"As soon as possible. Andфkai has done her best to patch up Djerun with her magic and he's fit to travel. He might be too big for the wagon, though."

"We'll be cramped as it is. There's the three long-uns, Andфkai and her pet warrior, Hammerfist and Shimmerbeard, not to mention the materials for Keenfire-we'll need a couple of wagons at least."

"Don't forget Balyndis," Tungdil reminded him.

"Who?"

"Our new smith."

"A woman?"

"You sound as enthusiastic as Bavragor."

"I've got nothing against women, don't get me wrong. I like a nice well-built lass with plump cheeks and big bosoms, a real woman who you can hold on to and warm yourself against, but-"

"Come on, Boпndil, you know as well as I do that some of the secondling women are excellent smiths. They can be handy on the battlefield as well. Smeralda could fight like a-" He checked himself. Blast.

Boпndil stiffened at the mention of his dead lover's name. "Fine, we'll take the woman. If you'll excuse me, I'm tired." He disappeared along the passageway in the direction of his chamber.

Tungdil watched him go. That was stupid, he remonstrated with himself. I need to watch what I say.

"I'm no stranger to the smithy, believe me," said a high-pitched voice behind him. He whipped round in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Balyndis was still dressed in her mail, and her long dark hair framed her rounded face. "I wanted to tell you that it's an honor to be chosen for your mission."

His heart gave a little leap. He was so taken with the idea of traveling through Girdlegard in the company of the female smith that he almost forgot his worries about the twins. He gazed into her brown eyes, unable to say a single word.

"I can handle an ax as well as a hammer, you know."

Tungdil smiled weakly, still incapable of summoning his voice.

Balyndis didn't know what to make of his silence. "If you don't believe me, I can show you."

"Vraccas forbid!" he cried, raising his arms hurriedly. "I believe you, absolutely. I daresay that women are good at fighting too."

The new smith seemed to take offense at his words. "In that case, Tungdil, I insist," she said, reaching for her ax.

Tungdil's eyes were drawn to the formidable muscles in her arms and chest. "Honestly, Balyndis, I didn't mean it like that," he said, trying desperately to repair the damage. "I was worried you might get hurt."

"I see. So you think you can hurt me, do you?"

I wish she'd stop twisting everything I say! "Of course not," he explained hurriedly while Balyndis hefted her ax belligerently and took a few experimental swipes. "Not unless you weren't paying attention. Really, Balyndis, there's no need to prove anything. I believe you!"

"Well, I don't!" boomed a baritone voice. Bavragor stepped up to the smith, his war hammer at the ready. "It's bad enough that Goпmgar fights like a girl. The firstling must prove that she won't be a burden."

She squared her shoulders menacingly. "For that, mason, your one eye will soon be seeing stars." Already the war hammer and the ax were hurtling toward each other, and Tungdil barely succeeded in leaping clear.

The weapons collided forcefully. It was clear from Bavragor's grunts that he was impressed, but he soon got into difficulties, having failed to allow for Balyndis's strength and speed. By lunging at him from his blind side, she kept forcing him to turn his head. He was so intent on parrying her blade that he didn't notice when she raised her ax suddenly and whacked him on the head. He took a few dazed steps backward and slumped against the wall.

For a moment he looked at the grinning Balyndis in astonishment, then slowly raised his hand and felt his head. His shoulders shook slightly, rising and falling with increasing rapidity until he was roaring with laughter, the passageways echoing with his mirth.

"No one could say I didn't deserve it," he said, still chuckling as he clambered to his feet and extended a rough, calloused hand, which she gladly shook. "You're a fine lass, all right. There's no messing with you."

"Thank goodness we've cleared that up," Tungdil broke in, thankful to have been spared the ordeal. He nodded to Balyndis. "I think everyone agrees that you're an excellent fighter, so maybe we could go to bed and get some sleep before our early start."

The firstling smiled and was about to retire when Bavragor hauled her back. "I've got a better idea. How about taking me to the Red Range's finest tavern so I can taste a draft of your firstling beer? There'll be a song in it for you," he promised. Balyndis didn't need further persuasion and the two of them started down the corridor.

"Aren't you coming, Tungdil?" she shouted as they rounded the corner.

"He's our leader, remember! He's got maps to read, tunnels to check…Of course he's not coming!" said Bavragor, only half joking.

"Don't overdo it," Tungdil warned them. "Those tunnels have got lots of sharp curves!" He saw them off with a wave and retired to his chamber to ponder the events of the orbit. No matter how tempting it was, he knew it wouldn't be wise to fall for Balyndis; the mission required his full attention.

Inside his chamber, the light from the lone oil lamp steeped the polished walls in a gentle glow. It was the perfect ambience for relaxing before the big journey.

"Tungdil?"

He swung round to confront the voice behind him. Ax at the ready, he peered warily into the shadows by the door. "Narmora? Is that you?"

The actress was wearing her black leather armor and exuded a vague air of menace. For some reason Tungdil found himself thinking of Sinthoras.

He kept hold of his ax, his secret antipathy toward the woman growing all the time. Don't be ridiculous, he told himself. She's an ordinary woman. "What can I do for you?" he asked, trying to smile convincingly.

"Remember what Andфkai said about wielding the ax," she said hesitantly.

"Keenfire must be wielded by the undergroundlings' foe. Do you have a suggestion?" he said, perking up.

"What about the дlfar?" she said cautiously. "The дlfar are your enemies, right?"

"Real дlfar are our enemies," he corrected her. "Actresses won't do, but it's kind of you all the same."

She pulled off her head scarf, revealing two pointed ears.

Tungdil took a step backward and tightened his grip on the ax. Long moments of horrified silence passed. "But that's not… I mean, y-you can't be an дlf…" he stuttered. Then he laughed out loud in relief. "You almost had me going there, but I know your eyes don't look black in the light!"

Narmora stretched a hand toward the lamp, turned her palm to the ceiling, and muttered unintelligible words. The flame dwindled until there was nothing but a smoldering wick.

She must know some trick. Alchemy or… He stared at the candle in amazement, then turned to Narmora and discovered she was gone. "Narmora?"

Suddenly she loomed behind him. "Half human, half дlf," a voice whispered in his ear. "I inherited my mother's gifts and her weapons. My father left me little of value, but his eyes are a boon." The next moment her menacing air was gone. She went over to the lamp and restored the flame by blowing on it gently. "I'm sorry I scared you. Do you believe me now?"

Tungdil composed himself. That explains why I've never really taken to her. "I certainly do," he said with a vigorous nod. "I think you've solved the dilemma as to who should wield Keenfire." He looked at Narmora with new respect. "It can't have been easy for you to tell me-but it's nothing compared to the challenge ahead."

"I can't see any other solution," she said simply, her savagery and malevolence suddenly gone. "It's not as though we could ask an orc or a real дlf." She stroked the hafts of her weapons. "I've never really fought with an ax. The magus won't have much to fear from Keenfire unless you drill me in axmanship first."