An Apprentice Without Magic, page 3
part #2 of Magic Missing Series
“Seventeen,” Dickey said, as he walked to the end of the long narrow block. “Nine cells on this side and ten on the other. The local constable offices are above the cells.” He pointed up.
Sam just nodded. He had no idea how they would interrogate sleeping prisoners. When they passed a jailer, Dickey stopped the man.
“Come with us. I want to see the prisoners in Cell Seventeen.”
“They aren’t awake, you know,” the man said.
“All the better,” Dickey said. “I want to check for tattoos.”
The man raised his chin in a sign of agreement. “I’ll accompany you. Some of you snoops like to get a little rough if you can.”
Dickey smiled. “Not me, constable,” he said playfully.
Sam had no idea if Dickey joked or if he had just admitted he did such a thing. In a sense, Sam thought he might be learning too much during his first few days as a snoop apprentice.
The jailer opened the cell door. There were two cots in the room, and a criminal was sound asleep on each one.
“Help me get his clothes off,” Dickey said.
Sam nodded and grunted when he leaned over.
“Ah, yes. As best you can.”
“I’ll take off their shoes.”
In a few moments, one of the gang members was stripped to small clothes. Sam noticed tattoos decorating his chest.
“Each one of these darlings represents an accomplishment, a ranking, a specialty, whatever. The thugs are proud of their tattoos, but it just helps us figure out what they’ve done.”
“Not in here, we don’t,” the jailer said. “We have orders not to touch the prisoners, just feed ‘em and keep their cells as clean as we can.”
“We have them strip elsewhere,” Dickey said, turning and glaring at the jailer. “Who do you work for, the prisoners or the constabulary?”
The jailer looked indignant. “I just do what I’m told.”
Dickey let it go at that. “This is a pickpocket mark. He started young,” Dickey said. He then described all the man’s accomplishments. “If he had killed us, he’d get a red circle with a blue star in the middle for each death. Let’s look at his friend.”
“Wouldn’t the criminals keep the meaning of their tattoos a secret?” Sam asked.
His partner shook his head. “Not at all. These are badges of honor, gang honors. They all use roughly the same symbols in case they go to a different gang. They don’t have to start at the bottom of the hierarchy that way.”
They dressed the man and looked at the other man’s tattoos. Dickey frowned. Sam could see six of the red circles with stars inside.
“A constable killer?” Sam asked.
Dickey nodded. “The king’s laws don’t permit us to use tattoos for prosecution.” He glanced at the jailer. “If I knew this, I would have killed him in our fight.” He sighed. “He’ll be up for attempted murder, anyway. There were too many witnesses to let either of the men off. I don’t understand why they assaulted us at such a public place.” He pointed out a few different tattoos, and they returned upstairs to the main room.
“Where is the healer’s office?”
“This way.” He took Sam back into the cellblock, but didn’t go downstairs to the cells. He stopped at an office with a white door standing open. “Got time for one of us?” Dickey called.
“I do as soon as these fine fellows escort this prisoner downstairs,” a younger man said. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Tru.
They stood aside as the pair of attending constables escorted a prisoner with his head wrapped up in a pollen bandage. Sam could see the man’s wound since he wasn’t wearing his spectacles.
“Stomach wound?” the healer asked as Sam walked in. Dickey returned to the snoop offices.
“It isn’t deep,” Sam said.
The healer gave him a dubious look. “I’ll be the judge of that. Unbutton your shirt.” The man looked at Tru’s patch job and chuckled. “An emergency treatment?”
“I didn’t want to bleed while I walked all the way to the constabulary,” Sam said.
“You walked with this?”
Sam nodded. “I’ve been wounded before.”
The healer nodded and tried to remove Tru’s work. “It is stuck. Whoever put this on knows how to make pollen bandages stick. This might hurt.”
“Wait a moment.” Sam pulled out his wand and screwed on a gold tip. “I can take care of it.” He touched the tip to the pollen at an edge and worked his way through the bandage until it softened enough for the healer to gently pull it off.
“What did you do?” the amazed healer said. “I know that gold softens pollen, but I’ve never seen the effect act so quickly.”
“It just works better with me,” Sam said. He looked down at the blood beginning to seep out of his wound. “I think I need some stitches.”
“You do indeed,” the healer said. He put a deadening poultice on Sam’s stomach, which Harrison Dimple, his healer companion from the summer had never used, and then went to work cleaning out the wound and sewing it shut. “You will have to come back to get those stitches removed.”
“If they haven’t dissolved already, and if the wound isn’t red.”
The healer looked at Sam with quizzical eyes.
“I spent the summer with Harrison Dimple. He is—”
“I know who he is. Didn’t he fight in the revolt?”
Sam nodded. “I fought with him, but I’m an apprentice constable now.”
The healer asked Sam to describe the fight at the restaurant. “You aren’t the only casualty from tonight. I’m not the one to demand, but I’d be carrying around a sword if you know how to use one.” The man put another patch on Sam. “Let me see it in a week unless the skin gets hot around the wound and it turns red, as you described.”
Sam nodded. “I will. I can go now?”
