Bran and I were in the smithy one morning after sitting through our mathematics lessons. Father was showing us how to properly work the bellows attached to each forge.

  “I’m sure you boys have noticed that there are small pipes leading from the bellows to a cavity under the coal,” Dortham said. “The bellows force air through the pipes and into the fire chamber. That makes the fire burn a lot hotter when the smith needs it, and then the heat lessens when the smith shapes the steel and lets the bellows rest. You see?”

  We both nodded. We’d seen this done many times. Dortham explained to us about what color the steel was supposed to be, when it was too hot, when it was too cool, and how concentrated the coals should be piled inside the fire chamber. He also explained to us that when the steel was heated to a red or orange coloration, the surface of the steel turned to rust without water being present. I thought that only water made iron or steel rust, but I guess I was wrong. I decided to ask, even if it was a dumb question.

  “How does fire make the metal rust, father?” I asked.

  “I really don’t know how that works, son,” Dortham said. “I could make something up to make myself sound smarter, but you know how lies hurt people. Maybe some wizard knows the answer to that, but I don’t. I just know what works because of the teaching my father passed down to me. I wanted to show you both how to properly tend the fire and work the bellows so that we can increase the speed at which we make things. We’ve got two trained smiths here, me and Darek, but we’ve got to work faster to get this order done on time. That’s why I’m putting each of you on a bellows in the mornings. At the end of the day, we can make more progress that way. Soon enough, I’ll show you two how to strike and shape the metal, but I think you need to get a little older for that.”

  “But you’re teaching Darek. Why not us?” I asked.

  “Darek is coming along fine in his training, but he’s six years older than you and a lot stronger. For right now, you watch and learn. Don’t fret about it. I’ll make smiths of you two yet.”

  We all smiled at that. Dortham set a very good example of what a man should be, and he always kept his promises.

  “Bran, you’ll be at Darek’s bellows, and Jeron, you’re with me,” Dortham said.

  Bran went over to Darek’s forge to help him, and I got to work at father’s forge to help him. It didn’t seem like it would be difficult, but I soon found that pumping the bellows for a long time was pretty tiring for a ten-year-old kid like me. About an hour later I heard the tell-tale sound of an armored troop coming up the street. They were wearing plate armor from the sound of it, so it had to be either the prince’s men on official business or they represented a rich customer. They marched up to the smithy and politely waited.

  “Be right with you, good sirs,” Dortham said over his shoulder.

  The man in the lead was a giant of a man. He was easily as tall as Dortham without that helm on his head. He was wearing golden scale armor with a very thick and tight pattern. It had to have been very time consuming to make. There were thick golden plates in the most vital areas, and the warrior who wore it seemed to not even notice how heavy it was. He had black hair and green eyes and a closely trimmed black beard. Resting on the flagstone floor and steadied by his left hand he had a thick metal shield with a golden dragon on a white field emblazoned on it. Hooked to his belt on his right side was a mace the size of which I had never seen before. He had ten men with him, but only six of them had plate armor on. Their armor looked well-made but was made of steel, not the golden armor that their leader had. The other four were wearing gambesons only. When the heat faded from the piece father was working on, he put it aside and turned to the warriors before him.

  “Master Smith,” the warrior in gold said, “I’m Grath Warsong of Warsong Keep.”

  “Well met,” Dortham said, shaking his gauntleted hand. “And you can call me Dortham. I’ve had the occasion to buy your beef, and I must say, it’s the best I’ve had!”

  “Thank you, good sir,” Grath said.

  “How may I help you today?” Dortham asked.

  “As you can see,” Grath said with a gesture towards his men, “I have four new cavalier recruits in need of armor, but our smith is currently injured. Your name came highly recommended by the Council of Elders.”

  “I’ll be sure to thank them for the recommendation. As I get some measurements, maybe you can tell me of the requirements you have. Will the new armor be like the armor your veterans are now wearing?” Dortham asked.

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  I didn’t listen to the rest of their conversation, as I was engrossed by the weapons they showed. The veterans had maces hanging on their belts that looked like they were designed to crumple plate armor and smash whatever was underneath. The mace that Grath wore was exceptionally large, and it had some strange writing or glyphs on the haft of the weapon. I could feel a sort of familiarity with that weapon and wondered why. Then I knew. It was a magical weapon. As comprehension came to me, I noticed that Grath was regarding me intently as he spoke with Dortham. I was used to being considered invisible to adults, and Grath’s gaze was very penetrating. I looked away. I began to feel some sort of pull towards Grath, like there was an invisible string tied between the two of us. I didn’t know what to think about that, so I tried hard to remain unnoticed behind the anvil.

