The Blacksmith

by Howe, Barbara;

  “Maybe not. I wouldn’t have guessed if I hadn’t been watching you for weeks now, trying to figure you out. And then, with you and the Fire Warlock saying goodbye…”

  “You do not comprehend how dangerous it is to broach this subject. You were able to say what you did because the situation has resolved, and you were speaking in hypotheticals. We must never speak of it again, nor will you tell anyone what you did behind the curtain of snow.”

  “Hey, now, I’ll say—” My guts cramped. My head pounded. Sweat ran down my forehead. “Fine. I won’t.” The pain went away. I leaned back against the cushions, breathing hard. “You put a spell on me.”

  “A geas, for your safety. These are Fire and Earth Guild secrets. We cannot divulge them.”

  “Why the hell not? If the aristos knew what happened there in the snow, it would scare the dickens out of them. Some of them might even grow up.”

  “I repeat, we cannot. It is not my choice.” His eyes were hard, his mouth a thin line. “The Fire Office will not allow knowledge of such a lapse of authority to spread. Someone of lesser rank, yes, we could use as an example, but not this one.”

  The party going on in the streets didn’t make up for the sour taste in my mouth. Women threw kisses at me. Men doffed their hats. My wee nephew could crawl faster than the carriage was rolling. “Maybe you will have to rebuild the Fire Office, too. I could’ve died, and all I did was…”

  “All you did was save many thousands of lives, crush the nobles’ hopes of overt royal support for retaliation, and wrench Frankland, if not back into balance, at least far less out of balance than it was.”

  “Aye, sir, I can see that.”

  “We are still on the brink of civil war. Make no mistake about it. The nobles will not acquiesce in the changes we have wrought, but when the conflict is over, the changes will stand, and Frankland will be the stronger for them. Do not belittle what you have done.”

  “Aye, Your Wisdom. Thanks.”

  He smiled, folded his hands behind his head, and slept.

  Master Jean led the way through the tunnels to a bedroom in the Warren. The Frost Maiden—Sorceress Lorraine, that is—might have given me the gimlet eye for sticking my nose in, but she smiled.

  “The man of the hour,” she said. “You have become the commoners’ greatest hero, and they do not understand the half of what you have done for them. We are deeply in your debt. More deeply than we can ever repay.”

  I shrugged. “Today you didn’t say I couldn’t go home.”

  “As soon as you pay the earl his gold coin, you are free to go.”

  Except for bright blue eyes, she was as pasty white as the sheets she lay on, and her bones were as sharp as Master Jean’s. She couldn’t have weighed over six stone, and with her arm gone, she looked like a cast-off doll—a doll with a warm smile. She was still gorgeous, but a woman, not a goddess. Not my woman, of course, but a woman who could love and be loved.

  “I got what I wanted, ma’am. Most of it, that is.” Let her and the sorcerer stroking her hair enjoy themselves. I’d take up the problem of Hazel with the new Frost Maiden. “Nothing you need to worry about, anyway. You’ve done fine by us.”

  “Indeed,” Master Jean said. “You have accomplished a feat I did not believe possible. In the space of a single morning, you transformed yourself from an enemy of Frankland’s common people into a martyr and their new heroine. Congratulations.”

  “I assure you,” she said, “I had no intention of collapsing in front of the entire assembly.”

  The Earth Mother snorted. “I told you not to retire yet.”

  “Yes, Your Wisdom. I should have listened to you, but I had been thinking of retiring for some time, and when the king made his charge, the timing seemed right. I meant to throw him a bone to help him recover his dignity. I made things worse, instead. I regret that.”

  “Do not chastise yourself,” Master Jean said. “None of us could have done better, in your place.”

  Mother Celeste said, “You were splendid, dear, and it turned out far better than I had dared hope. A celebration is in order.”

  The sorceress said, “I agree. When I have regained some strength, I will invite everyone involved in the reforging to a feast.”

  I couldn’t help it. I shivered.

  Sorcerer Charles laughed. “The Crystal Palace isn’t the best place for an event like that. We’ll find another venue more comfortable for everyone.”

  Master Jean said, “You were thinking, perhaps, of having the feast on board a ship? An evening cruise along the southern coast would be…thrilling.”

  I gawked. He winked.