The healer nodded and threw Sam’s bloody shirt to him. “You are living here? Get a clean shirt on and toss that one away.”
“I will,” Sam said, managing a smile before he left the healer’s office.
He had to walk through the offices without a shirt, but he carried his destroyed one while he made his way to the dorm.
“Where have you been?” one of the apprentices asked.
“My partner and I were attacked. I wasn’t able to evade all the blows and got a little slice in the stomach.”
“Evade blows? Someone came at you with a sword?”
Sam nodded. “Two men, two swords. I had my wand, and Dickey Nail had a knife. We were lucky,” Sam said, not feeling lucky at all, but he had to say something to his fellow apprentice.
“First real day and you see some action.” The apprentice shook his head. “I’m turning in after a few more pages of this.” The apprentice held up something, but it was made of pollen so Sam couldn’t read the title of the book, since he had left his spectacles in his pocket when the healer examined him.
He put on a fresh shirt and looked at the wardrobe in his trunk. He’d have to get some more clothes. He suffered through a few more questions and left the dormitory. The fight had taken the excitement of finding a place for Emmy out of his mind. He found Dickey writing in the snoop offices.
“All patched up?”
Sam nodded. “What is next?”
“Sign this, and you can turn in for the night. You probably need the rest. I’ll meet you here in the morning.”
Sam read a statement about the fight. Dickey was more generous with his description of Sam’s role than he had expected, but his partner hadn’t embellished anything. He signed it and decided to check on Emmy before he climbed back to the dorms.
The dog barked once at Sam as he entered the stable.
“How are you, Emmy? Are they feeding you well?” Sam admired her coat. Someone had brushed her recently, and her fur shone in the lamplight. “You certainly look well.”
A man sauntered up. “Is this dog yours?” He looked well-dressed for a stable master.
Sam nodded. “She is indeed. I’ll be taking her out in a few days. I found a house to rent, and Emmy will get the whole back garden.”
“Her name is Emmy? I heard you greet her, just now.”
“It is.” Sam scratched behind her ears, and Emmy leaned her considerable bulk into him.
“The horses will miss her. I’ve never seen them take to a dog like that, and there have been more than a few come through the stable.” The man chuckled. “Maybe it is because she’s nearly as big as they are.”
Sam said, “You’ve been taking good care of her. I appreciate that nearly as much as she does.”
The man nodded. “You ever need anything, or if she does, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll see you around, apprentice.” He turned and walked out of the stable.
Sam patted Emmy on the back and struggled to his feet. His stitches were reminding him that he was injured. A man of more common appearance entered the stable.
“Your dog can make friends when she wants to,” the man said. He looked back at the door. “He walks through the stables once in a while.”
Sam frowned. “I thought the stable master would be more hands-on.”
“Him the stable master? No, that’s me. The man you just talked to is the Minister of Justice. He runs the constabulary and the courts and a lot of other things in Baskin and in Toraltia.”
Sam could feel his face heat up. He had complimented the Justice Minister for taking care of his dog. He put a hand over his eyes. “I hope he is a forgiving man.”
The stable master grunted. “Only when he wants to be, just like your dog.”
Sam had no reply and thanked the stable master for taking care of Emmy before trudging upstairs to the dormitory.
The lights were still on, and the three resident apprentices sat across from each other on two beds talking. They stopped their conversation when Sam entered the room, all looking at Sam. He still had his bloodied shirt in his hand. He tossed it on his bed.
“A constable was killed,” another apprentice said. He looked more shaken than the others.
“I know. Dickey Nail and I were assaulted in a restaurant. They were gang members,” Sam said.
“How do you know?” the other apprentice said. Sam didn’t like the accusing tone in his voice.
“By their tattoos. Dickey and I took a look at them in their cells. They were fast asleep, so we didn’t disturb them.”
“It isn’t right to do that,” the same apprentice said.
“No one stopped us, and we didn’t harm them in any way, in their cell, anyway. One had a broken hand and another a broken nose,” Sam said.
Mark barked a laugh. “Dickey Nail is known for playing rough. I’m surprised he didn’t run them through.”
Sam was tired and wanted nothing more than to go to bed, since his stomach had begun to ache a bit. “I’m going to sleep.”
He rolled the bloody shirt in a ball and tossed it on the other side of his bed. The other apprentices’ eyes were glued on the bandage on his upper stomach.
“I’m okay. It’s just a few stitches,” he said as he tossed back the covers, rolled away from the onlookers, and shut his eyes.
Chapter Four
~
S am sat down to breakfast with Mark, but the other four apprentices found places at another table.
“Don’t mind them,” Mark said. “They are jealous.” He laughed. “They thought you were boasting last night and were very surprised that your version of the fight in the restaurant was the modest version.” His fellow apprentice punched him in the arm. “You never told us that you did all the damage.”
“Dickey kept them occupied while I did the bashing, I guess,” Sam said. “He and I are partners.”
Mark shrugged. “We will see. You start off with a morning of classes like the rest of us. My advice to you is to keep a low profile and don’t show any of us up any more than you have to.” He laughed. “I can’t wait to see how you fare in our weapons training.”
