The Blacksmith

by Howe, Barbara;

  I gaped at him. “You’re telling me the Frost Maiden doesn’t want to stick her claws—er, fingers—into Abertee?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. We’re grateful the White Duke, unlike most of the others, has done a good job of taking care of problems himself and we haven’t had to get involved.”

  Our food came, and I chewed without tasting it. Hazel and the wizard talked about other things while I tried to make sense of what he’d said. I wasn’t sure how much of it to believe. Between him and the Fire Warlock, my whole world had gone topsy-turvy.

  I started listening again when the wizard named the village he was heading for. “I thought you were going to Crossroads,” I said.

  He said, “I have to go past Crossroads to get there.”

  “Nae, we’ll go within a few miles of it this afternoon.”

  “That would be great, but it can’t be right.”

  “I’ll show you.” I went and got my map of northern Frankland, and spread it out on the table. Hazel’s eyes widened. The wizard’s eyes bugged out.

  “I thought you were a blacksmith,” he said. “Can you read? Who around here has books?”

  “My brother has a few—the Good Book, Mr Marlowe’s collected works, and some of the duke’s castoffs. I listen while he reads them. I can read a bit, but it’s hard work. The only things I’ve ever read through are guild charters, and those made my head hurt.”

  “Guild charters? Good God. And this map—”

  “Books are hard, maps are easy. See, it’s just pictures, like a sketch of a gate. Where the road’s straight, like here, it’s flat and easy going, but where it twists around, that’s hilly. I’ve heard the names of most villages, so they’re easy to figure out. Here’s your nephew’s, and we’re here.”

  He squinted at the map. “That is what it says, but I don’t know. These squiggles don’t mean anything to me.”

  Hazel peered over his shoulder. “Master Duncan is right. It’s not far from here.”

  “Well, if you say so.”

  I snorted and rolled the map.

  He said, “But that map must have cost a lot. Whatever do you want it for?”

  I froze, the map half in its case. Panic clawed at me. Tell a water wizard why I’d wanted it? Like hell.

  Hazel’s fingers brushed my arm. I shrugged. “My uncle and my dad had maps. They wanted to know where everything in Frankland was, and it rubbed off on me and my brother.” I slid the map on in and latched the case. My hands weren’t even shaking.

  Hazel gave me a long look. I hoped she’d forgive me. It wasn’t a lie.

  We reached the track to the nephew’s village by mid-afternoon, and rode with him the two miles off the Roman road to make sure he got there safely. The preacher got pissed off about going out of his way to help a wizard. Hazel didn’t argue, but turned her horse off onto the track, leaving the preacher to follow or not. I was keen to get on to Crossroads, but willing to make the detour just to tweak the preacher’s nose. And I didn’t mind helping the wizard; he’d been friendlier, once he’d gotten past calling me names. When we left the village, he even thanked me for saving him half a day.

  We got back on the Roman road with the preacher and his friends riding ahead of us. We were almost home, there were no water wizards behind me, and maybe, just maybe, I didn’t need to be so scared of them.

  The tune came out of my lips without me even thinking about it. The preacher turned on his horse to glare at me. I couldn’t see why he minded me whistling a lively hymn tune. I switched to the bawdiest drinking song I could think of. He hunched over his horse’s neck and kicked at it. The beast made a show of picking up the pace, without putting any distance between us.

  Hazel laughed, and hummed along.

  Every man, woman, and child in Crossroads must have shaken my hand, twice. They passed my certificate from hand to hand, read it aloud a dozen times, and handed it back to me only a little the worse for wear.

  They should have been giving Hazel as much attention as they gave me—what’s a blacksmith next to an almost earth mother?—but she wasn’t interested. She smiled, shook her head when I tried to make a fuss over her, and faded into the crowd. I lost track of her.

  I lost track of Reverend Angus, too. After the noise died down, I went looking for him.

