“Eh?”
“The response to the offer of a reward has overwhelmed the Water Guild. Reports of sightings have flooded in from across Frankland—hundreds each from Paris, London, Blacksburg, Edinburgh, and every other city. Thousands from South Frankland. Dozens even from Abertee, where he could not possibly be. The Water Guild has redeployed its witches and wizards to areas with the most sightings, leaving one wizard to cover central Northern Frankland. The one region where he most certainly is has produced only four sightings.”
I smacked into a tree. “You’re joking.”
“I am not. The people have spoken, and they do not want him found.”
The path went round a bend, and dipped down to a stream too wide to jump. Crossing meant trusting slick steppingstones. I backed into a pea field.
Master Jean’s laughter faded. “Sadly, the one remaining water wizard is a zealot. The swordsmith’s capture is imminent.”
I fought the boar down, and turned on him, snarling. “How the devil do you know that?”
He held up a hand, palm out. “Peace, friend. I am not a water wizard.”
“You know too much. You’ve got to be a wizard. What kind? Fire? Earth?”
“Fire. I—”
Flames belched beside us. I yelled, and whipped around.
Master Jean grabbed my arm. “Do not move.”
The fire lad stepped out of the flames, wild-eyed. “The Water Guild spotted him. She’s coming.”
My feet wouldn’t budge. Master Jean pushed me like I had no more heft than a scarecrow. I sprawled in the peas. My hat went flying. The fire lad fell across me.
“Keep him warm,” Master Jean said.
A man and the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen rose out of the stream. I’d seen her before—she had called to me across a crowded room in the Black Duke’s palace. Blue light, so bright it hurt my eyes, flashed from her ring, but I kept staring at her, unwilling and unable to tear my eyes away.
The Frost Maiden lifted her wand. Ice poured from it, straight at me.
Fire and Ice
Water, not ice, splashed my face. The bravest man I’ve ever met stepped between me and the Frost Maiden.
She said, “Stand aside, Jean, you are harbouring a fugitive.” Her voice chilled me more than the water had.
He spread his hands, palms out. “I beg your pardon, Your Wisdom, but he is under the Fire Guild’s protection.”
The hot blue August sky turned black and the wind howled. Ice, snow, sleet, and freezing rain flew at us. She threw hailstones as big as chicken’s eggs, and icicles a foot long and as sharp as a dagger. They met a shield of fire centred on the wizard’s outstretched hands. The ice and snow melted, running down onto the peas, or went sizzling and steaming into the air, or flew out to either side or over our heads.
The attack went on and on, and snow and ice settled around us in snowdrifts taller than Master Jean. His face was down, and his hair and shoulders were white from snow, but it wasn’t building up. Cold water ran off him and pooled on the ground, trapped between mounds of snow.
The fire lad wedged his legs under me and tilted my head out of the rising water. We both lay in it. Where he touched me I was still warm, but elsewhere was like being stabbed with cold knives. The lad was shaking, and his lips were turning blue.
Freezing to death in August, or drowning—I didn’t approve of either choice.
My hands and feet had gone numb, and the water lapped my chin when, over the noise of the wind, a voice bellowed, “Hey, Jean, what are the magic words?” I’d heard that voice before, and would never forget, as long as I lived.
Master Jean yelled, “I pledge by the Token of Office…to deliver this fugitive…to the Water Guild for justice…or see him dead or in exile within one month.”
The howling and the freezing barrage stopped. Master Jean grabbed my shoulder. Heat and life flowed into me, like Hazel had her hands on me. I got my arms under me, and pushed my shoulders out of the water. The fire lad rolled, slipped, and went down backwards over his head. Arms and legs flew. I grabbed an arm and stood, hauling him with me. Master Jean smacked him on the back and water shot out of his nose and mouth.
The lad swore like he’d learned it from the guards. He wasn’t drowning then, anyway. I let go, and felt in my pocket. The seal was still there.
