THE SHERIFF OF HNUT / CH. 14: TICK

WATCHMAKER'S SHOP, THE CAPITAL, LATE EARTHDAY AFTERNOON.

Quif, journeyman watchmaker and master-watchmaker's son looked up from his work; finished at last. Another time-piece destined to be worn like an ornament, when it was a miracle of time-keeping. He sighed. He hated the way that he had to paint intricate designs on his watches, as if they were jewellery, but they wouldn't sell otherwise. What was wrong with letting the motion of the gears fascinate? A movement caught his eye, next to the unpainted watches. “There are no such things as fairies, so what are you?”

The tiny figure he'd glimpsed the day before vanished, just like it had yesterday.

“What did you say, Quif?” His father asked.

“Sorry, father. I saw something. It looked like a girl, but barely bigger than a number four pinion. I saw it yesterday too,”

“You need to get out son, lad. Meet some real girls, not just fantasize about them.”

“I know some real girls. They think watchmaking is boring.”

“Other girls then; the city still seems to have quite a lot of them. What ever happened to your apprentice wizardess friend? She seemed to appreciate mechanisms.”

“I think we upset her. I don't know.”

“You mean when I told her that I thought the way wizards don't get involved was selfish?”

“That too. And the way I accused her of cheating when she solved a geometry problem with pure maths.”

“You could say sorry to her.”

“Sure, Dad. I humbly apologise to a genius for being a pig-headed ignoramus three, three and a half years ago? I think she knew that.”

“That long?”

“Yes,” Quif said.

“Well, maybe she's leaned how to make herself tiny or something.”

“What, invoke high level wizardry to come and look at watch mechanisms again?”

Quif asked, incredulous, “Anyway, it can't have been her.”

“Why not?”

“Sithini's a green. The girl I thought I saw was very definitely a red.”

“You're dreaming of reds? Don't let your mum hear that. Maybe it's the paint giving you funny ideas. Go out and clear your lungs.”

“OK dad.” Quif said, pulling on his coat, “I'll go out and clear my lungs in the smoke, and look out for nice godly girls in the dark streets of Drana.”

“This isn't Drana, Quif, and you know it.”

“Sorry Dad, We're a whole street away, I know, and it makes a difference.”

“Exactly. Make sure you're home for supper, or your mother will worry.”

“You will too, Dad.”

“Of course I will, take care.”

“I promise.”

Quif stepped through the door quickly, and tried to decide which way he ough to go. On the spur of the moment, he turned towards Drana-proper. He wasn't interested in the vices, not at all, but he found sometimes that walking through the poorest part of the city lifted his spirits. If nothing else, hearing the children playing and honest workers toiling in the poverty. He saw the microscopic girl a step in front of his face. She was shaking her head, and the main-hand that wasn't holding a staff was pointing the other way. Hebshook his head and kept walking, what an imagination he had. The imaginary microscopic girl grew a look of surprise as he almost walked into her and shot backwards.

He noticed the trail she left the mist. She stamped her foot, shook her head again, and pointed behind him, then she zipped over his head. He was, he admitted, curious. What was this diminutive maybe imaginary wizardess so certain that he ought to do?

He looked round, but didn't see her. Well, she'd wanted him to go that way, and it didn't really matter to him, so he went away from Drana instead. There were always other sights to see, and the official notices at the end of the road to read, if nothing else.

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WATCHMAKER'S SHOP, TEN MINUTES LATER.

“Dad!” Quif called, “I'm going to be late; the wizards have started evening classes again, and this year they're saying 'course material has been adjusted for those who prefer chronological order, and may not be well suited to people who prefer information out of sequence.' So it sounds ideal.”

“Really? How much is it going to cost?”

“The notice says the course is free unless you need extra catch-up lessons. The first one is this evening.”

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WATCHMAKER'S SHOP, THAT EVENING.

“Well, Quif? Was it an evening well spent?”

“Perfect, mother. You should have been there! They started at the beginning, really at the beginning, and didn't jump about at all.”

