Let me tell you of the first guest I have received since Her Majesty’s request. A tall, quiet man with dark hair and an aura of secrets going by the name of Archer. And, yes, he knew how to use the bow and arrows he carried. He arrived at my door in the pink of an early evening with a full brace of fat mountain rabbits, skinned and ready for the pot – payment for my hospitality for a couple of nights he said, and tried to gift me the pelts as well.

I have no need for payment, but some feel better when it’s a trade. Some do not trust to the Old Laws, but I live in a place where it pays to observe them. It also pays to be fair in your trading, and those pelts will fetch the man a pretty penny in the market at the bottom of the mountain road. More than the worth of a night’s stay along the road.

Either way, there was enough meat on his gift to bolster tomorrow’s stew, set aside a fair portion for drying, and still have some left to send him off with when he continued on, and I said as much before pointing the way to the stables so he could care for his mounts, a patient-looking, long-legged mare who nudged his shoulder as we spoke, and a pack-laden donkey who stood aloof during our exchange, but poked his head under Archer’s arm as they headed for the stables.

A good sign when a person’s animals like them.

He was quite some time in settling the two beasts, and I was about to send Bo out to check when he stepped over the threshold, paused to remove his boots, then shuffled further in. His face lightened when he saw Bo and offered a hand, which Bo sniffed, then tilted his head towards for ear scratches.

I showed him to one of the spare rooms – a spacious one with a view of the stables, I thought he’d like it better than one of the front ones, where you look out on nothing but the garden and sky.

“Dinner will be ready whenever you are, and I’m in no rush. There’s water for washing in the jug, soap alongside. I suggest you make good use of both.” After days or weeks on the road, people smell, but can’t smell themselves. They do need to be told.

Archer ducked his head, a smile creasing his cheeks. “Very good Mistress, although I can’t vouch for any of my clothing being less fragrant than what I’m wearing now.”

“I’ve a laundry room downstairs you can make use of in the morning, if you wish.”

I was sure that was worry I saw chase across his face, just for a moment, but then it was gone, and he replied. “I would be most grateful, Mistress.”

He walked into the kitchen, hair wet and smelling considerably better than before, although he did need to make use of my laundry.

I waved him to the table, where plates, fresh bread, butter, and a jar of honey sat. Instead, he scooped up the two bowls I had ready for the stew and brought them to me. I filled each, and he set them on the table with as much care as if he were serving Her Majesty.

Conversation ranged through safe and standard subjects over dinner. It wasn’t until we were settled by the fire, in the deeply cushioned chairs General Tarvash (so funny to think of him being a general) sent me five winters ago, that Archer spoke of his reasons for being on the road, and on this road in particular.

He’s searching for Ryuu – the gold dragon. She does have a lair near the Whistling Pass, on the Freysan side, but at this time of year, she’s more likely to be visiting the Peligo Islands. I said as much and Archer sighed, then nodded.

“The couple keeping house for her said the same. They suggested I make for Hordenton, as that’s likely to be her next destination.”

It made sense. I wondered if I could ask why he was seeking her out, Ryuu’s an unusual choice when consulting with dragons.

It seemed he read my hesitation perfectly. “I need a favour, and she’s the only one who might grant it.”

“A favour? Not a trade?”

“If I had anything worth trading, I’d gladly do so, but I have nothing but my sword, and I even managed to break that on the way here.”

“There’s a smith in the village just down the mountain who may be able to help.”

Archer’s smile was a little bitter. “I’m afraid it’s a little beyond the abilities of a simple country blacksmith.”

Assumptions. Easy to make and so easy to be wrong.

I offered him the wine bottle. “Just as well Hob isn’t a simple country blacksmith.”

That caught his attention. “Hob? As in Hob Swordcrafter?”

“That’s him. He lives up this way to be closer to the dwarf mines, and he says the wood around here burns cleaner. Of course the fact his wife’s a local lass may have played into things too. Her Majesty’s armourers clank their way up and down this path at least once a year.”

Archer’s smile was a slow and wonderful thing, then halted, that worry I saw before returning. “But will he have time to mend the sword of a common traveller? And I’ve not much coin for payment.”

I didn’t share his concern. Hob had his own ways and reasons, and I had a good feeling about this one.

“He likes a challenge, and from your raincloud expression, I’m guessing the sword will be a challenge indeed to restore.”

“Let me show you.”

He left the kitchen, returning scant minutes later with a hessian-wrapped bundle. He knelt and unwrapped it, laying the pieces out on my hearth.

I knew that sword!

“That’s Sunfyre.”

Archer’s jaw dropped, and he looked between me and the sword.

I started to laugh. “You can’t NOT take this to Hob now. If he found out the legendary sword of Freysan’s first ruler had passed him by, I doubt he’d ever recover.”

Archer gaped a moment more, then said. “And I suppose Ryuu might have an interest in it as well.”

“Just a small one.” I could barely speak for laughing.

