Closer to the Heart by Mercedes Lackey Read Free Book Online Page B

the second judge—and Mags to handle the terrified giant.

I t actually didn’t take Mags very long to calm Tuck down, once the poor fellow understood he was not in any trouble, and that Linden would be back to fetch him as soon as she was able. Mags sent a runner—one of his own boys from Aunty Minda’s place—out after some cheap sweets, figuring that someone as childlike as Tuck appeared to be would be both pacified and comforted by the unexpected treat. The ploy worked as well as Mags could have hoped. By the time the judge was through with Linden and she came looking for them in the hallway, Tuck was full of spicebread with nuts, and licking the last crumbs from his fingers. He looked up expectantly at the sound of Linden’s footsteps, and beamed at her when he saw her.
    â€œâ€™as ’e been any trouble, Herald, Milord?” Linden asked anxiously.
    Mags chuckled. “Ain’t bin none at all,” he assured her. “But ye got me curiosity a-goin’. I fancy goin’ alongside’ve ye, an’ seein’ the bits an’ bobs Tuck kin make.”
    To his slight surprise, Linden frowned a little. “’Tain’t jist bits an’ bobs, Herald,” she corrected. “Ye tell ’im whatcher want, though it may take some long ’splainin’ to ’im; once ’e gits it, an’ ye give ’im what ’e needs, he kin make it. I tol’ ye, ’a bain’t stupid. ’is ’ead jest don’ work like ourn.”
    Mags kept his skepticism to himself. It would be more than enough if the addle-witted fellow could make some pretty trinkets with the right supplies; he could see to it that Tuck never ran short of what he needed, and make sure the results went somewhere they would fetch what they were worth. “Then you an’ ’im could be some use t’me,” was all he said. “I’d admire t’see what Tuck kin do.”
    Within half a candlemark, he had to completely revise his assumptions.
    The “shed” that Tuck owned turned out to be a building that had once been a small stable, built to hold four animals. It served Tuck as living and working quarters, and what he had done inside those four plain walls was astonishing. This was clearly the work of years.
    To begin with, every bit of it had been carefully, meticulously, even artistically reinforced. Tiny bits of wood and handmade brackets had been put in place to make the building as solid as any on the Hill. Then, it had been weather-proofed. Mags actually went outside to have a look at one of the walls when he realized just how much work Tuck had gone to, and there was no sign on the outside of the building that this was anything other than what Linden had called it, a “shed.”
    But on the inside, Tuck had carefully pieced together an entire floor made of mismatched cobblestones and bits of wood. He’d weatherproofed using horsehair and plaster on the interior walls, exactly as was done in the best houses on the hill. From the look of things, he had waited until he had somehow gathered enough materials to fill in a section, done that section, andwaited until he had gathered enough for another section. Then he’d whitewashed the lot. The old hayloft had been devoted to a sleeping place; the four stalls were gone, although the posts supporting the loft that had anchored the stall walls were still in place. There was a workbench all along one wall, under windows just under the eaves that Mags marveled at—windows pieced painstakingly together from mere fragments of glass.
    The place was heated by a remarkable stove; Mags couldn’t make out exactly how it worked, but it was bolted and hammered together from scrap metal, and produced heat all out of proportion to its small size. The windows were fitted with louvered shutters clearly made of scrap wood; they were above head-height so it was unlikely anyone would ever see in here