Two cups of tea and a lengthy debate over the quality of forged metal later, the deal was finished.

Duncan sat cross-legged on the small scarover sitting rug with the results of his efforts. It was a tan, grass-stained burlap bag sitting in a lump in front of him. He stared at it and sighed. A burst of conversation far off to his right snapped him out of his reverie.

It was Tinden speaking with the scarover’s steelweaver. The topic had something to do with the recent metals from the pyreshaw but Duncan didn’t follow why it was important. He ignored the conversation as he reached for the hemp cord holding the bag closed.

Sofia settled down next to him on the rug. Duncan glanced at her, then pulled the bag open, reaching inside.

“I cannot believe you did that,&r...

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