The flat was in an uproar when he arrived. Padreic was pacing the front room, squeezing the pig’s bladder ball he was forever mending in his hands, while their only sister, Kasiath, was sitting by the coal stove, her eyes red from trying not to cry. Jakon and Raik were standing beside her, clearly unsure of how to comfort her beyond their physical presence. Everyone looked up with relief when Hektor entered.
“Where’re the others?” he asked, casting a swift glance across the kitchen to the small pantry they’d converted for their grandfather’s use.
“Suli took the littles off to visit her mother,” Padreic answered. “Aiden’s not home yet, an’ Ma’s gone to the Healers to get someone to come by and see to Granther.”
“Granther don’t need no one seein’ to him!” Thomar’s weak but determined voice carried easily across the flat. “He just needs some blasted quiet!”
Padreic chewed at his bottom lip. “I thought I might go down to Rosie’s, Hek,” he said in a hushed voice. “If that’s all right. I can stay though,” he added quickly. “If you need things fetched, or somethin’ . . .”
Hektor shook his head. “No, you go. Just stay indoors so I know where to find you.” Both of them tried hard not to glance over at the pantry again.
“We’ll head out too now that you’re home,” Raik said.
“Where will you be?”
The two younger brothers shared a look. “Watchman’s Arms if you need us.”
Hektor nodded. “Kas?”
She looked up. “I’ll stay.”
“All right then.” Hektor made a show of screwing up his courage. “So, let’s go see if we can talk some sense into a cantankerous old man.”
The pantry was just big enough to house a narrow pallet down the center. Thomar lay propped up on a pile of pillows, wrapped in shawls and blankets, and looking as birdlike as one of his own messenger pigeons. He gave Hektor a narrow-eyed look as his grandson pushed the curtain aside. “Don’t start,” he wheezed. “It’s too dear, and it’s not necessary.”
“The herbalist says otherwise, Granther.”
“The herbalist is a . . .” Thomar paused as Kasiath pushed past her brother and tucked herself on the bottom corner of the pallet. “. . . nagging little fart,” he finished. “I know what’s what; he don’t. So . . .” He turned to Kasiath. “D’you tell him your news, girl?”
She shook her head. “There hasn’t been time, Granther.”
“So tell him now. It’s good news. News to celebrate.”
Hektor glanced down at his little sister. “I could use some good news,” he prompted with a smile.
She nodded gravely. “The Watchhouse Messenger Bird Master came by today,” she said. “An’ he offered me an apprenticeship.”
“That’s great Kassie. Another Dann in the Watch, sort of. Um . . . how much is it gonna cost?”
“That’s all taken care of,” Thomar snapped. “Me an’ Logan have an understandin’. About that, an’ about other things too. So, go on, tell him the rest.”
“That’s not for certain, Granther.”
“Nonsense.”
“An’ it’s too dear.”
“You let us decide on what’s too dear, you just tell your brother what Logan said.”
“He thinks he might be able to get me into some classes at the Collegium,” Kasiath relented. “He says he thinks I might have Animal Mindspeech, well, Bird-speech anyway. Maybe.”
“Of course you do,” Thomar interjected again. “Anyone with half a brain coulda seen that years ago.” He began to cough, waving off his two grandchildren as they leaned forward. “Now you get downstairs and tell Paddy to go chase your Ma down afore she wastes time and money on some high and mighty Healer what’ll charge more’n a month’s rent just to tell me to stay in bed.
“I won’t die afore you get back, I promise,” he added as she hesitated. “I wanna talk to Hektor alone. Go on now, there’s a good girl.
“An’ you don’t be frettin’ about any cost of Kassie’s apprenticeship,” he said, once he and Hektor were alone. “I’ve been puttin’ money aside with Logan ever since she were three years old. Like I said, it was obvious to anyone with half a brain that she had a gift with birds. An’ when I’m gone, I want what little money I’ve saved up to pay for those classes of hers. You understand?”
