The Blacksmith

by Howe, Barbara;

  “But it wouldn’t have touched Doug and Maggie.”

  “No, it would not have.”

  “Tell me how you’re going to clean up this mess.”

  “We will attempt to persuade or coerce the king to be merciful.” I snorted. He said, “If that fails, our only hope is to limit the damages.”

  “Aye, and hell will freeze over.” I charged down the stairs towards the barracks. After shedding my new suit, I pounded the smithy’s pile of scrap metal into ragged heaps of slag. The guards stayed out of my way, and even before the orders came down from their captains, picked up the pace prepping armour and weapons for the coming riots.

  “You’re alive,” Doug said. “That’s something.”

  We were a grim group, waiting for the Frost Maiden in the Earth Guild’s Paris hall. Maggie had been crying. Doug’s eyes were bloodshot, his mouth a tight line. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them what the Fire Warlock had said. “I can’t blame you for being pissed off. God, I’m sorry.”

  Doug nodded and walked away.

  I said, “What about Hazel? Have you heard?”

  “I’m sorry.” Maggie leaned against me and talked into my shoulder. “I was so miserable I didn’t think about asking Warlock Snorri when he brought us here. Wouldn’t the Fire Warlock know?”

  He would, but I didn’t want to ask. He looked ready to burst into flame if anybody poked him. Master Jean, arguing with the Earth Mother, looked like he was nursing a pounding head.

  “No, Jean,” she said, “I will not hide in the Warren. We have to present a united front, and my bones say you’re going to need me.”

  “I respect your desire to help, Your Wisdom, but perhaps you under­estimate the danger.” He looked up and met my eyes. “Excuse us, please.” He took the Earth Mother by the arm and marched her out of the room.

  The Frost Maiden sailed in, trailed by a trio of water wizards, and stopped in front of me. I took a step backwards.

  “When I entered Jus—Injustice Hall yesterday,” she said, with a flick of the eyes to the Fire Warlock, “I sensed someone close to an untimely death. I thought then that was you, Master Duncan, and I worried we had missed something crucial in reforging the Water Office. I sense violent death today, even more strongly.” She paused and focused on the Fire Warlock. “But I do not know who here today is most at risk. I will do what I can to deflect danger, and I applaud you all for your courage in being here.”

  Master Jean and the Earth Mother came back. His face was hard as granite.

  The Frost Maiden brushed past him. “They will be waiting. Shall we go?” The water wizards followed her out the door.

  “On that note of optimism and good cheer?” The Air Enchanter said. “I’d rather not. But no one has suggested I stay away.”

  The Earth Mother looked up at him with her hands on her hips. “I’m not in hiding; you shouldn’t be either. Besides, I still think we can persuade King Stephen to be reasonable.”

  “If you think so, madam, you are deluded.”

  “I am not. I believe in marvels and wonders. Don’t you?” She took his arm and dragged him towards the door. We followed them out to the coaches waiting to take us to the palace. I was in no hurry to climb in. The Frost Maiden and her sorcerers were climbing into the first, drawn by a matched team of four white horses. As pretty a display of horseflesh as I’d seen anywhere.

  The other three Officeholders and Master Jean queued at the next coach, drawn by a team of matching black horses. I smiled. I liked black ones better. Before he’d bleached from years in the sun, Charcoal had looked as good.

  I ducked my head and climbed into the third coach without glancing at the chestnuts pulling it. One thousand franks for that wretched weasel. I’d never own another horse. Never ride out on a fine day. Never enjoy a gallop over the green turf. A fire burned deep in my chest.

  Maggie and Doug climbed in behind me. When we were rolling, I repeated what Master Jean had said about persuading the king or limiting the damage.

  Maggie said, “Could they do it? Make the king tell us to pay only what Lord Edmund was worth?”

  Doug snorted. “They’d be paying us.”

  “Something, anyway, we have a hope of paying off?”

  “Master Sven said the king has turned noble families into beggars before.” I shrugged. “If he did it to them…”

  “Can’t the Fire Warlock make him?” Maggie said. “With all that magic behind him… And the old Fire Warlock can do anything he wants, they say.”

