He glanced down to the end of the Close where it opened up onto Saddler’s Street before loud shouting issuing from Edzel’s shop jerked him forcibly from the memory.
“I tell you, I’m bein’ thieved from!”
Edzel Smith stood in the middle of the shop shaking his fists in rage. A squat, heavyset man in his late sixties, his gray hair thinning on top and gray beard covering a jutting and belligerent chin; years of forge work had bent his back and twisted his hands, but his arms and shoulders were still covered with thick, corded muscle, and his temper was as volatile as ever.
“Don’t you try an’ shush me, boy!” he continued, his face turning a dangerous purple. “I know when I’m being thieved from, don’t you try an’ tell me otherwise! I had thirteen thimbles, thirteen, on that there back worktable and not a one less! I had a full box of lath nails, that’s twenty-four exactly, an’ now there be naught but nineteen!”
The boy he was shouting at, his son Tay, a tall, broad man of almost thirty-five and a full smith in his own right, did his best to look if not believing then at least respectful as Edzel stomped about, shaking his fists in near apoplectic rage. Usually at work at the forge behind the shop, Tay entered this world of crammed shelving and angry fathers as seldom as possible, but with the rage on him, Edzel was more than Tay’s long suffering wife, Trisha, who helped him run the shop, could handle.
“Boggles maybe?” Tay suggested, trying, without success, to lighten his father’s mood.
“Bollocks it’s boggles!” Edzel shouted back. “I know boggles! I seen a boggle when I was a little, walkin’ home from the forge at twilight one summer, an’ it ain’t them. It’s her, I tell you!” He spun about to shake one fist out the open doorway. “That’s who it is, that heartless, thievin’ stepmother of yourn! An’ I’ll have the Watch on her! See if I don’t!”
“Now, Da,” Tay said, trying to keep his voice reasonable. “You know Judee h’aint been near the shop since she moved out two years ago.”
His father’s face darkened still further. “You mean since she took half my hard-earned brass an’ opened that spiteful rat-infested trap she dares call an iron shop with your ungrateful half-wit of a brother, you mean, is that what you mean!?” Edzel demanded, his voice turning even more shrill.
Tay sighed. In the nearly twenty years since his mother’s death, his father’d had three other women in his . . . in their . . . lives, and each one had finally been driven away by Edzel’s unpredictable temper, made worse now since age and arthritis had driven him from the forge and into the shop full time. Judee’d lasted longer than most, long enough to give Tay and his younger sister, Ismy, a half-brother before she too had left them. But this time she’d gone no farther than along Anvil’s Close to open up a rival iron shop of her own with their brother Ben, who’d just gotten his blacksmith’s papers.
And whose business was doing much better than theirs, if truth be told, Tay admitted.
He glanced around the shop. It wasn’t that it was small or cramped or dirty. It was roughly the same size as any other shop in the Close with a tiny back room for small repair jobs and a front room laid out neatly with a long sandalwood table in the center and sturdy iron shelving on three of four walls, with the larger goods on the bottom and the smaller on the upper. The more valuable were locked in an actual glass and iron-barred case behind a wide, golden oak counter that Edzel polished every morning with ferris oil until it shone.
And it wasn’t that their goods were particularly expensive; their prices were comparable to any other shop in Haven. No, Tay told himself for the hundredth time as he watched a customer step just inside the door, listen for a few moments to his father’s language, then carefully back out again. It was the shop owner himself. They had to do something about Edzel before the business failed entirely, and a few misplaced thimbles were the least of their worries. But he had no idea what the something should be.
Tay turned as Trisha came in from the tiny back kitchen alcove, her expression exasperated.
“I tried to get him to go in for some tea,” she said in a strained voice. “But he won’t have it.”
Tay nodded. “We need to fetch Zo-zo,” he said, trying to hide the strain in his own voice. “She’s the only one that can calm him down now.”
She frowned. “Meegan brought her by first thing this mornin’,” she said doubtfully. “She’ll be at Judee’s for the rest of the day now.”
“I know, but he’ll rant himself into a fever if he keeps on like this. Ask Judee, will you, just for a few minutes, for me, please? Ask her?”
