Pathways

by Mercedes Lackey

  • • •

  Technically, the Temple of Thenoth was in the Water Street Watch House’s district. Hektor’d never even been to this part of Haven before, but Kassie made her way through the winding streets with a confidence and authority he usually only associated with Paddy, until they came to a long, high wall, dotted with patchwork repairs and discolored by moss, a weather-worn gate set in the center.

  Kassie pulled the bell, then smiled brightly at the old man who answered.

  “Hello, Petrin,” she said loudly. “It’s Kassiath Dann.”

  He stared myopically at her, then broke into a toothless grin. “Oh, hello there, Hassien,” he said. “You forget somethin’? Weren’t you just here this mornin’?”

  “Nearly,” she answered easily. “Last week.”

  “A month gone by already, eh? My, how time flies. You here to see to the donkey, then?”

  “I’ll give ’im a brush down if you like.”

  “That’d be right kind of ye. Whose this then, yer beau? He looks a bit rough. You can do better.”

  Kassie laughed at Hektor’s affronted expression. “This is my brother, Petrin,” she explained. “And he’s not rough, he’s a Watchman.”

  “Huh. In my day Watchmen went clean-shaven, but I guess things have gotten lax all over. Yer name’s Petrin too, is it?” the old man queried.

  Hektor glanced at Kassie, who grinned.

  “We need to see the Prior, Petrin,” she said before Hektor could answer. “Can we come in?”

  “What? Oh, sure, always welcome.” Petrin stepped aside. “I’ll jus’ take yon sack up to the loft. It’s for the birds, yeah?”

  Hektor passed it over with a nod.

  “Prior’s in the kennels, seein’ to a young stray what had a litter of pups last night. Mind ye both go quiet.”

  “We will,” Kassie promised.

  “Yer a good girl, Kether.”

  “Petrin’s been here since he was a little,” Kassie told Hektor as she lead him around the small chapter house toward a series of low stone buildings at the back of the temple complex. “He’s deaf an’ a bit muddled up, but no one knows beast tendin’ like he does. All sorts of people come to ask his advice.”

  Hektor nodded absently, glancing about as they walked. He’d never seen the inside of any temple, let alone one dedicated to a god of animals, and he wondered if the sense of peace and safety he felt was common to all of them.

  They found the Prior seated in a small, straw-covered stall, holding the head of a young, thin dog in his lap, eight puppies tucked into her belly, eagerly nursing. He nodded at Kassie’s introduction, listening with half an ear to Hektor’s question as he offered small pieces of bread dipped in milk to the mother dog.

  “Tam married Brother Andel’s youngest sister, Greda,” he acknowledged. “He’s a good man, if a bit rough around the edges. I hope he’s not in any trouble.”

  “No trouble,” Hektor assured him. “I just need to ask him a few questions. I was told he was in charge of street repairs years ago.”

  “It would have to have been some years ago,” the Prior noted. “I’ve known Tam for over a decade, and he’s never mentioned such a thing. He comes with Greda and her children about once a fortnight. She and the girls help Andel with the animals while Tam and her boy see to any stonework.”

  “Do you know where they live?”

  “In a tenement house at the top of Water Street. Greda works in the laundry on the ground floor.”

  “Thank you.” Hektor paused at the door. “So, what will happen to the dog and her puppies?”

  “Petal will stay here,” the Prior answered, stroking the mother dog’s ears fondly. “Her littles will either be found good, loving homes or they’ll stay here too.” He looked up, a speculative smile on his face. “Why, were you interested in a Watch House mascot or two, Sergeant?”

  “Maybe, or a family pet.”

  “Well, come and see me in eight weeks’ time. If Kassiath here gives you a good reference, I just might consider it.”

  • • •

  After the promised visit to the Temple donkey, Hektor and Kassie headed toward Water Street in silence until Kassie glanced up at her brother with a grin. “You think Ma’ll be all right with a dog in the flat?”

  Hektor shrugged. “Probably not,” he replied, looking a bit sheepish. “Don’t honestly know what came over me.”