He joined me, hesitant at first, then loud and uncontrolled. I think if he hadn’t been laughing, he’d have been crying.

We finally settled ourselves and no more of import was discussed that evening. He was fair worn out from both travel and emotion.

The next day, he was in my laundry room straight after breakfast, then followed me down the hill to the village hiding to one side of the path an hour or so’s walk downhill.

Archer shook his head as I led him through the first set of cottages. “I would never have known this was here.”

“The villagers like it that way; travellers behave themselves with me. They’re not so polite here.”

We reached the square at the centre of the jumble of houses, and I led the way across it to the smithy, fire glowing orange through the open double doors.

The long and the short was that Hob near-on choked at the sight of Sunfyre. Confirmed it was indeed that fabled blade and gave us a long and detailed account of its construction, followed by a colourful opinion of whichever previous weaponsmith had done such a poor job on an earlier mend.

He wound up with a narrow-eyed stare at Archer. “This repair is going to take a while, and I’ll need payment.”

Archer swallowed, hard. “How much?”

The smith grinned. “A full woodshed and meat for my family’s stew pot each night you’re here, plus your help on the bellows as needed.”

Archer looked confused.

I patted his shoulder. “He’s telling you to move yourself down here until the mend is done.”

Hob nodded. “Aye, you can take my lad’s room, now he’s gone off to the Capital to learn.”

Archer asked. “Soldier?”

Hob’s smile was wide and proud. “Apprentice silversmith. My lad’s a sight more intelligent than his old man.”

We stayed for lunch with Hob’s family, which was as warm, and busy and loud as ever. I’m not sure Archer had ever known the like. The poor man looked more bewildered by the minute, but not unhappy. Especially when Hob’s wife’s younger sister stopped by…

I got a little more of his story out of him that evening, a final quiet dinner before the loving madness of the Swordcrafter household engulfed him.

He was quiet through most of the meal, thoughtful.

Finally, as we settled into the chairs by the fire again, he asked. “How can Master Hob claim only simple work for payment? Surely he’s able to command the best prices.”

“He is, but he’s one of the few people in this world who understands what it is to have enough. He has a family he adores, work he loves, and respect he values. How could more gold improve on that?”

“A larger house, in a larger town?”

“He lived in the Capital for years, and yet he chose here. He’s discovered what his treasures are and they’re not measured in cold metal and hard gems.”

Archer looked at me, chin resting on one hand. “You’ve found your treasures too, haven’t you?”

I smiled and reached down to pat Bo, snoozing by my chair. “I have, and while they’re different to Hob’s they’re like enough that I understand.”

His gaze shifted to the fire and he said. “I thought I’d have a family like that once, like Hob’s. My own family, my parents I mean, were caring in their own way, but distant. Cold metal was important to them and their focus was on more. I’m the younger of two sons, and was trained, always, to support my brother. To run his errands, scribe his letters, run his office, while Father showed him how to run the business.

“I was happy enough. I didn’t know any different, other than my friends at school, and most of them came from harsher homes than mine. Beatings, and jealousy. My brother always cared for me, praised my achievements, and I wanted to make him proud.”

I poured more wine for both of us. “What happened?”

“I met a girl.” His smile was there and gone, more hurt than humour. “She was sweet, and clever, and pretty, and she liked me.

“We made plans, dreams really, I would work with my brother, and we’d have a pretty little house away from the grime of the merchant district, and raise the happiest family in town.”

“But?”

He sighed, drank, and said. “She married my brother.”

“What?”

“He was the one who’d inherit the business, the one with the money, and it turned out cold metal was her treasure too. She asked me to understand, and I suppose I do. It was harder to face my brother, who claimed he knew nothing of my attachment. I don’t know the truth. All I knew at the time was that I’d been cast aside by the two people I cared for most and I had to leave.”

“So you left?”

“So I left, without warning or explanation, completely alone. One morning I walked out of my parents’ house, down the road, and never went back.”

He straightened and turned to face me. “I can’t say I’m sorry. I was more lonely in that house than I’ve ever been while travelling, and I’ve seen and done things they could barely imagine.”

“And now, on to Ryuu…”

“Aye, once the sword is fixed.”

***

It’s been a month since Archer left my house and took his mare and donkey down the hill to Hob’s place.

He’s still there.

He and Hob both insist the sword isn’t yet fixed, although it’s looking hale and whole to me. But no, they insist, it needs wrapping wire for the hilt from some mythical dwarven crafter, or a new scabbard made, but only of leather from a southern water buffalo, and Archer chops wood, and heaves at the bellows, and learns to shoe horses, while Hob’s wife’s sister brings him mugs of fresh spring water and fusses over his burns.

I believe he’s a fair way to finding his treasure, and Sunfyre will remain where it is, hung on the wall of a mountain village smithy, for many years to come.

But should anyone come seeking it, I shall know the source of their information … do not risk my ire.

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