[Mr. Brackwater prefers to go by Brack. I’m not sure if he doesn’t like his given name or if he’s just a little paranoid about revealing his true name to strangers. Whatever the case, he was kind enough to visit with me and share a little about his life.]

DP: Thank you for meeting with me. I understand you first met your wife because of an argument?

HB: That’s right.

DP: Do you remember what it was about?

HB: Yes.

DP: Would you like to tell me?

HB: No.

DP: …

HB: …

DP: I just thought—

HB: It’s between me and Thora. What’s your next question?

DP: Uh. You traveled a good deal when you were younger. What was that like?

HB: Really good. Those were really good times. My father was a gearsmith, you know. He’d go wherever there was work: Arland, Iwashe, Cài Penlly. All up and down the Mother of Rivers. And every place is a little different, you know?

DP: What’s one lesson you learned in your travels?

HB: I guess you gotta do right by people, no matter who they are or where they’re from.

DP: Treat them the way you’d want to be treated.

HB: <nods> All coins are struck from silver.

DP: Is that a dwarfish expression?

HB: You ain’t never heard that? Yeah. It means, no matter who you are, you’re the same as everybody else. We all got the same needs, right? I’m a businessman. If you’re my customer, I don’t look at your size or the shape of your ears. I treat you just the same as everybody else.

DP: Not everybody thinks that way. I understand there are some who get nervous about having a metal-weaver around.

HB: <sigh> Yeah, that’s true too. Probably a lot of why we moved around so much when I was a kid.

DP: Could you explain that a little bit?

HB: Folks don’t always know what do to with what’s different. I bet it’s the same on your side of the Mere, too. You see, iron and magic don’t always get along. Your people used to carry around iron nails in their pockets to keep my kind of people from bothering them. And it can work, too, if you know what you’re doing. Iron sets up…you might call it a field. Keeps magic from being too, well, magical.

DP: I see.

HB: Most folks where I’m from won’t even touch the stuff. They say makes ‘em feel empty inside. Like they ain’t even connected to their chaos anymore.

DP: Their chaos is the source of their magic?

HB: That’s right. So somebody like me, who can work with iron all day long? Pfft. I can see most folks would think that’s kind of freaky. Scary even. It ain’t right. I’ll call ‘em on it, too. But I guess I can see their point of view.

DP: Is that important? To see other people’s point of view?

HB: You want to walk around in my work boots for a day? <chuckles> You want me to try on those shoes you’re wearing? ‘Course it’s important.

DP: Because all coins are struck from silver.

HB: Damn right.

DP: So now you live in Goblintown. You’ve raised a family there. How do the people there treat you?

HB: They’re all right. Of course, Thora knows a little about healing magic, and nobody complains about having a healer around. And she ain’t a metal-weaver, anyway. She weaves earth, same as my oldest son, Laurin. Now Duren—he’s the middle one—he’s gonna be a metal-weaver like his old man, but he’s still young.

DP: And your daughter?

HB: Ulfa’s bound to take after her momma, but she’s got some growing to do first. No, the Goblintowners are all right. Goblins don’t think twice about welcoming strays—if there’s something in it for them! And like I said, everybody needs metal fittings and tools and cranks and whatnot.

DP: You serve a purpose.

HB: And it feels good to be useful. It’s no good just taking up space. You gotta do something, you know?

DP: You’ve lived in bigger towns, places with a lot to offer. Do you regret ending up in a little, out-of-the-way place like Goblintown?

HB: Big is overrated. Any place can be home if you let it. Goblintown’s my home. I expect it always will be.

DP: And when there’s a problem?

HB: I’ll be there, doing what I can do.

DP: You mentioned your children. What do you hope for their future?

HB: Same as everybody, I guess. I want them to grow up to do the right thing. To make me and Thora proud. One of these days to make their own kids proud. Did you know my oldest just got married? <chuckles> Found himself a trollish girl, of all things!

DP: Congratulations.

HB: By the Seven, I’m gonna be a grandpa before too long! Can you believe it? But I want those grandkids to know their parents were strong. That’s what I want for my children. I want their own kids to grow up knowing they never gave in, were never untrue to themselves. <sniff> I want ‘em to hear their kids say, “That’s my daddy!” “That’s my mommy!” and swell up with pride ‘cause they’re a hero to their children, you know? ‘Cause when I hear my own kids say that? Boy, there ain’t no better feeling in the world. So that’s my hope for them.

DP: Yes, that’s, uh… That should be enough. <sniff> Thank you once again for your time.

You can learn more about Brack and his family in Dead of Night.

The night gets darker on July 1.