  The crowds lining the streets were as silent as a funeral—mine, and I wasn’t even dead yet. The silence weighed me down. In a riot, the mob would attack the palace. We’d be trapped. “No dice. He kept the Frost Maiden at bay without breaking a sweat when they caught me, and didn’t show any sign of nerves two weeks ago when he was expecting to burn to death. Today he’s as taut as a pulled bowstring.”

  Master Jean lined us up outside the palace ballroom and gave us our final marching orders. We waited for several minutes as the last of the lower ranking nobles found their seats. I passed the time slamming my fist into the stone doorpost and twitching my shoulders, trying to shake off the weight on them. The weight of public opinion, Mother Astrid had said. Like that made any sense.

  “Whatever happens today,” Master Jean said from behind me, “you must not lose your temper. Remember that.”

  I whipped around, but he wasn’t talking to me.

  The Fire Warlock glowered. “Yeah, right. Like I’ve got any chance, after yesterday.”

  “You must not. The stakes are higher today.”

  The doors to the ballroom opened. The two wizards shook hands, and the Fire Warlock mumbled, so soft I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right, “Goodbye, old friend.”

  Master Jean slipped into place in the queue, and we began our march up the aisle. I ducked through the door, and the aristos nearest the aisle shrank away. I clenched my jaw and kept my eyes on Sorcerer Charles’s head.

  On both sides of the stage, rows of seats faced inward towards the thrones in the middle. Master Jean and the water wizards marched into the last row on the right—four straight chairs with cushions. We filed into the middle row—a hard wooden bench. Maggie rolled her eyes. Doug shrugged. The four Officeholders filed into the first row—four plush armchairs.

  The dukes followed us in, and lined up on the left side of the stage. In the front row, the White Duke was sweating. He stared down at the floor, the throne, up at the magic mirror, the balconies, anywhere other than at me, or at his wife and son in the first row at the foot of the stage. His son smirked. I gave him the gimlet eye. The ass’s smirk widened.

  The Earl of Eddensford, in the second row on the stage, met my stare, and nodded.

  The king and queen appeared, along with the prince, a lad about twelve years old. They strolled up the aisle together, taking their own sweet time.

  The water wizard behind Maggie grumbled about not being able to see. She turned and whispered to him behind her hand, “Sorry. Our dad was an elephant.”

  He melted. “I guess you can’t help it.”

  The royals took their places, the prince on a smaller throne behind his mother’s, and the sergeant-at-arms said we could sit.

  The king said, “We have called the nobles and the powers of this land together today to hear the holders of the Fire and Water Offices account for themselves. You, Frost Maiden, claim to have taken apart and rebuilt the Office of the Northern Waters. You, Fire Warlock, have been haranguing our kinsmen about their supposed disrespect for the law at the same time you have been harbouring a killer. You will explain yourselves, and demonstrate that you haven’t broken the Water Office. You will bring this murderer to justice, here in full view of all, rather than hidden away in that cold hall where none but members of the Water Guild dare go.

  “To that end, we have asked H
is Wisdom, Enchanter Paul, holder of the Air Office, to review the events around Lord Edmund’s death and his murderer’s trial.” He broke off and glowered at me. “Why isn’t the prisoner in chains?”

  The King’s Hammer

  Master Jean hissed in my ear, “Do not respond.”

  I growled but clamped my mouth shut and glared at the king. No matter what the Frost Maiden said, if they tried to put chains on me, I’d kill someone.

  The Frost Maiden said, “What prisoner?”

  The king gaped at her for a moment, then pointed. “Him. The man that killed Lord Edmund. That blacksmith.”

  The Fire Warlock said, “The swordsmith is here on his own accord. I gave him the choice of exile or submitting to the Water Office for justice. He chose justice.”

  Thank you, Your Wisdom, for telling everybody in Frankland what an imbecile I am. All those aristos staring like I was a two-headed calf made me sweat, even while my hands and feet were freezing.

