The Blacksmith

by Howe, Barbara;

  The Fire Warlock turned away from the window and dropped into a chair. “Sorry. More problems. A duke throwing a tantrum. He can wait.”

  Master Jean said, “Tell us what you understood of Warlock Snorri’s confounding explanation.”

  Hazel had turned on me. None of the rest of it had made any sense. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared out the window at empty air. “You’re going to turn me over to the Frost Maiden, and she won’t pass up a second chance to ice me.”

  “Whoa,” the Fire Warlock said. “Right there. We’re not going to turn you over to the Water Guild. Not unless you volunteer.”

  “Are you a frostbitten moron? No way in hell would I do that.”

  He laughed. “How is a swordsmith like a king? He’s the only other fool in Frankland that calls me names to my face and thinks he can get away with it. But look, Duncan, this is the part you didn’t get. Come the first of September, we’re taking the Water Office apart. Stripping it all the way down and re-forging it. Fixing it.”

  I stared at him, then at Master Jean, who nodded.

  “Fixing it, you say. You can’t fix it. Those Offices were supposed to stand for all time. If you can rebuild it, you should’ve done it years ago, before things got out of hand.”

  “We could not take it apart,” Master Jean said, “until the Locksmith appeared. For a thousand years, no other witch or wizard in Frankland has had the ability to unlock the Water Office. We do not know with certainty that even she can, only that Frankland is in mortal danger if she cannot.”

  “And what do you mean by fixing it?”

  “Two things. Making it more flexible, so that it responds to the living citizenry, and the judgements it issues change as times change. And reducing the influence of the nobility, that commoners may once again believe its judgements to be fair.”

  I snorted, and scowled at the window.

  The Fire Warlock said, “The king has demanded a trial, once it’s been put back together, to show to everybody’s satisfaction it’s been fixed.”

  “You mean all the aristos’,” I said. “If they’re happy, the rest of us won’t be.”

  “Well, yeah, that’s what the king means. But we want a trial commoners can see is fair, and where the nobles can’t argue with the judgement, even if they don’t much like it.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “That’s why we need you.”

  I said nothing.

  Master Jean said, “The contrast between you and the late Lord Edmund Bradford could not be greater. His life was the most repellent I have ever had the misfortune of examining.”

  “The aristos won’t see it that way.”

  “We think they will,” The Fire Warlock said. “I commended you for helping a noble in the riot, remember. Most of them couldn’t stand that brat Edmund either. You’ve done more for them than he ever did, and we can show it.”

  “And if I don’t knuckle under and volunteer?”

  “I’ll take you to the border, give you the fare to New London, and send you on your way. Feelings are running too high in Frankland for me to make you do it. Of course, if you don’t, Frankland will be screwed, but you won’t care. You won’t be here.”

  I gave him a look that would’ve made most men back up and spout sorrys. He didn’t blink. I went back to staring out the window.

  “It is unfortunate,” Master Jean said, “that we cannot show the nobility the value of your position. Since Edmund Bradford’s death, Abertee has been aboil with anger and resentment, but it had been the most peaceful district in Frankland, largely due to your guild’s relationship with the White Duke. The clause in the Blacksmith’s Guild charter giving you the responsibility of talking to the duke was a stroke of genius.”

  “Genius, my arse,” I said. “Maybe for the rest of the commoners in Abertee, but it makes us Archers look like troublemakers. Wish I knew which wiseass thought that up.”

  “It was the first White Duke.”

  “Eh?”

  “The duke did not trust the lackeys and advisors who depended on him for their livelihoods to tell him the unvarnished truth about conditions in his domains. He insisted on that clause in the charter to force the plainspoken blacksmiths he did trust to report issues to him before they grew too big to handle easily. That clause was not for your benefit; it was for the duke’s.”

  I gaped at him.

  The Fire Warlock said, “We can’t use that. None of the nobles under­stand. Not even the current White Duke.”

