The dark smoke is coming from a forge, of course. The smith has a large oven made of small mud bricks. It’s impressive but it has no bellows, which should probably be important right?

Still, he has a proper workshop, a small semi-buried structure, but still with complete mud brick walls and a roof, resting against the larger stone wall of the village. I peek inside and qickly draw back upon seeing a very bulky gilfeith examining something on a workbench. He’s shorter and stouter than the usual lithe appearance of gilfeiths. He has a proper anvil, a mighty slab of sturdy-looking iron, and an impressive collection of various tools and molds, along with neatly ordered finished items stored on various shelves all around, including more weapons than I expected. There are spears, falchions, javelins, and a few other weapons that are a bit less classic. Such as one that looks like a large and sharp boomerang, and a spear with a spear head on both sides. However, quite a few are rather rusty. Iron might be a thing here, but stainless steel is obviously not.

I guess even a tiny village such as Wathamber needs a capable smith to craft and maintain iron items for everyday use. Perhaps I could give this guy hints on making steel. Steel is pretty awesome right? As far as I know, steel is all about adding some carbon to iron, and heating everything up real hot. How hard can it really be? If this guy is competent he might figure it out.

However, smiths have a reputation of being ill-tempered people (Eh. Ironic). After all, they are hammering hard things all day in the heat. Sounds like the perfect career choice for someone with anger issues. Maybe that's how it works actually, you send the worst young hothead in a generation to learn with the most angry guy in the village.

Anyway, I don’t want to antagonize this one, so I quickly make myself scarce. I’ll come back here to suggest making steel when I can speak some of their language. And when I have the backing of Guemeros or Zaimeia.

- - -

The second column of smoke turned out to be a smokehouse buzzing with activity. It looks similar to the houses of people, except that its dome is closed up top and instead an opening on the side is spewing the thick white smoke I’d seen from afar. Some people are bringing in pieces of meat in varying sizes and shapes. Mostly birds carcasses thoroughly plucked of all their feathers, but there are also some large, unidentifiable cuts of red meat. Others are bringing fresh lumber and various herbs for the smoke.

So this is why the whole village smells like they are throwing a barbecue.

I’m glad I went to the forge before coming this way because it gave my clothes a chance to dry somewhat now that the sun is shining strongly up above. I get to not look like a wet cat in front of so many people, which is certainly for the best. I’ve chosen not to care too much about the odd looks gilfeiths have been sending my way, but still.

Zaimeia is there, I’m guessing to keep track of the foodstores, she’s with another gilfeith I hadn’t seen yet, both of them holding clay tablets. Her posture is relaxed, sitting crosslegged on the ground, but her gaze is as sharp as ever.

Clay tablets, really… I wonder if they use this because paper hasn’t been invented yet or because it’s too much of a luxury to use it for a ledger that will probably be irrelevant next year. I’m fairly confident paper is mostly cellulose mulched in water and dried… I could try that. Unless their stupid trees aren’t fit to produce paper? At least they do have writing and reading.

When I see she has an idle moment, I greet her in their tongue with the word I picked up during the morning. Interestingly, from what I’ve gathered, “Tulas” works both to say hello and goodbye.

“Tulas Zaimeia.”

That has her smiling faintly as she activates the translation.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“Marc. Have you come to work? Or something else entirely?”

I try not to wince at the idea of working in my current state. Moving already feels like each step is a bit of an achievement...

“Not today, I’m looking for somebody to teach me your tongue, and more importantly, magic.”

She considers this for a moment and looks me up and down critically as if pondering something, then says after a sigh.

“You can try to visit Datari, but she’s taking care of her daughter and might not be very receptive to the idea of doing something else right now. Let me know if you need somebody else.”

“Thank you. Hum, where can I find her house?”

“Ah yes, of course, it’s that way. You can’t miss it, it has an unreasonable amount of weird plants drying around the entrance.”

I give her my thanks and take the dismissal for what it is, then start making my way in the indicated direction.

Unreasonable amount of plants, and magic. She sent us to see a crazy witch, didn’t she?

Don’t be afraid Bob, I’m sure it will be fine.

Did you really need to plant such a big flag? Chances were slim before but no way fate will allow this to pass unpunished now.

Since when have you been so superstitious?

We’re going to see a crazy witch in a magic world. For tutelage.

Fair enough.

- - -

I’ve been noticing that the houses of the village aren’t nearly as uniform as they first appeared. Many have small dependencies attached to the house in various shapes, places to store firewood or tools, and even a couple that look like dog kennels. No dog though. They don’t have paint, only whatever lime they use to make the dry mud white, but many houses still have some personal touches. Shape of the windows, of the entrance, colored curtains, designs sculpted in or on the domes, hunting trophies (mostly bones), small things like that.

Then there’s this house that indeed, can’t be missed.

Zaimeia told me that there were many plants drying, around the entrance, which is very true, some are hanging on the walls whileothers are on pieces of cloth on the ground. However, I can’t fathom why she felt the need to specify that instead of just saying “look for plants”.

This house is covered in plants of all kinds. Many of which are blooming with strange flowers, the first I’ve seen in this world.

Is that… weed?

Uh.

It smells like weed.

Sure does. Nice.

Maybe the witch is a chill hippie.

I move down the couple of stairs to stand just behind the closed curtain. Not having doors to knock on is a very serious problem in this village.

Especially when you forgot the damn name of the person you’re trying to visit.

Uh.

Maybe I should just wait here until someone passes by?

This smell is really bringing me back to my college years… I didn’t do drugs because it just makes me feel wrong, but I actually really liked the smell of canabis. It’s pleasant, unlike cigarettes. I still don’t understand how those disgusting things ever became popular.

Yeah I’ll just wait here, sit on the side of the stairs.

The sun is pleasantly shining overhead and I can certainly do with a break.

…

…

Nobody is passing by, it’s noon, and I’m getting hungry.

Best thing to do is go for lunch and come back later.

Yes, that is definitely the correct way to handle this situation.

- - -

It comes back to me as I carefully try to balance bites of the smoked meat and sips of goat (or is it horse-sheep?) milk.

Her name was Datari!

Stupid brain.