  “Besides,” he said, “the Fire Office commended Grandmaster Duncan for coming to a nobleman’s aid during the Blacksburg riot. The other Offices have commended him for other selfless acts. They demand he be treated with respect.”

  Several dukes gawked with eyes popping out of their heads.

  “Nor is his the only trial we will review today,” the Frost Maiden said. “The actions of three men, two living, one dead, have drawn the attention of the Water Office. The other living man is also here on his own accord.”

  Good. Nail the bastard that sent the earl’s brat to us. I’d been so wrapped up in my own troubles I’d forgotten the Fire Warlock’s promise. He hadn’t bothered to tell me who he’d found.

  The king blinked at the Frost Maiden. The queen nudged him and whispered. He said, “Oh, yes, of course. As we were saying, Enchanter Paul will conduct today’s meeting. In our dealings with him on treaties and trading contracts, Enchanter Paul has been a model of dignity and decorum, and has shown he understands the privileges of rank and the positions of the nobles. We trust him to be impartial. At least, we trust him more than we do the other Officeholders, who act like enemies of the nobility.”

  Doug snorted. Guess they hadn’t bothered to tell the king a few things either. The Enchanter walked to the edge of the stage and began talking about principles of justice. A few feet away, aristos wore the same sorts of angry looks commoners in Blacksburg had worn in the days right before the riot.

  I perched on the edge of the bench, searching for a bolt hole for when things got ugly. I would grab Maggie and run. The magic folk could take care of themselves.

  “…shall examine the lives of two men: Lord Edmund Bradford and Grandmaster Duncan Archer.”

  The magic mirror clouded over, then cleared to show Dad giving orders to a work crew putting a new roof on the Nettleton church. He’d kept my sixteen-year-old arse busy hauling new slates up the ladder. The men on the roof laughed at the steady stream of bad jokes that came with each new load. Down below on the stage, I squirmed.

  The second scene showed me wading into the middle of a bar fight. I’d yanked two sots apart, and held up in the air the one who’d started it, a little fellow taking wild swings at everybody in sight. “If you hit me,” I’d said, “and I find out about it, you’re in big trouble.”

  Folk in the balconies laughed. Fire and frostbite, that was an idiotic thing to say. I must’ve been half drunk. I leaned forward and hissed, “Thank you, Your Wisdom, for making me look like a fool. What the hell does this have to do with Lord Edmund?”

  The Fire Warlock growled, “We’re showing you’re good-natured and a good neighbour. Shut up before you prove it’s not so.”

  Twisting my neck to watch the mirror hurt. I watched the aristos instead. Some yawned and fidgeted, and small blame to them. When the happenings in the mirror didn’t make me squirm, they were boring: the everyday things any decent man does to take care of his neighbours and get along with those he works with.

  The bored aristos came to attention. I looked up. Lord Edmund thumbed his nose at his tutors and bullied the servants.

  That went on for a while: a few glimpses of me, then one of Edmund being a rotter. The only scene where he was polite, to an old man, gave way to one where he sneered about sucking up to the old fart.

  The king’s hand rested on the pommel of his sword. His head jerked like he was dozing off. I fumed. I shouldn’t have felt guilty that the country was on the edge of riot and war. Edmund had more to answer for than I had. Even dead, the brat was nothing but trouble.

  The mirror showed a bloodied girl in ripped clothes, crying. Edmund smirked while he buttoned his breeches. A wave of anger from the balconies hit us like a blast from a furnace. The Earth Mother cringed. I beat on my thigh with a fist. One thousand franks. The price on my head had been a quarter that, and I’d done more for Frankland than this brat had. A lot more. Any fool could see that. The old earl should’ve paid the Water Guild to take him off his family’s hands.

  They got to my stay in Blacksburg, and showed me telling off the cheat. Working on the charters. Hounding Reverend Angus out of the big halls. Forging my masterpiece. Edmund raped more women and made his brother’s life hell.

  The king’s fingers beat a tattoo on his sword hilt. Master Jean’s mouth was a thin, lipless line. His eyes flickered across the nobles, the balconies, the dukes, the king, back to the nobles.

