As Jaekob walked into the shop, he waved. Thomaes glanced around furtively before returning the wave, and Jaekob smiled. As often as he came to the shop, it still made Thomaes nervous, even after Mikah had grudgingly granted a military contract to the blacksmith for production. Jaekob had refused to stop visiting the smithy, and his father, ever concerned with appearances, had found the most expedient way of making his son's visits more seemly was to make it official. At least with a contract in hand, Mikah could say such visits were for official business. A blacksmith simply did not socialize with the son of the First Counselor, after all.
Thomaes had been hammering on a sheet of metal, but after waving, he set the sheet and his hammer down, smiling, and gripped wrists. "Jaekob, how are you? I haven't seen you in a few days."
"I've had better days," Jaekob said, shrugging. "But hey, I'm alive, right? Actually, I'm here to talk to Jewel. She's helping me with the design for my latest sculpture. I had wanted to use twenty-four gauge strips for a rib cage, but she said that those would burn through when I tried to weld them, and they'd bend too easily. It turns out, she was right on both counts." Jaekob chuckled.
Thomaes favored him with a sympathetic grin. "You kids, always trying crazy things. But she's a smart girl with a knack for working with metal, thankfully. Why didn't you just use ordinary metal brackets? Those are the right thickness, not to mention being easy to find."
That wasn't a bad idea, actually. Which was why Jaekob had already done that. Or rather, it was why Jewel had suggested it days ago, and it had worked. To be polite, he said, "I'll give those a try, thank you."
"Jewel isn't here, though. Sorry, young sir."
"Just call me Jaekob, please."
“I sent her to market to arrange another coal delivery. I'm sure going through coal fast, right now. Production is up, but that’s a good thing.”
Jaekob glanced around the shop. The first thing he noticed was that there were at least twice as many unfinished projects lying around as usual. The second thing he noticed was that none of those projects looked like tools, brackets, or any of the other usual items. There were long, thin bars being hammered out, and metal plates in various stages of being formed into a concaved shape.
He glanced at the workbench next to the Smith's anvil. The tools... Thomaes had half a dozen different hammers, none of them the ones the Smith usually favored. No, these ones were normally used for arms and armor, some of the most difficult items to craft well. Jaekob burrowed his brow. "What's going on here? Are you making... Weapons? Armor?"
Thomaes lost his smile and took a step back. He clasped his hands in front of him and looked down at the ground, cheeks flushed. "The Dragon Council has told all blacksmiths with contracts from them to stop what we were doing and to focus on military production. They doubled the usual order, and rumors say it'll be doubling again, soon."
That didn’t make sense. Thomaes knew something he didn’t, and he wanted to know what it was. "You don't have much choice, then. But the usual order is all we need to keep our warriers equipped, right? Doesn't everyone else need the tools and other things you make, too?"
Thomaes still wouldn't meet his gaze. "I'm sure they do. You may want to buy your sculpture supplies now, before prices goes up. And I believe the usual order keeps the standing guard supplied, but it wouldn't be enough to raise an army. I don't know if that's what the Council is up to, but it would explain things."
Jaekob’s heart beat faster. What foolishness was this? He hadn't heard of any orders to raise the militias. "Thomaes, if we want to avoid a war, the best way is not to go looking for one. You can't seriously agree with this? If enough people say no, the Council has to listen--"
The smith raised his hands in the air and said, "Hey, I don't support it. You and I agree about that. But I have a contract with the Council, and they've given orders. I can't just do what I want, like you get to. I couldn't afford to do that. Not if I want to put food on Jewel's table."
Jaekob scowled. The more people declined to fill those orders, the harder it would be for the Council to "accidentally" start a war... "Making sculptures will do a lot more to protect the warrens than making yet another set of armor. If you want to protect Jewel, the best way is for all of us to stay out of the war going on up above. Right?"
