Part 3 (1/2)

They won't, Lilia responded dreamily. Chaka doesn't lose unless he wants to.

Chaka had no hands, just sword blades where hands should be. He parried Lycus' blade with his left arm, knocking it wide, then blocked Andra's attack with his right. The edge of Lycus' sword just barely scarred the leather of Chaka's chest.

When Simon had first seen Chaka, he had a.s.sumed the fighter was just a man in mismatched leather. Not an inch of his skin showed underneath bits of leather armor held in place by crisscrossed belts, straps, and buckles. Even his eyes were hidden by a helmet of hardened leather, and a leather mask covered his mouth.

Simon had learned much since then. Chaka was not a man; at least, not anymore.

Chaka's mask split, and his leather lips stretched into a smile.

”That's not bad, there. You nicked me good. I'll have to get the Nye to polish me up. Nice job, both of you. Now let's get a bite, eh?”

Erastes, who had taken up a stance nearby where he could watch the battle, applauded. ”You're working together well,” he said. ”Stay in the habit. You're never alone on the battlefield.”

”Yes, sir,” Andra and Lycus chorused. Erastes nodded at them and stepped forward, drawing his own sword. It was a standard Damascan infantry sword, short and straight, but it shone like a mirror, just like one of the Dragon's Fangs. Simon had learned firsthand that the blade was a match for Azura, unlike a sword of ordinary steel.

The Agnos children still hadn't spotted Simon, and he wanted to put that off as long as possible. Something about Erastes' earlier story was making him uncomfortable. But he still edged forward a few steps to get a better view of the upcoming duel.

Erastes may not have the strength and speed of a Valinhall Traveler, but he had lived as a soldier for most of his life. A match between him and Chaka was well worth a watch.

Chaka waved one bladed arm in dismissal. ”Nah, don't even worry about it. You're good enough to be gettin' on with. Come on over here and grab some lunch. I already know you deserve it.” Even his yellow gemstone eyes somehow looked warmer.

Simon realized his mouth was hanging open and closed it. He couldn't remember if he'd ever seen Chaka smile before. He raised Lilia up to look her in the eyes.

”What was that about?” he asked. ”Chaka would never have let Lycus cut him. And he's never that nice, either.”

Lilia's painted lips curled up in a smile, and Simon almost dropped her in the gra.s.s. The paint had moved, right in front of him! The dolls were alive!

I told you, Chaka doesn't lose, Lilia said. Not unless he wants to.

”Did you just smile at me?” Simon said. Lilia said nothing, but he could sense her sleepy amus.e.m.e.nt.

”No, really,” he said. ”Did you just*”

He was cut off when Andra finally noticed his presence. ”Simon!” she shouted, and scrambled over to him, grinning. Lycus followed, but slowly and without the smile.

”Did you see us?” Andra asked excitedly. ”We got Chaka!”

Simon glanced behind her at Chaka, sitting underneath the fruit tree. He was staring straight back at Simon, his yellow gemstone eyes burning. ”Yeah, I saw,” Simon said. ”You did great.”

Andra's eyes sparkled, and she leaned in close. ”Chaka says it took you ages to get a cut on him.”

Ages? He had earned his supper from Chaka on the second day! And getting the first cut had only taken a few weeks. Andra and Lycus had been in Valinhall at least that long, with the way time worked here. Then again, he had used the Nye essence the first time he landed a real blow on Chaka...

”Don't listen to everything Chaka tells you,” Simon said, glaring at the leather man.

Behind Andra, Chaka raised one bladed arm and sc.r.a.ped it across the other as if sharpening knives. Simon didn't know what that gesture meant, but he was sure it wasn't friendly.

Lycus stared up at Simon. ”How was the rain garden?” he asked. Once, he would have looked at Simon like a hero from the stories. Now he just stared.

Simon shook his head, but tried to change the subject. ”Where's your mother? Erastes said she wanted to see me.” Erastes, sitting next to Chaka and munching on a red piece of fruit, said nothing.

Andra's eyes brightened. ”Oh yeah, you haven't seen it yet! Come on, follow me! It's brilliant!”

As Simon carried Lilia after Andra, he sighed inwardly. Andra had a tendency to get excited over small things, like a trio of Nye children hiding among the clothes in a laundry basket. Chances were slim that she would show him anything worth his time.

Andra led him into the forge, a long room with walls of black stone. Nooks set into the walls every few paces held anvils, bellows, ovens, racks of tools, barrels of iron stock, buckets of water, boxes of coal, and every other piece of smithing equipment Simon would expect.

Lycus and Andra's father, Caius, stood behind an iron anvil, a smock on his belly and a heavy blacksmith's hammer in one hand. He looked as though he belonged there, pounding furiously away at a hot plate of metal. Flying sparks sent waves of light through the room.

Under ordinary circ.u.mstances, Simon had thought of Caius as warm and friendly, but soft. The kind of man who delivered goods because he couldn't be bothered to do a day of real work. Simon's own father had been a merchant, so he knew not all merchants were fat and lazy, but Caius seemed to fit Simon's image of a well-to-do Damascan trader.

In the red-hot light of the forge sparks, Caius looked like an entirely different man.

He looked up when Simon and his children entered the room, and a broad smile split his face. ”Just a minute,” he called. ”I'm almost done here.”

Lycus and Andra had evidently expected this answer, because they nodded and made themselves at home in the forge. Lycus hopped up onto a crate and watched his father work, while Andra grabbed a pair of pliers and used them to poke around.

Simon stood where he was, watching Caius and trying to figure out what he was making. It looked like a shallow bowl or plate, but he had stretched it into an oval shape. Maybe it was supposed to be part of something, like a piece of armor or plating on a s.h.i.+eld. As Caius turned the whatever-it-was to hammer it from a different angle, Simon noticed that one half of the plate was darker than the other. It seemed that he had joined two different metals together. Why?

He decided that Caius was repairing something from the armory.

The Nye usually do that work, Lilia pointed out. Why is Caius taking over for them?

That was a good point. Maybe Caius simply liked working with his hands, so the Nye were letting him do a few repairs around the House.

Or maybe he's not repairing something at all, Lilia said.

Caius pulled the plate off of the anvil and dunked it into a barrel of what Simon a.s.sumed was water. Clouds of steam billowed out of the barrel, vanis.h.i.+ng in the shadows of the ceiling.

With his long-handled tongs, Caius pulled the plate out of the barrel and plunked it back down on the anvil. As it sat there, steaming, he motioned to Simon.

”Have a look,” he said, grinning like a toddler with a new toy.

Simon walked over, strangely a little nervous. It was just a piece of metal, but he was treating it like something special, and Simon had spent the last few months in Valinhall. There, even a seemingly empty shadow could come to life and try to choke the life out of you. Could and did, on a nightly basis.