
I parted from my companions for the afternoon and met Heishiro at the Flower of the Mountain to share a drink in the hours between the contest of poetry and that of magecraft, and passed the time there, trying to learn of the secrets of the eastern smiths. Heishiro was no craftsman himself, though he was an accomplished wielder of the weapons they made, and he could only give me a broad description of how steel was made. The tall stalks of grass that grew in his homeland and reached many times the height of a man were burned, and the charcoal left behind forged with iron to make a metal that was stronger and harder than any of the weapons and tools of my people. I asked him if I could replicate this process using what hardy plants and evergreen trees grew in the lands of my birth, and he told me he did not know.
I returned at sunset to find Khalim praying again, his bare feet slowly digging furrows into the sand under the first row of the stands as he paced. Darkness fell, and torches went up around the arena.
Continue reading “Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea: Chapter VIII”
