“Begin!” said Erik, his anger now coming to the fore. “I can match skills with any guild smith—”
Nathan’s expression darkened. “That’s not the point!” he roared, his own anger at being interrupted giving him volume enough to silence Erik. “That’s not the point,” he repeated more quietly when he saw that Erik was listening. “You may be the finest smith in the Kingdom, in all of Midkemia, but no one at the guild knows this. You have not been listed on the roster of apprentices, and no one with a guildmaster’s rank has vouched for your work. So you must begin—”
“I will not apprentice for seven more years!” said Erik, his temper threatening to get the better of him.
Nathan said, “Interrupt me again, boy, and I’ll cease being civil with you.”
Erik’s expression showed he was not in the least bit apologetic, but he stayed silent.
Nathan said, “You can go to Krondor or Rillanon and petition the guild. You’ll be tested and evaluated. If you show you know enough, you’ll be allowed to apprentice, or perhaps you’ll even get journeyman’s rank, though I doubt that seriously; even if you’re the best they’ve ever seen, there’s still the politics of it. Few men are willing to grant to another rank without the sweat to have earned it. And there’s always the possibility they’ll call you a presumptuous lout and throw you into the street.” The last came with a hard tone, and suddenly Erik realized that this man had spent at least seven years as an apprentice and perhaps twice that as a journeyman before gaining his master’s badge—and to him Erik must sound a whining child.
“Or you can apprentice here, in your hometown with your family and friends, and be patient. If you are indeed as well taught as you claim, I’ll certify you as quickly as I can, so you can petition for a forge of your own.”
Erik looked as if he was again going to object that this was his forge, but he said nothing. Nathan continued, “Or you can set out today, on your own, and become an independent smith. With your talent you’ll make a living. But without a guild badge you’ll never set up shop in any but the rudest villages, unless you wish to travel to the frontier. For no noble will trust his horses and armor to any but a guildmaster, and the rich common folk to no less than a guild journeyman. And that means, no matter how gifted you are, you’ll always be nothing more than a common tinker.”
Erik remained silent, and after a moment Nathan said, “Thoughtful, is it? That’s good. Now, here’s the choice of it: you can stay and learn and perfect your skills and I’ll count myself a lucky sod for having a second pair of trained hands around, belonging to someone I don’t have to teach every tiny thing. Or you can brood and be resentful, and think you know as much as I, and be useless to us both. There’s only room for one master in this forge, boy, and I am he. So there’s the end of it, and there’s the choice. Do you need time to think on this?”
Erik paused, then said, “No. I need no time to think about it, Master Nathan.” Sighing, he added, “You are correct. There is only one master in a forge. I . . .”
“Spit it out, boy.”
“I have been responsible around here for so long I feel as if it is my forge, and that I should have been given it by the guild.”
Nathan nodded once. “That’s understandable.”
“But it’s not your fault Tyndal was a slacker and my time here counts for nothing.”
“None of that, boy—”
“Erik. My name is Erik.”
“None of that, Erik,” said Nathan; then suddenly he swung hard and connected a roundhouse right that knocked Erik onto his backside. “And I told you, interrupt me again and I’d cease being civil. I am a man of my word.”
Erik sat rubbing his jaw, astonishment on his face. He knew the smith had pulled the blow, but he could feel the sting of it anyway. After a moment he said, “Yes, sir.”
Nathan put out his hand and Erik took it. The smith pulled Erik to his feet. “I was about to say that any time spent learning a craft counts. You only lack credentials. If you’re as good as you think you are, you’ll be certified in the minimum seven years. You’ll be older than most journeymen when you seek your own forge, but you’ll be younger than some, trust me on that. There are slower lads that don’t leave their master’s forge until they are in their late twenties. Remember this: you may be coming late to your office, but your learning started four years earlier than most boys’ as well. Knowledge is knowledge, and experience is experience, so you should have a far shorter time of it from journeyman to master. In the end, it will all work out.”
Turning slowly, as if examining the smithy once again, he said, “And from what I see here, if you can keep your head right, we’ll get along fine.”
There was an open friendliness in that remark which caused Erik to forget his stinging jaw. He nodded. “Yes, sir.”