  Master Jean said, “You may find he has begun to appreciate it, even if he cannot articulate the reason.”

  The Fire Warlock shrugged. “It won’t help.”

  “Not with the nobles, true. But it will bear weight with the Water Office, and it is the Water Office we must convince first.”

  “Forget it, then.” I stood up. “The Water Office has never given the likes of me an even chance. You might as well throw me out of the country now.”

  The Fire Warlock said, “No dice. If I throw you out, the Office won’t let me bring you back in when you change your mind, and I’m betting you will. I’ll ask you again on the first of September, after the Locksmith has unlocked the Water Office. In the meantime, don’t set foot outside the Fortress. It you do, the Frost Maiden will ice you before you even know she’s there.”

  The housekeeper, a Mrs Cole, offered me a room near the top of the Fortress, but I said I’d rather be in something simpler and smaller, so she led me down the stairs to the guards’ barracks, as far away from the Fire Warlock’s study as I could get.

  The sweet music of hammers on metal filled the air in the space behind the walls. After the housekeeper left, I followed my ear to the smithy. I ducked in, and it went quiet inside. Everybody turned and stared at me.

  “Get back to work, you morons,” the master smith bellowed. He nodded at me. “You the swordsmith?”

  “Doesn’t seem right to call me that. I’d only had the seal one day before I had to run. Never even saw the guild rules.”

  “Guild rules. Eh.” He spat into the forge. “Ever make a helmet?”

  “Nae.”

  “Grab a hammer. We’ll show you.”

  When I followed the smiths into the hall for dinner, it went quiet, too. I sat down at an empty table, but they filled in around me, talking about getting ready for the meeting in Paris. They eyed me, but didn’t ask questions. I wouldn’t have known what to say about why I was there, if they had.

  Being back in a smithy was a relief, and I put in a good day’s work. Thinking about helmets was better than thinking about standing trial, or thinking about Hazel. I had lost muscle tone in nearly two months on the run, and went to sleep that night on a real bed, almost big enough, with a sore back and an arm like jelly. Not even the heat and thunder, or fretting about the fix I was in, kept me awake.

  The next morning, I had just gotten into a good rhythm when one of the Fire Warlock’s servants stepped in. “Master Duncan?”

  “That’s me.”

  “The Flame Mage wants to see you.”

  The Flame Mage

  “Do come in.” The wizard dropped his pen and held out a hand. “I’m Master Sven. Oh, wait.” He grabbed a rag and wiped his hands, leaving blue streaks. “Sorry. Ink gets everywhere.”

  “Aye,” I said. “Like soot. Mine aren’t clean, either.”

  He shrugged, and we shook. He moved a stack of books from a chair onto the windowsill. “Have a seat.”

  “Those spindly legs couldn’t hold you up, much less me.”

  “The Fire Warlock usually throws himself into it. If it held up for him…”

  The chair didn’t break when I eased onto it. It didn’t even creak. Magic. Had to be.

  He said, “I didn’t expect you so soon, or I would’ve cleared a spot.”

  �
�The fellow that delivered the message said the Flame Mage wanted to see me, so I figured I’d better get my arse on up here.”

  His cheeks got red. “He said that?”

  “Nae. He was too polite to say arse.”

  “I meant, calling me the Flame Mage. That was very…I mean, I’m honoured. I’m the junior Flame Mage, after the Fire Warlock Emeritus.”

  “The who?”

  “Warlock Quicksilver. The retired Fire Warlock.”

  “You just called him three different things, besides Flame Mage.”

  “That’s true. And all I’m known for is having my nose in a book. Maybe that’s why…” He shrugged. “Anyway, I didn’t mean it to be a summons you had to respond to immediately. The Fire Warlock thought you would have more questions, and asked me to answer them, if I could, since he and Quicksilver are both busy.”

  “Oh. Well, I do have a few.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Start with reminding me what a mage is.”