“I’ve sent for the Watch!” his father continued to no one in particular. “An’ don’t you think I won’t call the Guard too if that shiftless lot up at the Iron Street Station House don’t get here soon. I told that Dann boy to fetch Sergeant Thomar, he’ll get her sorted out in a hurry!”
Tay turned. “Thomar Dann’s retired, Da,” he said gently.
“Then he’ll fetch Egan instead.”
“Egan’s dead. He died in the Iron Market fire last month, remember? He’ll probably get Egan’s son, Hektor. He just made sergeant. You remember Hektor, Da?”
Edzel glared at his son with a malevolent expression. “Course I remember him,” he shouted. “I chased him away from Ismy when he were thirteen, an’ gave him a damn good thrashin’ to boot. I don’t care if that boy fetches Hektor Dann or the Monarch’s Own Herald. I want someone here, and I want ’em here now!”
“Mornin’, Edzel.”
As one, both smiths whirled about to see Hektor and Aiden standing in the shop doorway. Edzel’s expression never changed. “Bout time you two showed up,” he snarled as Trisha made her way past them with a sympathetic expression. “Get in here an’ do your job! I could be missin’ half my shop for all the protection I get! I’ll call the actual Guard an’ have them do your job for you if you don’t give me satisfaction right this very minute!” He fixed Hektor with a rheumy-eyed glare. “See if I don’t!”
Hektor nodded, struggling to remember that he was twenty-one and not thirteen and trying to keep as neutral an expression on his face as possible. “So, what exactly are you missing . . . sir,” he said, using the noncommittal but respectful tone he’d learned from generations of Danns in the Iron Street Watch.
It did not mollify Edzel. “I told that brother of yourn when I sent him!” he snarled back. “I had twelve silver spoons in that there locked cabinet,” he said, thrusting a gnarled thumb behind him. “I was giving ’em a good cleanin’ last night. Now there’s naught but eleven! You just go look and see!”
Hektor squeezed behind the counter to peer into the cabinet in question. Three shelves contained a collection of delicate metalwork, including eleven silver spoons. About to ask if Edzel was sure he’d put all twelve away last night—a question that would certainly have caused another round of shouting—he was interrupted by Aiden.
“Didn’t know you worked in silver, Edzel,” his older brother said absently, studying a long- handled toasting fork with a discerning eye.
“I don’t,” Edzel snapped, snatching it away from him. “Tay’s makin’ ’em a locked case to protect ’em against fire. But there’s more what’s gone walkin’ too: thimbles, nails, one stylus, two boat hooks,” he said, counting each one off on his fingers, “a diagonal, a rounded bill, an anvil swage, two hot punches, a driver, an adze blade, an awl, an edge shave, three whole palm irons, a seat wheel, a cleave, an’ nine pair of arms and legs!”
The long list of unfamiliar words, ending in arms and legs, caused both Hektor and Aiden to stare at him, and Edzel spat at the floor in disgust. “For lead soldiers, you idiots, what else would they be for? An’ don’t you go lookin’ at me like I lost my wits neither, I done a full inventory just last week, an’ I know my stock! All them things is missin’!”
At that moment, Trisha returned with a small girl of around three years old in her arms. The child caught sight of Edzel and threw her own arms out, nearly hurling herself from
Trisha’s in the process.
“Ganther!”
The smith’s entire demeanor changed. His wrinkled face split into a huge grin, and he snatched her up at once, twisting her around until she sat precariously perched upon one bent shoulder. “Here, now, what’s all this then, my little Zo- zo bird?” he chortled, his recent ill temper completely forgotten. “Thort you was at your granny’s for your afternoon nap?
“My grandbaby, Zoe,” he explained almost pleasantly in answer to the watchmen’s questioning expressions. “Now, where was I? Oh, yeah.” He waved a warning finger at Hektor. “You do sommat about this thievin’, or I’ll be up to your own granther’s myself. Retired or no, he’ll light a fire under your . . .” he paused as the child began to bounce up and down on his shoulder. “Well, you just mind you do,” he finished.