“What, with Polithanapoli's changes?” Quif's father guessed.

“No, Dad, that was just before the end. The start was the three tribes, oranges and blues in the North, and greens in the south, contact, the breeding programme, the nobles, the invasion.”

“That's all folk-tales, surely?”

“The lecturer actually read to us from histories written before Polithanapoli, from the royal archives, documents that were once classed as secrets.”

“And the greens were ruled by a peace-loving green-turned red?” his mother asked.

“Yes, mother, and at the end the lecturer told us that she was Keldithanapoli, heiress of the empty throne, that her mother had introduced her to the daughter of her friend, who was green and turned red, and it had been her pleasure to learn a lot from her and an even greater pleasure to introduce her daughter to her friend's daughter, Sithinilakiina, who used to be green, and is now red.”

“Sithinilakiina? As in your young journeyman friend Sithini?” his father asked.

“Yes, father, except she's probably been a full wizard these last two years.”

“And is there other news?” his mother probed gently.

“Yes, I forgot to tell you, there is a change of the law! The laws of insult against the law have been changed, amazingly. The law of royal talon is no more; parliament decries that it ever held innocent family members hostage, no innocent may be punished by the law for the crimes of another. Isn't that amazing!”

“That's very good news, Quif,” his mother agreed. “But I was wondering if you'd talked to Sithini?”

“I'm not sure.”

“You're not sure?”

“It might have been her that urm.. directed my attention to the notice about the lecture.”

“Your pinion-wheel-sized messenger?”

“It doesn't make much sense though. How could she make herself that small? Not to mention why?”

“Some experiment gone wrong?”

“I don't think so. Well, no, it can't have been, because she was there, at the lecture.”

“But you didn't talk to her afterwards?”

“No, no, she wasn't there afterwards. She introduced the course, warned reds, oranges yellows and blues they might struggle seeing how it fits together, andnhanded over to Keldithanapoli and then left.”

“And what course is it?”

“Two year semi-directed study for an Advanced Schooling Certificate innwizardry, or, if we just turn up to the first year of lectures, something new that Sithini called a Certificate of Competence in the Changing World.”

“Does that imply we're in-competent at the moment?”

“I think it means that we won't be totally unfamiliar with everything that's happening, Dad. She said that the first year we're going to go quite quickly through history and technology, but there won't be much detail or much practical work, and the second year there'll be a lot more practical and some detailed study on some things.”

“And you're after the ASC,” Quif's mother said.

“And maybe some friends who don't think making miniscule mechanisms is boring?” his father added.

“I think, father, that our mechanisms are not particularly small for the wizards, but I also think there will be interesting possibilities. They know materials very well, metals, alloys. Techniques we could make use of. Sithini once told me about some of them. I think I'm more open to the possibilities now. And if I get the ASC, I don't know. It would be a big decision, but she said there is the possibility of further study.”

“Quif, your mother and I have been talking about this. If you were to studynfull time, then you would receive an income. It would not be the same as having you working with me in the workshop, but your mother could also help as she did when you were young, and financially, we do not think there would not be much difference. And for your future it could be important. The sad fact is that the price of a good watch is not increasing, but the cost of food is. I have asked the guild-masters, and they agree, too many people were allowed to enter the craft around the time you were born. Many were newcomers, not raised in the craft, but even without learning at their father's elbow as you have done, they have now learned from their failures and are now all master-watchmakers. A good watch lasts, the population is not growing, and with less duels to destroy a watch the demand is lower than ever. In another twenty years, as they all retire, perhaps there will be a new era when a watchmaker can support a wife and three children as my father did. But if you study wizardry and can continue to journeyman, then your income would be more than you will ever earn making watches. I'm sorry, my son .... unless the woman you marry has an income of her own, your future in this guild will be a very hard one. Harder than ours.”

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“You think... you think I should leave the guild?” Quif was shocked.

