Lucy sighed. “You’d better deputize Challie and Pease,” she said to Mayor Efrim.
“And the half-ogres,” Saorsha suggested, pointing to the two silent sentries. Their thick lips pulled back in rough grins of acceptance.
The mayor quickly gave the oath to Challie, Pease, and the half-ogres whose names Lucy did not catch, then the entire party traipsed into the city hall to open the building for town business. Lucy discovered the mayor and his councilors had offices right across the hall from hers, a proximity she quickly learned to appreciate.
The first complainants barged in before Lucy and her deputies had time to make themselves comfortable in the stark room.
“His worm-ridden sheep broke into my arbor and destroyed ten healthy bearing vines!” yelled the farmer, his face livid from the remembered destruction.
The shepherd thrust his face close to the other man’s and yelled right back, “Well, maybe if you could tell a sheep from a goat, you’d know it was Widow Brownly’s goats that ate your vines!”
Pease shook his head wearily. He’d heard this argument before in the common room at the Jetties. “Tell Hanley to put up a fence,” he whispered to Lucy.
“Enough!” Lucy bellowed, effectively cutting off the argument. Her turban flared red with streaks of orange. “Now, if you please,” she said in a more normal tone of voice. “You.” She pointed to the farmer. “Anyone silly enough to have an arbor without a fence deserves some depredations. Put a fence around your grapes and don’t come back here to complain until it’s finished. And you,” she turned on the shepherd who choked on a snicker. “Help him build it and keep your sheep away from his fields.”
“What about Widow Brownly’s goats?” he sputtered.
“I will talk to her. Make a note of that, Challie.”
And so it went the rest of the afternoon. One after another, Flotsam citizens came to lodge complaints or protests about everything from watered ale and improperly set scales at the market to trespassing, a horse theft, forged coins, stolen goods, a missing donkey, an abusive landlord, and unpaid wages. Lucy would listen to the complaint, and more often than not either the gregarious kender or the magistrate knew about the incident and could offer some insight. The council provided her with a scroll listing the laws on Flotsam’s city charter, and although she tried to be fair and impartial, she had to consult with the mayor several times on certain points of the law before she could settle a dispute or make a decision.
Meanwhile, Challie took notes, collected fines, and filled out papers when needed. The half-ogres made everyone check their weapons at the door.
Notwen fixed the lock on the holding cell, then decided to go back to his boat to prepare it for the voyage across the bay. He paused once at the door and looked back to see Lucy sitting behind the desk, the turban perched contentedly on her head while it watched the goings-on with avid interest in its faceted eyes. A surge of worry and sadness flashed through Notwen’s mind. This situation made him uncomfortable, but he had done his best for her. The rest was up to the sorceress.
He waved to Ulin and ducked out, his mind already on fuel requirements, tools, parts needed, supplies, and instruments. His regret faded into the background behind the anticipation of the journey. He couldn’t wait until the next day.
Ulin stood behind Lucy as her silent bodyguard through the entire long, noisy afternoon. What he observed reassured him-as much as he was willing to be reassured. He still did not like Lucy in this position. Too many things could go wrong, and yet he saw nothing that afternoon that Lucy could not handle one way or another. The problems were minor, the people tried to cooperate, and most seemed satisfied with her decisions. Several even came to congratulate her or just to visit and found her warm and approachable. The farm girl with the vegetable cart in the market brought her a bowl of potatoes, and smiling, she set it on Lucy’s desk in a prominent position. Lucy chuckled and left the bowl in place. The potatoes posed a silent reminder of Lucy’s arcane power.
The golden light of sunset was fading into the western hills when the last citizen left the Sheriff’s Office and Lucy and her companions were able to close the door and go back to the Jetties for a long awaited meal. When she suggested leaving someone on duty, Mayor Efrim wearily waved off the idea.
“People know where to find you if there’s an emergency, and the Vigilance Force is keeping watch from the Rock.” He shook his head and his wispy beard swayed in the evening breeze. “We don’t expect you to keep this town peaceful and free of crime every hour of the day. It is too rough for that and would require a force of deputies larger than we may safely have. Just knowing you’re around will keep some of these rowdies in line.”
Lucy was too tired to argue.
Ulin, Lucy, and Challie had their evening meal in their room that night, for once not accompanied by Pease. His mother had put him to work in the kitchen. He brought them a tray covered with dishes and mugs and a pitcher of beer, and after setting their table, he wistfully bade them good night and returned to his duties. They ate well and gratefully and cleaned the plates down to the finish.
Afterward, Challie went to her room, but Lucy and Ulin sat back in their chairs and savored a last few hours together. They talked quietly for a time about little things until their conversation inevitably turned to the events of the day.
Flotsam’s new sheriff grinned ruefully and put a hand on Ulin’s. “I know you’re not happy about this, but believe it or not, I enjoyed today.”
His fingers caught hers and held them tight. “You are a redoubtable woman, Lucy Torkay. I think you have no clear idea of your real ability or potential. Maybe this job will show you what you are capable of doing.”
To his surprise, she blushed a warm shade of pink that put roses in her cheeks and made her all the more self-conscious. Her chin dropped, and her lashes swept down over her green eyes.
In that moment Ulin found himself on his knees beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her so close she could hear the rapid beating of his heart. “I love you,” he whispered, all of his need and desire and fear concentrated into those three words. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“But I have to prove something to myself,” she said, so softly he barely heard her.
He kissed her, long and possessively, with an intensity she had not felt in him before. At last he pushed himself to his feet. Trembling, he touched her hair, her cheek, her shoulder, then turned and hurried to his room. The door closed quietly behind him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Evaporating the few clouds that tried to form, the sun soared high in the great blue arch of the sky and shed its brazen light on the dancing waters of Blood Bay. Small waves pushed by a light wind from the west rolled by the broad side of the small boat and rocked her gently as she steamed slowly north. Notwen’s engine chugged noisily in the cabin and kept a steady rhythm to the beat and splash of the paddle wheel.
Ulin could not get enough of Notwen’s contraption. From the time they cast off early that morning, he had been in the cabin studying the steam engine, its boiler, and the stack under the deck to see the shaft and cogs that turned the wheel. He hadn’t been this intrigued with something since his days of experimenting with alchemy in the laboratories at the Academy.
“It’s crude,” Notwen told him. “I based it on some of the experiments other gnomes have tried. You’ve probably never heard of the ship the Valiant Aftershock the Ninth. Most people haven’t. A fine ship powered by a steam turbine. Unfortunately, they couldn’t figure out how to stop it.” He tapped a quill pen on his forehead, leaving a smear of ink in his white hair. “The engine was too large to be practical, so I took their idea, scaled it down, and added a few of my own. That’s why I call it Second Thoughts. Let me show you.”