He glanced over at Aiden with a withering expression. “An’ you’ve got a buckle there what needs mendin’. What’s the Watch comin’ to? It wouldn’t a been allowed in Thomar’s day.” He turned, the child still on his shoulder. “Tay, you’ve a moment to fix yon buckle?”
“Sure, Da.”
As his son came forward, Aiden shook his head. “It’s nothin’. It can wait.”
“No need to wait,” Edzel said, waving a dismissive hand at him. “The boy can manage that kinda work at least. It’s not like it’s fine work. You have that off an’ he’ll fix it up a twinklin’.”
“But . . .”
Tay just gave him a strained smile. “S’all right Aiden, just come on in the back. I’ll be naught but a moment.”
They all made for the workroom. As Aiden struggled to remove the buckle, Zoe threw her hands out toward an ornate iron cage on a shelf beside the worktable.
“Lillbit!”
Edzel chuckled. “Lillbit’s right there, all safe an’ sound, jus’ like you left him earlier,” he assured her. Reaching over, he unlocked the door, and a small, gray creature dove from the cage and clambered up the old man’s arm towards her.
Aiden started in surprise. “That’s a rat!”
Both Edzel and Zoe turned equally indignant expressions on him as the child caught the creature up, cupping it protectively in her hands.
“My Lillbit!” she shouted.
“Lillbit’s her pet!” Edzel snarled. “Zo-zo tamed him up her own self just this summer, an’ he’s still a little himself, so don’t you dare think about doin’ him any mischief, Aiden Dann!”
“A rat? You let your granddaughter play with a rat?” Aiden looked so horrified that Zoe immediately began to cry.
“Yes, a rat!” Edzel shouted. “Not that it’s any of your business!” As Zoe continued to cry, he caught up a leaf hammer, brandishing it at Aiden with one hand while he frantically patted Zoe’s hair with the other. “Now get out, you’re upsettin’ my grandbaby. Get out, get out, get out!”
“Out, out, out!” Zoe echoed.
As Aiden retreated, shaking his head, Edzel whirled on Hektor. “An’ you find that thief, you hear me!” he shouted, his earlier rage returning. “I pay my guild fees, an’ I have the right to protection. If I don’t get it, I’ll call the Guard! I’ll call the Heralds! They’ve a proper court, an’ that truth spell of theirs’ll sort you all out good an’ proper!”
He almost slammed the shop door on them both as they left.
Across the Close, Judee gave them an ironic salute with a ceramic tea cup before disappearing into her own shop as well.
“You want us to guard Edzel Smith’s iron shop all night?”
Hektor’s two middle brothers, Jakon, nineteen, and Raik, seventeen, had served as night watchmen since being taken on as full constables. It worked well for the Danns since they could use the smallest of the family’s bedrooms during the day, and Hektor and Padreic could use it at night. But it also meant that neither of them were used to taking orders from their new sergeant. Now, they both just stared at him.
“You’re joking,” Jakon protested.
“No, I’m not.”
“What does the captain say about it?”
Hektor’s expression hardened. “The captain’s left it up to me. I’m the Sergeant.”
“You’re the Day Sergeant, Hek,” Raik replied.
“Yeah, an’ the Day Sergeant posts the shifts,” Hektor reminded him. “So here’s your shifts: one at the entrance to Anvil’s Close, one at Edzel’s shop door. Take it in turns if you like, but you’re takin’ it.”
“For how long?”
“A few nights likely.”
“How many’s a few?”
“As many as I say it is. Get seen, let any possible thieves know we’re on the job. There’ll be a couple posted durin’ the day too.”
Jakon shook his head in disgust. “You don’t really think someone’s been thievin’ off Edzel, do you, Hek? I mean, he’s always been a suspicious old bugger, glarin’ at everyone who comes near his place. It’s a wonder he has any customers at all.”
“He’s off his head,” Raik agreed.
“Maybe, but it makes no matter. He’s paid his guild fees like he said, so you’re for Edzel’s shop until I say different. Get used to it, Constables.”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
Hektor chose to ignore both the tone of voice and the sarcastic salutes of his younger brothers, merely turning and stalking away.
