I stepped off that cliff on my own. “They’ll need good healers in New London, too. I can send for you when I get there.” She stood, but I had her hands and wouldn’t let go. “They don’t have aristos. I’ve heard it’s a fine place to raise a family.”
Her freckles stood out, sharp. “No, no, I can’t.” She jerked her hands away, and stumbled out, slamming the door behind her.
Grounded
“What did you say to my assistant that upset her so much?”
“None of your business.” I dug my face deeper into the pillow. I’d been a fool for thinking a wanted man could talk an earth mother into following him. Especially when the runes said she would be happy here. After I left, she wouldn’t even miss me. “Leave me alone.”
“It is too my business.” Granny Mildred gave me a hard whack on the shoulder. “I’ll not have the best healer Abertee’s ever seen driven away by some dunderhead. Talk to me, or don’t you want to know what Walter said?”
I rolled over and sat up. She prodded me with a bony finger. “Hazel.”
“She’s not leaving Abertee—not on my account, anyway. I said New London needed good healers, too, and she ran away, without so much as a by your leave.”
“Oh, laddie.” Mildred patted my shoulder. “No wonder. She can’t leave Frankland.”
“Why not?”
“She’s an earth mother, you ninny,” Mildred said. “Despite the silly guild rules that won’t let us call her one. That’s why not.”
“You mean the Earth Office won’t let her go because she’s an important healer.”
“Nae. It’s not the Office; it’s the land. We’re all tied to the land we’re born on, to some extent. An earth mother will die if she stays away from home too long.”
“But she didn’t grow up in Abertee.”
Mildred shrugged. “An earth mother’s territory is big. She said she could live anywhere in North Frankland that’s not flat.”
I stared at the wee patch of blue sky showing through the window. Dying of homesickness I could understand. “Will the Upper Tee Valley kill me when I leave?”
“What’s this about the valley?” Mildred chewed on her thumb as I explained. “Sounds like the same thing, in a smaller dose. Nae, lad, you won’t die of homesickness. The valley’s not big enough on its own, and you’re not enough of a wizard for it to feed on. It’ll make you unhappy, but it won’t kill you.”
I mumbled, “Thanks for nothing.”
“Going to New London will be best. The valley can’t maintain its grip that far away. It’ll be harder if you stay in Europa.” She sighed. “Enough of that. You wanted news, didn’t you, lad? It’s bad, all the way around.”
“Go on. I want to hear it.”
“Men have been coming into Crossroads this morning from all over the district. They’re planning on marching off in a couple of hours to see the duke. I talked until I was blue in the face, but the ones that’ll listen aren’t running things. Walter, at least, has some sense. He asked for my advice. Said he’d been thinking about your story, and you were right more often than not—”
“Decent of him.”
“Aye. As far as he’s concerned, you’re still guild head, and you’ll be an honorary member for life, even after they replace you.”
“He said that?”
“Aye. And he’s willing to go to the Fire Warlock—”
“That’s good news. You said—”
“I said he was willing, even if he is scared silly, but nobody’s willing to go with him.”
“Not even one of his lads?”
Hazel knocked on the door and came in, carrying my clothes, clean and mended, and sporting red-rimmed eyes. “When you wake next, get dressed. You’ll have to leave tonight.”
I nodded, and made room for her on the bed.
Mildred said, “Walter’s lads think you’ve got a hole in your head and brass-plated steel balls for talking back to the Warlock.”
Hazel ducked her head but didn’t quite hide a snicker. “Why are they afraid? They’d be doing what the Fire Warlock wants.”
Mildred shrugged. “Nobody in Crossroads seems to be thinking straight today.”
“Duncan,” Hazel said, “the person backing him doesn’t have to go along, does he? Didn’t the Fire Warlock imply that if you had said someone was backing you, the fire wizard would have had to send the message to the Warlock?”
I scratched my chin. “Aye, he did say that. So if a single journeyman agrees with him, that ought to be good enough. Tell him to get moving.”