“Sure but . . .”
“Don’t you sure but me, boy. My time’s soon; I know it an’ so should you. I won’t have anyone’s hard-earned pay going to some Healer just to be told it. It’s a waste of money.”
Hektor smiled. “It’s funny. That’s just what Aiden said today about working a double shift on account of the Lightning.”
“Oh? Why?”
“Well, he never showed up last night.”
Thomar gave a disdainful sniff. “I’m not surprised,” he stated.
“Why?”
The sound of the door opening and Aiden’s feet clumping through the front room interrupted them. “Get your brother in here,” Thomar ordered. “I got somethin’ to tell you both.”
The night shift passed with the usual number of students running amok and sets of undergarments being laid out for the Lightning’s approval. Clay Marcher’s grandparents made another brief appearance, this time in their nightclothes as a concession to the cold, but once again there was no sign of the famous nude runner himself. After the Night Sergeant had made his reports, the four oldest Danns met in Hektor’s small office with the door firmly shut behind them.
Both Jakon and Raik stared at their older brothers with their mouths open.
“Granther was the Lightning?” Raik stammered. “You’re not serious.”
Hektor raised his hands. “Him an’ Great Uncle Daz, that’s what he says.”
“He’s pullin’ your leg,” Jakon declared flatly. “There’s no possible way. They were Watchmen.”
“He says they got a bet on one new moon’s eve walking the night beat when they were about your age,” Aiden said. “Uncle Daz dared Granther to run past the Watchhouse naked. That’s how it started.”
“He says eventually six other Watchmen from all across the city, all the same age . . .” Hektor started.
“Young an’ stupid,” Aiden supplied.
“Came on board. All sworn to secrecy. Granther says he’s the last. The two before him died last spring.”
Jakon scratched his chin. “I guess that would be why there were always so many sightin’s of him,” he noted.
“An’ why the Lightning never showed up this year,” Raik continued.
“An’ why he won’t never show up again,” Hektor finished for them. “Granther’s too old an’ too sick to carry on like that any more.”
The two younger brothers cast each other an equally speculative glance, and Aiden shot them both a sharp look.
“Don’t even think about it,” he ordered.
“Think about what?”
The looks turned to expressions of aggrieved innocence, and Aiden just scowled at them.
“You know what. Don’t. I mean it, both of you.”
“ ‘Course not,” Raik protested. “After all, Granther an’ Uncle Daz were the two oldest Danns in their generation. It’s hardly our place to take their place, now is it? It’s just a pity it’s over, is all.”
“A real shame,” Jakon agreed. “Folks looked forward to the Lightning all year. He was like a market fair all rolled into one man.”
“Eight men.”
“Yeah, eight men. It would take a lot to fill those shoes.”
“Yep, he was a city tradition.”
“A family tradition as it turns out.”
“So, let him be someone else’s family tradition,” Hektor replied. “An’ I don’t want this getting out, neither,” he continued. “Not to anyone, an’ that means the family too. The last thing we need is Paddy runnin’ naked through the streets in some fool quest to honor Granther. What with him bein’ so sick an’ all,” he added pensively. “Yeah, I guess it is kind of a
shame, it’s over. Granther’s just not up to it, the silly old fool.”
Jakon cocked an eyebrow at Raik. “‘Course we won’t tell anyone,” he replied. “It’s Dann business, isn’t it? An’ Paddy’s far too young, anyway. No one’d ever believe it if they caught a glimpse of him.”
“He’d just get his stupid self caught,” Raik agreed.
“So, that’s it, then,” Jakon declared. “We’re sworn to secrecy.”
“All of us. Right Hek?”
“Right.”
“Aiden?”
The oldest Dann brother looked from them to Hektor with a deepening scowl. “I know what you’re tryin’ to do,” he growled. “But yeah, we’re sworn to secrecy.”
Satisfied, the two younger Danns sauntered through the door, leaving the two older Danns to stare silently at each other.
“So that’s it then,” Aiden repeated.
