The grimling smith was still pounding away at his forge when Master Sai led the way back into the dead-end gorge where he worked. Nichal had no idea how Master Sai navigated the grimling caves so easily. Nichal himself could see in the dark barely well enough to follow the orc without tripping, but Master Sai navigated the lightless tunnels as though they were as well lit as the rest of the Vale.

  "You got my hammer?" the smith asked as they approached, still banging on a flambard. He hadn't even looked up to see them. Not that he could see them anyway, since it still wore a dirty blindfold across its long, talpine face.

  "I do," said Master Sai, pulling the hammer from his impossible pack. "Here you go."

  At that, the smith finally put down his tools. "Oh, my baby," he cooed, eagerly clutching the hammer to his chest. "I missed you so much!"

  "Now I believe we had an arrangement?" Master Sai said.

  "We sure did," the smith agreed. He slid the flambard he had been shaping into a trough of water and tossed the hammer on his anvil over his shoulder. It sailed into a nearby barrel without touching the rim. "You need new gear? I'll make you some nice grimling pieces."

  "Great," said Master Sai. "But if we're going to be working together, can I ask you a question?"

  "Shoot." The grimling rummaged around in a different barrel and pulled out what appeared to be a rough head for a trident which it tossed into the blazing forge.

  "Why are you even up here?" Master Sai asked. "Shouldn't you be down in the caves?" Nichal sidled over to the forge and looked inside. Uncountable scores of blazing blades of all sizes baked in the heat of the forge's fire. Nichal blinked. Was it bigger inside?

  "Can't have a forge down in the caves," the smith said. He pulled a pair of tongs from the barrel into which he'd tossed his old hammer. "The fire needs open air."

  "Okay," said Master Sai. "But why the blindfold?" Nichal watched as the blindfolded grimling reached into the cluttered forge with the tongs and pulled out a trident head without any difficulty.

  The smith dropped the trident head on the anvil and began to pound on it with his repaired hammer. "You ask a lot of questions," he said.

  Master Sai sighed. "I've been told that, yes," he said. "But seriously, why do you need a blindfold? There's no light here."

  "What are you talking about?" the smith asked, still pounding away. "Boss has got lights all over the place."

  Nichal and Master Sai shared a glance. "The stars?" Master Sai asked. "The starlight is enough to hurt your…" He paused and cocked his head. "Wait. Grimlings don't even have eyes!"

  The grimling laughed and plunged the trident head into the water. "We got eyes, alright. Just not giant bug-eyes like you lightwalkers."

  Master Sai's jaw dropped, and Nichal, to his own surprise, chuckled. He wasn't certain he'd ever laughed before. "Bug eyes!" Master Sai cried.

  "That's what I said," the grimling confirmed. He brushed his clawed hands on his leather apron. "Now did you want gear or not?"

  Master Sai sighed, rubbed his eyes, then tossed up his hands. "Yes," he said.

  "Let me show you what I got in your size. I'll finish up your trident while you try some of these pieces on."

  While Master Sai and the grimling inspected several styles of leather-and-steel armor laid out on a nearby table, Nichal looked back into the forge. Carmine flames licked between the tangle of heated metal within. How was it even staying lit?

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  "What are these?" Master Sai asked. "Breeches?"

  "Um… yes?" said the smith.

  Master Sai scoffed. "What am I, a barbarian? Orcs don't wear breeches."

  The smith jabbed a finger into Master Sai's chest. "Hey, you come to a barbarian for armor, you get armor for barbarians. You don't like it, don't wear it."

  Master Sai scowled as he ran a finger along the soft leather of the breeches. "I don't like it, but I'm going to wear it anyway. Because this is really fine armor."

  The smith shook his head and returned to his anvil. "Are all the children of the Abriasha as confusing as you?" he asked, pulling the trident head out of the water with his bare claws.

  "I'm going to take my armor and pretend I didn't hear that." Master Sai tried to shrug out of the scaled, draconic tlahuiztli Coatl-ome had made for him, but got stuck part way.

