Walter followed, and they entered an aisle flanked by tall wooden shelves and racks, from which hung the gleaming weapons of Helia’s horde. Looking from side to side, Reeve made it a dozen paces before spotting a long wooden chest reinforced with wrought-iron bands. A heavy clasp lay closed, but there was no lock through its eyelet. Reeve squatted and opened the chest. She sighed with relief and then smirked for being that sentimental. From the chest, she lifted her naginata and bow, stood to shoulder the latter, and squatted again to retrieve her hatchet and the rest of her smaller weapons.

“Dad, come get your stuff. Looks like it’s all here.” Reeve turned and watched Walter examine a short, flat metal tool he was holding.

Sensing her attention, he turned, smiled an amused smile, and held the item toward her. “Why do you think they have a spatula down here?”

Reeve frowned and shrugged. “Maybe needed a repair? Put it back and come get your stuff.”

Walter hung the spatula back on the rack from which he’d taken it and joined her, happily bending to retrieve his dagger, knives, and other assorted items. Once Walter had everything of his, Reeve collected Leaf’s cudgel and the twins’ surprisingly extensive collection of small, easily concealed blades before closing the chest and rising.

“No vials?” Reeve said, staring at the closed chest. “Did the twins still have some items hidden on them when they woke up?” She looked up. “Dad, put it back, and let’s go.”

Walter looked from her to the spatula he again held. “I did. It was in my Inventory.”

“OK, put it back, come on.”

Walter replaced the spatula and followed Reeve back down the aisle. When they emerged, Thomanji’yheri was bent behind his workbench, loud clanging suggesting that he was collecting various tools or other metallic belongings.

Walter poked Reeve in the side.

“Ow! What?” She turned and looked at him. “I told you to put that back.”

“I did. I just found it in my Inventory.”

“I meant, put it on the rack where you found it.”

“I did, Evie, and then just a second ago I found it in my Inventory again.”

Thomanji’yheri stood erect and looked at the utensil. “You might as well take that,” he said. “These accursed elves can keep eating burned food.” He spat to the side and then disappeared behind the workbench.

“What is it, Tom?” Walter said.

Thomanji'yheri’s head rose just enough to look at Walter across the bench.

“It is a spatula,” he said slowly, as a patronizing adult might to a child, then ducked out of sight again.

Walter looked at Reeve, and they both shrugged.

“But it is intelligent,” Thomanji’yheri called over the clanging, “as it was among the items I had Helia enchant. It would have improved the griddle cook’s dexterity enough that I wouldn’t’ve had to spend my ruddy days down here eating burnt elf tack, or whatever it is they feed us.”

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“It gives a Dexterity buff?” Reeve said, looking at the spatula in her father’s hand.

“That’s an understatement, Lass. The dexterity bonus is part buff and partly the tool helping think for its wielder. Anything the wielder attempts, and that their Strength permits, will be carried out flawlessly.“ Thomanji'yheri stood and hefted a massive rucksack onto one shoulder. He looked up at the naginata’s blade, which hovered more than a body height again above him where it stood next to Reeve. “Go on, try giving the halfling a wee poke with that boar-sticker of yours.”

Reeve looked down at her father, who took a step away from her. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“Go on with ya’, then,” Thomanji'yheri said. “Don’t think I know my own work?” He was walking back around the workbench. “And if I am wrong and you stick him, how much is lost?”

Reeve inhaled slowly through her nose and sighed. She looked at Walter, who was now an additional step from where she’d last seen him. “Let’s try it, Dad. I’ll go slow.”

“Shouldn’t we be getting to the apiary?” Walter said, taking a step away while trying to look like he wasn’t.

“Hold still,” Reeve said.

Walter raised his spatula. “In my life, when people tell me to hold still, it is seldom followed by something I would wish to have repeated.”

Reeve lowered the blade of her naginata and thrust it toward her father at what she figured was about one-eighth combat speed. Walter did not move away, and he did not move much of his arm, but with a quick internal rotation of his wrist, he deftly parried the blade past his side.

“Hmm,” he said and smiled slightly.

“Better than I would have expected,” Reeve said, withdrawing her blade.

“Again,” Thomanji’yheri said.

Walter stopped smiling. Reeve thrust at around one-quarter speed. Walter parried. Reeve pursed her lips, impressed.

“Why don’t we—,” Walter said, at which point Reeve thrust at full speed.

Walter parried. “Now, wait a minute, Reeve.”

Reeve’s look transitioned a modicum from that of someone impressed to that of someone who doesn’t like to be bested, particularly by her father or a spatula. She feinted to her father’s left hip and changed her angle of attack as he began to respond. Walter used the spatula to push her blade down harmlessly but not unthreateningly between his knees. “Reeve Williams!” He said loudly.

“Last thing,” Reeve said, pulling her blade back and then swinging it about one hand, the blade passing over her own head and then arcing down at an angle toward her father’s.

Walter desperately raised the spatula just in time to meet the whistling blade his daughter had directed at his head. The blade drove the spatula into the side of Walter’s head, knocking him sideways to slide along the ground toward the elves, who gaped, horrified.

“That,” Thomanji'yheri said, “is an example of having sufficient Dexterity and insufficient Strength.” He looked at the prone halfling. “Or maybe insufficient Strength and bulk. I never was good at natural philosophy.” He waved a hand over his shoulder. “Storage room is away here. Bring the bloody pack of elves.” He turned and walked into an aisle.

Wanda walked over to the halfling, bent, and, with one hand, picked him up. With the other hand, she peeled the spatula from the side of his head. She looked back at Reeve and said, “Really, Reevita. That wasn’t necessary.”

“Sorry. You’re right.” Reeve looked after the dwarf. “Thomanji'yheri, hey, do you have any intelligent weapons you could hook me up with?”

After a few seconds, the dwarf walked slowly back out of the aisle, his face slightly wrinkled with thought. “I do like a good challenge, half-orc,” he said. “Let me see your naginata.” He extended an upturned palm, into which Reeve placed the weapon at its balance point.

He first slide the staff far to the side to look over the metal blade, then ran one hand down the wooden staff from top to bottom. He looked up at Reeve. “The best you could find to buy, I’d wager.”

She nodded.

“A pity,” he said. “I could do better before I’d outgrown my cradle.”

“Well, that’s probably not—,“ Reeve started but stopped, mouth open, as Thomanji'yheri used a single sharp tug with a bare hand to separate the blade from the shaft. “Hey! What the heck!”

“Stop yer blubberin’,” the dwarf said as he walked into the aisle in which Walter had found the spatula. He returned a moment later with a metal staff slightly shorter than the wooden staff he’d just removed. The metal was a dull black, but Reeve could just make out engravings down its length.“Stay here,” the dwarf said firmly as he carried the staff, blade, and rucksack into the room beyond his workbench. A few minutes later, light flared within, and shortly after the sound of hammer strikes rang through the armory.