“If you are interested in wizardry, and not just a certain wizardess, then I think... I think it is a bit early, but I would suggest you think on making your masterpiece soon, son, so that you are full master, and have no need to make such a decision, and then you can then challenge your mind in new directions when the new year comes with spring. Otherwise, as you said, you could study two years and then decide. But to work on a masterpiece while studying another subject... I don't know if it is a wise choice to start as a second year apprentice at twenty two.”

“I... I will have to think about it.”

“Perhaps your friend will help you to think through the issues, Quif,” his mother suggested.

“Maybe. If I can talk to her.”

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A SMALL HAMLET SOUTH OF THE CITY, 7.30PM, EARTHDAY

“Here? You really think so?” Dirak asked.

“I've made it more picky.” Sithini said. “It ought to only find fathers and siblings now. I hope you know what you're going to say.”

“So do I,” Dirak said, and knocked on the door. A yellow child peaked through the door.

“Hello,” Lenepoli said, “Are your mummy and daddy here?”

“Who wants to know?” An elderly blue female asked.

“I'm Zerkess Lenepoli, this is my boyfriend, Wizard-at-large Zerker Dirak, sheriff of Hnut, and his adopted little sister, wizardess Sithinilakiina.”

“There's been a change in the law,” Dirak said, “and I believe affects this little one and all her relatives. For the better.”

“You'd better come in, then. My son tends not to sleep nights, these days, so he's resting.”

“Your daughter-in-law is here too?” Dirak asked.

“Yes. Hnut's a long way away, isn't it?”

“Yes, In the Utt valley.”

“What are you doing down here then?”

“Can you call your son and daughter-in-law, please?”

“What's this change in the law?”

“The innocent will not suffer for another's crimes,” Dirak said. “not for infanticide, certainly not for attempted.”

The grandmother sank into the chair, as the door burst open. “Attempted?” the mother asked. She was deep red, of course.

“Would you like to make a formal statement concerning a kidnapping?” Dirak asked.

“How did you find us?”

“Wizardry, ma'am. But it's experimental,” Dirak said, “and the law doesn't really believe in it. The law believes in statements, however.”

“Someone kidnapped my brother and sister!” the little girl said. “It's their hatchday tomorrow and someone stole them.”

“Thank you. When were they kidnapped?”

“Two weeks ago,” the child's father said, his crest showing a tinge of green.

“And just to confirm, their age and colour.”

“They were winterborn yellows,” the mother declared, “beautiful little winter-born yellow fluffballs, almost ready for their first steps.”

“Thank you. I can now tell you that two winterborn yellow fluffballs of approximately one year were found on a cart passing through Hnut on Restday. They are currently in the care of an extended family there, including the watchful gaze of Yalinth, a six year old winterborn. If you would like to accompany us, we can take you there.”

“They're alive? Really?”

“Your two are alive, as are five more who had arrived at their intended destination. Some of the gang has been caught, probably not all. But they kept records.”

“The records will probably show my father's name, Kraak.” the mother said, “He was devastated when they were taken, and blamed my mother, saying that she had tricked him. He killed her, and would not say why. He is to be burned tomorrow.”

“I will insist on a stay of execution, in the name of the on-going investigation.” Dirak said. “He's being held in Fnar?” he asked, naming the town on the record.

“Yes.”

“Sithini?”

“Certainly, Dirak, I'd be very happy to take anyone to Hnut who wants to go.”

“I'll go with you if I may, Dirak?” Lenepoli asked.

“I was rather thinking you'd promised to accompany me on such my travels.”

“That doesn't mean that me tagging along is always a good idea, does it?”

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FNAR VILLAGE, 8PM, EARTHDAY

“Good evening,” Dirak said to the startled male they'd just landed in front of. “First, this is Fnar, isn't it?”

“Yes 'tis.” the male replied.

“Excellent! Now, I need to talk to the sheriff.”

“Nah, that be 'ard, 'im not being 'ere.”

“Where is he?” Lenepoli asked.

“'Im be in t'city. Bad business, this burning. Sure thing 'e's hiding something; protecting 'is family. Sheriff thinks mebby 'e can get a delay, find out what 'tis, now'at law's changed.”