  “Ah. A wizard has magic talent, but may not give a hoot about theory—how the magic works. A scholar of magical theory cares about how it works, but may not have any talent himself. A mage is both a ranking wizard and an authority on the theory.”

  “So you’re a warlock, too.”

  “No, I’m a level four, just short of being a warlock, thank God. I can’t walk through the fire.”

  “Thank God, you say. I thought all you fire wizards want to be the Fire Warlock.”

  “Not me. I’m glad I’ve escaped that horror. Oh, I admit it would be more convenient to jump through the fire than to take the stairs or wander around lost in the Earth Guild tunnels whenever I need to travel. And there are times when I find it galling that a woman and a boy half my age can do things I can’t. But I want a normal family life. Play with my grandchildren. Put my feet up in my old age and die in my sleep. Not spend my life as a celibate warrior fighting with the king and spending every hour wondering who’s trying to kill me now. Or which will get me first, the Empire, or the Fire Office.”

  “Huh. Guess I’d never thought about it.”

  “You thought it would be great to have everyone cower whenever you get angry and jump to do whatever you want.”

  “Folk already cower when I get angry. Can’t say I like that much.”

  He grinned. “You won’t get that response often in the Fortress or Blazes. Fire wizards tend to only fear more powerful fire wizards.”

  “I can believe that. Even if you’re not a warlock, I gather you’re in on this madness about rebuilding the Water Office.”

  “Yes. I’ve been studying the spells these past two years, getting ready.”

  “Then tell me this. If you’re going to take it apart, why the hell put the frostbitten thing back together? Stop while you’re ahead, and give the commoners a break.”

  “Would it be good for the commoners? If the Water Guild didn’t admin­ister justice, who would?”

  “I thought…”

  “No, you didn’t think. Somebody, somewhere, has to make sure murderers and rapists and arsonists and all the other misanthropic cretins don’t run amok and destroy all that’s good in Frankland. The other Offices, for one, and the king, for another, would insist on somebody picking up the slack. And who would that be?”

  “Uh…”

  “It would be the nobles—that’s who. The king would be ecstatic over taking it away from the magic guilds, and he wouldn’t let the commoners have a hand in it. Would Frankland be better off with justice in the hands of the nobles, and only the nobles?”

  I stared out the window, clenching and unclenching my jaw. “There’s got to be some other way.”

  “Not that I can see, and I’ve been studying this problem for two years, Warlock Quicksilver and the Frost Maiden for decades. Given the constraints imposed by the other Offices, those are our two choices: the Water Guild or the nobles. I trust the Water Guild more than I trust the nobles.”

  I gave him a hard look. “My ears are playing tricks on me. I just heard a fire wizard say he trusts the Water Guild.”

  “Hard to believe, I know. I compared them to the nobles, so that wasn’t saying much. And no, I’m not happy with all that authority in the hands of a gaggle of prissy, frigid water witches. But…look, the Water Guild is three-quarters commoners. Their Guild Council is all commoners. They have friends and relatives who aren’t in the guild, and they’re not a bit happy about the broken Water Office, either. They’re the ones pushing the hardest to fix it, and they’re defying direct orders from the king to leave it alone.”

  “I’d like to believe you, but…”

  “I’ve had a hard time coming to terms with it myself. Nothing ever changes in Frankland, you know. But things are changing, whether we see them or not. Whether we like them or not. What we’re trying to do is make the changes go in the direction we want.”

  We, he said. Wizards and witches, he meant. I hadn’t heard them offering to share power with commoners, and I’d not believe them if they did.

  “Did the Frost Maiden really call the king a halfwit?”

  The mage grinned. “I wasn’t there, but that’s what the Fire Warlock said. The only surprise is that she said it to his face.”

  “I’ve got another question for you.” I dug in my pocket. “About the swordsmith’s seal. I tried to send it home to the guild, but it came back to me. I was wondering…”

  “For God’s sake, don’t send it away again. It might not return to you a second time.”