  "The buckles, Master Sai," Nichal said, leaving the forge to help the orc undress.

  "Thanks, Nichal," Master Sai said once he was free. The orc, clad only in his tattered shorts, looked over the maroon lizard. "Can you make some armor for Nichal too?" he called to the smith, who was affixing the head of the trident to a long, cedar shaft.

  Nichal shook his head. "No, Master Sai," he said. "I won't wear it."

  "What do you have against armor?" Master Sai asked.

  "I don't need it," Nichal said. He tapped on the sturdy plates on his chest. "My scales are my armor."

  "And if I ordered you to?" asked Master Sai.

  Nichal did not feel like laughing now. "Please, Master Sai," he said.

  "Fine," said Master Sai with a shrug. "But we need to get some underwear for you at least."

  Nichal looked down at the smooth scales running down his chest and between his legs. He wasn't certain why Master Sai thought he needed underwear. Unlike the orc, he had nothing loose that needed support. But he would do it if it made Master Sai happy. "Of course, Master Sai," he said.

  It did not take long for Nichal to help Master Sai into the chain hauberk and leather breeches the grimling smith had provided him. While they waited for the smith to finish his trident, Master Sai asked yet another question. "Out of curiosity," he asked the grimling, "would you consider moving to a new forge?"

  "What did you have in mind?" the smith asked. He wrapped strips of leather around part of the trident's haft.

  "There's a forge just like this one in the ruins to the east," Master Sai said. "I figured you could do all your work there without being so secluded."

  "What, you think I don't like being by myself?" asked the smith.

  "No," Master Sai said. "I mostly thought it'd be easier for me to get things from you."

  The grimling barked a single, sharp laugh. "I like your style," he said. "Is the forge lit?"

  Master Sai grimaced. "Well, no. Can't you do that yourself?"

  "Not a chance," the smith told him. He secured the bindings and ran his hands all over the haft and head, checking the construction of the weapon. "That's a dragon forge. You need dragonfire to light it."

  "That's problematic," Master Sai said. "I know a dragon, obviously, but feeding an outside source of dragonfire is almost impossible."

  "You got that right," the smith said. "It takes a special kind of fuel to keep a dragonfire lit."

  "Do you know how to make something like that?" asked Master Sai.

  "Me?" The smith laughed again. "Forget about it. I work with steel. You want Bikkulum." He handed the trident to Master Sai.

  "Who's Bikkulum?" asked Master Sai, taking the trident from the grimling. He tested the balance while the smith spoke.

  "She's a bogling," said the smith. "Works out of the village south of the canyon. Best craftsman in the Vale."

  "Better than you?" asked Master Sai.

  Nichal's breath caught, worried that Master Sai had insulted their new supplier, but the smith just laughed. "You better believe it," he said. "I work with steel, but she works with Boss's shadows. If she can't get you what you need, nobody can."

  "Interesting," said Master Sai. He planted the capped butt of the trident in the ground and leaned against it while he chatted. "It's odd that she has a name though, right? I thought only Syn's most loyal servants earn names."

  "You got that right," the smith confirmed. "It's even harder for those of us whose job isn't killing things. Bikkulum and me, we worked hard to get our names."

  "Wait, you have a name too?" Master Sai asked.

  "Sure do!" The smith put his hands on his hips, thrust out his chest, and drew himself up to his full height. He was shorter than Master Sai and barely more than half of Nichal's height. "Name's Zababil. I arm the expendable nightmares. Bikkulum arms the big shots like you and Gugalan."

  Master Sai scowled. "I'm not one of Syn's creatures."

  Zababil laughed once again. "Sure thing, big guy," he said. He turned back to his anvil. "And I got an island in Rutoshen to sell you."

  Nichal frowned at Master Sai as the orc sighed, shook his head, and headed back to the caves. With a quick bow towards Zababil's back, Nichal hurried to follow. He didn't know for certain what Zababil had meant, but if Master Sai said he didn't belong to Syn, then Nichal believed him. The orc didn't belong in the Vale any more than Nichal himself did. Of that, Nichal was certain.