Hektor nodded. “That’s it.”
“Right. That’s it.”
Two nights later, Hektor sat in Ismy Browne’s small kitchen, wiping up the last of the stew in his bowl with a generous piece of biscuit. Ismy set a pie down in the center of the table before joining him.
“I was sorry to hear about Thomar,” she said solemnly. “It was just last night wasn’t it?”
“Early this morning.”
“How are the family doin’?”
He sat back. “Kassie’s takin’ it the hardest. And Paddy too, I guess. It’s only been a couple of months since Da died. But he had a chance to talk to us all, to pass things on afore he went, you know. It was a comfort.”
“Yes, I was pleased to hear about Kassie’s apprenticeship. Your Ma must be very proud.” She smiled at his confused expression. “There’re no secrets in Haven, Hektor,” she said. “Especially in the Watch. You lot gossip more’n a gaggle of laundrywomen.”
“I suppose that’s so. Sometimes anyway.” He stared into space for a moment, then shook himself. “The funeral’s tomorrow morning with a get-together afterwards at the watchhouse. Do you think you might be able to come?”
“Yes, I think so. Jen can watch the shop. It’s time she took on more responsibility.” Ismy busied herself cutting the pie into wedges. “She an’ Shea’ve come to an understandin’,” she said in a conversational tone. “You remember Shea? My late husband’s brother? He took over the saddlery workshop after Quinn died.” When he nodded, she continued. “They’re gettin’ married this spring. I’m thinkin’ they should move into the main room. It’s more appropriate for two. An’ of course they’ll want the whole flat when they start havin’ littles. It’s not really big enough for them an’ me.”
“Oh? Do you, um, think that might be soon?” Hektor asked, suddenly feeling too enclosed in the warm kitchen.
“Oh, yes. Like I said, they’ve come to an understandin’. Of course, she knew it long afore he did, but that’s often the way.”
She collected the bowls and took them over to the sink. “Suli tells me she an’ Aiden have taken the flat below yours,” she mentioned.
“Yeah. They move down in a couple of weeks.” He took a deep breath. “That’ll leave our main room free as well. You know, if there were maybe another understandin’ to come to. You know. Maybe.”
“Do you think there might be?” she asked without turning around.
“I think maybe, yeah. That is, if you do. Do you?”
She finally turned with an exasperated smile. “Like I said, it’s often the way.” When he continued to look uncertain, she shook her head. “That means yes, I do think there might be an understandin’ to come to. Honestly. Did you want a bit of cheese?”
“What?”
“Cheese. With your pie?”
“Oh, yeah, sure, thanks.”
She cut a large piece off a round in the pantry.
“That’s a bit?” he asked, bemused when she set it down in front of him with an equally large piece of pie.
“You look as if you could use it. You look tired. Again.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been a rough few days.”
“So I hear. They say the Lightning finally made an appearance last night.”
He started. “You heard . . . ?”
“I did. You didn’t see him?” she asked pointedly.
“Uh . . . why would I?”
She turned, hands on hips. “I know you stood night watch last night, Hektor Dann, so don’t try to deny it. I told you, there are no secrets in Haven especially in the Watch. So.” She folded her arms in a businesslike gesture. “Are you all through with this Watchman’s Ball foolishness for another year?”
Lifting a piece of pie to his mouth, he stared at it for a long time before looking up.
“Yeah,” he said. “For another year.”
Judgment Day
Nancy Asire
“So, Levron, are you looking forward to returning home?”
Levron glanced at the man who rode at his side. Perran was a traveling judge, representative of the justiciary of Karse, its eyes, ears, and judgment passed by one who rightfully upheld the laws of the Son of the Sun and, more importantly, the laws of Vkandis Sun Lord. Perran was all that Levron was not: tall, with dark, hawkish features molded from the classic Karsite version of male beauty that would stand out in any crowd, even if he did not wear the dark robes of a judge. Levron could only contrast his own looks with that of his companion. At best, he would become lost in the same crowd. He had no memorable features, though he was hardly ill to look upon. And this was his strength. He could move among people and leave no lasting impression.