At last, Thomaes raised his gaze to look Jaekob in the eyes. "Jaek, I apologize if I disappoint you. But I've been struggling, we've all been struggling, and this order will put food on the table and coal in my hoppers."
"Okay, I get that, but--"
"Begging your pardon, I've been around for enough centuries to know that the best way to protect our loved ones is to make very sure that, if a war is coming, it gets fought on the other guy's territory, not ours. When has the Council ever led us into a war we didn’t have to fight? Not in my memory. They may know things you and I don’t."
Jaekob gritted his teeth and shoved his hands behind his back to hide his fingers clenching and unclenching. "Thanks for your honesty. I didn't mean to be rude, I hope you know that, and I know you have to work to eat. But please, just think about what I said, okay?”
Thomaes nodded, and Jaekob continued, “In the meantime, would you let Jewel know I came by?"
Without a trace of any smile, the blacksmith nodded. "Of course. Good day, sir." He looked back down at the ground and stood motionless. It was clear he had work to get back to.
Jaekob narrowed his eyes, trying not to let his lips curl back in a snarl. He hated being treated like he was somehow better than everyone else, especially by Thomaes, but it wasn't something he could change. He was the First Councilor’s son, after all. Instead of arguing more, he nodded, spun on his heels, and hurried out into the tunnel, far more irritated than when he'd gone in.
Behind him, he again heard the blacksmith's tap, tap, tap. Thomaes may have liked him, but someday, he was also going to get the man to talk to him like they were equals. He wanted to earn respect, not be given it because he was lucky enough to have the right father.
His thoughts raced. So, it seemed the Council was preparing for war. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, not after hearing Thomaes’ views on it, and he wished he could talk to his mother. What she would have thought of all of this? She probably would have said Mikah had to know about the order, but Jaekob couldn't quite believe his father, of all people, had agreed to prepare for war after so long at peace.
#
Scene 04-C
Jaekob stared at the servant, who wore the green bandoleer of a crèche worker and had been taking forever to get to some kind of point, and drifted off into thoughts about Jewel. Abruptly, he realized he had missed half of what the worker said. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I said there's an argument among many individuals in Crèche Five. They look like they’re all ready to come to blows. You’re needed immediately, sir." The worker shifted from one foot to the other and kept glancing at the doorway.
"Let's go," Jaekob said, resigned to another morning ruined.
When the servant ran off, he followed. They wound their way between the many merchant stalls, aimed at one of the major corridors that connected that market chamber to other areas of Safeholme. He spotted Kalvin standing by one of the many food carts and waved as he ran by.
Kalvin ran after him, catching up a few moments later. "What's going on, and why didn't you stop to say hello?"
"A problem at Crèche Five," Jaekob replied and, when he reached the corridor, bolted into it and kept running.
A few hundred yards farther on, they took a narrower side tunnel. That ran straight as an arrow for quite a while, passing side tunnels and cavern entrances. The crèche, with glowshrooms to either side of the entrance, was visible from a far distance, as the tunnel ran ruler-straight. He heard the angry, raised voices long before he got to the crèche. As they reached the entrance, the servant stepped to one side and bowed low, but Jaekob didn't pay attention. He was focused on the riot-like noises coming from inside.
He skidd
ed to a halt at the raised platform that was the entry area, and took two seconds to look around inside. Of the thirty egg cradles in Crèche Five, only twenty-nine had egg pods inside. On the catwalk running around the chamber at the platform's height, two groups faced off against each other, at least twenty people in total, and some had daggers out. Several had wisps of smoke blowing from their nostrils.
