If I drank any more cold coffee, I’d puke. I pushed the mug away and stood. “When I get home to Abertee, and folk there ask me about my travels, I’ll tell them I was lucky to have met Grandmaster Clive, one of the great swordsmiths. If you’re ever in the neighbourhood, look me up.”
I was pulling the door open when Clive’s wife said, “Duncan, wait. What was the favour you wanted?”
Judging Men by Their Horses
Sam grinned like the certificate had his name on it instead of mine. “That’s nice. That’s real nice.” He handed it to Nick who read it aloud, tracing the words with his finger.
“That’s what a real master ought to be. Congratulations,” he said. “I’ve got to admit, when we got here, I didn’t think he’d be in a mood for doing favours for anybody.”
I stowed the certificate in my saddlebags and climbed on Charcoal. Nick didn’t need to know Grandmaster Clive acted like I was doing him the favour. “You can’t leave without giving me a chance to redeem myself, even if just a little. Of course I’ll sign it.” His eyes met mine without sliding away. “God knows you’ve earned it, if anybody ever has.”
We spent the night with Sam’s kin, and the next morning the uncle and I went with Sam to the local smithy. The master was willing to take Sam on, on the basis of knowing the uncle and hearing my good word about how well Sam worked. Then Nick turned south, for London, and I took the old Roman road north.
For almost a year, homesickness had eaten at me. So why the devil, now that I was on my way home, could I not get my mind on Abertee and off of Blacksburg? When I closed my eyes, I saw blood and heard screams. I dreamed about the Fire Warlock yelling at me. The smell of a burnt pie in a roadhouse made me retch. The ring of hammer on anvil made me choke up.
If only I’d known a week ago what I knew now.
The skies were clear, but I plodded towards home in a fog, wondering what else the aristos—and maybe the magic folk, too—didn’t want us to know. A day’s travel short of Crossroads, I spent the night with a smith I’d worked for a few years earlier. His news was the first since I’d left Blacksburg to make me sit up and take notice.
“A group of travellers staying at the inn were asking around if anybody was going to Crossroads. There’s not enough of them to scare off the footpads, so I reckon they’d be glad to have you along. Although maybe they’d not need you now, since an earth witch on her own rode in not long before you got here. Said she’s on her way to Crossroads.”
“On her own, you say. Is she that powerful or that silly?”
“Doesn’t matter. If I were a robber I’d not chance her making my privates shrivel up and fall off.”
“Aye. What’s she look like?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t see her. My neighbour did. Said she had a whole forest on her hat.”
I shoved my hat back on. “I’m going over to the inn. With a pack mule in tow, I’m not traveling fast, and I wouldn’t mind some company tomorrow.”
The taproom door was open, and raised voices spilled out.
“There’s safety in numbers. We should wait for more travellers—”
“I’m not waiting. I need to get to Crossroads—”
“She said too many makes it harder—”
I ducked in. A group of men were waving their hands and shouting at each other. Standing in the middle, as calm as a pond on a windless day, was an earth witch with a little turned-up nose and freckles scattered all over her face.
Today was my lucky day.
I said, “I’m riding for Crossroads tomorrow. I reckon I’ll make your party large enough to scare off just about anybody.”
The man standing with his back to me turned, saying, “I’m worried—” He took a step back.
Without taking my eyes off Reverend Angus, I said, “I’d worry, too, if I were you.”
Granny Hazel said, “I was explaining that the larger the group the harder it is for me to extend my magic to cover everyone.” She smiled at me with devils in her eyes. “But if you’re worried about robbers, Mr Archer, I’m sure I have enough magic to cover even you.”
I stared down at her with a slack jaw. The innkeeper smirked and turned his back on us, making a show of polishing glasses. I said, “Thank you, ma’am. Very kind of you. I’ll be happier with you along.”
Her smile showed straight white teeth, not one missing. “That’s settled, then. We’ll leave in the morning, after an early breakfast. Good night, all.” She walked out of the taproom, leaving the preacher glaring at me.
“Surely you, of all people,” he said, “needn’t be beholden to a witch for protection.”
I shrugged. “I’m going to Crossroads tomorrow, with or without company, but what I said was God’s truth. I’ll be happier traveling with Granny Hazel. I’ll even put up with you if that’s what it takes.”
The sun had already set, but the gloom I’d been under lifted. None of the lasses I’d mooned over, some prettier than Granny Hazel, had kept me interested for long, but an earth witch would have more to talk about than most women. Working as a healer, she’d earn her own money, too. She hadn’t remembered me because she needed to snag a good provider. She’d have a man around if she wanted to, or not at all, and I’d heard stories about what an earth witch could do to a man she wanted to please. Walking back to the smith’s, I felt like whistling for the first time in weeks.
The first horse out of the stable the next morning was a swaybacked nag. We’d be lucky if she could keep pace even with my plodding pack mule. The next one out made me smile—a sleek, high-stepping filly as pretty as any horse I’d ever seen. Charcoal and I both turned our heads to watch as the lad led her past.
“I don’t know why you care, old boy,” I said. “You couldn’t do anything with her.”