Mountains of ice and snow boxed us in, except for a narrow gap in front. Master Jean shouldered through, the ice melting and steaming away like he was red hot. The fire lad followed him. I had to squeeze through sideways. Somebody offered me a hand, and I came out face to face, once again, with the Fire Warlock.
He clapped me on the shoulder. “You all right? Good grief, you’re a mess.”
I croaked at him. The next thing I knew I was dry again.
“Good. We wanted you alive and kicking. Do you understand what I just did?”
“Nae, sir.”
“I guaranteed your good behaviour until you are either dead, or out of the country, or handed over to the Water Guild. Now, I do not want to see you dead. Understand?”
“Aye, sir! Thank you, sir!”
“Good.” He pushed me towards a grassy spot beside the path, where the fire lad lay face down, shaking. Master Jean was on his knees with a hand on the lad’s head, talking to him.
The Fire Warlock pushed down on my shoulder. “Sit down here and don’t move while I—”
I roared, “Like hell I will. Sir. He told me not to move and I nearly drowned. You give me an order and I’ll do it, but don’t make me not move again, or…”
“Or what?” He leaned in, glaring. I held my ground.
“Peace, friend.” Master Jean was on his feet with his hand on the Fire Warlock’s arm. “I offer my apologies for leaving you in rising water, but between holding off the Water Office and summoning the Fire Warlock, I had little attention to spare.”
“Sorry, sir,” I mumbled. “I know you saved my life. I don’t mean to be an ingrate.”
The Fire Warlock said, “You’d never live down letting him drown.”
Master Jean said, “I am aware of that.”
“I can see the history books now. Warlock Quicksilver’s primary claim to fame: drowning a fugitive.”
Master Jean’s stony glare would have made me duck, for all I was twice his size. The Fire Warlock grinned.
Master Jean said, “I cannot blame Master Duncan for anger at being prevented from protecting himself. If our roles were reversed, I would be livid.”
“Well, then,” I said, “why…”
“Because I did not have time to warn you of the consequences of running or fighting back. Either would have drawn a swift lightning bolt from the Fire Warlock.”
“He put you under the Fire Office’s shield,” the Fire Warlock said. “If you reject that, it’ll make me kill you. I wouldn’t like it, but I’d do it. That’s why you’re going to sit down here and not move until we straighten things out.”
“Nothing doing,” I said. “I promise I won’t run.”
The two wizards looked at each other. After a moment the Fire Warlock shrugged. “You’d better not panic, either.” His grip on my shoulder cut into me like a vice. “You’re no good for me, dead. Understand?”
“Aye, sir!”
He let go and walked away. I took two steps after him before I stopped cold. The Frost Maiden stood like a statue, knee deep in the stream, staring towards the north. Her arms hung loose at her sides. The water wizard who had come with her stood on the far side of the stream, tugging at his robe, his head swivelling back and forth between her and the Fire Warlock. He edged away as the Fire Warlock got closer.
The Fire Warlock looked down at the stream and made a face, then walked into it and put an arm around the Frost Maiden’s shoulders. “It’s all right, Lorraine. No riots today. Thaw out, already.”
/> My jaw went slack. So did the water wizard’s. At least somebody else here didn’t understand was what going on, either.
I dropped onto the grass beside the fire lad. We watched as the two fire wizards talked to the Frost Maiden. I clamped my arms around my knees and wondered how many days it would be before either of us stopped shaking.
“Who is he?” I said.
“He, who?”
“The wizard who called himself Master Jean.”
“Oh, him. He’s the retired Fire Warlock.”
I glared at the lad. “Stop spouting rubbish at me, and tell me something I can believe, for a change.”
The lad swelled up, and looked ready to throw fire at me, but Master Jean gave him a hard stare over his shoulder. The lad settled for glowering and muttering curses.
The Frost Maiden stepped out of the stream and curtsied to Master Jean. “Thank you, Your Wisdom, for your forbearance. I trust you have not taken offence.”