The next morning, they made their report with equally sour expressions. It had rained all night, and they’d spent a cold, wet, and uneventful shift guarding nothing. No one had come near the Close, never mind the shop. As far as they were concerned no one was going to.
Padreic, however, had a different report to make.
“An’ you’re sure the settin’s were right here, moonstones an’ all?”
“No, the moonstones weren’t here; moonstones are rare,” Edzel said angrily, thumping his fist on his work table behind the main shop. “The moonstones got locked up good and proper when I was finished with ’em. The iron settin’s were fine work twenty year ago, but they ain’t so rare they have to be locked up too. They was right here on this very table, and now two of ’em’s gone!”
Hektor peered down at the three clawed bits of metal, used, Edzel had told him stiffly, to affix gems to sword and dagger hilts, then turned to Trisha, standing just inside the door. “Did you see ’em?” he asked hopefully.
She shook her head. “Sorry, Hek. Edzel was bent over ’em till long past when Tay an’ me went to bed,” she answered. “I didn’t see how many he had then nor later.”
“I had five,” Edzel sputtered. “I already told you, five!” Only the presence of Zoe, playing happily in the corner with Lillbit, kept his voice down to a dull roar, but Hektor could see a vein in his forehead throbbing dangerously.
“Could someone have come in the back way, through the forge,” he asked. “Or through one of the windows above, maybe?”
“The forge is closed up tighter’n a drum at night, an’ my window locks are the best in Haven; I cast ’em myself!”
“The roof?”
“Paw! My granther build that roof, an’ it’s a sound as the day it went up! ’Sides, this one’s a right light sleeper,” Edzel said, jerking a thumb at Trisha, “She’s up half the night. She’d have heard if anyone was creepin’ about up there.”
Trisha nodded. “Tay snores,” she explained.
“I tell you who it t’was; it was that woman!” Edzel continued. “She had that ungrateful son of ours make a shop key afore she left, that’s what she did, an’ she snuck over here in the dead of night. Your lot must have fallen asleep on duty!”
Hektor felt his face flush angrily, but he refused to rise to the accusation. “I’ll talk to Judee,” he said stiffly.
“So, lemme get this straight . . .” Crossing her arms over her amble bosom, Judee looked more amused than indignant. “Your askin’ me if I have a key to Edzel’s shop?”
Hektor just nodded.
She chuckled. “No, boy, I don’t. An’ even if I did, do you really think I could sn
eak about at night, at my age, with my girth, in the rain, so as to hide from two grown constables what spent the entire night moanin’ an’ complainin’ about the weather till the wee hours?”
Hands on hips, she almost dared Hektor to say something, then turned as Trisha crossed the street with Zoe in her arms. “C’mere, darlin’,” she crooned. “Come’n see your Granny.” Catching the child up in her arms, she chucked her under the chin. “Now, you left Lillbit behind, yeah? To keep your granther company? Cause you know your granny’s not fond of rats in her shop, an’ Ginger’d just as likely eat him as look at him.”
Zoe nodded happily, bouncing up and down in her grandmother’s arms much as she’d done in her grandfather’s. “Ganther’ll keep him safe,” she said happily.
“That’s good.” Judee turned back to Hektor. “Edzel’s losing what’s left of his wits,” she pronounced. “Nobody’s thievin’ from him at all. He’s either imaginin’ he’s got more stock’n he has, or he’s misplacin’ it all himself. It’s a waste of a constable’s time, if you ask me, but you go right ahead an’ post your brothers on my very own door if that make you happy, Sergeant Dann. But I should warn you,” she said with a snicker, “it’s gonna rain again.”
“I don’t think we need to do that,” he replied gravely, refusing to rise to the bait. “But one on Edzel’s door an’ one inside his shop might calm him down some.”
Neither Jakon nor Raik took the order at all well. Aiden finally had to step in and threaten to knock their heads together, and it was with some acrimony that the two of them headed off for their shift after supper that evening. As the rest of the family settled into the small sitting room, Hektor threw himself down next to his sister and grandfather. Tucked up next to the flat’s small coal stove, he glanced down at the pigeon cupped in thirteen-year-old Kasiath’s hands with a questioning look.
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