  “The swordsmiths can’t be happy with me hanging onto it, pretending I’m one of them.”

  He snorted. “They’re not upset with you. They’re angry at the king. That royal charter gives them—you—special privileges he’s trampled on. Grandmaster Henry, the head of your guild, said they’ll back you whichever choice you make.”

  “Decent of him.”

  “So hold on to that seal. Strong magic backs the Swordsmiths’ Guild, and it could tip the balance in your favour if you do agree to be the test case.”

  I turned the seal over and over, rolling it between my fingers. “Strong magic, you say. What other magic is on this seal?”

  He held out his hand. “Let me see.” He closed his fingers over it and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “The usual Earth Guild spells to foil theft. It won’t wear out. Or leave an impression for anyone but its owner.” He handed it back. “That’s all I can detect.”

  “So where’s the strong magic? Grandmaster Clive said I have enough magic to make a sword, but I don’t have much.”

  He rolled his eyes. “A swordsmith, of all people, ought to know better. It doesn’t take magic to make a sword.”

  “Eh?”

  “The royal guild is about control of the swords, not making them.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I am not. Any good smith could make a sword. You don’t because you’ve been told so often that you can’t. The nobles told everyone that centuries ago because they don’t want Frankland flooded with swords.”

  I closed my mouth, and swallowed. “But the spells…”

  “Well, yes. The swordsmiths do beat spells into the swords. But they don’t have to. How is a sword different from a big knife or an axe? They’re all pieces of steel with sharp edges. Any of them could kill without magic.”

  “Aye, that’s so.” An army of commoners with unmagicked swords… That would be—

  “But don’t get any ideas about arming commoners. Think what the Fire Office would do to them.”

  “Aye. Kill all us troublemakers, not just leave nasty burns that scar over.”

  “Right.”

  “Shame.”

  “And now I’ve let the cat out of the bag. The Swordsmith’s Guild will have to keep you.”

  I shrugged. “It won’t matter. I’ll be out of
Frankland before long. But I am curious. What happened to the spell that makes the aristos’ swords break? You know, when they’re used against the folk the aristos have sworn to protect. Why haven’t any swords shattered lately?”

  “Now that’s a good question.” His fingers drummed on his desk. “A very good question.”

  “What’s a good question?” The fire lad shouldered open the half-closed door and dropped a load of papers on the desk. The mage winced.

  I said, “Why don’t the nobles’ swords shatter any more? I’ve not heard of one shattering in centuries, and God knows, they ought to.”

  “If we had time,” the lad said, “we could find out, but we don’t. We have to get ready for tomorrow.”

  The mage sighed. “I know that.”

  I went to the door. “Time for me to leave.”

  “Afraid so. Tomorrow will be a busy day. I’ll be happy to talk to you again, afterwards. In the meantime, I can arrange for Granny Hazel to come here.”

  “Don’t.”

  His eyebrows rose. “She’s been quite worried. I’m sure she—”

  “Nae. I don’t want to see her.”

  The mage and the fire lad exchanged looks. The mage shrugged.

  The fire lad dropped a stack of books from the windowsill onto the chair, and scrambled into the window. “Do me a favour. When you get back to Abertee—”

  “If.”

  “When.”

  I leaned against the doorjamb. “You’re pretty cocky. What makes you think I’ll ever get back there?”

  “I’m a wizard. Some wizards are seers, and—”

  The mage snorted. The lad grinned. “All right. I’m not one. But the Fire Warlock is, and he says you’ll—”

  “He hopes Master Duncan will,” the mage said. “He doesn’t know. His visions stopped when he became Fire Warlock.”

  The lad’s eyes went round. The mage went on. “No reliable seer has had foreknowledge of the events of the last two months. We’re groping in the dark.”

  The lad was turning green. I took pity on him. “Supposing I get to go home. If you fix the Water Office, and I do what the Fire Warlock wants, and it all works out all right—and those ifs are as big as Storm King. Supposing all that, what do you want?”