The Blacksmith

by Howe, Barbara;

  “Your Grace?” she said.

  He looked like a dog begging for scraps. “Please.”

  The weight on my shoulders got heavier. I stood beside the duke, cursing myself. Letting Doug stand here would have been the sensible thing to do.

  The Frost Maiden said, “Your Grace, as a duke you are required to protect the people in your domains from lawlessness, but you made no move to prevent Lord Edmund from abusing the women of Abertee. Your wife, who does not have the authority, attempted to evict a family of law-abiding freeholders on false grounds, and you let a man with a grudge against that family use Miss Archer as enticement to persuade Lord Edmund to carry out your wife’s errand. You have been found guilty as charged, of gross dereliction of duty.

  “There is, first, the matter of prevention. The Water Office will not, for this offence, take the district of Abertee from your domain, but I warn you it may do so for a future offence. As recompense, the women Lord Edmund attacked in Abertee will henceforth, as long as they live in your domain, be exempt from taxes and rent.”

  The commoners, almost as one, let out a massive “Hurrah!” She stared up at the balconies. They went quiet, but the mutterings from the aristos grew, and didn’t quiet when she stared at them. A cold breeze blew across them, but it only seemed to make them angrier.

  “And finally,” she said, “as punishment, and as a reminder of the pain those women under your protection will live with for the rest of their lives, you will never again, during your waking hours, be warm.”

  The White Duke’s teeth chattered. There was a moment of total, shocked silence, before the aristos shot to their feet, yelling and shaking their fists, surging toward the stage and the balcony stairs. The noise grew as the commoners joined in the yelling. I crouched by the duke and wished for a hammer.

  A stinging spray of sleet sent the mob reeling backwards. Wind howled. The sleet turned to snow.

  My fists closed on empty air. Even with a hammer, there’d be nothing to swing at. We were snow-blind. The mob had disappeared. A yard away the Frost Maiden was a blur, her throbbing blue ring casting eerie shadows. Screams sounded where tongues of fire danced through the white.

  Even if I had that hammer, maybe I couldn’t swing it again. The Earth Mother had warned me not to, and the magic she had used on me was wearing off. But if the opportunity came, I had a use for it, her advice be damned.

  The snow thickened, muffling the screams and yells and dimming the flashing lights. The Frost Maiden was lost in the blizzard. I was sure I wasn’t alone only because the quivering duke was leaning against me.

  More than once I’d heard powerful magic backed the Royal Association of Swordsmiths. Nobody had explained what that magic was, but if there was any, now would be the time for it. I yelled into the wind, “I need your help. Can any smith, dead or alive, give me a hammer?”

  The shaft of the king’s hammer was in my hands again. I ran my hands up and down the smooth wood, and crowed. I would swing it, and be glad, even if it killed me. The snow cleared. I was adrift in a quiet pocket with the duke and the Air Enchanter, walled in by swirling white.

  The Earth Mother walked out of the snow. “And what are you planning on doing with that? It wasn’t my doing, this time.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe I won’t get a chance.”

  The air warmed; my teeth stopped chattering. The pocket expanded, and took in first the Fire Warlock, and then Master Jean, his eyes afire. The royal family on their thrones came next.

  “King Stephen,” the Earth Mother said, “you have failed even those closest to you. I charge you with dereliction of duty.”

  The king had murder in his eyes. He yanked his sword out and came towards us, swinging. I heaved. With a flash as bright as the Frost Maiden’s ring, the sword shattered.

  The Warlock’s Agent

  Shards of the king’s sword bounced off an unseen wall between us. A red-hot poker ripped through my chest. I fell on my face.

  The Earth Mother, swearing like a tinker, rolled me over. I lay on my back in the snow, freezing and burning, and watched ghosts swirl around us. Uncle Will was there with a hayfork, and Master Randall with a sledgehammer.

  Stark raving mad, I must be. Better not tell anybody.

  The king, on his knees, whimpered, “You can’t. You can’t.”

