Tempest

by Mercedes Lackey

  His younger brother took off like a shot.

  “Anything else pressin’?”

  Sergeant Jons nodded. “Holly Poll.”

  “Right. Kiel?” Hektor turned to Corporal Kiel Wright. “Take Rane up to Deem an’ Keira’s place, will you, an’ ask ’em politely to maybe go an’ see Haver an’ buy some new curtains?”

  His old partner grinned but jerked his head at a young constable hovering nearby.

  “No Jez in the cells this morning,” Jons continued, as the two men headed out. “In fact, there’s no one in the cells at all, you have a full complement of hale and hearty watchmen all going about their appointed business without having to be told to, an’ all’s well with the world, it seems.”

  “The magic of Haver,” Aiden noted.

  “Apparently.” Jons handed the nightly reports and rosters over to Hektor. “Oh, and you’re to report to the Captains the minute you get in.”

  • • •

  “There’s a man who has set up shop in the Iron Market, claiming to be a purveyor of fine and exotic wares from foreign lands.”

  Hektor blinked in confusion as he tried to sort out the strange captain’s words. “Purveyor . . . ?”

  “A peddler, Sergeant,” Captain Torell supplied.

  “Oh. You mean Haver, sir?”

  “Haver?”

  “Haver Hearthstone. ’E’s a travelin’ merchant. Sells quoifs an’ inks an’ the like. Fair Master Smith Linton always keeps a spot at the market open for ’im. ’E’s been comin’ ’ere for years.”

  “He’s a cheapjack and a confidence trickster,” Captain Elbert interrupted in indignation. “And Haver Hearthstone is hardly his name. We are well versed in his ways in Lower Devin, where he claims to be Desmon Hearthstead. In Briarley Crossing, he’s known as Brian Hearthease. Up and down the river, it’s the same, a different community, a different appellation.”

  “Most folks are happy to see ’im,” Hektor tried. “’E brings news an’ hard to find goods from beyond the walls.”

  “News which is, no doubt, twisted to suit himself,” Captain Elbert countered. “And goods of uncertain origin carrying fraudulent, not to mention highly disrespectful, claims of quality and effectiveness.”

  “Sir?”

  “He’s selling a hair tonic,” Captain Torell explained. “Which apparently contains genuine Companion feces as it’s main ingredient.”

  “Sir?”

  “Dung, Sergeant.”

  • • •

  “Dung?” In Hektor’s tiny office across the hall from the Captain’s, Aiden gaped at his younger brother. “Companion dung?”

  “’Parently.”

  “An’ that’s helps hair grow, how?”

  “I have no idea. Ask Haver.”

  “Well, how would ’e even collect it?”

  Hektor raised his hands before turning a glare on Padreic, who was leaning against the door with the perfect elan of a twelve-year-old. “An’ why didn’t you tell me the foreign Cap’n was as bald as an onion?” he demanded.

  Padreic’s eyes widened. “How was I s’posed to know it were important? You figure ’e tried some of Haver’s tonic, an’ it didn’t work?”

  “That’s what I’m thinkin’.”

  Aiden scratched at the growth of beard along one side of his jaw. “So . . .” he ventured after a moment. “Disrespect aside, which ain’t technically illegal, would it be fraud or theft?”

  “How can it be theft? Is dung even somethin’ you can steal?”

  “Rae Witawer might say it was, if someone had the contract on cleanin’ up Companion’s Field, say.”

  “But it coulda come from any road in Valdemar,” Padreic pointed out. “Heralds an’ Companions travel all over the countryside, an’ so does Haver. Maybe he does have a contract. Then it wouldn’t be theft, would it?”

  “Fraud then, if it doesn’t work. But maybe ’e used it wrong?”

  “Either way, the Cap’n’s charged me with runnin’ ’im off or arrestin’ ’im,” Hektor said.

  Aiden shook his head. “You can’t. It’ll cause a riot. Everyone loves Haver.”

  “I know.”

  “Well . . .” His older brother stretched, then headed for the door with an evil smile. “That’s why you have the stripes on your shoulder. Good luck, Hek.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re comin’ with me, Corporal. If there’s gonna be a riot, I’m gonna need your help.”

