She looked down at it. “I’d lost my husband and thought I deserved to have something. And the ring looked better on my hand than the one Konniger had given me when we married. Consider it a contribution from Persephone and me.” She held it out. “Take it.”
Frost took the silver circle of metal and eyed it.
Malcolm returned with the broken blade, pausing to look at Tressa. “Strange, isn’t it? How in the right moment, even a vain, selfish act, like keeping a ring you don’t deserve, can be exchanged for a noble deed like this…and how a lost soul can, unwittingly it seems, take a first step toward redemption.”
Tressa stared at him, her eyes widening. She raised her hand and pressed it against her mouth, muttering through her fingers, “Every single person in this room must do their part.”
Malcolm nodded and laid the blade down. Herkimer’s sword was the same as it had been, but in the light of the forge it appeared redder. Raithe could see the multitude of scratches, pits, and divots. The edge was jagged, unintentionally serrated where his father had damaged it in countless battles.
“My father died for this sword,” Raithe said. “But not really.”
Roan looked up at him, puzzled.
“It’s pride—false glory purchased with and steeped in the blood of innocents.” He looked at Roan with hopeful eyes. “If you can, I’d like you to make it into something better.”
Roan nodded toward Flood, who stoked the furnace.
She placed the broken copper sword into the furnace. Flood worked the bellows, puffing the coals a bright, eye-dazzling white.
Frost took the circlet of gold. He measured off an amount, hewed it into two pieces, and added the larger to the furnace. Then he added Tressa’s ring to the crucible. The glow of the open furnace lit up all of their faces as Flood pumped the bellows and the metals merged. Feeling the heat, Raithe turned away and found Malcolm sitting in a darkened corner opposite the one Suri had claimed. They all sought space for solitude, each pair of eyes staring down demons.
“Hey,” Raithe said, overturning a bucket to sit on.
Malcolm, who had his back against the wall, his knees bent, glanced up and offered a sad smile.
“You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?”
With a guilty look, Malcolm held up two fingers, indicating something very small.
“Did you know this would happen? When you hit Shegon with the rock, did you know about this?” Raithe gestured at Roan and the dwarfs.
“Which answer would make you feel better?”
“Well, on the one hand, if you knew, then you’re something of a lying bastard who manipulated me for a year.”
Malcolm nodded.
“On the other hand, if you hadn’t hit Shegon, I’d have died a year ago—died alone and forgotten on a rocky fork of land.”
Malcolm continued nodding.
“Don’t suppose it really matters much, now.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“So, what are you? Some kind of mystic like Suri?” He glanced at her as she sat hugging her knees, rocking as if in pain.
“I’m not a mystic.”
“What then? And don’t tell me you’re just a slave. I’m not buying that anymore.”
“I was a slave…sort of, only…”
“Only what?”
“Well, I’m not sure you can really call it slavery when I volunteered for the position. Took me three days to convince Nyphron’s father to seal the collar around my neck. Zephyron was a wise, generous, and honorable Fhrey. He was my first choice.”
“First choice for what?”
“Emperor.”
“What’s an emperor?”
“Like a keenig, only bigger. Instead of being the ruler of all the clans, an emperor would be the leader of the world. A single leader would have the power to end conflicts between whole peoples, to disperse knowledge, and bring lasting peace to everyone—to unite what was broken. But Nyphron’s father had refused to listen—I suppose he wouldn’t have been the right person for the task if he had. Now Nyphron will become the first emperor.”
“Nyphron, not Persephone?”
Malcolm only smiled.
“She marries him, right?”
Malcolm sighed. “Certain things need to fall in a certain way. It isn’t always nice, and it’s rarely fair, but that’s the way it has to be in order to fix what was broken.”
“And what is it that was broken?”
No smile this time. Malcolm looked squarely at him and said, “The world.”
Raithe laughed, but Malcolm wasn’t joking, and he stopped. “Okay…so how was it broken, or don’t you know?”