  Master Jean’s words burned with the cold of a clear winter night. “We have warned you, time and again, that a reckoning is due. That reckoning is upon you. You cannot win if you persist, against all sense, in fighting all four Offices.”

  The Frost Maiden was a shadow on the storm’s edge. “Take up your mirror, Your Majesty, and see the likely outcome if the Water Office tries you on the charge Mother Celeste made against you.”

  The pain in my chest was easing. The ghosts, an army of smiths, were fading. I twisted my neck to watch the king and queen. She screamed and dropped her mirror.

  Master Jean said, “None of us desires this outcome. If you act in the interest of all Frankland’s citizens, it may not come to pass. The choice is yours.”

  “This is treason!”

  “Is it, Your Majesty?” the Frost Maiden said. “The Water Office under­stands treason to be betrayal of the country, not the king.”

  “Enchanter Paul, do something!”

  “Your Majesty, the Air Office does not approve of favouritism. It recognises an implicit contract between the king and all Franks, and wants that contract honoured. It will not protect you.”

  The queen knelt in the snow beside the king, “Dear, I think you must give in. Everyone could see what Rupert and Edmund did was dreadful. You don’t want the people to think you’re a fool, do you?”

  Drawing breath to laugh hurt. The Earth Mother thumped me on the chest. “Stop that.”

  Her teeth were chattering, too. Master Jean circled around, and laid warm hands on us without taking his eyes off the king.

  The Fire Warlock said, “Make up your mind, right now, or the whole country will know your sword shattered.”

  The king whispered, “What do you want me to do?”

  “Take the Great Oath.”

  The king’s eyes were wide and staring, and his hands shook. “My father and grandfather ordered me not to, and I’ll not. I’ll not let them down. Go ahead and kill me.”

  The queen screamed, and wrapped her arms around her husband’s shoulders. Master Jean edged closer to the king.

  Enchanter Paul said, “There is another way. If Your Majesty accepts that the Water Office’s judgments are fair, and signs the contract I have proposed, neither the Water Office nor the Fire Office will harm you.”

  The king dropped his head in his hands and moaned. The queen pleaded with him. Out of nowhere, a desk appeared, with pen, ink, parchment, wax, and seal. The king groaned and reached for the pen. Master Jean, gloating, backed away and faded into the snow.

  The Fire Warlock gave me a hand. “Think you can stand up?”

  My back ached; my legs were jelly. “Maybe.”

  “It won’t be for long.”

  “What’s he signing?”

  “Wait. You’ll find out.”

  The king handed the parchment to the Enchanter. The Earth Mother said, “I withdraw my charge.”

  The wind changed, and blew the snow off the stage. The White Duke was still on his knees, shaking. I pulled off my coat and wrapped it around his shoulders. It wouldn’t do him any good, but it made me feel better.

  He pulled the coat close. “Thank you.” He blinked up at me, only the top of his head showing over the collar. “Funny that, seeing your uncle again.”

  I stared down at him, and jumped when the Frost Maiden said, “Your Grace, are you satisfied with this judgment?”

  I’d nearly forgotten what had started the blizzard. The snow was melting off the half-frozen aristos. They looked confused
and groggy, like they’d had a bad dream and were having trouble waking up.

  The duke raised his head, and stared, first at the king, then at the other dukes. The king looked over his head. The other dukes turned away.

  He croaked, “What happens if I say no?”

  “The Water Office may be merciful, but mercy is not guaranteed, and you must present a strong argument for why you deserve it.”

  His jowls quivered. “I can’t. I guess I’m satisfied, Your Wisdom.”

  “Miss Archer, as representative of the women Lord Edmund attacked, are you satisfied with this judgment?”

  Doug and Maggie huddled together, whispering. The king dug his fingernails into the arms of his throne. The queen watched, wide-eyed, her hands fluttering.

  Maggie stood and said, “No, ma’am.”

  The duke whimpered. Master Jean edged forward. The mob raised its ugly head.