  • • •

  “My dearest Sergeant Dann, so good to see you again! A father to be, so I’m told! And you, Corporal, number three on the way as well? Your mother must be so proud. I’m sure I have a few packets of herbal tea made up for nausea here somewhere, and maybe a baby’s rattle or two? Just let me look. A special price—not for the Watch of course, I know you don’t hold with that, just as your father didn’t—but I’d be allowed to set a special price for a denizen of Iron Street, wouldn’t I?”

  Haver dug into the pack at his feet while, across the Iron Market, the gathered smiths and their customers glared at the two watchmen in silent warning. As Aiden had said, everyone liked Haver.

  The merchant was a tall, well-muscled man in his early forties, with thick, curly brown hair just going gray at the temples, an easy smile, and twinkling green eyes that lit up whenever he spoke. He was well dressed in a light leather apron over good, serviceable clothing that spoke of prosperity without ostentation. He had a sleek, well-fed donkey tethered beside a small closed cart, and the wares he chose to show off were clean and well made, laid out on a long table. On upended crates to either side were several jars and bottles with colorful labels, including the bottles of hair tonic that had caused Captain Elbert such umbrage. Haver saw their eyes turn that way.

  “Fantastic stuff, if I do say so myself,” he said with a beaming smile. “Works wonders. But you won’t need it for years to come, either one of you. If you ever do. Egan and Thomar both had fine, thick heads of hair, as did Gemma’s Da, Preston, as I recall. Ah, here we are.”

  He set two small, wooden rattles on the table before busying himself with measuring out several kinds of dried leaves into a muslin bag.

  “Your Padreic was by first thing this morning, as you no doubt know, and filled me in on all the news.” Haver winked at the boy hovering behind them, and Padreic grinned back at him. “Your Kasiath apprenticed to the Watchhouse Bird Master, that’s wonderful. I know Thomar was very proud of her.” He straightened. “I was so sorry to hear of his passing. He was a good friend to all. Ah, that reminds me.” He turned and rummaged through his pack again. “He was making payments on a very special item. Now where is it? Ah-ha!”

  He turned to reveal a tiny, derthenwood bird in the palm of his hand. He set it down on the table and beamed as Hektor and Aiden bent over it.

  The bird was mounted on a perch set into a small, inlaid, wooden box. As Haver turned a tiny key at the back, they watched in awe as music began pouring from its depths. The bird raised itself up and opened its wings in time to the music. Passersby stopped to listen and, by the time the music had stopped, it had cast such a spell of peace and calm about the market that Hektor had to shake himself as if waking up from a dream.

  Haver smiled wistfully. “He was going to present this to her when she was accepted by the Bird Master, but he never got the chance, so I’ll leave that up to you.” He laid the bird into a box filled with straw and set it beside the rattles. “Let me know how she likes it, will you? The man who made it has passed away now, too, but his son’s taken up the trade and is almost as fine a craftsman as his father was.”

  At that moment, staring down at the tea for his wife, the bird for his sister, and the toy for his unborn child, Hektor decided that no foreign captain was going to run Haver Hearthstone out of town, and glancing at Aiden, he saw that his older brother had come to the same conclu
sion.

  “So, obviously you’re both on duty,” Haver continued, gesturing at their light blue and gray uniforms. “How can I help the Watch today?”

  Hektor took a deep breath. “S’about your hair tonic . . .”

  • • •

  “So if you could maybe tell us what’s in it, an’ where you get it from . . .”

  Haver had listened politely while Hektor had laid out the problem, but now he gave him an apologetic smile. “Well, as I’m sure you know, Sergeant, a craftsman never reveals his secrets.” Behind him, Linton nodded in somber agreement. “But I can see how Captain Elbert has put you in a delicate position, so I’ll just come along to the watchhouse with you, and this whole misunderstanding will be cleared up in no time.” He untied his apron and set it carefully to one side before Hektor could respond to this potentially volatile suggestion. “Oh, would it be all right if Padreic looked after my stall for a bit? Not that I think anyone would steal from me, but a young watchman’s presence would do wonders to keep everything running smoothly?”

