“I’ll kill him,” Luka said for the third time.
Luka was a big man and he knew it. In a crowd, Luka was the one who stood head and shoulders above the rest, and swinging a hammer day after day had made him strong. Even among the other apprentices he was the strong one, and whenever a block of iron needed moving or a wagon hoisting, Luka was always the man the blacksmith called for.
Senna finished changing out of her work dress, and now she just looked like Senna, the woman Luka loved, looking up at him with her beautiful brown eyes. His little wife was so small that he thought if he hugged her too hard he would break her.
“Luka,” Senna said. “I love you, and I know you’ll always protect me and treat me well. But fighting isn’t your thing, my love. You’re gentle, and you’re clever, a lot cleverer than people give you credit for. You’re always talking about different metals and their melting points, or the effect salt has on water. But you know you aren’t attracted to fighting. You work at a forge, with weapons everywhere, yet you never talk about swords or armor.”
“I just don’t find them very interesting,” Luka said. “Swords cut. Armor is clothing made out of metal. What’s to learn?”
Senna smiled. “Exactly. Please, Luka, don’t do anything. When you finish your apprenticeship you can start your own forge. It isn’t long now. Don’t worry about Gugan.”
Hearing the name again made the rage rise back to the surface and heat come to Luka’s face. His mind worked as he considered his options.
When Gugan rose in the ranks of the streetclans — and The Bird in a Cage became one of the businesses in his protection ring — that was when the trouble had started.
Gugan was a former legionnaire in the Tingaran army. Luka had never met him, but he had heard him described. He didn’t sound like someone who would be hard to pick out in a crowd.
The rumors on the street said he had lost both his arms when he saved his commander’s life from a prismatic orb, long ago during the Western Rebellion. Gugan had tried to throw the glowing orb back the way it had come but it exploded in his hand. Others laughingly said he’d fallen into a deep trench, and was holding onto the edge for his dear life when an enemy cut down at his arms; miraculously he’d survived.
Either way, he had been gifted with two replacement arms of metal — Gugan became a melding. A forceful blow from one of those arms could punch through stone. He had retired after the war and been given a pension. When he’d spent his pension, the streetclans had welcomed him with open arms.
Gugan hadn’t made many friends among the shopkeepers, food vendors, and barkeeps he extorted. He treated the working women at Erelin Osta’s burlesque house as his personal playthings, and they’d soon learned to give in to him or face his fist. Erelin had appealed to the Tortho, the head of Gugan's clan, but been told to keep his mouth shut. Fearful for his life, Erelin had no option other than to wait it out. Eventually, when a man was disliked enough in Seranthia, justice would be done.
Gugan had his fun with the working girls and the dancers. Then the melding started on the hostesses.
Senna served drinks. She wore a revealing dress, near see-through, but she called it her uniform and she never let a customer think otherwise.
But Gugan didn't consider himself a customer. He didn’t like being refused, and he let it be known in the only way a man of violence knew.
“I need to work tonight,” Senna said.
“No, you can’t,” Luka pleaded.
“You think I want to?” Senna said. “Look, I’ll cover the bruises with some powdered chalk. It doesn’t even hurt.”
“If he touches you…”
“Luka, he’s a melding, and no one in Seranthia interferes with the streetclans. Gugan only comes by once a month and you’ll finish your apprenticeship in three weeks. Soon as you’ve got your smithy I’ll quit my job, and with a forge you’ll be able to afford your own protection. In a month, no one will be able to touch us.”
“He won’t be back for a month?”
“He won’t be back for a month.”
~
Luka applied himself in his work at the forge, impressing the blacksmith, and he knew the completion of his apprenticeship was assured. He demonstrated all he'd learned about malleability, and how some metals could be drawn better than others, about melting temperatures and alloys, about conductivity of heat and the taking of an edge.
Senna’s bruises healed, and her smile returned. The weeks passed, and the day when Senna could leave her job approached.
Then Luka came home to find the door to their tiny single-roomed dwelling ajar.
There was blood on the door handle.
Luka dropped his tools on the ground and pushed his way in.