Just as Jaekob saw them, one man raised his dagger to strike the man he faced off against. He shouted at the man, "Hold! In the name of the First Councilor, what on Earth is going on here?" He felt the heat radiating from his nostrils, though he wasn't surprised; the eggs had pheromones that incited a dragon's natural hording instincts, making them highly protective of the eggs, and the sight of people so close to fighting, so near the eggs, had adrenaline dumping into his system hard and fast. As much as he hated feeling his dragonblood Rising, some part of him relished it, the fiery heat comfortable like an old blanket. Dragons hadn’t always been as peaceful as they were now…
The riot of voices that rose up in response was impossible to decipher, one voice climbing on top of another. Kalvin took a step ahead of Jaekob, planted his feet shoulder width apart, and folded his arms in front of his chest. "Enough. No one can hear over you people throwing your tantrums," he said, voice piercing the chaotic noise, pointing at the man with the dagger. "You--tell me what is going on."
Jaekob was grateful to Kalvin for stepping up and acting as his Guardian, though it wasn't in the job description of "friend."
The dagger-wielding man turned, his face red, his pupils dilated wide as saucers. Jaekob could see the man Rising even from across the room. The egg pheromones...
The man with a dagger couldn’t be heard over the crowd at first, but in a lull, Jaekob heard he was saying, "... and then they took the egg. We told you about this, Jaekob. You had your chance to make this right. An egg is missing, and we're going to get it back." His voice was too loud and too impolite for a man talking to the future First Councilor. Jaekob realized just how far this argument had gone.
He kept half an ear out for the man's complaints as he turned to the servant who had brought him and said, "Go, fetch the First Councilor. And be fast, or we'll have blood in the crèche."
As the servant ran off, a woman on the other side in the conflict shouted, "Liar. That egg was probably laid without quickening, and no one believes you made it to the crèche with the egg. You know it didn't, and you'll get no egg price from my family, on my blood."
Oh, no. Jaekob realized he was dealing with a family squabble--one involving the most precious of all things, a dragon's egg.
The two sides surged into one another, bumping chests and screaming at each other. Kalvin took a step toward the cradle pit, no doubt intent on crossing it and climbing up to the catwalk on the chamber's far side by himself, but Jaekob grabbed his shoulder and yanked him around, then shook his head pointed to the fray that was about to come to blood--or worse, if someone flamed in the chamber.
“The other eggs could be damaged, and that would be a death sentence to these people, all,” he said, and his friend nodded in understanding over the roar. Then, Jaekob raised his arms over his head and, using that same piercing voice he had been practicing at for his whole life during arms training, he shouted, "Stop now, or face Absolution."
His voice echoed through the chamber and the two sides froze and stopped quarrelling, startled. Several made surprised "O" shapes with their mouths. Absolution would mean all of their dooms, and their families would share their punishment, by Jaekob's command. He had that authority, and the room went silent.
He continued, "If you fight in here, you risk the eggs that remain. I will not tolerate that danger."
Many in the crowd looked down at the floor as though seeing the other eggs for the first time. They'd been nearly entranced by the chemical stew in their brains from the eggs' scent, but their heightened attentions had been directed at each other. He could practically see it dawning on them that dragon eggs were the most precious thing in the world, and damaging one... Unforgivable.
He put his hands behind his back and paced across the entryway platform. "So tell me, is this the same egg I heard about before?"
Many of the faces were new, but one he recognized elbowed his way to the front. "Yes, young sir. It was never returned, and the search showed nothing."
"Because it never existed," said the same woman from before.
"Silence," Jaekob commanded, pointing at her as his voice rose again. He paused for a moment for dramatic effect, glaring at them and daring anyone to have another outburst. Then, looked to the side who claimed the egg had been stolen. "Tell me true, have any of you actually seen that egg? Ever?"
In the silence that followed, he could have heard a pin drop. But at last, one young man wearing the green of a crèche worker raised his hand. "I... I have, sir. I saw it here, the last to arrive in Crèche Five, and then it disappeared. You broke up the first argument, but the resentment hasn't stopped, only boiled under the surface until now."
"So, there was an egg. And it isn't here." He turned to the other side, the dragons who had argued there had been no egg. "Do you believe this egg is missing, now, or do you claim this Crèche worker is a liar?"
Again, silence and downturned faces. Calling a crèche worker a liar about a missing egg would have started a blood feud between whole families, or Mikah would have to hear the case personally and sentence one side or the other to the horror of Absolution.