  With Paddy preening like one of Kassie’s pigeons, all Hektor could do was nod weakly.

  • • •

  The walk from the Iron Market caused as much of a stir as Hektor feared it would and, by the time they reached the watchhouse, with Haver calling out greetings and offering advice on everything from stomach complaints to how to remove pitch from a tunic, they’d collected a fairly large group of increasingly irate followers.

  “’E’s not been arrested,” Aiden snapped at a pair of smiths who’d planted themselves in front of them. “Which is more than you’ll be if you don’t get out of our way. Now.”

  The men moved grudgingly aside, but they kept a dark-eyed stare on the two officers as they ushered Haver inside.

  “Cap’ns ain’t here,” Kiel said before they’d made it ten feet into the watchhouse. “Cap’n Torell got called up to the High Court for some duty or another an’ took ’is friend with ’im. Left you a message, though. ’E said I trust you to resolve this matter swiftly and professionally, Sergeant.”

  Hektor frowned. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

  “Get it sorted before I get back, I imagine. An’ soon, before them outside decide to become them inside.”

  “You wanna use the Cap’n’s office?” Aiden asked.

  Hektor considered it for a moment. “Better not. My office, maybe?”

  “There’s no room. You’ve a year’s worth of reports strewn all over the place.”

  “If I might make a suggestion,” Haver offered. “Padreic tells me that the cells are empty at the moment, and I understand from Jez Poll that they’re quite comfortable; nice and cool. Why don’t we adjourn down there until the Captains return?”

  “Or you could just tell us what’s in your hair tonic an’ where you get it from, an’ be back at the Iron market before noon,” Hektor answered, trying with little success to shake the spell of Haver’s all too reasonable tone of voice.

  The merchant waggled an admonishing finger at him. “Now, now, Sergeant, as I explained to you earlier, a craftsman never reveals his secrets.”

  “You’re gonna lose trade,” Aiden pointed out.

  “I’ll be fine. If the crowd outside grows too raucous, just bring them in to me. I can see to their needs just as easily there as at the Iron Market. More easily, in fact, because I think it’s going to rain this afternoon. If you wouldn’t mind sending for Padreic and one or two of his fellow runners to fetch my things, everyone will stay completely civilized, I’m sure. And Toby, of course. I shouldn’t want to impose his care on Master Linton for too long. Do you think there might be room in the watchhouse stable for him, Sergeant? He’s not a very big donkey, after all.”

  “Um . . . sure, there’s room.”

  “Thank you, that’s very kind.”

  Haver swept down the stairs like a king heading for a throne room, and Kiel and Aiden shared a look.

  “Did ’e just agree to turn the Iron Street Watchhouse into the Iron Street Market?” Kiel asked.

  “Seems like ’e did.” Aiden turned an unimpressed expression on his younger brother. “That your idea of getting it sorted?”

  Hektor bridled. “For now. I’ll ask ’im again later. Maybe ’e be more willin’ if ’e does lose some trade.”

  “Sure. Maybe.”

  • • •

  Hektor waited until after Nessa, the watchhouse cook, had taken Haver his noon meal, then headed downstairs to find the merchant standing by the open door of the center cell, his wares laid out on the bunk behind him, and a steady stream of customers coming and going. Holly Poll was examining what looked like a bottle of fellis oil in the lantern light, and she spat a rather unflattering invective at him as he approached.

  Haver clucked his tongue.

  “Now, now, Mistress Poll,” he admonished gently, “you mustn’t blame the sergeant. He’s just doing his job as ordered. Come, have a look at these gloves now, all the way from Errol’s Grove. They’re as soft as can be, and they work wonders for sore fingers at the end of a long day. You use that hand salve Jez bought you first, then pop them on before bed. They’ve a special watchhouse price, too. This week only.” He winked at Hektor.