  “How can he live like that?” Maggie said. “I think I’d kill myself if I could never be warm again. It may be just, but it’s not good for him, and he’s not been a bad duke when his wife wasn’t bullying him. Couldn’t you give him a chance to get warm? If he did something kind, like, say, taking care of the women that were hurt worse than I was?”

  The king puffed the air in and out of his cheeks like a slack sail, flapping in the breeze. The gaggle of dukes looked like lost sheep. The queen beamed at Maggie.

  The duke’s head rose out of the collar. “Please, let me do that. I would. Please?”

  The Frost Maiden closed her eyes. The blue light flickered, and then it was snowing again, a light powder, glistening and sparkling like diamonds where it caught the light shining in the windows. It dusted heads and shoulders without chilling us, and for a few seconds everything gleamed, like the ground on a sunny morning after a hard frost. Then it melted away and was gone.

  “It shall be so,” the Frost Maiden said. “The Water Office is pleased with the mercy Miss Archer has shown today. Fortune shall smile on her.”

  She nodded at us. “You may return to your seats.”

  The duke scuttled away, still wrapped in my coat. The other dukes drew away from him. I staggered to the bench.

  “Are you all right?” Maggie whispered. “What happened?”

  I shook my head. “Shh.”

  “Given the special circumstances,” the king said, “with Lord Edmund being so badly behaved, we accept that the judgments in the case are fair.” He glared at the Frost Maiden. “We accept that in this one case only.”

  The aristos seethed, but no one moved. Some brave soul in the balcony cheered. A few others joined in, and then many. The king glared at the Frost Maiden, but the prince goggled at the balconies. I snorted. It must never have occurred to them that we might want to approve of them.

  It was over. We had won. I could go home.

  The Fire Warlock was on his feet. “Earlier the king said he called us here today to hear both Sorceress Lorraine and me account for ourselves. We’ve heard from Sorceress Lorraine. Now it’s my turn. Your Majesties, the Fire Office was set up to ensure Frankland’s safety and security. It’s done a good job of protecting us from external threats. No one argues with that. It hasn’t done as good a job of dealing with internal threats. After the recent riots, no one argues with that, either. There’s a lot of history there, but I’m not here today to give you a history lesson. The question is: what changes can we make to do a better job in the future?

  “Protecting Frankland from both external and internal threats is too big a job for any one wizard. A nearly impossible job sometimes. Not even a Fire Warlock can be in half-a-dozen places at once. King Stephen has given his approval to an experiment the Air Enchanter suggested. For this experiment I will appoint a number of agents to help me keep an eye on affairs inside Frankland. These agents will have the power to mediate disputes, including between nobles and commoners. They will enforce the charters governing the districts. They will report to me regularly about problems and unrest, and will have the authority to call on me for help if anything seems about to get out of hand.”

  I forgot my aching back. That sounded like what the head of the Blacksmith’s Guild did in Abertee, only better—if the agents were commoners. Being able to go to the Fire Warlock if the duke or any of his guests got out of line would give the agents more leverage.

  The Fire Warlock said, “The agents could be men or women, nobles or commoners, talented or mundanes. Commoners will have the same shields as the nobles, as long as they are serving as the Fire Warlock’s agents, but the shields won’t pass to their children.”

  Doug thumped me on the shoulder. I grinned. Give them enough to do the job, but don’t let their children grow up to be brats. Good so far.

  “The people appointed to be these agents would need to be special people—hard-working, dedicated, generous, honest, out-going, friendly with all ages and types of people, willing and able to give everyone, from a duke to the lowest ditch-digger, a fair chance. Not easily intimidated…”

  Leave everything to the witches and wizards, Granny Mildred had said. Frost me if I would. I was half off the bench, reaching for that golden hammer, when the Fire Warlock said, “That’s why the best choice for the first agent is a man who’s already shown he can and will give even the Fire Warlock a piece of his mind when necessary. What about it, Grandmaster Duncan?”

  “Aye, Your Wisdom.”

