The Blacksmith

by Howe, Barbara;

  “That’ll make it easier to live with, sure, but I guess I made up my mind a couple of days ago. I just kept hoping to find a way out of it.”

  The Warlock leaned back and studied me. “Why did you decide to do it? And I shouldn’t get excited until I’ve heard what you want in exchange. I’m not making any promises.”

  I stared at the wall behind the Warlock’s head. “Somebody’s got to do it, sooner or later. If you think I have the best chance, I’d be a coward to run away and stick it to somebody else…”

  “And?”

  Sweat trickled down my nose. Never, ever, lie to a warlock. “It’s the only way I can see of ever getting to go home again.”

  “You’re right about that.” The Warlock let out a long sigh. “Going home. I could use something so simple and straightforward to keep me going.” He unclasped his hands and flattened both on the desk. “I’ve always expected to die from a lightning strike, like seventy-one Fire Warlocks before me. Maybe I’ve got mush for brains, but it doesn’t seem as awful as those knives. I hope I have as much guts as Sorceress Lorraine, when it’s time to unlock the Fire Office.”

  I yelped, “Not the Fire Office, too.”

  “Not now. Calm down. Think I’m a fool? Don’t answer that.”

  I dropped into a chair, breathing hard. “You bastard. Don’t scare me like that.”

  He smiled. “God, I hope you survive. You’re about the only one outside of the Fire Guild Council that doesn’t tiptoe around me.”

  “The king calls you names, too.”

  “How is a king like a swordsmith? He calls the Fire Warlock names? Well, no. The king means them.”

  “The Fire Office…”

  “Has problems, too, and needs to be fixed. But that won’t be for years yet. Assuming that Lucinda—the Locksmith—recovers, and is willing to go through this again.”

  I laughed. I felt guilty, later, but right then the relief was too strong. “Go through that again? You’re nuts. A woman’s not…”

  The Warlock snorted and rolled his eyes.

  “…not that stupid.”

  “You have a point. Now, you said you wanted me to do something for you.”

  I laid my hands flat on the desk and leaned in until my nose was only a foot from the Warlock’s. “Find out what son-of-a-whore was responsible for setting that bastard on my sister and make him pay for it.”

  A flame burned in the Warlock’s eyes. “I can’t promise the Water Office will be fixed. That’s what bringing this test case is all about.”

  “Aye. But promise you’ll make an example of him in front of the king and aristo, too.”

  “You betcha.” Fire crackled in his voice, though he wasn’t loud. “That’s one promise I’m happy to make.”

  Fortune’s Whip

  Cracks Again

  A walkway, wide enough for three to walk abreast, ran along a line of bedrooms. Several guards stood at an open window like mourners at a funeral. The guard who had offered his arm was there. I got off the stairs and walked across to join them.

  The Earth Mother and half-a-dozen healers sat in chairs around a bed, with their hands on the two bodies lying on it, both wrapped in white cloths. Earth Guild burn cloths, they had to be, not burial shrouds. Healers don’t waste magic on dead bodies.

  The healers were hard at work—eyes closed, nobody moving a muscle, except for one old wizard with an eye twitching. Hazel made no move to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. An old witch with the same splash of freckles sat at the foot of the bed. My eyes moved on, then went back. I’d seen her before, in Blacksburg. She’d aged a quarter-century.

  Another group of healers came along the walkway. We moved aside to let them into the bedroom. One newcomer joined the circle, and with a deep sigh, the old fellow with the twitch let go and stood up, carefully, like he was a hundred years old and all his joints hurt. He stood by the bed for a bit, running his hand over his right arm, then came out onto the walkway, leaving the door open. We surrounded him, whispering questions. I listened, and watched Hazel.

  The second newcomer joined the circle, and after a moment, Hazel let go. She lurched to her feet, nearly knocking over her chair, threw one wild look towards me, and ran into the cold fireplace and disappeared.

  Nobody was watching me. I followed her. With a push, the back wall of the fireplace swung open like a door to a cool cave, empty except for Hazel. She hunched over on a chair and sobbed.

