As I made my way down (stumbling with weariness and clutching the bracelet tight so as not to lose it), the only thing I could think was: where’s Peter going to forge the bullet?

But as it turned out, that was the easiest part of the whole business. He listened to me in silence, sleepy-eyed and still and unshaven, and took the bracelet without a word and went up to the kitchen.

“Peter! What about Ma? And Sergeant Snitsch, and everything?”

“Keep ’em out of the way,” was all he said, and he began to pile the fire high. It was still early; only Hannerl the serving girl and old Conrad the barman were up and about. And before Ma came down, I was falling asleep. I had a confused impression of someone smelling of soot and smoke laying me down on a bed and covering me with an eiderdown, and then I slept properly.

I awoke in the late afternoon, with a cold gray light sifting in through the window. My head was all stuffy and headachy, and something was making me anxious, but I didn’t know what it was….And then I remembered and ran downstairs.

The kitchen was as hot as the blacksmith’s forge. The windows were streaming, the air was full of smoke, there was a pile of ashes ankle deep in front of the hearth; and there at the table, his face streaked with soot and red-eyed with smoke, sat Peter. In front of him was a little ball of clay, as big as a duck’s egg. He was feeling it carefully with the palm of his hand.

“What’s happening?” I said. “Where’s Ma?”

“In the parlor.”

“What about the bullet? Is it ready?”

“I’m just about to find out.” He took a knife and, holding it by the blade, tapped the clay mold once or twice with the handle. Nothing happened. He paused, and looked at me directly. “You realize what this means, if I come with you tonight?” he said.

I nodded. “The contest,” I said.

“That’s right. I’ve got to win it, Hildi. It’s my last chance. I can’t afford to lose now.”

He was right. I knew what he’d be risking, and I knew as well as he did that the night ahead of us would be the very worst sort of preparation for the contest in the morning. There was nothing I could say. He tapped the mold again, harder, and it cracked and fell apart. The two halves rocked back and forth on the tabletop. Embedded in one of them, like the stone in a peach, lay a perfect silver ball.