  The sorceress smiled. “That was not my first choice, but if you insist…”

  “The Earth Guild will be delighted,” the Earth Mother said, “to host the feast for you at the Warren. We prefer to keep our feet on dry land, thank you, even if the Fire Warlock Emeritus is losing his marbles.”

  The Earl of Eddensford and his wife were waiting for me in the Warren’s Great Hall. I fished a frank out of my pocket and dropped it in his hand. “Thank you, sir, for standing up to the king for us. And I’m sorry about your brother. I’d be broken up over mine.”

  The earl squeezed the coin until his knuckles turned white. A muscle in his face twitched. “I envy you your brother. When the news mine was dead reached me, I felt little other than relief. I apologise to you for the ordeal he inflicted on you and your family.”

  The earl’s wife took his hand, and gave me a smile that warmed me all the way down to my toes. “Let’s go give this away, why don’t we? There are lots of places where it will do more good.”

  After watching them go, I turned back to the Great Hall, and came face-to-face with the only other man my size in Frankland.

  “I said you were the best man for our test case.” The Fire Warlock held out a hand. “Thank you, my friend.”

  We shook. “Guess you were right.”

  “To be the first agent, too. We’ll need to have a long talk about what being agent means, but—”

  “You didn’t say if I get paid for it. With giving away a fifth of all I make, plus taxes, I’m still going to have a hard time making ends meet.”

  “We’ll pay you for your time, but if you can’t make ends meet on what you’re going to be pulling in as a smith, you don’t deserve it. You’re going to be rolling in it.”

  “Like rocks I am. Master Clive and Master Randall were comfortable, but not rich, and they’d been making swords for longer—”

  “I doubt you’ll ever get around to making a sword. Clive and Randall didn’t have the richest men in the country and their wives watching them make a one-of-a-kind gate for an irritating little braggart of a baron. You’re going to be flooded with orders from all the landed gentry wanting their mascots immortalised in a gate or door or what-have-you that makes their neighbours and friends turn green with envy. And they saw what you charged the baron. They’ll pay whatever you ask. Wouldn’t want their so-called friends to think they couldn’t afford it.”

  “Good Lord.”

  He laughed, and clapped me on the shoulder. “You’re not on probation anymore, either. Grandmaster Henry’s not stupid. He knows the Swordsmiths’ Guild’s reputation would be mud if they kicked you out now.”

  “But… But… Oh, frost it. About being an agent…”

  “We’ll talk about that tomorrow, and about that fool preacher. Your duke will go along with whatever we suggest; he can’t be feeling too kindly towards the man either. But that’ll wait. Go enjoy yourself today. There’s a party already in full swing in Crossroads.”

  “If you come, I’ll buy you a beer.”

  He grinned. “I might. See you.”

  The Earth Mother’s magic was wearing off; my chest burned and my arms were too weak to pick up a newborn lamb. I sat on a bench against a wall and m
assaged a cramping calf. I could go home. Sleep. See my nephews, brother, sister, sister-in-law…

  Frost it. I’d gone off and left Doug and Maggie in Paris, and had no idea where they were or how they were getting home. How I was getting home, either, for that matter. I should have asked the Fire Warlock.

  The hall was alive with a jostling, swirling, happy swarm of witches and wizards. A year ago, I would have laughed at anyone saying I’d see this eight-sided hall, one of the most famous places in Frankland. I’d never expected to see the Fortress, or Paris, either, and Injustice Hall was just a bad dream.

  So much I’d gained in one year: new friends, a master’s certificate, a spot in the Swordsmiths’ Guild, fame, and maybe even fortune. A few things I’d lost, too: the freedom to come and go as I pleased, Charcoal, Master Randall, and Hazel.

  The Water Guild owed me more than they could repay, she’d said. We’d see about that. But maybe Hazel wouldn’t want to come back to Abertee, after Granny Mildred had pushed her out.

  I stood, and nearly fell on my face. Still a bit unsteady on my pins, and my back ached. I needed a healer. I needed…that steadying touch on the arm, pumping life back into me. That cute, freckled face turned up to mine. That soft voice saying, “Duncan, I am so glad—”

  I pulled her close. “They’ve let you come to say goodbye?”

  Hazel buried her face in my shirt. Her shoulders shook. I stroked her hair and said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her shaking got worse, as hard as Maggie would shake when she’d been a bawling little tyke. I bent down, then jerked upright. She was laughing.

  I swung her onto the bench, where she was almost eye level. “Let me in on the joke.”

