I kneeled before the Gnomen king, and he looked down at me from his chair. I kept my eyes down, not trusting them to stop staring at the throne room around me. I didn’t need to look anymore--since I knew the beauty of the room was burned into my memory, and now I knew that Calk had atleast been telling the truth about one thing. The Gnomen people were the finest craftsmen in the world.

The huge room was the size of a large clearing and the entire floor was one big rug, with hundreds of designs that interlaced and merged with gold and silver thread. One could crawl on the floor for days examining each scene. There seemed to be battles, triumphs, and all manner of things weaved together.

Scents played around my nose in a strange fashion. I could not tell if it was the rug or something sprayed in the air, but it was as if I was in a field of flowers.

I wanted to simply walk around the room and explore the various wonders, but I knew I was summoned for a reason. The king had already said something to me, but I had been distracted and not listening. It would not be wise to offend him.

'I’m sorry, my King, I was distracted by your—'"

The king waved his hand dismissively. “Pay it no mind, youngling.” The king turned then and made a hand gesture I could not understand. A door opened on the side of his throne room, and a gnome came out. I recognized him from the day before. He was the one who had led the small group of gnomes that had first greeted us.

“This is my master huntsman. He has come to me with a plan on—” the king seemed to muse for a second, considering his words, “on how to handle Calk.”

The king watched me, and I supposed he was looking for a reaction on my face—whether he searched for anger or some other indication, I could not tell. He reminded me of an eagle, watching for any movement from his prey to attack.

“Good,” he said, then he nodded. “Naro will take the sword, and you will go with him. The mage cannot have the sword.”

“I don’t know anything about the sword.” I said. I tried not to let my frustration seep into my voice. The king raised his eyebrow and I knew I had failed.

Naro stepped up besides the king. “We don’t know how the sword got here. The royal blacksmith is in possession of it, but he cannot remember why.” Naro frowned at the king, and he looked back at me. For the first time, I could sense nervousness in the gnome, and his eye twitched. “He doesn’t want to give it to Calk—and he’s said he would die rather than give it up. This means the blade is enchanted.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“What if the blacksmith just wants to keep it for himself?” I asked.

The king chuckled. “The blacksmith has been loyal for hundreds of years. And he’s my brother.”

I stared at the king, wondering if that was a joke, but it didn’t seem to be. I recalled what Calk had said about their society’s hierarchy, and in a way it made sense that the king’s brother could just be a blacksmith despite his royal blood.

“We’ve come to respect magic here in Gillith. If the royal blacksmith does not want to give up the blade, then we can only assume the magic is compelling him not to do so, and most likely for a good reason.”

The king raised his hand, and Naro stopped talking. The king continued. “We cannot keep the blade here because Calk will not accept a refusal. You are not a trade, but a gift. The mage plans to take it whether we want to or not, and blood will be shed. And we are not sure the knight’s cabal will be able to stop him.”

I wasn’t sure what the king meant by the cabal, but I remembered the armored gnomes who had appeared from nowhere and held us by spearpoint.

“So, the only answer is to take the blade away to stop any damage to Gillith and our people. The blacksmith has already agreed to give the blade to Naro on your departure.”

I liked the sound of the plan; I didn’t like Calk. He had been following us for a long time. I also didn’t need the king to tell me that he was dangerous. I had witnessed his power already—even if I had not witnessed its limits. All of these things made me sure he would not be so easy to deceive.

“One more thing.” The king eyed me once again with his studious and serious way. “Your companion has been put in the holding cell. He tried to attack the blacksmith and steal the sword.”

I felt a cold lump rise in my stomach. I knew that could only mean Rebert.

“We don’t have a prison for our people--we don’t need one. But he will be put to work. In time, if he behaves, he will be let go.”

I was surprised that Rebert had attacked the blacksmith, but I knew how important this journey was—and I had expected the sword held more meaning to him than he had told me.

"Where will we go?" I asked.

"North. Naro will lead you out of the mountains, and past Mildor. There you can flee to the northern forests.”

Immediately I was drawn back to the stories Clidale had told me at sea. That was his home, but from what he had told me, the church had expanded their boundary of control there as well. But I didn’t know where that expansion ended, so I kept my mouth shut.

"So, it’s settled." The king sat up from the small seat in the depth of his throne. "You leave tonight."