The most surprising part was that she had forgotten.

She'd forgotten how big the buildings were, how loud the stall vendors' offers were yelled out, how many people filled the street… the sights, the sounds, the smell. It boggled the mind that a person could smell fresh baked bread and horse manure at the same time. Such opposing olfactory senses should remain completely separate. However, despite her time away and her patchy, muddled memory, one thing was increasingly clear.

Bowerstone had changed.

Crushed between the rush of people on the bridge, she fought to find the clock tower in the center of town. She saw the top of it and marched resolutely on.

"I've encountered a problem."

She jumped as Theresa's voice sounded in her head. Cursing under her breath, she gave her dog a look. He just cocked his head, tongue lolling to one side, happy to be part of such a big, noisy, frantic crowd. He always did love new people.

Theresa continued. "It seems I'm going to be delayed. I'll be at least a week. However, not all is a total loss. You can come to know the city better. In the meantime, you should upgrade your weapons. Some of the local shops may have openings that you could fill. I'll let you know when my business is concluded and I can meet you."

She sighed, running her hand over her hair before scratching the back of her head. She was glad that the guild seal communication that allowed Theresa to speak to her whenever she please was not a two-way transmission. If it had been, Theresa would've been on the butt end of many antsy, jumpy curse outs.

"Find a job," she muttered to herself, looking around.

As she came into the town square, at the base of the clock tower, she paused. The flow of people did not. They just formed two cross-currents around her, conducting their never-ending business. Every once in a while someone stared for a little longer than usual and she would avoid their pondering gaze, feeling her ears get red. It was bad enough for the bard to have loudly professed that she was the one who had gotten rid of Thag in the less crowded entrance to Bowerstone Market, but if someone shouted that information out here, the crowd might crush her to death. Besides, she had just managed to get away from the singing pest only minutes ago.

Focusing on the task at hand, she began to scrutinize all the shops bordering the main square. There was a book shop, an inn, some food stalls, a furniture store… aha! There! A blacksmith. At least she could get some prices on new weaponry. With a low whistle to get her furry friend's attention, she stared off towards the open-faced store. The smell of metal and burning wood and leather invaded her nostrils as she neared. When she got closer, a sign in front of the store announced that the owner was looking for some help in the forge. Luck had finally smiled on her. She could work and buy her weapons all in the same place. She always was one for efficiency.

There was no one in the front as she walked inside. Displayed on the walls were sword, pistols, heavy hammers, cleavers, rifles… all sorts of ranged and melee weapons. She ran an admiring finger over the smooth, shining steel of a long sword.

"Can I help you?" a voice said from behind her.

She wheeled around, surprised, and found a thick-set, toned man maybe an inch shorter than herself. She'd always known she was tall, but now that she was in town, it became ever more apparent. He was wearing a heavy leather apron and his hands told of hard, dirty work. His face, however, was not unkind and he gave her a reassuring, patient smile. Hesitantly, she smiled back.

"I was looking to upgrade my weapons. How much for this sword? And that rifle over there?" she asked, clearing her throat.

"The sword is priced at 750 gold and the rifle at 545. They're of great make, I can vouch for them," the smithy said and winked.

She gave him a smile, but a preoccupied one. That was a lot of money. A lot of money that she did not have. She reached behind her and produced her sword, old and worn, and the decent, but outdated, pistol Theresa had provided her with almost a month ago. "And how much can I get for these?"

The smithy picked up the pistol first, then the sword, examining them before returning them to her. "I can resell the pistol and I'll offer a fair price of 200 gold for it. Unfortunately, the sword I can't sell. The only thing I'd use it for would be to melt it down for the metal and all I can offer for that is 50 gold."

She nodded, dismayed, but not undeterred. "I saw that you are looking for an extra hand around the shop. I'd like to take the position."

The smithy raised his brows and looked at her as if to make sure she understood the work she was asking to undertake. "It's working to forge and straightening swords. Are sure you're willing?"

"A more willing person you can't find, sir. I have no experience, but I do learn quickly and I promise you will not be disappointed." When the smithy just looked her over for another few second as if deliberating, she licked her lips almost desperately. "Please, sir, I beg you. I… I need those weapons. I can trade you these and work to pay the remainder. I'm in town for a least a week and I can devote myself to you fully for that time. Here…" She held out her weapons to him.

Something in the smithy's expression softened and he shifted as if he wanted to embrace her. He merely put his hand over the armaments and pushed them back to her. Her expression fell, destroyed, as he walked towards the back of the store. He came to the register, opened the drawer and counted out some money. "Here is 100 gold for the week to buy your meals. The inn keeper, Rupert, owes me a favor and he'll let you board at no charge. Let's just say you have a standing credit of 250 gold. I'll hold onto the rest of your wages until you leave and then we'll see what weaponry you can afford. I'll have my assistant show you the forge. Come on, follow me."

She stared at him, touched almost to the point of tears at his compassion and kindness, but clamped down hard on her jaw to stop the pesky moistness in her eyes to spill over and followed him out to the back of the first floor, which spread into a hallway with two doors, then the smelting vat and forge outside looked out into the back alley with a roof overhead. The smithy stopped next to one of the doors and pounded.

From inside there was a grumble, then someone yelled out, "What is it, Paul? I'm organizing the books."

"Get out here, I need you."

"I'm organizing the books!" the voice said, irritated.

"I said I need you!" Paul shouted back, just as irate.

There was a loud sigh, then the scraping of a chair across the floor and footsteps. The door burst open to reveal the person on the other side. It was a young man who could not be more than two years older than herself, perhaps 18. He was tall as well, taller than she was by a few inches and muscular. He had been working hard for some time now and his toned, sculpted body was proof of it. He had dark, thick hair that flopped over his forehead and tufted out from behind his ears and thick-lashed, beautiful dark eyes. A thin, white scar ran through the left side of his lip making him look more dangerous than she really thought he was.

"What?" the boy asked, annoyed and not at all intimidated by the older man.

"We've got some part-time help."

The boy's eyes flicked over to her for the first time and she saw something she did not expect. She had thought he would be appalled at the idea of a woman working with them or perhaps angry and annoyed at the inconvenience, but inside she found a curious amusement in the deep, dark orbs.

"This is… uh…" Paul paused, looking at her in askance.

She realized with a start that he wanted her name, which she had yet to give to him. "Spa-" she stopped short, refraining from the old nickname, but the boy cocked a brow, interested. Her cheeks flushed and she felt her ears get hot. She got the impression that he was more observant than people gave him credit for. "Rhys."

"Rhys. Right," Paul continued, oblivious. "Show her around the back and teach her how to use the forge and the smelting pot. I'll take care of the books."

And with that Paul disappeared into the little room.