Guardians Book One - Magic Rising

Chapter Forty Three

Kath put her hands on her hips. "Well. I wasn't expecting this."

Robinson's Gunsmith and Metallurgy Restoration was hidden down a little back street you'd miss on any number of walk-pasts, so much so Kath's first instinct was to ask if this was one of those shops; the kind that appeared and disappeared overnight – the magic kind. But the weapons in the window looked solid enough. Kath leaned in to admire the metalwork on a long rifle. It was carved into flowers and leaves up and down the barrel and the muzzle.

Lady sniffed. "The display is very...showy...but inside the weapons are much more functional."

"Function over form," said Pestilence, grinning, only slightly ironic. Kath pulled back from the window.

"It's still a lot of work and talent to make that," she said, pointing at the flowery gun.

Lady opened her mouth, then paused. "I suppose it is an art rather than a use," she said, at length, her green eyes considering. "Yes. Perhaps."

"Why're we here, anyway?" said Kath. Lady motioned at the door.

"I commissioned a gift for you," she said.

Kath glanced at the price label on the floral gun and swallowed. Eek. "You didn't have to!" she said, trailing Lady into the shop. The ancient, tattooed man behind the counter, sporting a checked shirt and a leather apron, gave her a nod – one pro to another; it seemed they knew each other – and without sparing Kath a glance, turned back to polishing a slender rapier of some variety with a duster.

Lady glanced at some of the weapons in the meantime; Kath inhaled deeply. The air was heavy with the rich, stifling scent of leather and iron, heat, polish and wood varnish. Delicious! And threatening. Vaguely. Weird. Lady had been right; everything inside was all business – sleek simple designs that looked far more menacing than the pretty gun in the window.

"Why're we here? I've got some weapons," Kath hissed, feeling like she was raising her voice in a temple. "I mean. If it's OK to keep them?" She blanched slightly. Pes patted her shoulder.

"They don't only do weapons," he said. Behind the counter, the old man tilted his head. Kath blinked, and Pes lowered his voice. "Don't worry. Craftsmen are intuitive. Single minded – they see with more clarity. Not enough to See, but enough to feel."

"I thought it would be unfair to expect you to continue using undersized armour," said Lady, aloud. "I noted by how much my armour ill fitted you and based on that and the size of your clothes, I placed an order for correct armour. I would advise you also try some undershirts." She waved a hand at a row of light leather shirts hanging on a rail nearby, not unlike the variety she herself wore under her gear.

"Oh...wow," said Kath. Once again there was a sharp jump as to how real this was all getting. Nonetheless... "Lady – thank you! You didn't..."

"Of course I did," she said, but there was just the tiniest hint of a smile hovering on her lips. "Ill-fitting armour is impractical." She strode up to the counter. "Good afternoon, Trevor. I am here to collect the package for my companion here. May she try the items on?"

"'Course, love," said the old man, sliding the rapier and the duster to one side. Kath sidled up to the counter and straightened her shoulders. Yeah. I know what I'm doing! She wasn't sure what was stranger – that she did belong here, or that she didn't. Close to, she could see how old the man really was – deep creases folded his face, and there were burns here and there on his hands and arms. Nonetheless his blue eyes were bright and quick, his hands were still strong and his arms muscled and hard. Wonder if I'll be like that when I'm his age? Or Lady? Still obviously kickass. I wouldn't mess with him. Bet he can use half of these things, too. She smiled.