  I’d heard the warnings; everybody has. Never touch an earth witch when she’s carrying someone else’s pain. But I’d been bounced around in a landslide, and walked away from it. I could take a lot. I touched her shoulders, and jerked my hand away, strangling a scream. A landslide was one thing. Grabbing an iron straight out of the forge was something else.

  Hazel’s head jerked up. “Duncan! What are you doing?”

  The skin on my hand was red. It should have been an ugly mess of charred meat. I gritted my teeth, held my breath, and picked her up. Hell’s bells. I whimpered like a kicked puppy but didn’t let go, or pass out.

  She beat on my chest, and tried to push away. “Duncan, are you mad?”

  I saw stars, but the pain was already easing. I breathed again, in long ragged breaths, and sat down, holding her with my right arm and wiping sweat off my face with my left. I flexed my right hand. The blisters were already shrinking.

  She stopped trying to push away. “Duncan, you shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Just trying to make you feel better.”

  She blew her nose. Her tears had slowed. “You did, but you weren’t prepared. The pain could have killed you. Made your heart stop.”

  “Aye, but it didn’t. I figure I owed you.”

  “Owed me? For what?”

  “For thinking you’d… Well, never mind.”

  “For giving you away?” Her tears flowed again. “But I did. I was so frightened for you. When the king offered that reward, I was beside myself. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “I know. Maggie told me.”

  Her handkerchief was a sodden mess. I handed her my dry, sooty one. “Sorry it isn’t any cleaner.”

  She smiled and blew her nose. Hiccupped a couple of times. My heart flipped over.

  She said, “Warlock Snorri said you were angry, and I couldn’t blame you.”

  “Shh. Don’t kick yourself. You did the right thing. If you hadn’t gone to the Fire Warlock, the Water Guild would have gotten me first, and I’d be dead.”

  “They might have, but—”

  “Would have. The Frost Maiden said so.”

  Her eyes got huge. “You talked to Sorceress Lorraine?”

  “Aye. She said the Water Guild owed you for saving my life.”

  Hazel breathed, “She said that?” Her eyes were big enough for a man to get lost in. Her mouth was open a little, begging for a kiss. I obliged.

  She wrapped an arm around my neck and melted against me. For the length of a half-dozen hammer swings, I forgot the Frost Maiden, the Fire Warlock, even how far away Nettleton was. Then her grip went slack and she slid away. When her head came to rest on my shoulder, she was asleep.

  I looked down at the sleeping lass. My lass. My witch. For an earth witch she was a featherweight. The Fire Warlock had said to make a holiday out of it. I had time to wait until she woke up.

  Rustling skirts made me look up. Mother Astrid was walking towards me, rubbing her right hand, and scowling. I looked down at Hazel’s freckles, up at Mother Astrid’s, and tightened my grip. Whatever was coming, I’d be in deeper trouble if I dropped the lass in my arms.

  Mother Astrid let out a long sigh. “I’m not angry at you, Master Duncan. I saw what you did. It was gallant of you. Not wise, but gallant.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I never claimed to be wise.”

  “I appre
ciate what you did for my daughter, even if it wasn’t wise.” She frowned down at Hazel for a moment. “Sleep is what she needs most right now. I need sleep, too, but I would appreciate a few words with you, and there is nowhere better than this private chamber. Wait here.”

  Like I was going anywhere. I looked around at this cave as big as a ballroom and wondered where we really were. Not next to a bedroom, I was certain of that, but somewhere in the Fortress. Wrought iron chairs and scorch marks on the floor and walls stamped the room as Fire Guild property. It was too dim to see the ceiling, but there had to be scorch marks there, too.

  I shifted my weight in the chair. Competent workmanship, but not comfortable. I could do better. Would do better. I kissed Hazel’s hair, and dreamed.

  Mother Astrid came back with a load of bedding. She spread a pallet on the floor, and after I laid Hazel on it, led me a distance away to another pair of chairs.

