Changing the World: All-New Tales of Valdemar

Hektor shook his head. “I should be gettin’ back. I got reports to file,” he said woefully, watching as Zoe set Lillbit carefully onto her shoulder before lifting a loose floorboard up with practiced ease and depositing something shiny beneath it. He frowned.

“Zoe, whatcha doin’ there?” he asked lightly.

“Tidyin’ up shop,” she answered. “Granther say’s ye should always tidy up shop when ye close. Even for tea.”

“Is that your shop, then?”

She nodded. “Lillbit’s an’ mine. When we get big, we’re gonna run Granther’s shop; maybe Granny’s too.”

“Can I see your shop?”

She nodded. Setting the floorboard to one side, she pointed into the cavity below. “We gots goods an’ tools jus’ like Granther,” she explained. “But we don’t gots a sign yet. We will though, real soon. The tools’re um . . .” she screwed her face up in concentration “ . . . hundred pennybits, an’ the good’re . . . four hundred.”

Hektor leaned over the counter to see a number of small, unfamiliar tools lined up neatly beside two boat hooks, one thimble, a silver spoon, two iron settings, five nails, a handful of lead arms and legs, and a moonstone cradled in a piece of cloth. Beside him, Trisha’s eyes widened in exasperated surprise.

“So it was his own grandbaby thievin’ his goods?”

Back at the watchhouse, Jakon gave a loud guffaw. “Bet Edzel felt like a right fool when he found that out.”

Hektor just shrugged. “Seemed to make him happy, actually,” he replied. “When I left ’em, they were talkin’ about what kind a sign her shop should have.”

“A rat an’ a anvil, maybe?”

“Maybe. Seems like Zoe’s got the same talent with animals as Kassie has with birds. Don’t know how that’ll help her run her own iron shop, but it should help Edzel come to terms with runnin’ his.”

Raik leaned against Hektor’s desk, threatening to send the pile of reports to the floor. “So that’s the end of rain-soaked shifts on Anvil’s Close then, yeah?” he said, with a triumphant grin.

Hektor nodded. “An’ the start of rain-soaked shifts on Tannery Row, so get your waterproof cloaks out.”

“What?” Both younger brothers stared at him, and he turned a frown worthy of Aiden back at them.

“That’s what I said, Constables.”

“Aw, c’mon, Hek.”

“C’mon, Sergeant.”

“For how long?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how long I figure it needs doin’, so get home to your suppers. An’ tell Ma I’ll be home later.”

“Where’re you goin’?” Raik asked sullenly.

“Saddler’s Street.”

His younger brothers’ expressions immediately changed from aggrieved to interested, but when he simply jerked his chin toward the door, they obeyed him with minimal grumbling.

Once they were gone, he carefully straightened the pile of reports, then his uniform tunic, then the reports again, then, finally left the tiny sergeant’s office. As he headed down Iron Street, he took in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, tasting the familiar aromas of baking bread and meat pies, before heading down Anvil’s Close. At the door to Edzel’s shop, both Zoe and her grandfather totally ignored him, but both Judee and Lillbit gave him equally knowing expressions before Trisha called them all inside to their own supper.

Twice Blessed

by Judith Tarr

Judith Tarr has written many novels and several Friends of Valdemar stories under her own name. As Caitlin Brennan she writes novels about horses, especially the Lipizzan horses she breeds and trains on her farm in Arizona.

Nerys and Kelyn were born on the same day, in the same town, to mothers who were cousins as well as the best and closest of friends. Their fathers were partners; Nerys’ father bred and raised sheep that were famous for the softness and richness of their wool, and Kelyn’s father turned the fleeces to a fine and subtly dyed fabric that had even clothed the queen in Haven.

Everyone had hoped one of the children would be a boy so that the two families could unite in marriage as well as in business and friendship. When both turned out to be girls, they were universally expected to be companions in childhood and friends and allies when they grew to womanhood.

That was a lovely dream. The reality manifested when they were barely old enough to sit up: Nerys challenged Kelyn for a doll that happened to be identical to the one she herself had, and Kelyn fought back with single-minded ferocity. They had to be separated by force and carried off to their respective nurseries.

“Ah, well,” Nerys’ mother said. “They’re only babies. They’ll grow out of it.”

Kelyn’s mother wondered about that, but then she chided herself. All these children had ever known was love. What could either of them know of its opposite?

However they had learned it, Nerys and Kelyn disliked each other on sight. Age and maturity did nothing to improve their mutual antipathy. It was one of the very few things they ever agreed on: that they could not stand one another.