“I'm Sheriff Dirak from Hnut. I know exactly what he's been protecting his family from. And I need to question the prisoner. When did the sheriff leave?”

“'Bout four hours ago. After 'e heard on the radio.”

“Thank you.” Lenepoli said. “I don't suppose you know who he went to see, do you?”

“Can't say I do, sorry.”

“Let's leave him a note, then.” Dirak decided. “Can't go burning important witnesses.”

“You'd better come t'jail 'en.” the man said.

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VILLAGE JAIL, FNAR. 8AM MOTHERDAY, 6TH OF WINTER

“Mr Kraak,” Dirak said, “I'm Sheriff Dirak of Hnut. I believe you can help me in my investigation regarding a certain crate that was being transported through Hnut on Restday. We believe we have caught almost everyone at that end of that illegal operation, but not at this end. As you know, the law has been changed and your family are no longer at risk from the truth. In addition to that, I have a reasonable demand agreed to by the county judge in Uttown protecting the innocent from direct or indirect harm that might result from assistance given by some wizards. That assistance led me to your daughter and son-in-law.

"I heard on the way here that your grandchildren were so overjoyed to hear their parent's voices that they didn't wait for hatchday to grow their legs.”

“They live?” Kraak asked.

“They live, they hop after your daughter and son in law wherever they go, and scream if there is no parent in sight.” Lenepoli said. “Yalinth, the young winterborn who's been looking after them was quite put out really, they barely notice her now. But she's got the others to look after.”

“The others?”

“Your grandchildren were on their way to an ancient hool. There were five still living in that evil place. We don't know if there are other hools, we need to find everyone at the sending end.” Dirak said.

“I murdered my wife,” Kraak said.

“I believe the term is informally executed.” Dirak corrected. “The law does not approve of such actions, but circumstances can be taken into account.... I believe a mistrial can be called for on the grounds of additional evidence.”

“I'll tell you what I know,” Kraak said. “Five others?”

“In four crates.”

“But others didn't live.”

“The records stretch back centuries. There are almost two thousand crates.”

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MOTHERDAY, 6TH OF WINTER, LUNCHTIME.

Quif was designing. A masterpiece had to be planned meticulously; it would have to impress, both with accuracy and with beauty. Unfortunately his mind was wandering, and he kept looking over his shoulder in case his little visitor was going to show up. “Dad, is there something entirely brainless I can do, like polishing some gears? This isn't working; I can't concentrate.”

“I see quite a lot of feather motifs,” his father said, looking at the paper his son had been labouring over.

“I know. It was an idea I had. What if I managed to make the cogs so beautiful they didn't need painting. Maybe with some etching. You know what paint does to the mechanism if gets a knock and starts to flake, so do the masters. I need to impress them, not necessarily a customer.”

“Hmm. Back to basics, you mean?”

“Not quite. Sithini told me there was a book in the wizard's libraries about alien clock technologies. Urm, here.” He showed his father. “This is called a grasshopper escapement. It's very accurate.”

“But free-wheels if the pendulum stops, making it entirely unsuitable for a watch. I've seen it before, in the guild archives.”

“I assumed the guild knew about it, but what about this?”

“What's that?”

“My variation on it.”

“You've incorporated a normal escapement?”

“If the pendulum is working, then the normal escapement never engages. If the pendulum wheel stops, however, it does engage, and gives the requisite kick to restart.”

His father examined the design notes. “You're working to really fine tolerances to make that work, lad.”

“Isn't that the point, father?”

“Yes son. Make something that shows what you can do.”

There was a sudden draft that made the papers move. Both of them looked to the door, but it was still shut. “I've never seen such a lovely perfect mechanism.” Sithini said, “You've got to make it, Quif.”

“How...?”

“Wizardry, of course.” Sithini said dismissively, looking at the other designs on the paper. “Hmm, you've got feathers on the brain, old friend.”

“Ah, but whose feathers?” his mother asked, looking up with a smile.

“Microscopic feathers,” Quif said. “It was you, wasn't it?”

“To quote my adoptive brother, I neither confirm nor deny anything. Wasvwhat me?”