  She laughed. “It’s the Temple. Somethin’ about it makes folk wanna help out. They’ve placed a lot of animals that way. People come to get in with the god, or maybe just to feel good about doing a kind deed, and the next thing you know, they have a cat or a dog or some other creature in their care.”

  “Well, I hope the feelin’ doesn’t wear off once they get out and get ’em home.”

  “The priests follow up to make sure. You havin’ second thoughts?”

  “About the flat, yeah, but maybe the Watch House could use a guard dog. Breakneedle Street’s got one.”

  “I don’t see why not, then. The aviary’s taken in plenty of birds, an’ old Sammy comes from them.”

  “Does he? I always thought he just walked in one day and took the place over.”

  “No. Paddy say’s Da brought him back one day after he’d gone to the Temple making inquiries about a horse theft.”

  “Huh. Well, remind me to keep my distance then, I don’t think old Sammy’d appreciate another Watch House cat musclin’ in on his territory.”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He mostly sleeps in the Capt’n’s office these days.”

  “Still . . . the Temple seems like a place to keep clear of.” Hektor stopped at the entrance to Water Street. “You’d best head back now, Kas. Edzel say’s Tam’s got a temper on him, and I don’t want you getting caught up in that.”

  “But—”

  “You’re a Watch House Messenger Bird Apprentice, not a Watchman,” he said sternly. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’d have chased Paddy off, too.”

  “All right. I have chores to do anyway.” She paused. “Be careful?”

  “I will. You want me to bring home something from the Herbalist tonight?”

  She blinked at him. “Didn’t you go last night?”

  “Yeah. ’Parently, we need more chamomile.”

  “Oh. Then yeah, thanks, you could bring me some red millet seeds.”

  • • •

  Hektor found Tam sitting in the his tenement’s inner courtyard, working a piece of sandstone into a small roundel. He was a thickset man with curly brown hair and a short beard covered in stone dust. He scowled at Hektor when he identified himself, the scowl growing deeper as Hektor outlined the reason for his visit.

  “Street repairs,” he spat with a derisive sneer. “That were years ago. An’ nothing but a fight every time. Shopkeepers refusin’ to pay up, an’ court refusin’ to do anythin’ about it.”

  He slammed the chisel onto the small worktable, causing bits of stone to bounce off onto the ground. “We were supposed to get a weekly wage for the surveyin’, an’ that never came. Everyone claimin’ someone else were in charge of it, an’ no one payin’ up at the end. So I chucked it all in. The streets can turn to mire for all I care. Where were they when Barrin died? They all said he was drunk, but I know different. He hadn’t touched a drink for days. He got run over one evenin’ in the dark, an’ nobody did nothin’. Where was the Watch then, eh?”

  “Tam? You all right?”

  He turned to see a girl of about thirteen peering around the courtyard gate.

  “I’m fine, Rasha.”

  “Want me to call Leon?”

  “No. S’all good. Your brother’s busy at his own work. The Watchman here was just leavin’.” Tam returned his attention to Hektor, the scowl returning to his face. “I’ve said all I have to say. I left that life, a
nd I ain’t goin’ back.”

  “Fair enough. Just one more question,” Hektor said, his expression set, “Do you know any reason why somebody might be stealin’ cobblestones?”

  Tam stared at him incredulously. “No.” He rose and stalked off, followed by Rasha, who glanced back at Hektor with a frightened expression.

  • • •

  “You think it’s Tam what’s stealin’ the cobblestones?”

  Back at the Watch House, Paddy handed his older brothers a mug of tea each before giving Hektor the avaricious look of a true gossip.

  “No,” Hektor answered. “But the girl did seem nervous.”

  “Sure, but the Watch makes everyone nervous.”

  “That’s true.”

  “So now what?”

  “Now, it’s a long walk up to the Records Hall in the fog.”

  “I’ll go.” Paddy turned eagerly.

  “No, I think I’d better go myself. This’s turned into more’n a fact findin’ mission. I’ve got to convince someone up there to appoint new surveyors.” He glanced around. “Anyone seen where I left my tunic?”