“Whoa,” Mildred said. “That was one problem. Second problem: where’s he supposed to go? The nearest Fire Guildhall is in Edinburgh. He can’t get there in time.”
“You said it; nobody is thinking straight today. Hazel said an earth witch can go anywhere in Frankland in less than an hour. Let him use the tunnels.”
Mildred glared at me, breathing hard. “God give me strength. You reckon I didn’t think of that? We can’t. Only members of the Earth Guild belong in the tunnels. Nobody else can go through unless they’re sick or injured, and looking for a healer.”
“That’s not so,” Hazel said. Mildred’s head snapped around to stare at her. Hazel went on, “A member of the Earth Guild can escort a mundane anywhere in the tunnels. It happens all the time. You’ve taken people to Edinburgh to see Mother Brenda, and then back home, once they were well. And the Guild Council lets the Fire Guild use them, too. I’ve met fire witches and wizards in the tunnels by themselves, more than once.”
“Really?” Mildred gawped at her. “I never…”
Hazel patted her hand. “I’ve travelled more than you have, even if you’re past eighty and I’m only twenty-four. Duncan’s right. In an emergency, which this is, Master Walter would be allowed through the tunnels on Fire Guild business.”
Mildred said, “He’d get lost in the tunnels and never come out—”
I said, “On his own, sure, so you’ll have to go with him—”
“Whoa, laddie.” Mildred had gone wild-eyed again. “I’m scared of the Fire Warlock, too.”
“I’ll take him,” Hazel said. “I’m not afraid of Warlock Arturos—”
“Who?” I said.
“The Fire Warlock. The Fire Office was built to protect Frankland’s women and children. It won’t hurt me for helping. Besides, I know the way to Blazes, and I have friends in the Fire Guild. I can get to the Fire Warlock more easily than most people can.”
“Get going, then.”
She nodded, and left.
“Pity.” Mildred patted my shoulder. “That lass has nerve. She would have made a fine Archer.”
Night had fallen when I woke, but a lamp burned on the shelf. I bounced out of bed, dressed in clothes mended so well I couldn’t tell where they’d been ripped, and peeked out the door.
“It’s safe,” Mildred called. “Come on down to the kitchen.”
My head said time to go. My body said the sooner, the better. My heart said stay put, fool. I crept down the hall like a prisoner on his way to the Crystal Palace. Hazel and Mildred sat side by side on the settle, with Hazel cooking by flicking her wand at a frying pan on the fire. Mildred had her feet up, and they both looked worn out.
Mildred said, “Douggie and Jessie reached Quayside safely, and the Water Guild gave them a place to stay until things get sorted out. The Water Guild’s not happy about the duke evicting law-abiding freeholders, either.”
“Good. The Fire Warlock?”
Hazel said, “He sent another warlock who met the marchers before they reached the duke’s manor house, and scared them into dispersing. A dozen men got singed. We treated them and sent them home. And that’s all that got hurt.”
“Thank God,” I said. “It could have been a lot worse.”
“Yes, and Warlock Quicksilver t
alked the duke out of evicting Doug and Jessie. When word spreads, Abertee should calm down.”
“It will,” Mildred said, “if the duchess doesn’t bully the duke into changing his mind.”
I added, “Uncle Will always said he didn’t have a backbone.”
“He doesn’t. The question is, who is he more afraid of: the Fire Warlock, or his duchess?”
Hazel handed me a plate of bacon and eggs. “I found out why Lord Edmund died. He wasn’t shielded.”
“But he said…”
“He was wrong. His brother married in secret, and the wife had a baby a couple of months ago, so he wasn’t second in line anymore. The brother hadn’t told the rest of the family yet.”
Mildred said, “So it’s normal human folly, not the Fire Office breaking down? That’s a relief.”
“Yes. Apparently even his own brother couldn’t stand Lord Edmund.”
Mildred snorted. I flexed my hand. No wonder my arm hadn’t gone numb. Maybe I’d gotten luckier than I’d thought. If he had been protected, I couldn’t have stopped him from running me through and doing whatever he wanted with Maggie. That didn’t bear thinking about.
