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one that he’d tracked. But who had carried it and why leave it here?
    “How long have you had it?”
    Connor shrugged. “Not long,” he admitted. “Another recently traded it to me.”
    “For what?”
    “I have many items of value.”
    “Like more of these knives?” Rsiran asked.
    The hawker shook his head. “These knives are not as common as that. And what I traded was nothing more than a simple charm.” He leaned toward Rsiran. “I probably got the better end of the trade, if you ask me. Look at this,” he said, holding the star toward Rsiran. “Though it doesn’t carry the smith’s mark like the knives, you can tell that this was created by a master smith. The way the metal comes together is the key. See this seam here?” He pointed to a place that looked no different from the rest. Even drawing on his sense of lorcith didn’t tell him that there was anything different about what the hawker tried to show him. “This is how you know the skill of the smith.”
    “How much?”
    Connor shook his head. “I haven’t had a chance to fully evaluate its worth. This sort of thing normally takes time for me, and I wouldn’t want to overcharge you…”
    Rsiran could tell that Connor was only trying to consider exactly how much he could squeeze from him. If it were anything else, he wouldn’t have been interested, but he wanted to know why someone would have brought this from the forest outside of Elaeavn to here. And he would really like to know what he had traded it for.
    Rather than waiting for Connor to make another offer, Rsiran pulled one of the knives from his pocket, choosing the one most like the one the man already possessed. He flipped it in his hand before setting it on the table in front of the hawker.
    “I’ll trade this for that,” Rsiran said.
    Connor’s eyes widened, and he quickly counted the knives he had on the table, mouthing to himself as he did. “You already had one,” he said with an amused smile.
    Rsiran only nodded.
    “May I?” the man asked.
    Rsiran nodded again.
    The hawker took the knife and held it to the light. The metal of the blade flowed nicely, and Rsiran couldn’t help but feel pride in his work as he looked at it. Like the others, his mark adorned the bottom of the blade.
    “The same smith,” the hawker whispered. “How did you...”
    “Will you trade?” Rsiran asked. He had considered simply taking the star—and the knives for that matter—and Sliding away, but that would make his visit to Cort memorable, and he didn’t want that. He would rather the man remember him only for making a trade, and his interest in lorcith. That was much less exciting than a man who stole from him and then simply disappeared.
    Connor handed him the star and took the knife. “Such skill,” he said slowly and then looked up at Rsiran. “I don’t say this often, but are you certain this is the trade you wish to make? I’ve already told you what I can fetch for these knives. That,” he pointed toward the star with the blunt end of the knife, “won’t bring nearly the reward. You could sell it yourself for nearly as much.”
    Rsiran felt better about not simply taking the lorcith star from Connor. “And who would I sell it to? Seems that you’re the only vendor here interested in such metalwork.”
    Another smile spread across Connor’s face. “Ah, well in that you are right. Not many others with the same interest in these items. But I can’t have someone saying that Connor Jons didn’t bargain fairly.” He leaned behind his booth and rustled through a few items before standing and handing another piece of lorcith to Rsiran. “Here. This is much like the one I traded for that .” He tapped the star with the flat of the knife.
    Rsiran took the lorcith. Unlike with the star, in this ,he detected enormous skill in the forging. The star was simple, a forging he would have been able to create almost before he even started listening to the call of the lorcith. But this