Redhelm rubbed his own biceps, unable to believe that fire was finally before him. The entire camp was lit up with the stuff, pits spewing cinders straight out of the ground. The barbarians flocked around them, holding out their hands and spits of meat to cook.
"I can't believe it,” he said, clapping the shaman on his shoulders. “We'd have frozen in this winter. How much did all this fire cost?"
The wizard shrugged his bearskin. "Me? Nothing. I put it on your tab."
Redhelm frowned at the old man. "How generous."
"Of you, yes."
"Who do I owe?"
The wizard inched closer to the flames. "I don't like to speak his name, but tomorrow you'll have Hell to pay."