He bowed to her. “Certainly not, Your Wisdom. You are not to blame for the Water Office’s deficiencies. This incident has reinforced my belief that the Office’s presumption of a fugitive’s guilt is a tragic flaw.”
“I agree with you, Jean, and we shall fix it, but it may take generations before any but the most stalwart or naive commoners do not believe their only hope is to flee the Water Guild.”
The Fire Warlock said, “I want another change, too.”
“What change?”
“Toast those iced—er, sorry—damned pass phrases. Let me say ‘Stop!’ and make the promises later.”
“Certainly. That will be better for both of us, I assure you.”
She climbed the bank towards us. I put my hands down, ready to scuttle backwards like a crab. The lad grabbed my sleeve.
“Don’t panic.” His voice was a high as a girl’s.
The Frost Maiden stopped. “Master Duncan, are you injured?”
I shook my head. Couldn’t get my mouth to work.
“Good,” she said. “I am sorry I frightened you. I do not enjoy frightening people. Warlock Snorri, I trust you are well.”
I looked around for another wizard, but she was talking to the fire lad. He swallowed, twice. “Yes, ma’am. I slipped in the ice water, that’s all. It was my own fault.”
The Frost Maiden turned towards the water wizard. “Cornelius, what were you thinking?”
Her voice raised goose bumps on my arms, on a scorcher in August, and he was on her side. The water wizard sputtered, without giving a clear answer.
She said, “Did you not see the beacon Warlock Snorri set on Master Duncan’s head last evening?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s how I found him again.”
“Why did you demand my attention when Warlock Quicksilver already had him in hand?”
The fire lad said, “Probably thought he could claim part of the reward.”
The water wizard turned red. The Frost Maiden’s own cheeks grew red spots. She shrieked at him. “Fool! Wretch! How dare you sully the Water Guild’s reputation. Have you no concern for our safety?” She splashed across the stream, grabbed him by the ear and twisted. “I promise you will not see a halfpenny of that reward.” She dragged the howling wizard into the middle of the stream, and they were gone.
Don’t draw attention to yourself, Granny Mildred had said, a long time ago. Don’t mess around with wizards or witches, she’d said. Too late now.
My stomach growled. My last meal had been hours and miles away.
The Fire Warlock held out a hand. “We’ll all feel better with a good breakfast under our belts. What do you say to that?”
I kept my eyes on the middle of the stream and my arms clamped around my knees. “Why the blazes did you bother to rescue me from her today, if you’re going to turn me over to her later? You could’ve let her get what she wants now.”
Master Jean said, “She does not want to execute you.” He sank down onto the grass in front of me. The Fire Warlock flopped down beside him.
I said, “You can’t expect me to believe that. She sure tried hard.”
”Not so. If she had wanted to kill you, you would be dead. Her Office wanted you dead; she did not.”
I glared at him.
“The Water Guild has two ways to kill,” he said. “The more ostentatious method is the one she used today, throwing ice and snow until the victim is buried under the weight and freezing from the effort of melting it. But even under a mound of snow dozens of feet thick, freezing to death is not guaranteed. The air in the snow locks in heat, and a warm body can survive some time under it. Many animals survive the winter asleep under a blanket of snow.
“The Water Guild’s other method of killing, the one used for executions after a trial, is to suck out the heat. That method is quiet, subtle, and merciless. If I pump heat back in as quickly as the Water Office draws it out, I will kill the victim with burns. I could, perhaps, outlast it, but that would take hours, perhaps days, and the victim would be long dead. If she had wanted to kill you, she would have done so, and I could not have stopped her. Instead, she chose the method I can protect against, and she knew it.”
“You’re going to say you weren’t fighting back, either.”
“Certainly. I was not. Everything I did was strictly defensive, to protect you, my protégé, and myself. I made no offensive moves towards Sorceress Lorraine. None. I have no interest in acquiring the distinction of being the first retired Fire Warlock executed by his successor for treason.”