He was, he freely admitted, a friend of sorts to Perran, and he had served the judge many times by riding ahead to the scene of a trial and losing himself in the town or village. From this vantage point, he had been able to gather information about the accusers and accused that might have become lost in a formal trial. The insights he gathered he passed to Perran, and, in many cases, that knowledge had swayed a decision that otherwise might have been erroneous.
“It’s been a while,” he admitted, flicking his reins at a fly determined to light on his horse’s neck. “But this time, I’ll be of no use to you at the trial. There’s a good chance some people in Streamwood will remember me.”
“Ah, well,” Perran said. “This case doesn’t seem, on its face, to need your talents. You might, however, know the litigants involved.”
Levron snorted. “I used to know them. Everyone’s aware how time can change people.”
“Time deals differently with us all. I’ll still need your observations, Levron. You know, or knew, these people at one time. Maybe they haven’t changed as much as you think.”
“Possibly. The two men involved were acquaintances years back. The woman . . . she and I also knew each other. Her reputation was well-acknowledged around town.”
“A bit of a flirt, if I have my facts straight.”
“Oh, yes.” Levron nodded his head. “From her earliest days.”
“So the two of you weren’t close, then.”
“At one time I fancied I could become more than merely a passing friend.” He laughed, though the laughter sounded a bit hollow to his own ears. “She came from a family far more important than mine. And she never let me, or anyone else, forget her status.”
“Well,” Perran said, “we’ll find out exactly how she fits into this case. I still think you might be of more use to me than you imagine. You say people in town will remember you, though, by your own admission, it’s been quite some time since you’ve returned home”
Levron briefly bowed his head. “As you know, both my parents have been dead for years, and I had no brothers or sisters, no extended family in Streamwood. That’s one of the reasons I left for Sunhame, thinking I could make something of myself in the capital.”
“And so you have. Assistant to a circuit judge is a respected position.”
The two guards following behind, fully armed and appearing quite able to handle any situation that grew out of control, laug
hed at some joke passed between them. Levron closed his eyes briefly. The road hadn’t changed since the last time he passed over it, only then riding in the opposite direction. The scents of the fields on either side were the same, the fall of the sunlight on those fields. A fleeting memory surfaced, taking him back to the days he lived in this region of Karse, of a childhood and young adulthood spent coming and going in the area. Despite his effort to remain unaffected, he admitted this would be no easy homecoming. His parents lay buried on the hill behind the chapel. The friends he left behind would not be the same. And he had changed as well.
Someone long ago said you could never go home again. Less than a candlemark’s ride ahead lay possible confirmation of that saying. He wasn’t certain what he would find, or even what he expected. If nothing else, his return to Streamwood would prove interesting, to say the least.
Perran stood in the center of the room he and Levron had been granted at the inn. It was obviously one of the best, reserved for those who could afford the price. Naturally, he would not be charged during his stay, which he hoped would not be lengthy. His two guards occupied the room next door, smaller but still more than accommodating. The citizens of Streamwood had gone out of the way to make his visit a pleasant one.
He settled in one of the chairs by the open windows, watching Levron unpack their belongings. Levron was trying his best to appear unconcerned, but Perran knew better. This journey wore on him more than he would admit. Not that Perran could ignore the significance of Levron’s return. Though he thought he would be of no help since he was known in town, Perran considered the benefits of having him as a companion.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Did you see anyone you know?”
Levron paused, shaking the folds from Perran’s formal robes. “A few,” he admitted.
“I thought so. I noticed several people look twice in your direction as we rode by.”
“When is the trial to begin?”
“Tomorrow, midmorning. Here is what I want you to do.”
Levron’s face went blank. “But I won’t be able to disappear into the woodwork; too many people know me.”
Under the Vale and Other Tales of Valdemar Page 28