“When is that?” Sam asked.
“Tomorrow. We do a few days of classroom work, and then the constables’ weapons trainer toys with us.”
“I have something to look forward to tomorrow. I was good enough in school, but the law doesn’t seem to make as much sense as it should.”
“Ask for a few private sessions with the constabulary instructor. The rest of us did. I had a hard time like you until I learned how to approach the law.”
“I’ll do that,” Sam said.
Sam checked to see if Dickey Nail had arrived, but he hadn’t shown up at the constabulary. Sam left a note saying he was in class and then went into the classroom. It was meant for twenty or thirty constables, but there were only the six apprentices and the instructor, an older constable dressed in an officer’s uniform.
“I am departing from my normal sequence to talk about the attacks on constables last night. There are some legal issues involved that I would like to discuss. When your partners and other constables talk about the events, you should have an understanding of the law and how it needs to be upheld, even under duress.”
One of the apprentices leaned back in his chair. “Why do we need to know this? Our guys were attacked, and we fought back.”
“There is something we call rules of engagement in the constabulary and in the army, as well. The constabulary doesn’t go around beating up citizens or invading families in their homes for no reason.”
Mark raised his hand. “So we need to know the laws about the ‘rules of engagement’ so we don’t get arrested ourselves?”
The instructor nodded. “Sam Smith, did Dickey Nail wait before he moved to stop the two gang members in the restaurant where you were last night?”
“My partner told me to hold back until the two men crossed swords. Is that one of the rules?”
The instructor nodded. “It is, and a threatening swing can suffice, as well.”
“Dickey got to his feet and told them to stop in the name of the Constabulary. Was that meant to be a warning?”
“You are getting the hang of it. A warning to stop, and then if there is a threat, a constable is allowed to go into action. If there is a direct threat, then the constable is released to defend himself. It isn’t particularly difficult, but in the heat of the moment, it may be hard to remember.”
“What about searching a house?” Sam asked.
“You need an order signed by someone in the Ministry of Justice. A judge or a magistrate will do. We have a magistrate in the constabulary to hear the reasons for such a thing. The magistrate can lose his or her job if something goes wrong, or if the constables do some aggressive searching. There are rules of engagement for conducting searches, as well. We will learn those today.” The instructor began his lecture.
Sam could relate better to what the instructor said in this lecture than the one the previous day. He had actually been involved in a constabulary action, and that made the lecture more real in his eyes. Perhaps he hadn’t tried to put actions behind the lecture in the previous class, and that made it hard for him to retain what was said. He’d have no problem remembering the lecture today. He was bothered by the angry looks from the other apprentices except for Mark, who didn’t have the resentment in his eyes and postures that the others did.
After class ended, Sam returned to the snoop offices. Dickey was giving two of the other investigators a personal description of the fight at the restaurant. Sam listened to the end. Dickey didn’t change what had happened. The two men looked at Sam and nodded knowingly. It seemed he had more support among the constables than among the apprentices.
“Let’s see the wand,” one of the investigators said.
Sam unscrewed the gold tip and handed it over.
“This has seen quite a bit of action for an iron rod,” the investigator said.
“I used it this summer when I fought to stop the rebellion.”
“You were there?”
“I traveled with Harrison Dimple, if you know who he is,” Sam said.
“Who doesn’t?” the man said. “He taught you some effective moves, eh?”
“I guess. My father made the wand. He is a smith.”
The investigator swished the rod around. “Sturdy. Saved Dickey’s life, didn’t it.”
Sam nodded, and the man returned his wand.
“What’s the tip for?”
“Pollen removal,” Sam said. “I needed it in Cherryton. I wasn’t the most popular kid in town.”
The two men bounced their heads up and down. “Removing wards like in the army.”
“Something like that,” Sam replied. He looked at Dickey. “Is there something I can do?”
Dickey snorted. “Paperwork. My desk is over there. See what I’ve written and follow along with your own words. We are supposed to document any actions that are significant. Any damage we do to another human being is significant.”
“If you will excuse me,” Sam said, leaving the three to talk as he went to find the report.
He figured it was like the report that Harrison Dimple had made during their trip to the mountain villages. Dickey’s report was on top of a disheveled stack of paper. Sam could see that Harrison’s informal observations wouldn’t be good enough. Dickey’s report was in a more rigid format. Sam could duplicate that, but it seemed like so much work.
Sam was about done when Dickey sat at the chair by the side of his desk. “Got the hang of it?”
“I do, and I think I’m about done. Want to check my story?”
Dickey nodded. “Did you review my version?”
“I did,” Sam said. “You made me out to be some kind of hero. I’m not used to that. My role in the revolt this summer was written out of the accounts of the rebellion by General Torrent, so Harrison told me.”
“I’m only interested in the facts today and not some self-serving legacy.”
Sam nodded. “I can see that. I’m about done.” Dickey gave him a few more minutes until Sam straightened his papers and gave them to his partner. “There.”
Dickey didn’t say a word while he read the report. “Who is the hero? We are going to confuse the higher-ups,” he said.
Sam laughed. “Maybe we were both heroes. Did I misrepresent any fact?”