  “Oh, by the way, Sergeant,” he continued. “I’ve taken the liberty of putting some liniment aside for Sergeant Jons when he comes on duty. Padreic has it up on the main hall desk for him. Works wonders for the joints. We can settle up later. Oh, and Master Smith Linton is coming by for a little packet of hicanth flower seeds for his youngest. I thought it best if he collected them upstairs. You know what his temper’s like when he sees these cells; he’s still upset that his cousin, Bryce, got the contract for their repairs. Fifteen years ago it was, but the street doesn’t ever forget such things, does it?

  “Have the captains returned?”

  Hektor shook his head. “I just came down to see if maybe you changed your mind about tellin’ me about your hair tonic.”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t. I hate to cause you any trouble, but there it is.” Haver turned as a young man maneuvered himself between them. “Yes Mister Crendal, I have your eye wash right here. And the flea-wort powder for your mother, of course.”

  With a sigh, Hektor headed back upstairs.

  There was more than a bottle of liniment and a packet of hicanth seeds on the main hall desk when he got there. Several dozen parcels, jars, and bottles, all clearly labeled, sat waiting to be collected while Paddy hovered importantly nearby, handing them out and collecting money as people came and went. Like Haver, he seemed to know everyone’s needs before they mentioned them, and he handled their questions and concerns like a professional merchant.

  “Is anyone here on actual watch business?” Hektor asked as he pushed himself to the front of the line. “And where’s Corporal Thacker? ’E’s supposed to be on desk duty today.”

  Paddy looked uncomfortable for a moment, then shrugged. “’E’s in the privy,” he explained. “’E’s been bunged up for the last two days, so Haver gave ’im a posset an’ . . .”

  “An’ ’e’s not bunged up any more.”

  “’E should be back soon though. Haver says it works wonders.”

  “But . . .”

  “Sarge?”

  Hektor turned to see one of the local coopers standing behind him.

  “Yes, Mister Beecher?”

  “Will you move like? Yer in me way.”

  Hektor stepped obligingly to one side.

  “Packet of pencils an’ a block of amba resin for me today, Paddy.” As the boy handed his goods over, Mister Beecher glanced at the parcels on the desk. “Do ye know if that poultice ’e promised me is in there?”

  “Weren’t ready when ’e went through Restinn t’other day,” the boy explained in an apologetic tone. “But ’e says Camer Pond’s gonna bring it with ’im whe
n ’e brings ’is sheep to market next week. Meanwhile, ’e says’s to try this compress ’ere. Works almost as good. That all right?”

  “I s’pose.” The man handed him a coin, and collected his parcels. “Sarge,” he said with an amicable nod before heading out the door.

  Hektor just shook his head.

  • • •

  This time he waited until just before shift change to return downstairs. The crowds had gone, and most of the lanterns had been doused. As he headed for the cells, he heard the quiet murmur of two voices and found Haver and his own sister, Kasiath, sitting together on the bunk, their heads bent over a small messenger pigeon. For a moment the scene reminded him so much of the many hours she and their granther had spent together seeing to their birds that he paused, watching as Haver very gently manipulated the creature’s leg, then took a fine cloth, dipped it in a jar of something clear, and rubbed it very carefully into the joint.

  “There now, little Peachwing’ll be as right as rain in a few moments, you’ll see. This salve works wonders.”

  Hektor came forward and, as one, they glanced up.

  “Oh, hello, Sergeant,” Haver said with a smile. “We were just finishing up, did you need me or the young Watch House Birder?”

  “You.”

  Kasiath stood. “I’ll go then. She does look better. Thank you, Haver.” She gave her brother a warning look before leaving them alone.

  “I know what you’re going to say, Sergeant, and I’m sorry,” Haver said at once. “The best I can do is tell you that I obtain the ingredients for my tonic from a most reputable source, and if it’s used as directed, it works wonders. One always has a few disgruntled customers; it’s the nature of the trade, but once they voice their concerns, they always get over it. I’m sure Captain Elbert will be fine as soon as I get a chance to speak with him. Now, you’d best get home or your supper will get cold.”

  “But—”

  “Good night, Sergeant.”

  • • •

  Two days passed. The growing storm had still not broken over the city, the captains had still not returned from the High Court, and Haver had still not divulged the ingredients of his tonic, although the story of the foreign captain’s ire was causing it to sell in increasing numbers.