  His brothers exchanged a look. “Yer wearin’ it, Hek, I mean Sergeant,” Paddy answered.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “You need more sleep,” Aiden grunted. “Paddy, go with him before he trips over his own feet.”

  • • •

  The next morning dawned clear and warm. Both Eddie and Ronnie were enjoying a day of remarkable health and good spirits, so Ismy convinced Hektor to accompany the three of them to her father’s for supper that evening.

  “My brother an’ Trisha’ll be there, so that means Zoe an’ their new baby, Joanna, will be too. He’ll be in a fine mood, you’ll see.”

  Hektor gave her a sour look. “Yeah, well, a fine mood for Edzel Smith is a poor mood for anybody else.”

  “He won’t even notice you’re there. He dotes on little Joie.”

  “Everyone dotes on little Joie. I doubt she’s ever had a colicky day since she was born.”

  “Don’t be silly. All babies are colicky. Get your jacket.”

  • • •

  Surrounded by grandchildren, Edzel’s customary scowl was nowhere to be seen. After the meal, he leaned back with a contented smile.

  “So, did the great cobblestone crime come to anythin’?” he asked, his voice more teasing than accusatory for a change.

  Hektor shrugged. “Not yet. I’ve got a fella up to the Records Hall lookin’ into whose in charge of namin’ new surveyors.”

  “Don’t hold yer breath. So, you never did find Tam, then?” Something in Edzel’s tone made Hektor frown.

  “I found ’im. He’s not interested in comin’ back to ’is old trade.”

  “Huh. Well, I guess you jus’ don’t have a way with people, does ’e, Jo-Jo?” Edzel chucked his youngest granddaughter under the chin, and she laughed.

  The sound of the shop bell interrupted them.

  “That’ll be ’im now,” Edzel stated, handing the girl off to Trisha before rising with a grunt.

  “Who?”

  “Tam, a course, who else? He an’ I had a little chat yesterday.”

  Hektor glared at him. “You had a little chat,” he echoed. “I thought you said you didn’t know where he lived.”

  “He came to see me, if you must know. Askin’ about you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  Edzel waved a dismissive hand at him. “Wanted a character, I suspect. I tol’ him you could be trusted for all you weren’t too bright.”

  “Trusted how?”

  “To do what’s right by everyone, fool. Honestly, I don’t know what Ismy sees in you.” Edzel paused at the kitchen door with a scowl. “Well, come on; ’e ain’t here to see me. Get off yer arse and come see what ’e wants.”

  Hektor glanced over at Ismy, who shrugged, so, with a scowl growing on his own face, he followed him.

  • • •

  He found Tam and a boy of fifteen or sixteen who looked enough like the girl, Rasha, to probably be her brother, Leon. They were standing by the door, a rough burlap sack filled with something lumpy at their feet.

  Tam gave him a baleful look and pointed at the sack.

  “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ about where they came from ’cept that I didn’t have nothin’ to do with their pilferin’. If you’re willin’ to leave it at that, Leon an’ me are willin’ to do a bit of street repair work with ’em.”

  “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  Tam studiously ignored the boy, who squirmed uncomfortably at his side. “Priests make for powerfully pushy family,” he said finally, and the boy relaxed a little.

  “Yeah, so do blacksmiths,” Hektor agreed.

  “I should tell ya,” Tam continued, his tone no less belligerent, “they ain’t all there. Some of ’em got . . . used before they was identified, but the mortar’s set now, so they couldn’t be pulled out without underminin’ half the Temple wall.”

  “Temple wall. I see. Well, the bag seems pretty full. I guess that’ll do. I’m happy to close the investigation if the potholes get filled up.”

  “Fair enough. We’ll start first thing tomorrow mornin’ if it stays clear.”

  They shook on it, the stonemason’s huge, scarred fingers closing over the Watchman’s like a vise.

  “I’ve been to the Records Hall,” Hektor told him. “If I can get your weekly wage reinstated, I will.”