The Fire Warlock lay down on his back in the peas with his hands over his face. “Bloody hell.”
Master Jean put a hand on the Fire Warlock’s arm. “We survived, my friend. As I believed we would.”
“I’m sure glad you think fast on your feet. And remembered the magic words. We could have been here for hours if it had been up to me.”
Master Jean smiled. “You have no idea how many times in the past century I practiced those pass phrases. It gave me great pleasure to steal someone away from the Water Office’s grip, on the few occasions I could use them.” His smile went away. “I never imagined I would feel sympathy for Sorceress Lorraine on such an occasion.”
My stomach growled. The Fire Warlock said, “You ready for breakfast yet?”
I took a hard look at the glittering mountain of ice and snow melting in the hot sun. My hat was under there, somewhere, and flat as a dog’s tongue, probably—a lost cause. I went back to staring at the stream. “Tell me why she was so pissed off at that water wizard.”
Master Jean said, “A dozen members of the Water Guild have died or been gravely injured this summer, either by mobs, as in the Blacksburg riot, or by individuals driven to seek revenge. The Water Office shields her from such violence, but she fears for her people, and for Frankland. She believes, as do I, certain events could trigger nationwide retaliation that would cast the destruction in Blacksburg into the shadows. A water wizard collecting that reward would be such an event.”
Finally, he’d said something I understood. I’d seen the wreckage of Blacksburg’s Water Guildhall.
“You’ve got to wonder,” the fire lad said, “if that wizard has water for brains. Their guild council should’ve told them it wouldn’t let them collect on that reward. We did. The Earth Guild Council did, too.”
“Certainly the Water Guild Council issued that edict,” Master Jean said. “They are the most in danger. But men hear what they want to hear, and greed makes fools of many. Perhaps he hoped to buy protective spells from the Earth or Fire Guilds. Perhaps he cannot believe the entire Water Guild is in danger. That has never happened, therefore it cannot happen. This is, after all, Frankland. Nothing ever changes in Frankland.”
That had always been true before, but I’d seen enough changes this summer to make me dizzy. It seemed they weren’t over, not by a long shot. I said, “Who is
the reward going to?”
“A soon-to-be-former cobbler’s apprentice, may the wretch have no joy of it.”
The lad’s eyes bugged out. “Did you just curse him?”
“Certainly not. He has done that to himself. The lore is full of such greedy fools.”
My stomach growled. I looked at the Fire Warlock. “You said breakfast.”
He nodded. “You two, take him to the Fortress. I’ll be along in a few.”
The fire lad said, “Why? What are you going to do?”
He grinned and pointed. “I’m going to stroll over to that wagon and tell the farmers hiding behind it to spread the news that the swordsmith is alive and kicking after the retired Fire Warlock snatched him from under the Frost Maiden’s very nose. That’s one story I’m going to enjoy hearing repeated.”
With a wash, a shave, and a good breakfast under my belt, I ran out of excuses for not listening to the fire wizards. They’d even found clean clothes big enough for me—the Fire Warlock’s cast-offs, only a wee bit snug across the shoulders.
The Fire Warlock told me to sit, but he went to stand at a window in the room he called his study. The red light flickering in his ring didn’t look angry like it did the night of the riot, but watching it made my eyes itch. I perched on the edge of a chair, and watched the other wizard. “What am I supposed to call you?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Master Jean is one of my titles.”
“I wondered if I was supposed to call you Your Wisdom.”
“You may call me that if you prefer.”
“I don’t. You may be more than a century old, but you don’t look older than me, and it doesn’t seem right.”
“Then call me either Warlock Quicksilver or Master Jean. They are the oldest of my titles, but ones I am still proud of.”
“Good. I’ve never liked having to say ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’ and ‘my lord’ and so on to people who think they’re my betters but don’t act like it.”
He didn’t flame me. “Nor do I. The measure of a man is what he has done with what he has been given, not where an accident of birth places him.”
The Blacksmith Page 20