Free Priest (Ratcatchers Book 1) by Matthew Colville

steam, the anvil slowly rose out of the ground and slid aside, revealing a large hole in the dirt floor. It was well-lit and walled, and there were steep stairs going down. The dwarf trudged down them soundlessly. Everyone in the building was watching. Many had their mouths open.
    Heden had served the gods for as long as he could remember and one thing he’d learned; they influenced the world in direct and indirect ways. There were several traditions in his culture that deliberately subtracted conscious will from a decision, in order to grant gods or saints the opportunity to step in and influence things. Heden had no way of knowing what the dwarf would choose. Let fate decide.
    Heden had met people who laughed at such things, and for them, probably the saints had no interest in influencing their lives. Heden was not so lucky.
    The dwarf emerged with a long thin object wrapped in plain, dirty cloth. He held it out abruptly, unceremoniously. Heden took it from him carefully.
    He unwrapped the handle revealing the hilt, pommel, and guard of a sword. It was beautiful but full of angles, as though it were built out of complex, geometric shapes. A contrast to the flamboyantly crafted sword guards that were the fashion, such as Gwiddon carried, that looked like flowing pen-strokes carved from gold.
    There was a black gemstone in the pommel. Only a little of the blade was showing, but it was a dull purple-grey metal. Unlike any in the city. The metal threw off a light few humans had seen. It was a kind of glowing violet and it cast Heden’s features into sharp relief.
    “Starkiller,” Heden said, regarding the weapon wryly. “Figures.”
    The dwarf said nothing. He turned his back to Heden and pushed up on the metal rod. He removed it, and threw it aside with a loud clang as the anvil slid back into place, and an assistant brought forth another item for the master’s attention.
    Heden stared at the dwarf’s back for a little while as the whole forge scurried back to work. He didn’t say anything. He looked at the ground for a moment. Then he wrapped up the sword, tucked the whole package under his arm, turned, and left.

Chapter Ten
    Heden came back to the Hammer and Tongs to find the heavy oak doors standing open. He’d left the doors unlocked and was happy to see that whoever’d come to confront him about whatever hadn’t broken in and cost him a crown for the repair.
    He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t bother unwrapping the sword. He stepped up onto the boards of his inn, and walked through the doors.
    Inside, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust, Heden saw a thick, heavily muscled man standing by the bar on his right, and the cat Ballisantirax, sitting on the bottom step of the stairs to the rooms above. Balli was licking a paw, and then washing herself.
    The man’s face was scratched and bleeding. He was someone’s muscle, Heden had an idea whose, and he probably didn’t feel much pain. It looked like his nose and cheekbones had been professionally broken a few times, so he probably couldn’t feel the razor-thin cuts. Blood streamed down his cheeks and onto his neck and shirt. It looked bad but it was just a cat scratch.
    Heden took note of where the cat was sitting, and felt, though he could not see, someone watching from the top of the stairs.
    The man turned as soon as he heard Heden’s boots, and bellowed; “Is that your fucking cat?”
    Heden smiled and looked at Balli. Ballisantirax went into what Heden thought of as her “cat statue” pose, sitting on her hind quarters, paws placed together in front of her. Her eyes were squinted half-closed, prideful and happy.
    “I’m gonna kill that fucking cat!”
    Heden looked from the cat to the muscle and said, “No you’re not.”
    “You get up there,” the man tried ordering Heden, “and get me that fucking trull.”
    Balli, assured that her Master had things well in hand, turned and trotted up the steps.
    “What’s your name?” Heden wondered,