When no one challenged the worker, Jaekob nodded in approval and then paced again, furrowing his brow in the very picture of pensive thought. When he stopped, he looked at them once again as though he’d just had an epiphany. "Very well. I agree, there is an egg and it's not here now. First, you will all go home. That's an order, and if you disobey me in this, it's not going to go well for you."
His main goal was to get the danger away from the Crèche's eggs, but he also didn't want anyone to start a riot by attacking each other's homes. If he could prevent a blood feud with one simple threat, he'd make that threat happily.
"Second, there will be no egg price paid by the mother's family for an egg that isn't here to hatch." He paced back and forth twice more, glaring, "Do any of you think that's unfair?"
No one answered, though some of the ones who first said the egg was missing looked upset. Not upset enough to start a riot in a crèche, thankfully.
He continued, "I swear to you all, we'll figure out if this has something to do with the wards going off. We're going to spare no effort to find this egg. And when we find it, I will personally return it to its rightful place, right here, and the egg price will be paid--but not until then. Now, get out of here. And go home!"
A commotion behind him made him spin. He saw the servant he'd sent off, now running back to the entrance with two squads of soldiers following close behind. They were armed with six-foot spears and wore dragonscale armor, short swords hanging at their hips.
The only soldier who wore a helmet had a gryphon's-hair plume on top, showing he was the unit commander. He stepped into the room first, while his troops blocked the exit with their spears all pointed toward the crowd, held at the ready with lethal menace. He said, "My lord, you risk yourself by being here. Leave, sir, and we'll deal with this riot.” Then, with his voice incredulous, he turned to the crowd and said, “How dare you all fight in a crèche?"
Jaekob shook his head and, on the platform still, he stepped between the commander and the room-full of people. "I called for the First Councilor. Where is Mikah?"
The commander met his gaze without flinching. "Unable to attend personally. He is busy, and sent us to ensure the eggs' safety by any means. Please let us do our jobs."
Jaekob smiled and hoped the scent of the eggs hadn't affected the commander, yet. "No. Thank you for coming so quickly, but there's no problem here. Do you see a fight? I don't. Just people talking, with me as the mediator, and about to leave the area, as well."
The cr�
�che worker who had fetched the soldiers blurted, "Sir, that's not what--"
Jaekob whipped to face the commander, eyes narrowed, and interrupted the flustered worker. "Was I unclear, commander? Or do you call the son of the First Councilor a liar? If you value your scales, you'll take these soldiers away, after you escort these two groups to their clan chambers. Am I clear?"
The commander and Jaekob stared at each other for all of three seconds, which seemed to stretch on forever, but the commander looked away first. He gave a slight bow--disrespectfully slight, but still a bow--and turned to his troops. They pulled the two groups out, and not gently, lining them up on either side of the corridor outside the Crèche.
The commander, satisfied the removal was in good order, turned back to Jaekob. "My report will reflect what I believe happened, here. Sir."
Jaekob only grinned back and said, "As will mine, commander. As will mine. Keep that in mind when you choose whether to slander the First Councilor's son, eh? Now, get those people home safely, and get out of my sight."
Grumbling, the plume-helmeted dragon stormed out of the crèche.
From behind came Kalvin's voice. "Nicely done, but you've made an enemy of that commander, today."
"I know."
"You made a lot of friends today, too. You saved all their lives, from both themselves and that commander."
Jaekob let out a long, tense breath. Breaking up a potential riot was not how he'd wanted to spend the first part of his day, and the paperwork for that would take up the rest of it. "I'm more worried about how to write the report, and about the interrogation Mikah will give me when I get home."
Kalvin chuckled. Jaekob couldn't bring himself to laugh back. He had just averted a major incident that could have become a tragedy, solely on the power of his title, the very title he wanted to give up as quickly as possible after his father passed.
Spark of War Page 4