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eBook Category: Fantasy
eBook Description: Desi had been taught that her ability to feel the metal when mending or making things was evil, but when a foreign Guardswoman brought her an enchanted sword to mend, it was going to be difficult to keep her talent hidden.

eBook Publisher: Marion Zimmer Bradley Literary Works Trust, Published: Sword & Sorceress 23, 2008
Fictionwise Release Date: September 2009

34 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [37 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [42 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [19 KB] , Portable Document Format (PDF) [181 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [20 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [71 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [91 KB] , hiebook (KML) [78 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [53 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [17 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [21 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [55 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [32 KB]
Words: 6481
Reading time: 18-25 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Portable Document Format (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"It's all in the making..." Askread's unctuous voice penetrated the thick oilcloth that separated the front of the shop from the utilitarian work area.

That was for sure, Desi thought, silencing a snort as she hunched over the fine filigree of the brooch she was working on. Not that dear Uncle Askread had anything to DO with said making ... She reached over and wiped her right hand on the heavy linen cloth to remove even the faintest moisture of sweat, and stretched it open and shut several times before picking up her tool again. The voices from the other side of the curtain continued to pick at her attention. Whoever her uncle was talking to had an unusual accent.

"Your shop came highly recommended," the stranger was saying.

"Oh, I'm sure. The best in the city, my dear," purred Askread.

Desi's head jerked up. My DEAR??" Hadn't the stranger been asking about repair on a sword hilt?

"I'd like to talk to the craftsman who will work on it," the husky tenor insisted.

"Oh, I hardly think that is necessary..."

"I do," the stranger interrupted firmly. "I never deal through intermediaries in matters as important as this. Through here?" the stranger asked.

Desi heard Askread sputter as the curtain was flung aside and booted feet entered her domain. "Really, really..." Askread protested as he trailed helplessly after the.... yes, a woman.

Definitely a her, Desi thought, goggling at the stranger, all pretence of being busy at work forgotten in her lax hands. The boots that encased the stranger's feet stretched all the way to her knees. Not town boots then, but riding boots. Or possibly Guard ... but these boots were not polished, but scratched and dusty. Breeches and a smooth brown jerkin with the insignia of a crown over crossed swords covered a muscular but obviously feminine figure. Her hair was cut short--no, not cut, but hacked as if style or appearance was of no concern. Desi's eyes rose to the stranger's face. Amused, vivid green eyes stared straight back at her.

"Hallo," the stranger said politely.

"H ... hello," Desi squeaked in reply. Uncle never let anyone know she was the one who made some of the jewelry and all of the sword hilts the shop was famous for. He was not going to be pleased, she thought, and glanced at his face. His face was mottled red, and his throat quivered as if about to explode.

"Are you the one who repairs sword hilts?" the stranger asked in that husky voice that was almost, but not quite, a tenor.

"No, of course not," Uncle Askread grated out, striving to maintain his oily politeness with this unruly customer. "My niece is only cleaning up in the shop, right, Desi?" he demanded.

Desi, obviously perched on the high stool at the work bench, her jeweler's guard on her left hand, tool in her right, and oil on her face where her hand had brushed against it while shoving her hair out of the way, sat there frozen, not knowing what to say.

"I think not," the stranger said confidently. She turned abruptly to confront Uncle Askread. "Don't try to play me for a fool, sir. This is obviously the craftswoman who fashions your wares."