  Grath and Dortham set the terms of the arrangement while dad took the measurements he needed. The warriors left shortly after. Dortham got to work with renewed vigor on the armor at hand, and he looked very excited about the order he just received. Four suits of plate armor can make our whole year, so it was no wonder he was happy. As we worked, I wondered just how strong a warrior Grath was. The Warsong clan was renowned for their heavy cavalry. It was said they had very large herds of cattle, so that meant they had a lot of power to protect those herds from the various dangers of this world. Grath still seemed exceptional to me somehow, but I couldn’t figure out why that was. When he was here, I felt like something drew him to me. Even now, now that I had met him, I could feel his presence in the west side of the lower city. It was a very strange feeling.

  I thought about our visitor as I worked, and it seemed like only a few minutes had passed before Juleen, Mira and Elle walked in through the smithy and up the stairs. It must be lunch time. Sure enough, mother called us up a few minutes later. I waited for father to stop before I went up, so Bran was already up the stairs before I was finished. When I entered the common room, the girls were talking happily, food was being brought to the table, and it seemed that all was right with the world. I washed up, then father did, then everyone sat and started eating their sandwiches.

  Mira seemed very animated. She was very sketchy about what she did with her time when mother asked. I didn’t get any clues about what that might mean, though. Elle smiled at something mother said, and it was amazing. I had never seen her smile before, and it almost lit up the room. Bran stopped chewing to stare and couldn’t help but smile himself. I thought he looked pretty foolish with that piece of lettuce stuck in his teeth, but I wasn’t about to ruin his joy. Mira saw it, too, and she snorted. After a minute, we were all laughing, and we didn’t even know why. This simple time became one of the things I like to remember when I’m having a shaking fit.

  We took our time with lunch, talking about our day, and father mentioned the order for the four sets of plate armor he just got. That brought some more smiles. Mother knew how big of a deal that was. Normally people wanted chainmail armor here at Stonekeep, and plate armor was a huge and costly upgrade. When lunch was done, the girls went up to Juleen’s room to talk or do whatever girls do. I had a different mission.

  “Bran, Jeron, I’m going to need you two on the bellows more than just in the mornings until we get this order done,” Dortham said.

  I was barely paying attention, thinking about something I’d done a few months ago.

  “Of course, we’ll help, dad,” Bran said. I just nodded along with Darek.

  “I’ll be down in a minute, father,” I said as the others moved downstairs.

  I walked up the stairs to the third floor, where my parents, Juleen, and Bran and I had our bedrooms, then I went into my bedroom. I could hear the girls in a muffled mumble through the wall, but I wasn’t there to eavesdrop on them. I looked at the pane of glass in my window that I broke a year earlier by mistake. It was only cracked, and because it wasn’t letting rain or bugs in, we just left it that way. I thought this was the perfect thing to try out my new talent on. The pain I felt when I repaired the cuirass was gone from my memory, and I’d started to doubt I’d even felt it. My desire to try it again was like an itch I couldn’t get rid of.

  I walked over to the window and put my hand on it. I could feel my connection with that vast “something” and I thought about my birth mother’s letter. Visualize the effect. Focus my will. Seize the power. I did those things, but nothing happened. I tried again, this time thinking about taking the power from the “something.” I could actually feel that something was filling me with some strange sort of energy, and after directing the magic in the way that felt right, the glass in the window repaired itself like the crack had never been there. When the magic was released, I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my ribs, making me grunt. It worked, though! I was inspecting my handiwork when I heard Bran come in behind me.

  “Dad needs us,” Bran said. Then he pointed at the window pane. “Hey! Did you just fix that?”

  “Sure did.”

  “Huh. I wonder what else you can do.”

  The pain was passing in my ribs, but it wasn’t something I wanted to experience a lot of. It would be a lot harder to keep the family safe if I was goofing around with magic all the time. Mom would have forbidden it entirely if she knew what it felt like, too.

  “You know, I’m happy not finding out. I just wanted to see if I could do it again on purpose.”

  “I hope you’re not planning to do anything stupid.”

  “Who, me?’

  “Yeah, you. You’re the king of stupid.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Let’s go.”

  Secretly, I wondered the same thing. Maybe I could do other things. Even doing something so insignificant, deep down, I felt elated that I could do something no one else could do. Though I was the smallest person in the family, I was suddenly special, and I was actually better at something than Bran was. It was a selfish thought, but it was there. Bran always did everything better than I could, and I was always just a little bit jealous, even if he was a good brother. Then I remembered the death sentence Mordonian sorcerers received. As we walked down the stairs, I felt a little more cautious of my newfound ability.