  She nodded with her hand over her mouth. I chewed on my lip while she struggled to talk.

  “My trial was run by a level-three water wizard who wasn’t part of the Reforging Coven. He didn’t believe they had fixed the Water Office. He thought it would kill you, and he doesn’t like earth witches, any of us.”

  “Go on.”

  “And he prides himself on coming up with creative penalties—making the punishment fit the crime—so after Sorceress Lorraine told him Granny Mildred couldn’t stand me being in the same house with her, he decided the appropriate penalty was to condemn me to continue reporting to her in Abertee.”

  My ears must be playing tricks. “You have to stay in Abertee.”

  “Yes. I was shocked, too. Happy, but confused. Mildred wasn’t angry with me. She sent me to the Warren because she worried I’d be in danger in Abertee after everyone heard what I’d done.”

  “But Maggie said—”

  “Last night, after the trial, Mother told me—”

  “Mother Astrid?”

  “Yes. She said Mother Celeste and Sorceress Lorraine agreed that both guilds need to believe there will be non-trivial consequences for aiding a fugitive, especially now that a commoner can get a fair trial, the Water Guild will be more serious about capturing fugitives. But Warlock Arturos said he’d be damned if he’d let them make me suffer for teaching you mindwarping, since half the Water Guild would be dead now if I hadn’t. So they created a conspiracy to make the rank and file in both guilds think I had no friends in Abertee.”

  “They…the Frost Maiden…” I put out a hand and leaned against the wall. “By the Warlock’s beard. The Water Office didn’t demand you be sent away?”

  “No. The presiding Water Guild member has always had the authority to pick any district, and apparently the Water Office was satisfied that I understood the gravity of what I’d done, and wouldn’t do it again. But the presiding wizard warned me that if you did survive, and we ever spoke again…”

  I tightened my grip on her waist. “Go on.”

  She bent her head down. I had to strain to hear her. “He’d take away my ability to dig.”

  I talked into her hair. “Fire and frostbite. That’s just awful.”

  “Don’t overdo it. We don’t know who’s watching.”

  When I could keep a straight face, I pulled back a little. “You say Granny Mildred’s not angry.”

  “No. She said I’ll—” Hazel’s freckles disappeared under a wave of red. “Never mind. She wants me to stay. She’s going to apologise in public, making it sound like she changed her mind when the trial went well.”

  “Good. Who else knows?”

  “Your brother. They let him in on it after Maggie had her row with Mildred. They didn’t want to risk someone else sticking up for me, and Doug was working himself up into a lather.”

  I should’ve known. Doug and Maggie had always made me proud, and I wouldn’t have to fight with either Mildred or the new Frost Maiden. For the heaviest man in north Frankland, I felt light as a feather. Hazel’s freckles were coming back. “I know what Granny Mildred said to make you blush.”

  “Oh?”

  “She said you’ll make a fine Archer.”

  Her freckles disappeared again. Her eyes shone like stars. Her mouth begged for a kiss. I obliged.

  She pulled away before I’d had nearly enough. “They’re watching.”

  I looked around. Smiling faces ringed us.

  Mother Astrid said, “You have my blessing, children. It’s hard to imagine either of you could do any better.”

  Granny Mildred said, “I hope you’ve learned something from all this.”

  “Aye, Granny, I have,” I said. “Us common folk have power, too, and we need to speak up for ourselves instead of ducking problems and waiting for the magic folk to fix them.”

  “Is that so?” She looked confounded. “You mean I’ve been giving bad advice all these years?”

  “I’m afraid so, Mildred,” Mother Astrid said. “We all have been.”

  “Maybe I’m too old to mend my ways. But you’re not, you young scamp. What I meant was, I hope you’ve learned when to keep your mouth shut.”

  “Hell, no. I learned that those folk who are my betters can take somebody telling them the truth.”

  Mother Astrid laughed. Mildred said, “For Heaven’s sake, sonny, that’s not—”

  “It’ll do,” Doug said. He and Maggie took her by the elbows and walked her towards the tunnels.

  Maggie said, “Let’s go, before the party gets too loud for Abertee to hear you tell Hazel you’re sorry.”

  I followed, with my lass on my arm. I was whistling before we even reached the tunnel.

  End of The Blacksmith

  The story continues in

  The Wordsmith, Reforging: Book 4