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."
Flint's interest was piqued. "Why do they need to guard
farm implements so closely?"
"That's just what Aylmar asked," Moldoon said softly,
then sighed. "I guess he never found the answer, or if he did,
it died with him, since his heart gave out at the forge that
same night." He clapped Flint on the shoulder and shook his
head sadly, then turned to wait on another customer.
Flint sat thinking for several minutes before he worked his
way through the crowd and left the smoky tavern. The sun
was low in the sky. He stood on the stoop outside Mol-
doon's, but instead of crossing the street and walking back
up the south side of the valley to the Fireforge home, the hill
dwarf set his sights down Main Street to the east, just sixty
yards or so, toward the walled wagon yard.
Chapter 5
The Break-in
In Flint's youth, the wagon yard had been the black-
smithing shop of a crusty old dwarf named Delwar. While
most dwarves, racially inclined toward smithing, made
their own weapons, nails, hinges, and other simple objects,
Delwar had provided the villagers with wagon wheels, large
tools and weapons, and other more complicated metal de-
signs
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