Charcoal snorted and rattled his bridle. I rubbed his head. “Can’t help thinking about it though, can you. I guess it’s in the blood.”
While we watched the filly, Reverend Angus and his friends came out of the inn. One man I hadn’t noticed last night fussed with the stirrups on the nag. The lad nudged him out of the way and got on with fixing the problem. The rider straightened up, and gave me a good view of his hat. I froze.
It wasn’t too late to turn and run. Leave the mule. He’d never catch up on that nag—
A touch on my arm, and my blood stopped pounding.
“What’s the matter, Duncan?” Hazel said.
I leaned on Charcoal’s withers and took a deep breath. Let it out again, slowly. “You’re using magic on me.”
“You were panicking. What’s wrong?”
“The water wizard. If I’d known…”
“Him? He’s only a level two. What do you think he would do?”
“Drag me off to the Crystal Palace.”
She gave me a startled glance. “Why would he? You haven’t done anything, have you? That the Water Guild would care about, I mean.”
“Not that I know of.”
“I’d expect you would know.”
“Then I must not have. Yet.”
She stared at me with a pucker between her eyebrows. “You’re planning to?”
“Nae, ma’am. But they act like I am.”
The water wizard fumbled with his reins. She didn’t even glance at him. “All I sense from him is embarrassment, and resentment that you’re staring at him.”
I turned away. “Maybe I’ve been seeing omens where I shouldn’t. Sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t making much sense, even to myself. Forget it.”
“You won’t panic again, will you?”
I took a deep breath and blew out through my lips. “I’d better not. That would draw more attention.”
“Let’s get on the road, then.”
I gave her a leg-up onto the pretty filly. “I’m surprised the preacher’s traveling with a water wizard.”
&n
bsp; “He wasn’t. The wizard arrived late last night, and asked me at breakfast if he could travel with us.”
“Oh. Thank you ever so much, ma’am.”
She laughed. “Get on your horse. He won’t bother you.” She looked around the stable yard. “Everybody ready?”
“Yes, ma’am.” “Certainly.” “Right, ho.” The water wizard looked a bit seasick, and muttered something, but nodded. The preacher, looking around, started and stared.
Hazel said something I didn’t catch, but the mule pricked up his ears. Charcoal whinnied and stamped. Even the swaybacked nag raised her head.
The preacher cleared his throat and raised a hand, but Hazel’s horse was already moving.
“Let’s go,” she said. All the animals moved. The preacher flailed, and grabbed for his saddle, but hung on.
I turned my grin towards the road and gave Charcoal his head. We caught up with the filly in a few paces, the mule almost crowding us.
“We’ll have to walk most of the way,” Hazel said. “That old mare can’t manage the pace your horse wants to set.”
“Charcoal will do whatever yours does.” Charcoal was three hands taller than Hazel’s filly. Talking to her was like talking to somebody down in a well, but if she minded me looming over her she didn’t show it. I turned in the saddle and watched the parade behind us. The preacher and his friends left a generous gap between us and them—one of the few things I agreed with him on. He glared over his shoulder at the water wizard.
Maybe having a water wizard along wasn’t so bad, after all.
Hazel’s hat had four full-sized little trees, plus a sapling. I’d never seen that before. Most of my friends in the Earth Guild had two or three trees on their hats, and none could tell how a man felt from the other side of a stable yard, without even looking at him.
What else could she tell? It was a wonder she hadn’t slapped me. “Are you an earth mother?”
Clouds came over the sun. I had to lean down to hear her. “No. I’m a level five witch. That would qualify me for the top rank in the other magic guilds, but not in the Earth Guild.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t meet all the criteria.”
“All the what?”
“I’m one of the top healers in Frankland. I’m good at animal husbandry, too, and not bad at gardening, but I can’t dig.”
“So what? I can dig a bit. It’s nothing special.”
“Not to you, maybe, but I can’t do it at all, no matter how hard I try. And believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Sorry, ma’am. It doesn’t seem important, next to being a powerful healer.”
She sighed. “Thank you, but it means the guild won’t call me an earth mother.”
“That just shows the Earth Guild is as f—Sorry, ma’am—as messed up as any other guild.”
She laughed. The sun came out from behind the cloud.
“You don’t need to apologise to an earth witch for terms describing bodily functions. The Earth Guild invented most of them.”
“Just because you’ve heard them doesn’t mean I should use them.” The stories said it was impossible to make an earth witch blush. I thought of a few things I’d be more uncomfortable saying than a healer would be hearing. Forget that.
“I’m surprised the Earth Guild would let an almost-earth-mother come to an out-of-the-way place like Abertee, instead of a city.”
“I despise cities. I need hills and birdsong.”
The more I learned about this lass, the better I liked her. “But I thought they’d want a powerful healer near lots of people.”
“Isn’t a powerful healer needed here sometimes?”
“Aye, but not as often.”
“What do you do now when somebody needs something beyond what Mildred can do?”
“She calls on Mother Brenda from Edinburgh, and she pops in through one of the tunnels.”