“And I asked Warlock Quicksilver,” Hazel said, “if the Fire Guild could help you, Duncan. He said anything they did would make matters worse. Once the Water Guild heard, they’d stop playing games, and mount a real search, just to spite the Fire Guild.”
“Figures,” I said. “I didn’t believe it when they said, two years ago, that the bad blood between those two guilds was over.”
Mildred went to bed, saying goodbye with a pat on my shoulder. “Good luck, laddie. I’m going to miss you, you big lunk.” She shuffled down the hall, wiping her eyes and muttering something that sounded like “going soft.”
“Moonrise is in two hours,” Hazel said. We sat down for another lesson on becoming a boar. We did it again and again, until all it took was a gentle nudge. Then she said, “Do it without my help.”
I couldn’t. Half an hour later, my head was pounding. She looked like hers hurt, too. “We’re out of time,” she said.
“Aye, ma’am.” She held a hand to the side of my head, and it stopped hurting. She handed me my belongings, repacked into a bag I could carry on my back. My coat was a dull brown instead of blue, but otherwise it looked as proud as the day I paid for it, instead of the year-old relic, dragged through mud and salt-water, that it was. I felt in the pocket. The seal, and Clive’s letter, were both still there.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” Hazel said, “but they fell out while I was cleaning the coat. Duncan, I am so sorry. I wish I’d known, when we went to see the Fire Warlock.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference. Swordsmiths are still commoners.”
“But I should let him know. When word spreads that a swordsmith is a fugitive, that will raise tensions.”
“Maybe not. I mean, word may not spread. The Royal Guild will probably kick me out as soon as they hear.”
“Why?” Her voice wasn’t soft, for once. She was almost as loud as Granny Mildred. “For defending yourself and your sister? That’s ridiculous. That’s—”
“That’s Frankland,” I said.
“Sometimes,” she said, “I want to go to New London.” She turned her back to me and fussed over the supper dishes. She sniffed a couple of times, and wiped her face with the tea towel.
“Stop that,” I said, “or I’ll not be able to leave.”
She ran away, down the hall. I put on my coat and hat, and shouldered the bag. She came back a few minutes later, and led me down a tunnel without looking at me.
“Mildred said this is the best one. It ends beside a forest brook in the district’s southwest corner. Not far downstream it crosses a deer track. If you follow that south, you’ll come out of the forest a little west of the way you had planned. I’ll come with you as far as the deer track.”
We walked downstream, going quietly until I misjudged a step and landed on a branch that cracked like a shout in the still night. Hazel hissed. Uphill someone yelled, “What was that?”
I crashed through the brush along the stream, grunting and squealing. Putting distance between me and those nasty humans was better than hiding. I ran for several hundred yards before daring to stop and lift my snout. I was downwind, but couldn’t smell human stink.
The otter stuck her head out of the water. “Oh, Duncan, I knew you could do it. You became a boar by yourself this time. All I did was surprise you.”
Snout? Squealing? Barking mad. I would’ve been proud of myself if I hadn’t felt so silly. “You mean there was nobody there.”
“Not within half a mile. Come on, we’re almost to the deer track.” She swam away.
She was perched on a rock beside the stream when I reached the deer track. “Use the boar illusion when it will help, but not often. If you overdo it, you’ll stop thinking clearly. Spend more than half your time as an animal, and you risk never returning to human.”
I sat on my haunches so that my face was about level with the otter’s. “I’ll remember that. Thank you, Mother Hazel, for everything you’ve done for me.” The trees were blurring; I screwed my eyes tight shut.
A lass’s lips touched mine. “Godspeed,” she said. There was a splash, and she was gone.
I waited until I could see again, then climbed the bank, heading south.
An Offer Rejected
Apprentices filed out of the smithy and sprawled in the shade of an oak tree. A journeyman followed them out and sat on a bench, picking up in the middle of a story. The master closed up, and disappeared into his house. I watched, and waited, from the cover of brambles at the edge of the woods.
