home in Tierce chiming the hour. When she was little, she used to lean against its side and listen to the scratchy workings inside.
Thoughts of home and her forgotten childhood came to her from time to time, but she usually forced them out of her head, unwilling to let herself grieve for what she had lost. Now, with the heat so thick around her and the sound of the Smith striking a new piece of metal, she let herself wallow in that one single image of home, the home that had been eaten by the sky.
‘Aufleur doesn’t have clocks,’ she said dreamily. ‘Only those wretched dripping things. Why is that?’
‘The Daylight Duc thought they were cursed,’ said the Smith.
So much information all at once was enough to startle Delphine out of her vision. ‘Which Duc?’
‘The first one.’
‘Huh. He was hardly supposed to be mad at all,’ mused Delphine. And then, because she was tired and hot and these things made her flippant, she added, ‘Were the clocks cursed?’
The Smith turned to look at her. ‘Of course.’
‘There aren’t any new sentinels,’ Delphine said, after a while. ‘Who are these swords even for?’
‘The future,’ said the Smith.
‘You’re just assuming we’re all going to get our blades eaten by dust devils on a regular basis? Or are you assuming we’re going to drag a whole lot more sentinels into this wretched life?’
He continued to work, ignoring her.
‘There’s a lot of skysilver here. How many swords will it make?’
‘Enough.’
She reached out, brushed her fingertips over the metal, felt it fizzle under her skin. The Smith took firm hold of her wrist and moved it to one side.
‘You make each new sentinel their own particular sword,’ she said in a low whisper. ‘A new sword and dagger every time. So why are you making swords now?’
‘It is what I do,’ said the Smith, and there were centuries in his eyes.
‘What happens to the spare ones?’
He jerked with his head.
Delphine went to a door she hadn’t seen before and opened it. A sea of swords hung before her, each perfect. One row after another. Steel, skysilver, steel, skysilver.
‘You could make a lot of sentinels with swords like these,’ she said.
‘I imagine so,’ said the Smith.
‘You never mentioned these to anyone before?’
‘No one ever asked.’
Delphine had come here hoping to learn something, anything, about the Creature Court’s past that might give them an edge in the battle against Garnet. This was far more than she had hoped for. Not the past at all, but the future.
‘I’m going to be right back,’ she told the Smith, and darted out into the Killing Ground.
A thought struck her almost as soon as the sunshine did and she ran back into the forge before he could close the door behind her.
‘Since I brought you all that skysilver, do you think you could make something for me? Something important, but a bit different … I don’t know. Can you make things other than swords?’
The Smith looked expressionlessly at her. ‘I can make anything.’
Delphine smiled fiercely. ‘Excellent. Wonderful. I’ll draw you a picture.’
Best sentinel ever. Oh, yes.
The second time she left the forge, Delphine’s cheeks were ruddy and hot, her hair was frizzled and she was bursting with energy. She had a plan, and it was a most excellent plan, and it was going to make Macready sick that he hadn’t thought of it first.
‘Well, look at you,’ said a voice across the desert floor of the Killing Ground.
Delphine whipped her head around and saw Garnet. His animor hit her as an aftershock and she staggered a little under his sheer presence. Power and Majesty and all that, oh yes. Not just an empty title.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she gasped. ‘Not unless —’
‘I am accompanied by a sentinel?’ He smiled nastily at her. ‘Hello, sentinel. Though you’re not, are you? You left that behind when you denied me. You walked away from your duties, just like the rest of them.’
‘The Smith recognises what I am,’ Delphine flared. ‘Velody recognises me. I have my blades. Who are you to tell me I am not a sentinel?’
‘I am your Power and Majesty,’ Garnet roared, his voice filling the desert space from end to end.
‘I don’t care what you call yourself,’ Delphine spat at him. ‘You’re not mine.’
Garnet flew at her and she should have gutted him, it would solve so many problems, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t practised on Ashiol enough times, but he moved so fast and then she was on her back.