---
"Two blades," Gael said when he saw John. "Custom grip. We will need leather for a noble's soft hand. The ore is packed. If the rain holds, I will send it at first light."
"Good," John said. "Set a lock on the back room. The Spitter stays in the house until I fix the feed line."
Sera leaned one shoulder against a post. "I heard you held firm on the price."
"I did."
"Good," she said. "You looked like a man with clean boots and many secrets."
Fizz put both paws to his mouth and made a sound like a trumpet. "Victory. Someone noticed the penmanship."
John looked at Sera. "Thank you for not saying I smell like bark."
She smiled with only half her mouth, which was all she needed. "You smell like a forge that belongs to you. That is not a bad smell."