  The hooting and hollering in the balconies turned into shouts loud enough to be heard in London. “DUNCAN! DUNCAN!” The king’s shout was lost in the din. The Fire Warlock made no move to quiet them. Neither did the Frost Maiden.

  The king glared at me. I stared back. After a moment, the king looked away.

  The Enchanter held up a hand. A stiff breeze blew through the hall and the balconies quieted down.

  The king said, “We’ve heard from both the Water Sorceress and the Fire Warlock, yes, but we’ve been reminded the Offices don’t like favouritism. I charge you, Sorceress Lorraine, with playing favourites. You’ve been trying for years to get the Water Office to favour the commoners, and you gloated when it did. You must retire, and give way to someone who’ll be fair.”

  He settled back on his throne with a self-satisfied smirk, and a nasty glare at Master Jean.

  The Frost Maiden sat still, not saying anything, for a few moments, before standing and walking to the edge of the stage. She turned to face the king. “Guilty as charged, Your Majesty. I accept your ruling, and will retire.”

  Water spread out on the floor beside her, and a young woman stepped out.

  “My apprentice,” the Frost Maiden said, “is trained, and ready to accept the burden of the Water Office. Sorceress Eleanor, I charge you to be fair and just to all Franks.”

  The Earth Mother said, “Now wait a minute—”

  “Take this ring, Token of the Water Office, with my blessing.”

  The Frost Maiden held up her hand. When the ring, glowing deep blue, fell off her finger and into the other witch’s hand, she took a step backwards, her eyes rolled up in her head, and she dropped towards the floor.

  Off Her Pedestal

  I might have beaten the Enchanter to the falling witch if the Fire Warlock hadn’t slammed into me when I shot off the bench. We teetered; the Earth Mother pushed past us and we both went down. By the time I picked myself up, the Enchanter had caught her and lowered her to the floor.

  Her empty sleeve lay flat and tangled. The neck of her dress had gotten pulled awry. The new Frost Maiden tugged the dress back in place, hiding her arm’s scarred stump.

  “Idiot!” the Earth Mother said. “She had no business taking that ring off. The Office was the only thing holding her up. She lost an arm, for God’s sake. She should have been in bed, not walking and talking and using magic non-stop for half the day.” The king shrivelled under her glare. “She was willing to give he
r life for her country, and this is the thanks she gets? I hope you’re satisfied. We’re taking her to the Warren, and not in those nasty bumpy carriages either. We’re going now, protocol be damned. Charles?”

  The sorcerer picked the old Frost Maiden up. Water spread around him and the Earth Mother, and they disappeared.

  Nobody moved. The queen, with one hand to her mouth, clutched at the king’s arm, and whispered. Without waiting for the signal for us to rise, they trotted down the aisle just short of a run, with the prince and the dukes hard on their heels.

  Master Jean slid out a side door. I caught up as he climbed into the first carriage. He nodded as I followed, then closed his eyes and slumped against the cushions.

  The carriage lurched forward into the singing, dancing, shouting sea of commoners. Jewellery, perfumed handkerchiefs, and other trinkets flew in the windows. I tucked a flower into a buttonhole, chucked the women’s knickers back out, and slammed the windows shut. I could hear myself again.

  “Thank you,” Master Jean said.

  “Don’t thank me for the magic. This flimsy carriage couldn’t block that much noise.”

  “The Earth Guild spells on the windows are not my doing.”

  “Seems odd to be in a carriage with you. Everybody says you warlocks jump through the fire to go anywhere.”

  “I prefer to do so, but it is not without risk, and one is more likely to lose control when one is tired.”

  “So you weren’t sure you could haul the king’s arse away to one of the scorched circles if the Fire Office lost its temper. No wonder you were scared.”

  His eyes popped open and he sat bolt upright. “Dear God. How did you know?”

  “I guessed, even before his sword shattered. I couldn’t figure anything, short of the prospect of wiping out the royals and aristos, and Paris with them, that would make you so skittish.”

  He put his head down in his hands. “Was it so evident? I must be in worse shape than I imagined.”