"The forge needs more wind, Oorgo."
The small boy jumped on the bellows again, puffing out his breath just as heavily. Thurgod struck the molten metal with his hammer again. The metal formed perfectly, and Thurgod smiled.
"Why do we have to do this?"
Thurgod pointed his face at the child, aiming a foot above the belt buckle. "You must learn smithcraft."
"Why?"
"Because you are my apprentice, Oorgo. The fire needs more wind, child."
Oorgo jumped again, catching the top of the bellows and pulling it down with his weight.
"You should reach with your arms, child. You must grow in strength."
"But my arms are tired."
"Tired is when you begin to exercise. Exercise is when you get strong."
"But why do we have to do this at all?"
Thurgod set his project back into the forge. "The Fourth Mine needs parts for one of the machines. We must make it. We are the great smiths."
"But you don't need fire for that."
"Eh? Don't need fire? I can bend steel in my arms, but you cannot. And..."
"Not your arms, master. You can just tell it to bend and it does. Why do we need a forge at all? I saw you melt the chain."
Thurgod squatted down, putting his weight on the balls of his feet. He tried to keep his face pointed at the boy's face, but he could never be sure. "Pushing metal by command is a hard thing." Thurgod tapped the metal square that rimmed in his head and blocked his eyes. "I cannot do that all the time. And there is more. You cannot move metal that way. No man can move metal that way. So I forge it, that you may learn smithcraft."
The god and the boy instantly turned their faces towards the door as a tremendous crash thundered outside. Oorgo began to run towards the door, but Thurgod stuck his immovable arm in the way. "Oorgo. Let us play Find Me If You Can. The rule is that you must stay in this forge."
"But it's hot..." Oorgo was torn between his love of the game and his desire to escape the forge.
"The rule is the rule. We agreed that I get to make a rule when we play. Now you should stay."
Thurgod allowed no more disagreement, and stepped past the boy, slamming the door behind him. He reached with his mind and slid the locks shut. Oorgo could not reach the upper deadbolt. Then Thurgod moved his mind's eye in front of him.
A god was here. A demi-god. Thurgod sniffed.
"I can't imagine being blind so long."
"Ah. It is you."
"Indeed, thrall-god."
"What do you call yourself now?"
"I have always been called Gilgod."
Thurgod twitched mildly at the neck. "Welcome to my compound, Gilgod. Why have you broken down the door?"
"Wasn't that a neat trick? I did it by sheer will."
"Is it so much greater to do a thing by power than by your own body?"
The two deities stood in a courtyard of Thurgod's compound, facing one another, in silence for a few seconds.
"I am here for the boy."
"What boy?"
Gilgod smiled."Is that how it is going to be, Thurgod?"
Thurgod smiled. "I do not seem to recall any boys here. Something inhibits my mind."
The visitor laughed. "Very well. You sit right there, and I'll see if I can't refresh your memory."
Gilgod walked over immediately to the smithy from which Thurgod had emerged. "You locked this with your powers, did you? Well, I'll open it by mine." Gilgod placed his hands on the door, then a sharp sound exploded from the spot, and the door flew in.
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