  The weight bearing down on me grew, became more solid. When the Frost Maiden announced the penalty, there would be riots. I didn’t believe Master Jean could persuade the king. Master Jean wasn’t acting like he believed either.

  In the mirror, I’d sold my masterpiece, and walked away with a bag of gold. Doug went rigid. Maggie goggled. “You didn’t tell us about that. What happened to it?”

  I put my head down in my hands. I should have kept the money, dammit. It wasn’t one thousand, not anywhere close. Doug would still have lost the farm, but it might have saved my nephews from debt slavery.

  “And now,” the Enchanter said, “we come to the events at the end of June—the Blacksburg riot.”

  The aristos who had been yawning perked up and paid attention. The mirror showed me arguing with the local fire wizard. The king tightened his grip on his sword.

  Edmund rode away from Fiona’s croft. Maggie hunched over and cried.

  I swallowed bile. One thousand franks for that mangy cur.

  The mirror moved on to the riot, then to Sam and me with Richard Collins. The Enchanter stopped the scene and pointed out that Richard was an aristo, like the way he was waving his sword hadn’t already spilled his secret in front of half the country. Yet another thing to feel guilty about.

  When the mirror showed me yelling at the Fire Warlock, several thousand people sucked in their breath as one. Frostbite. Why show that? Both of us looked like asses.

  The Fire Warlock turned his head and winked. I rolled my eyes and fought down a ruder gesture. Master Jean breathed in my ear, “Now all Franks will know what the nobles wanted kept secret.”

  Maybe that was worth looking like an ass for. And if the king made a fuss, you’d look like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, wouldn’t you, Master Jean?

  When I handed the payment for the gate over to the Earth Guild, some aristos laughed. Cheering and clapping from the balconies drowned them out. The queen clapped. The mirror clouded over.

  Maggie hugged me, and whispered, “Dad and Uncle Will would have been proud of you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. She shook her head, and dribbled tears on my shoulder.

  The White Duke hunched over with his head in his hands. The prince’s eyes were huge and round. The king looked like he’d had three beers too many to figure out what he owed the barmaid.

  The Enchanter said, “Master Duncan, do you agree with this represent­ation of your life?”

  I swallowed and no
dded. Maggie raised her voice, clear and strong. “That’s my brother!”

  “Thank you, Miss Archer. Earl Eddensford, do you agree with this representation of your brother’s life?”

  The earl looked green. He made two attempts before he choked out, “Yes, Your Wisdom. I wish it weren’t true, but it is.”

  “Thank you, Earl Eddensford. Now we come to the events of July seventh.”

  Earl Eddensford met my eyes, and flinched. Somebody should tell him his brother being a pissant wasn’t his fault. No more than the riots would be my fault—I’d done what I could to calm things down. That wasn’t quite true; I hadn’t done everything I could in Blacksburg, but nobody told me what to do until too late. Damn these witches and wizards and their secrets. I didn’t want to find out too late, again. The weight was backbreaking, like shouldering a sledgehammer the size of an ox. Those witches and wizards kept talking about hammers. The king had one, they said, but he’d forgotten how to use it. They didn’t know hammers. I knew them, their heft, their balance. Put one in my hands…

  My hands closed around a wooden shaft.

  Master Jean sucked in his breath, sharp. The Fire Warlock turned his head and gawped. I looked down. Nothing. What the hell was this? The shaft dug a valley into my shoulder.

  The Earth Mother’s voice echoed in my head. The Water Office is shackled to the king. Break the shackles.

  I closed my eyes, and saw a glowing chain stretching from the king to the Frost Maiden, and a glowing hammer. I twisted under the weight, and pushed at the shaft. It didn’t budge.

  You must break them before she calls you to account.

  I twisted and pushed. It wasn’t fair, her telling me to use magic. What could I—a halfpenny wizard, not even a member of a magic guild—do that a warlock couldn’t?

  The mirror clouded over. The Frost Maiden gave me a hard stare, then rose to take over for the Enchanter at the edge of the stage. Maggie and Doug eyed me like I was a rabid dog, but I had to get out from under that weight or my back would break.