  Tam snorted. “Yeah, well, I won’t hold my breath.”

  “That’s just what Edzel said a moment ago.”

  “Edzel’s a wise man.”

  “Is he?” When Tam snickered, Hektor shrugged. “Yeah, I guess he is.”

  The sound of three babies crying pulled his head around. “Tomorrow, then.”

  “Tomorrow.” Pointing Leon towards the sack, Tam took his leave, and Hektor returned to the kitchen to find Ismy’s brother, Tay, bouncing little Joanna in his arms while Trisha set a packet of chamomile on the table and put on the kettle.

  “She’s colicky,” the younger Smith said with a weary smile. “She set off the boys. Sorry.”

  “S’all right,” Hektor answered, accepting his sons from Ismy and bouncing them the same way. “I’m used to it.”

  “I was gonna walk her out to the forge while the tea steeps. You wanna come?”

  “Yeah.”

  Together, the two fathers maneuvered out the back door, their children slowly quieting in their arms.

  Boggles and Spies

  Louisa Swann

  The evening breeze cooled Petril’s face as he stared down at the waters of Lake Evendim. The wind had been hard out of the southwest instead of the east today, churning the surface into a cauldron of choppy waves, then ripping the tops off those waves. The spray cast an icy coating of mist over everything in the immediate vicinity, turning the jagged stones that made up the shoreline dark gray.

  The breeze shifted, carrying with it the stink of freshly gutted bluegill overlaid with a hint of woodsmoke. It was still too early in the spring for the women to go sponge diving, but they’d gone out in the smaller skiffs and brought home nets filled with the silver-scaled fish.

  Petril’s stomach rumbled. There’d be fried bluegill tonight and crappie, along with a rash of early spring tubers Ani, his oldest sister, had found at the edge of a melting snowbank.

  He wouldn’t eat the fish, of course. Couldn’t eat it. Not when he heard the wails and screams of dying fish in his head every time he took a bite. He’d taken to sneaking his portions underneath the table to the dog and then trying to fill up on vegetables and fried dough.

  Not an easy task for an eight-year old who was always hungry.

  Da said he let his imagination get the better of him, but Petril knew better. Imagination or no, the cries of the suffering
creatures echoed in his head, bouncing around his skull like a swarm of angry bees.

  He loved the water, loved the feel of the boat beneath his feet, the wind in his hair.

  But he despised fishing.

  Da and Petril’s six older brothers had left five days ago, taking the fishing boats out on the first trip of the season, joining Petril’s uncles and the men from the other longhouses. They’d be gone for another day or so if the weather held. Da hadn’t argued when Petril said he didn’t feel well enough to go out on the boat. He’d charged Petril with keeping the village safe. He took the duty seriously because he was the only man left in the village. Jem and Loni didn’t count, as they were still in diapers.

  The village was one of the smallest on the lake, pressed back against the forest, a furlong or so from the shore. A scattering of longhouses—one for each of the families—angled off a central firepit like spokes on a cartwheel that had been cut in half, leaving the lakeside open. The common area was busy with villagers gathered together to celebrate the coming of spring, women and girls weaving around each other, feeding the fire, chopping vegetables, mixing dough, and chatting as they worked to prepare the evening meal.

  Petril turned away from the village, swishing a branch hard enough to make the air whistle. He brandished the branch like a sword. He wasn’t a fisher who couldn’t fish anymore; he was a soldier, battling a great army to protect his mum and sisters and the rest of the village from—

  “I thought ye was a Herald?” a mischievous voice asked.

  Petril lowered his branch-turned-sword and scowled at his little sister. She grinned up at him, her long nose wrinkled the way only Tinnie’s nose could. Her dark, short-cropped hair stood on end, fallen victim to whatever his baby sister’s newest “adventure” had been.

  “That were yesterday.” Petril whipped his sword-branch back and forth with an authoritative air. He hoped. “Today I’m protectin’ the village.”

  Tinnie snorted. “From what? Mozzie bugs?”