The death of those Eight more than a year ago counted only as a setback, not as the end of the reign of the Magi. He would tend these flames cautiously, to see if any of the children would grow into new Magi. Smithy realized he had found another this girl made three Oromondo children who harbored a spark of Pozhar in their souls. Make sure you come back for the kettle yourself. And the fire reflected in her eyes, making them glow red. Come back tonight.īut instead of leaving immediately she lingered by his fire, mesmerized by the flames. Smithy examined it closely.Īye, he told the girl-woman. But he had his hand tools and he used this outdoor fire to soften metal and shape it as best he could whenever one of the Spirit’s children approached him with a commission.Īs if conjured by his thoughts, a girl of about twelve summers appeared, a little slyly, thrusting out at him a tin kettle with a broken handle.
He had no real forge here and he missed the high, cleansing heat. Pozhar’s Agent stoked his nearby fire, adding coal and blowing up the flames with a hand bellows. He saw fingers of smoke far away and read these as a sign that FireThorn yawned and stretched.Īround him the camp stirred as the other exiles from Oromondo woke and began their days. He strode out of his tent into the dawn air, gazing northward in the direction of his homeland, as he always did. While General Sumroth had gone on with thousands of his troops to the shipbuilding center, Pexted, pursuing his plan of vengeance against Weirandale, Smithy had stayed in Alpetar with the refugees in Camp Ruby, situated where the Alpetar Mountains slid down into fertile plains.Ĭamp Ruby, the first of four camps established along the Trade Corridor, lay closest to the Land.
Smithy woke early with a feeling of deep unease.
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