  Homecoming

  Master Walter—Brother Walter to me now—and his lads helped search for the preacher. An apprentice spotted him in the Shepherd’s Arms’ dining room with his friends, finishing their suppers. I walked in and clapped him on the shoulder. “We have some unfinished business to talk about, don’t we, Reverend Angus?”

  The preacher stared straight ahead. “You and I have nothing to discuss, Mr Archer.”

  “That’s Master Archer, to you. How long ago did you leave Blacksburg?”

  “That is none of your business.” He stood, turning away from me, and came nose to nose with Brother Walter.

  Walter said, “Seems like a simple question. How long ago did you leave Blacksburg?”

  The preacher glared, and turned. Walter’s lads hemmed him in. He shrugged. “About a week ago.”

  I said, “You left Blacksburg before the riot, then.”

  “Riot? What riot?” The lads crowded closer. I waved them to silence.

  I said, “Maybe you left before the exit tax, too.”

  The preacher shot me a smug look. “My friends in Blacksburg warned me about the exit tax. A pity yours were not so well-informed.”

  “Mine weren’t working for the duke.”

  He turned red. “I was not—”

  “Somebody was paying you. The duke, or another aristo, or maybe even the king. Somebody who didn’t care that common folk got hurt.”

  The dining room had gotten quiet, except for me. I had gotten loud.

  Walter said, “What are you talking about, Duncan?”

  “This muttonhead preached in Blacksburg for months, saying Frankland will be better off if we drive out the witches and wizards. Some fools listened to him, and went for the magic folk in the riot. They threw rocks through the windows of both the Earth and Water Guildhalls, and beat the healers on duty. So, when commoners who’d gotten hurt came to the Earth Guild for help, they had to wait. Maybe some had to wait too long.”

  Nobody spoke. The other men at the preacher’s table stared at him like they’d turned over a rock and found a snake.

  “Most folk will do anything for a healer, so I figure the other guilds must’ve gotten it worse. Don’t know for sure. I’m just glad you”—I poked the preacher in the chest and he backed a step—“are going on to Edinburgh.”

  “I am not. I have grown tired of cities. I intend to enjoy Abertee’s fresh air for a time.”

  “Sorry, mate. You’re not staying here.”

  “I have a right to express my opinions—”

  “You’ve no right to stir up trouble.”

  “You have no authority to—”

  “Oh, yes, I do.” I waved my certificate under his nose. “The Blacksmiths’ Guild sent me to Blacksburg to get certified so I could be the one who goes and talks to the duke whenever trouble’s brewing.” I poked him again, and he took another step back. “And you’re trouble. Look around. These folk know me and trust me to look out for them. When I say I won’t have you talking Abertee folk into rioting, who’re they going to listen to, you or me?”

  Somebody growled, “We don’t want any witch haters here.” The sweat­ing preacher backed away. We’d backed him into a corner.

  The innkeeper said, “He’ll leave with the group going north tomorrow morning. My lads will see to it.”

  “Thanks, Charley.”

  “Anytime, Dunc—Sorry. Master Duncan.”

  I gave him a grin, and walked into the taproom. Brother Walter bellied up to the bar with me. “Tell
us about this riot.”

  Granny Mildred gave me an earful next morning, and orders to talk to the duke about his son’s friends, but I’d have gone home to Nettleton first, even if the duke hadn’t been in Edinburgh, and not due back for a couple of days. For all I’d known since Uncle Will died that I’d have to argue with the duke—and if I cared to admit it, I’d known far longer it would fall on me someday—I wasn’t looking forward to it.

  I was riding alongside the river, brooding on what I’d say to him, when Jake Higgins rounded the bend ahead, dressed like a duke’s guardsman and carrying a battle-axe. Jake Higgins, that Doug and I had once dunked in a horse trough for bullying a lad half his size. The same Jake Higgins Uncle Will had thrown across the smithy yard for pawing Cousin Ruth. A low growl started deep in my throat.

  He reined in, grinning, as I got close. “Well, if it isn’t Duncan Archer, that fancies himself God’s gift to women.”

