She shook her head, one plait falling loose. “That would be so tragically wrong.”
Hugging Annamarin had nothing to do with being seven or ten or fourteen. When he hugged her, as her cousin and a Herald, he hugged the future, not the past.
:You didn’t tell your grandmother she shouldn’t write to the Dean,: Gervais pointed out when Jors was in the saddle and there was nothing but open road before them.
:I know. I was afraid it would only encourage her.:
Gervais snorted. :You were afraid.:
:That too. But the last thing I need is Gran and the Dean starting up a correspondence.: Jors twisted and looked back toward the settlement. Annamarin must have reached the end of the track because he could just hear the geese protesting her return. This is what made me. He settled back in the saddle. This is what I am.
Birth family. Found family.
:Come on, let’s go home.:
Although the winter solstice wasn’t for another fortnight, the nights had already turned cold, laying a tracery of frost over the streets of the capital like a veil of croqueted lace. Leaning against the counter of Ismy Browne’s saddlery shop, Sergeant Hektor Dann of the Haven City Watch sipped a mug of hot tea, noting the extra touch of honey with a smile.
“S’good,” he said. “Sweet.”
Ismy cast him a shrewd glance. “You looked as if you could use it,” she noted. “Late night?”
He nodded. “Stood the first watch. Would’ve stood the second, but Aiden made me go home.”
“Your brother’s a wise man,” she replied in a stern tone. “You can’t do a proper day’s work if you’re also tryin’ to do a proper night’s work.”
“They needed extra hands. It was the first night of the Watchman’s Ball.” When Ismy looked confused, he smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I forgot, only the Watch calls it that. It’s the first new moon’s eve before winter, an’ every year ‘round this time things . . .well, things happen.”
“What kind of things?”
“People runnin’ naked through the streets kind of things.”
“You mean like the Lightning?” she asked in an exaggerated tone.
“Like him, yeah.”
“Oh, please, Hektor, don’t tell me he’s actually real.”
“He’s real, all right. He’s been doin’ it for decades, but no one’s ever caught him. No one’s even got a good enough look at him to identify him, but every year we get dozens of reports of him all across Haven. The bet-tin’s four to one we’ll never catch him, an’ the Watch-houses bet each other on how many sightings we get every year, even every night. We had more’n seven on our patch this night last year alone. He’s a wily one, that’s for sure.”
“My granther used to say that he was as fast as a streak of lightning; that’s how he got his name,” Ismy noted. “He said he even saw him once at the bottom of Anvil’s Close. I used to peer through my bedroom shutters when I was a little trying to catch a glimpse of him, but of course I never did.”
“I did.”
Her eyes widened. “You did not? Really?”
He nodded, enjoying her reaction. “Once when I was first promoted up from runner to night watch constable. Uncle Daz an’ me saw him turnin’ the corner south of the Watchhouse, but by the time we got there, he’d vanished.”
“Anyway,” he continued, setting the mug down on the counter. “Da named these three nights the Watchman’s Ball on account of the Lightning leading us a merry chase all night long, you see?”
She nodded.
“Problem is,” he continued, “just the thought of seein’ him sends folk out into the streets, an’ some of ’em carry on and pull all kinds of antics an’ pranks in his name. It’s never been too much, but it’s getting a bit more every year, and the new Captain wants him caught.”
“Well, I should hope so,” Ismy agreed primly. “On a cold night like last night, he’d catch his death.
“And don’t you laugh at me, Hektor Dann,” she admonished as he gave her an amused look. “If he’s been doin’ it for decades like you say, he must be an old man by now.” She took up the mug, wiping the ring away with a flick of her cloth before pushing him toward the door. “Now, off you go to work. And no standing any night watch tonight either. You just leave that up to your younger brothers; that’s their job, not yours, Sergeant Dann.”
“Yeah, yeah, all right, I’m goin’.” He paused on the threshold. “Can I come by an’ see you after all this new moon’s nonsense is over?” he asked, suddenly hesitant.
She nodded, equally shyly. “Do you want to come for supper?”
“I’d like that.”
“It’s just stew.”
“I like stew.”
“And biscuits, you know.”
“I like biscuits too.”
“Good, well . . .”
They stood in awkward silence until the city bells began to toll the hour, then Hektor shook himself. “Good, well . . . supper. After. Yeah.”
He turned and headed quickly up the street, ignoring the older merchants leaning from their doors and windows. A few called out greetings, a few asked if he’d caught the Lightning yet, but most just smiled knowingly as Ismy watched until he’d turned the corner and disappeared from view.
There was a crowd of watchmen, both on duty and off, gathered about the night sergeant’s desk when he arrived at the Iron Street Watchhouse a few moments later. It parted for him eagerly, but Sergeant Jons took his time collecting his reports and putting them into two neat piles before glancing over at the much younger Day Sergeant.
“Sergeant Dann,” he said formally.
“Sergeant Jons.”
“The night’s incident reports are as follows. Four counts of fighting. One outside the King’s Arms. You’ll know all about that one yourself, I expect, what with you and Aiden bringing ’em in yourselves. They’re still here, and the report’s are still to be filed. I figured since the Day Watch Sergeant made the arrest, the Day Watch Sergeant could do up the paperwork.”
He glanced over the report at Hektor much as a schoolmaster might, but when Hektor gave him an even look in response, he retidied his papers. A ripple of annoyance passed through the crowd of watchmen, which he pointedly ignored. “Where was I? Oh, yes, fighting,” he continued. “Two domestic disturbances. No charges laid and no one taken into custody although Holly Poll did throw a chamber pot at Constables Jakon and Raik Dann.” He waited until the general laughter and ribbing at Hektor’s younger brothers died down before continuing. “But since it turned out that she was actually aiming at her husband, they let her off with a warning.”
“Decent of ’em,” someone at the back shouted.
“Only ’cause it was empty,” Jakon groused.
“Only ’cause you’re scared of Holly Poll.”
The laughter erupted again.
“One count of burglary at the Hillman Mill,” Sergeant Jons continued in a louder voice. “Caught in the act. Silly fool was trying to lead out two donkeys at once with predictable results. Apparently he’ll be in hospital for another day or two.” He gave an unsympathetic sniff before continuing.
“Five counts of public drunkenness. Two of the combatants became . . .” He lifted his head, lips pursed as if to find just the right word, “belligerent, so the charges were raised to resisting arrest.
“Three counts of public urination, one of which led to an altercation with Corporal Wright when the suspect made his opinion of the arrest clear by attempting to urinate on him . . .”
Again he paused to allow the laughter to die down. “One count of sleeping on public property. That would be old Ivar,” he said in a quiet aside to Hektor. “He’s in the back having a good breakfast. Turn him loose whenever you like. After lunch maybe.”
Hektor nodded, and Sergeant Jons set the first pile of reports down with great ceremony. All eyes followed
