“The blacksmith,” Shyan says, her tone dour and disbelieving. “What could you possibly have against him?”
“He’s a competitor and rival,” Ulxurix says. “You could have brought your soup to him and I’ve been out of a commission. Not to mention your young friend’s dental work, here.”
Fassn waves amiably.
Cang subtly elbows Shyan. “What is this blacksmith’s name, madam?” he asks.
“Horton Belwether,” she says, grinning. “You can make it look like an accident, if you want.”
“Good thinking, sister,” says the wizard. “Best make it look like an accident. I don’t want his whole ruddy family coming up here to knock my lighthouse down.”
Shyan sighs. “Looks like we’re off to the smithy.”