A farrier’s apprentice came by with a handful of old horseshoes, and they began a game. I didn’t mind. The shadows were getting longer, and I’d be safer after dark.
I had found the brambles in the grey light before dawn, and lain there in the morning, but the lad’s uncle had come with him on his way to the farrier, and given me no chance. I had slunk deeper into the woods and gone hunting, but had one skinny rabbit to show for a day’s labours. My stomach hadn’t been full since leaving the Earth Guildhall, two weeks ago. The penalties for poaching didn’t scare me. If I got caught, the Frost Maiden had first dibs. I’d be an icicle before the local lord got his chance to whip me.
The game of horseshoes went on forever. I waited.
It was dusk when the lad finally jogged down the lane. I hissed at him, “Sam.”
He stopped and looked around. I rose to a crouch. “Over here. It’s Duncan. Duncan Archer.”
“Duncan?” He came closer, peering into the undergrowth. “Sorry. Master Duncan—”
“Shh. Keep your voice down, and don’t call me by name.”
“What’re you doing here? What’s wrong? You look like a…”
“Like a tramp.” I grabbed his shirt and steered him deeper into the forest. “Don’t be polite. I smell like one, too. Cause I am one.” I scratched at my chin. “God knows I hate having a beard in the hottest part of the summer, but it can’t be helped.”
“But what—”
“I had a fight with an aristo.”
“Oh, shit.” His shoulders sagged. “Not you…”
“Aye, lad. Me. And I need your help.”
“Well, sure, I’ll… Wait.” His eyes bugged out, staring white in the gloom. “Did you kill an earl’s son?”
“How the hell did you know about that?”
“It was you? God almighty, Duncan, you must be the strongest man that ever lived, to break through the Fire Warlock’s magic.”
“That wasn’t what happened. How did you—”
“I’d heard the stories, but I—”
“What stories?”
“From travellers stopping at the inn. About a blacksmith up north somewhere killing
an earl’s son. It’s all anybody’s been talking about for days.”
I dropped onto a tree root. Breathe in. Stop. Breathe out. Stop. Breathe in…
“I never thought about you,” Sam said. “You’d rather chew an aristo out than hit him. And you aren’t usually that, er…”
“Stupid,” I said.
“Er, yeah. Nobody seemed to know who did it, or where. Just that it must be so, because the aristos are acting like the trumpet’s blowing for the Last Judgement. Barricading themselves in their castles. Screaming at the sight of a woodman with an axe. Throwing out any tenant with a temper…”
“Frost it,” I said.
“And the commoners are talking about forming armies and marching on the aristos, if the Fire Warlock’s shields aren’t so good, after all.”
I put my head down in my hands and groaned. “Sam, he wasn’t shielded. He thought he was, but he wasn’t. His big brother got married without telling the family, and his wife had a baby. A son. That’s all.”
“Be damned,” Sam said. “That’s it?”
“That’s it, lad.”
He sat down beside me on the tree root, and I told him what had happened. He was quiet for a bit, and then said, “I guess I oughtn’t say this, but I’m glad he’s dead. He deserved it. And it’s about time a commoner won a fight, for a change.”
“Sorry, lad, but that fight had two losers. More than that, if the stories you’re hearing about troublemakers being evicted are true.”
“I guess you’re right.” He stood up and brushed himself off. “Let’s get out of here before it gets too dark to see.”
“If your aunt has any bread left over…”
“I’ll see what I can find.” I followed him to his uncle’s barn, and settled down to wait in an empty stall. A pony in the next stall blew softly in its sleep. Further away a horse nuzzled its feed bucket. The loudest noises were coming from field mice digging in the straw.
In my head I heard burning, children screaming, women crying. How could it be so quiet here in the barn, when the whole country seemed about to burst into flames? A lifetime ago the Fire Warlock had commended me after the riot. If he saw me again, he’d throw lightning bolts at me, for making things worse. Guess I’d better not go near the Fire Guild, either.
The Blacksmith Page 17