“Oh, never mind. I need to talk to you, Sithini.”

“Oh yes? What about?”

“Firstly to apologise, secondly because I've got an important decision to make.”

“Oh yes?” Sithini asked, glancing at his parents.

“Career advice. Option one, take up your interesting offer of two years part-time study and assuming I do well, join the apprentice programme after that.

"Problem: by the sound of it, combining that study programme with paying bills means I don't have time to make this, which would be my masterpiece. A journeyman who doesn't work in the trade is deemed to have abandoned the guild.

"Option two, spend the next thirty days making this, and qualify as a master-watchmaker, with life-long guild membership, then see if I can cope as a full time apprentice wizard with paid support, starting from spring.”

“There are too many watchmakers,” Quif's father said, “Good watches don't sell at the premium they ought to. A master watchmaker used to be able to afford a servant or two. Now...”

“Now the servants can afford an apprentice-quality watch,” his wife completed his sentence, “but the master watchmaker's son shouldn't expect to feed his family if he stays in the guild.”

“That bad?” Sithini asked, amazed.

“Prices have stayed the same for five years. The guild is afraid to increase them because there are non-guild watchmakers and a few of them are pretty good and getting better. They use cheap materials we'd never touch, but the fashion is for paint, so how does the average customer tell the difference?”

“There've even been some voices saying the guild should develop a second mark, that says it's guild-made but non-critical parts are made of cheap metals,” Quif said.

“For selling to people who don't understand electrolysis,” Sithini said.

“It can work, if you've got jewelled movements.”

“And everything that's not jewelled gets made of steel, dad? Even the hands?”

“I know, I know. It gets damp, and you get corrosion, and the watch is ruined.”

“Like this one,” Sithini said. “Which is one reason I'm here. Not my watch, but I'd like an expert opinion if it's a guild-member who's done more than talk, someone's stolen a guild-stamp from somewhere, or it's not a guild stamp but just a convincing fake.”

“Hmpf, even a convincing fake is bad news, very bad news,” Quif said, springing open the back and looking at the mechanism. “What do you think, Dad?”

“No maker's mark, unsurprisingly. Although the stamp looks genuine. As for the workmanship...”

“I'm honestly surprised it kept going long enough to go rusty,” Quif said.

“So someone's stolen a genuine master's stamp and is using it to stamp steel watches?” Sithini asked.

“It's possible.” Quif said, having another look. “No, look, Dad this is on a round punch. Someone's made a fake stamp that's almost indistinguishable. That's a serious crime.”

“Not another criminal investigation!” Sithini said. “Oh well, at least I can pass this one on. Do I remember something about you not being able to let it out of your sight until it's handed to the police?” she asked Quif's father.

“Quif's a journeyman, he can go with you.”

“And I guess we need to get the owner?”

“Would that a problem?”

“She's a teenager, she's deep red, and she bought it with her own savings. Expect explosions of outrage and incipient violence.”

“I expect she remembers where though.”

“I do too.” Sithini pressed a some buttons on her watch. “Keldi? Lanthi's watch is a poor fake with a convincing but fake guild stamp. Would you like to be a calming influence on Lanthi, or can I borrow some ropes?”

“She's not that wild, Sithini.”

“Her pride has been insulted, Keldi, someone has made a fool of her, and taken her money for something that barely works. The journeyman I'm bringing with me is going to say something like 'this wasn't even made by a guild apprentice stealing his master's stamp, the workmanship's too crude for anything but the scrap-box, the metal is wrong, and the guild doesn't use a round punch-stock. Then he's going to show the signs to the policeman, and he'll try very hard not to say 'any fool can see' or 'it's obvious' but it might slip out.”

“So you think it needs to go to the police?”

“I think that we need to find a policeman, and then we take him to the exact shop where Lanthi bought it. And then maybe afterwards we bring Lanthi back here so she can see what real quality workmanship looks like, so no one ever fools her again.”

“How about the education first?” Keldi suggested.

“Urm, fine by me,” Sithini said.