  I kept my mouth shut. There wasn’t anything I could say that would do any good. I’d be past in a wee bit and not have to listen.

  He said, “All those girls eyeing you won’t give you another glance after they see me in my uniform. But they can wait. Maggie will be all over me when I go to Nettleton. You’ll have to smile and say, ‘Welcome, Come on in’, and let me make a woman out of her. Won’t like that, will you?”

  “I’m not worried. She could spend a week with you and still be a maid.”

  “You son-of-a—” We were side-by-side now. He raised the axe, but I had my hand on his arm, forcing it down, before he’d raised it chest high. With my other arm I grabbed his shirt front and hauled him half out of the saddle.

  “You’re not an officer, and you haven’t got what it takes to be one. And you’re stupid if you think you can attack an unarmed, law-abiding master craftsman and get away with it.”

  He was sputtering and turning red. I gave him a shake. “Stay away from my sister. She already made it clear she can’t abide your homely mug.”

  He snarled, “You can’t stop me.”

  “You don’t have to answer to me. You do anything to her, and the Frost Maiden will freeze your stinking balls off. And I’ll laugh when she does.”

  He was braver, or more foolhardy, than I’d given him credit for. He spat in my face. I hauled him off his horse and threw him in the mud. I gave the horse a smack for good measure and it ran for the stables.

  I wiped my face. “It’s just as well you’re in the guards. When you cause trouble, I’ll know where to find you.”

  The ache gnawing at me for more than a year began to seep out as I rode through the gap into the Upper Tee Valley. Abertee’s problems, the Blacksburg riot—they all seemed small beer. I was whistling, riding through the narrow gap at the bottom.

  Something called to me, saying I’d been away too long. I stopped to listen, but there wasn’t any sound. Just a tugging deep in my chest, saying I’d had it wrong. The valley didn’t belong to me. I belonged to the valley, it hadn’t approved of me being gone so long, and I’d better not do it again.

  Funny, that. Dad had said the valley had its own magic, but I’d never felt it before. I’d rather not feel it again. No reason why I should; even if I settled in Crossroads, I’d be close enough to come home often.

  Smell of dinner cooking tickled my nose before I got within earshot. Doug waved from the upper pasture, and jogged down the hill. Maggie came running while I was only halfway up the lane. Jessie waved at me from the door.

  The neighbours came in a steady stream. After a full day of hugging and kissing, hand pumping and back-slapping, little-tyke tossing, and oohing and aahing over my certificate, I was worn out. I slept better than I had in months.

  The morning brought more visitors. I itched for a chance to talk to Doug alone, but had to wait until the dinner dishes had been cleared away. Maggie and Jessie were busy with housework and children, and weren’t paying us any attention. I unrolled the map on the table.

  Doug’s eyes lit up. “Nice.”

  We traced the roads I had taken, and I recounted what I had learned from other travellers about the lay of the land south of Blacksburg. If I ever journeyed south, I knew enough now to bypass all the Water Guild haunts in North Frankland.

  “It does mean going through a few cities, though.”

  “Rather not,” Doug said.

  “Can’t be helped. The cities and towns are where the bridges are, or maybe the other way around.”

  I didn’t have to tell Doug not to trust a ferryman. We’d heard the same stories. If the ferryman wasn’t a water wizard, his brother probably was, and only a rank fool would ford or swim a river. Might as well shout, Here I am, arrest me.

  “The good news is there are bridges all the way. We don’t have to get our feet wet to reach the channel. The bad news is we have to use the Earth Guild tunnels to cross, and pray they won’t turn us over to the Water Guild.”

  Doug scowled at the map. “I’d expect the Water Guild to keep an eye on everybody coming and going through those tunnels.”

  “We’ve heard stories of wanted men from North Frankland making it to New London. They got out somehow. The Earth Guild must have tunnels the Water Guild doesn’t know about, but nobody would tell me where. Must’ve thought I looked too respectable. Like I’d tell on them.”

  “Keep looking. Do you have a map this good of South Frankland?”