  She stared at me as if she could read my soul. “You’ve agreed to be the test case.”

  “Aye, ma’am. I may be Frankland’s biggest chump, but I said I would. How’d you know?”

  “Powerful magic is gathering around you—”

  “Frostbite! Sorry, ma’am. That’s what the Frost Maiden said, too, and the idea of that pushing me around scares…” I stopped. Something had changed. The weight still pressed on my shoulders, but not as heavy, and I wasn’t afraid, any longer, of being afraid. I’d be terrified on the day, but that didn’t make me a coward.

  She laid a hand on my arm. “You have done what the magic required, by agreeing to be the test case. It wants to break the royal’s grip on justice in Frankland, and no one else has what it needs. If you had refused…” She shrugged. “It might have weighed you down so you couldn’t leave Frankland. But you wouldn’t have refused. It knew that when it picked you.”

  “Tell me about this weight, ma’am. The Frost Maiden said it was Earth Magic.”

  “It is. Haven’t you heard, ‘How is the king like a swordsmith?’”

  “Aye. ‘He has a hammer as well as a sword.’ That’s never made any sense to me, ma’am.”

  “The hammer is the weight of public opinion—the source of the king’s authority, and the power he controls. If used wisely, it is a force as powerful as any of the four Offices, but it has abandoned him, as he has abandoned us.”

  “I’ve felt for months like there’s a weight on my shoulders I can’t shake off. Ever since my Uncle Will died. He used to say he felt like he was carrying all the souls in Abertee.”

  “He was. The Blacksmith’s Guild in Abertee has assumed that respons­ibility. When you shouldered responsibility in Blacksburg as well, the king’s abandoned magic found you. Being in favour with three of the Offices has also channelled the magic towards you.”

  “Three? The Fire Warlock did commend me, for whatever that’s worth, but that’s just one.”

  “The Earth and Air Offices took note of you in Blacksburg; the Air Office for your work on the charters, and the Earth Office for your gift to the widows and orphans. Your generosity has done a world of good.”

  “Well, ma’am, I’m glad about that.”

  “And now that you have agreed, of your own free will, to be the test case, the Water Office should also hold you in high regard. Garnering the favour of all four Offices is not a trivial accomplishment. Don’t be afraid of the magic around you; if you hadn’t been able to carry it, it wouldn’t have come to you. It will protect you as well as use you.”

  “But I don’t like being pushed around. What else will it push me into doing?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I studied her. She had looked real good the first time I saw her. “Ma’am, you look awful.”

  She gave me a weak smile. “How very flattering of you.”

  “You’re still cute as a kitten. You look like you need to sleep for a day and a half, is all I meant. And you were scowling when you came in. If you weren’t pissed off at me, then what?”

  She sighed. “Scowling was better than crying. That wicked Locksmith—the first one, that is—had no right to inflict such pain.”

  “I’m glad you’re regrowing the Locksmith’s arm. Are you regrowing the Frost Maiden’s, too?”

  “No. She won’t need it to rebuild the Water Office, and she is so old the strain would kill her. Humans aren’t made to regenerate, like starfish, once adult. Even with Frankland’s best healers at her side, it nearly killed Lucinda—the Locksmith—and she is—was—a young woman in robust health. Every healer’s first concern is to do no harm, and each of us purposefully inflicted harm—great harm—on that poor girl. It was dreadful.”

  Earth mothers aren’t supposed to cry, but her eyes were brimming. “But, ma’am, you were just trying to help her.”

  The tears flowed. “No, we weren’t. It would have been kinder to amputate the charred stump and let her live with one arm. She’s a warlock; she would have made do without it. The pain we inflicted on her was intolerable, literally intolerable. She tried to escape, and we wouldn’t let her die.”

  She sobbed into her handkerchief. I put an arm around her shoulders, and she didn’t shake me off. Like I had any power to comfort an earth mother. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I shouldn’t have said anything. Go lie down next to Hazel and rest.”