“And Mother Brenda will retire in a few years, too. After I’m established here, I’ll pick up her work, until I cover her territory. Less powerful healers in Edinburgh and the other towns will handle the ordinary cases, and I’ll handle the more serious ones. An earth witch can travel anywhere in Frankland in under an hour through the tunnels, so where we choose to live doesn’t make a big difference.”
“But why choose Abertee? I love it because it’s my home, and I know every man, woman, child, rock, and tree for miles around. But I’d not expect you to think this was better than some other place with lots of rocks.”
She shrugged. “My mother and I cast the runes, and they pointed here.”
“Why? Don’t they usually say something more than just, go there?”
“Yes, but…”
“What did they say? Sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“They weren’t clear, that’s all. My reading said Abertee needs me, but I don’t know why me and not another healer. Mother’s reading said I would be happy.”
Because she’d have a big ox of a sweetheart? If not, I didn’t want to know. “Why are you riding to Crossroads? Since you can go anywhere through the tunnels.”
“The Guild Council encourages healers to do some traveling the long way. They say we need to understand what our patients have to deal with to be proper healers. Besides, one can’t take a horse through the tunnels, and I like to ride.”
“Do you? I’ll show you the prettiest sights in Abertee, if you’d ride out with me on a Sunday.”
The freckles disappeared under a wave of red. “I’d like that.”
I was bewitched, and she wasn’t even trying. Not even having Reverend Angus along spoiled my day. When we stopped for dinner, Hazel and I claimed a table outside the inn in the shade of a plane tree. The preacher and his friends marched into the dining room with their noses in the air. The water wizard seemed unsure of himself. Hazel ignored my muttering and waved him over.
Don’t tangle with witches or wizards, Granny Mildred had said. Especially the Water Guild. But here was one sitting down across a table from me. I couldn’t very well not talk to him.
I said, “I would’ve expected a water wizard to be chasing down highwaymen instead of acting like you’re afraid of them.”
He glared at me. “You obviously don’t know the first thing about the Water Guild. I am afraid of them. Anybody but a colossal jackass like yourself would be.”
My hand curled into a fist, but I’d been called worse names before. I would let it pass.
Hazel frowned at him. “Master Duncan was trying to make conversation. He’s a respected man in Abertee. If you want to sit with us, be polite.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I just get tired of simpletons—”
“Ahem.”
“Of mundanes hating the Water Guild because they think we spend all our time hunting them down.”
“So, when one asks a question, instead of answering politely and trying to educate him, you attack?”
I said, “Everybody I know is afraid of the Water Guild because we think you hate us. You haven’t done much to prove otherwise.”
He turned red. “I didn’t mean…”
She patted his hand. “Never mind. I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm.”
The serving lass clattered over, mugs in hand. “Here you go, then. It sure is good to see you, Duncan.”
“That’s Master Duncan, to you, Jill.”
“Oh, is it now? About time, I should think.” She bussed me on the cheek. “Even better, then, that you’re back. The duke needs a rap on the knuckles.”
I groaned. “I haven’t even gotten home yet. What’s the duchess done now?”
“Not her this time. Their son and his friends have been running wild. Somebody needs to tell them to grow up and stop insulting every pretty lass they lay their filthy eyes on.”
I groaned again. “Frost it. Not th
at.”
“Aye, that. Talk to Granny Mildred. She can give you an ear full.”
“Thanks for the warning, Jill.”
She left, and I turned back to the wizard. “You’re right. I don’t know much about the Water Guild. Why don’t you tell me?”
He sighed. “I can keep people from drowning and fishermen’s boats from taking on water, but that’s about it. Without being next to an ocean or a lake, I don’t have any magic I can use to protect myself from robbers, and even then, I couldn’t do more than pull up a wave and hope it knocks them off their feet so I can run away.”
“You can’t kill a man by freezing him?”
“Of course not. Only the level fives—”
“The sorcerers and sorceresses,” Hazel said.
“Only they can do that. It takes a lot of power, and they have to answer to the Water Office whenever they do, so nobody does it on a whim. I’m nowhere near that powerful. I’m just a two-bit wizard trying to scrape out a living by protecting fishermen.”
I said, “You’re going the wrong way to find any of them.”
His lip curled. “I know that, you… Sorry. I’m going to my nephew’s wedding, and when that’s over I’ll turn around and head home.”
“Oh. What about the manhunts? If you don’t have enough magic to protect yourself, you can’t be much help with them.”
“God give me patience. I never go anywhere near them. If the whole guild got involved we wouldn’t have time for the things only we can do, like prevent floods and droughts and protect sailors and fishermen. The justice-related magics are a small part of what the Water Guild does. We were never supposed to patrol the highways, or do manhunts and the like in the first place.
“It doesn’t take magic to enforce law and order—most of the time, at least. Magic’s needed when you’re hunting a wizard, or somebody so violent he’ll kill the next person he meets for the fun of it. The nobles should handle most of it, and only come to the Water Guild for help in special cases, or as the court of last resort.
“We’re doing more and more of what the nobles are supposed to do because they don’t and somebody has to, but we hate it. Nearly everybody in the Guild is angry about it, but the Office doesn’t have any teeth to force the nobles to accept their responsibilities.”
The Blacksmith Page 12