  “Nae. Just Uncle Will’s.” I rolled the map and slid it in its case. I hadn’t asked the shopkeeper if he had one. For all I cared, the world stopped at North Frankland’s shores. I wanted to know where everything was in North Frankland. Someday I’d see more of it, and come back to Nettleton when I’d had enough. Trying to find a way out was like a game—fun, as long as it wasn’t real. God help me if it stopped being a game.

  Doug eyed Maggie, busy at the spinning wheel. He jerked his head towards the door. I followed him uphill through a steady drizzle. We were a long way out of earshot before he said, “Tell me what you’ve heard about Fiona.”

  “Some rubbish I didn’t believe about her making eyes at an aristo, and getting more than she’d bargained for. Granny Mildred wouldn’t talk—not about Fiona, anyway. Gave me an earful about the aristo—Lord Edmund Somebody-or-other, some earl’s son—insulting and mistreating pretty lasses, but she wouldn’t tell me anything he actually said or did. Just ordered me to make the duke rein him in. I stopped at Fiona’s yesterday morning, on the way home, but she wouldn’t talk to me. Wouldn’t even open the door. Yelled at me to go away and never come back. I’d’ve been pissed off if she hadn’t been making eyes at me ever since she got old enough to know how. Got worried instead.”

  “Aye. Not talking to you—that’s…bad.”

  “Something happened to her, all right, and worse than some whelp calling her names. I meant to ask Maggie about her, but with everybody coming out to welcome me home, I didn’t get a chance.”

  “Don’t bother. Maggie knows, but she’s not telling.”

  “Won’t talk, or can’t? If the brat’s using magic, maybe she can’t tell.”

  Doug scratched his chin. “Wondered that. Not sure it matters. If Fiona complained to the Frost Maiden, her magic’s strong enough to find out the truth.”

  “But she won’t go, will she? There were women like that in Blacksburg, but I didn’t think it would happen here. The Frost Maiden used to look after our sisters even when she’d frost us. Why doesn’t she even care about them anymore?”

  Doug didn’t answer. He watched the house, water sliding off his hat brim. It was a warm day, but I hate the rain dripping onto my neck. I fiddled with my hat, and waited.

  After a while, he said, “Maggie’s talking about going to New London after she gets married.”

  I tugged my jacket tighter. The day had turned cold. “Let me guess. Since Fiona.”

  “Aye.”

  “How
’s her beau taking it?”

  “He’s not eager, but he’d do anything for her. If she says go, they’ll go.”

  And rip part of my heart out when she leaves. I waited.

  “Maybe we’ll go, too, if she leaves,” Doug said.

  “You can’t do that.”

  “I could. Better than waiting to be pushed out.”

  “You’ve never been away from here for long—you don’t know what being homesick is like. I hated it. The valley tugged at me, all the time. The longer I was gone the harder it pulled. I could hardly stand it, and I was still in North Frankland. If I left Frankland, I think it would kill me.”

  Doug stared at me. “I’ve never heard you talk like that before.”

  “I’d never been so far away, and for so long, before.”

  “Earth magic?”

  “Aye. And you’re as much an earth wizard as I am. It might not let you go either.”

  We were both staring down the hill at the house when Jessie and Maggie ran out the door yelling. Jessie took off her apron and waved it in the air. Maggie gathered her skirts and ran uphill towards us.

  Doug barrelled down the hill. I hurried after him. When they met, Maggie raced past Doug and shoved a little paper packet into my hands. It was lumpy, with something in it besides a letter. I turned it over in my hands. The only thing written on the outside was Master Duncan Archer, Nettleton, Abertee.

  “Who brought this? I didn’t see anybody come by the house.”

  “Nobody brought it,” she gasped. “It came by magic.”

  “You’re pulling my leg.”

  “I am not. There wasn’t anything on the table after you rolled up your map, but it was there when Jessie sat down with her sewing.”

  Jessie, when we got to the house, said the same. “We’ve been here since dinner. Nobody else came in.”

  “Who’d waste magic like that on me?”