  “Oh, my poor, darling Hazel. She’s too young for this. She had never worked with a sufferer who wanted to die, and the Locksmith is a close friend. I hope she finds the grace to forgive Hazel. I hope Hazel forgives herself.”

  “But, ma’am, if regrowing an arm hurts so much, why do it?”

  “Because she’s the first talent in a thousand years who can unlock the Offices. Frankland needs her more than it needs anyone else right now, Fire Warlock and Earth Mother included. She can’t survive unlocking another Office, and she won’t dare try, until she can control the lightning, and to do that, she has to be hale and whole. Even then, it will be dangerous and difficult. Without an arm, she would waste so much power compensating for it, even if she tried not to, that calling down the lightning would kill her.”

  “Are you sure it will be all right again?”

  She shrugged and blew her nose. “The best healers in the country reached her within seconds. Most of what’s needed has already been done, but we won’t know for several days if her arm will regrow straight and true. Only one healer at a time needs to stay with her from now on, thank goodness. This has put a serious strain on the Earth Guild, but Mother Celeste ordered us to do everything possible for the three injured, even if it meant other people died for lack of attention.”

  “You’ll take turns sitting with her? Hazel will be around for a few days, then.”

  She lowered her handkerchief and frowned. “You know she has to stand trial for aiding and abetting a fugitive?”

  I pulled my arm away. “Aye, ma’am, and I’m awfully sorry. I didn’t mean to get her into trouble.”

  “Do you know the standard penalties in such cases?”

  “Nae, ma’am.”

  “After their training, most healers return to the communities they came from. Usually, the healer aides someone she is close to: brother, father, beau. The punishment the Water Guild has deemed fitting is banishment. She is sent to another district, and may never again contact the man she helped, or his family.”

  The roaring in my head drowned out the rest. “I’m sorry, ma’am. What did you say?”

  “Please, don’t come to see her again. It would be cruel to raise false hopes.”

  I walked over to the sleeping witch and stared down with a lump in my throat. My lass? That had lasted a long time. Cruel? Damn straight.

  “Aye, ma’am,” I mumbled, and stumbled down to the barracks without any idea how I got there.

  Walking into Winter

  Every waking hour I spent at the forge, for want of anything else to do,
and thinking about smithcraft helped block thoughts about the trial, or Hazel, or what Frankland would be like with nobles handing out sentences. But not even the smithy kept me from being homesick for Nettleton; that tug was always there.

  The fire lad dropped by the smithy every evening to report on the progress rebuilding the Water Office. “Master Sven and I have had some free time,” he said one day, “and we found the answer to your question.”

  “You did, eh? Which question?”

  “Why haven’t any swords shattered lately?”

  “Because the guild doesn’t have enough wizards?”

  “No. Making a sword shatter takes a lot of power, and the smiths who set up the guild knew they couldn’t count on all swordsmiths being strong enough wizards for it. They made the magic work so even a true mundane can pound that spell into a sword.”

  “That so? Where does the power come from, then?”

  “From the king’s hammer. It’s tied in with the Great Oath. The swords stopped shattering when the kings stopped taking the oath, because the oath gives them the hammer.”

  “You’re making it sound like that hammer’s a real thing.”

  He shrugged. “‘How is a king like a swordsmith? He has a hammer as well as a sword.’ That sounds to me like something real. It may not be a hammer you can see and feel, but that doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

  “If it’s real, tell me where is it, and how he uses it.”

  He threw up his hands. “Beats me. We didn’t find out much else. Earth Guild secrets, as far as we can tell.”

  I hefted the hammer in my hand. “This one’s real, and I might as well get back to swinging it. Because from what you said, we’re never going to see a sword shatter. Not while Stephen’s king, anyway.”

  “Come in and sit down,” the Locksmith said. “Don’t stand in the door­way gawking.”

  “Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to stare.” With piebald pink and white skin, she was not a pretty sight. She had gone from being a sweet armful to thinner than was healthy, and her right arm, wrapped in bandages, was inches shorter than the left.