Deepwoods (Book 1) (18 page)

Rune asked in an undertone, “Do ya trust her ta play with a
man’s head?”

“She’s never made a hash of it,” Siobhan assured him.

Turning his head, he gave her a nod. “Do as ya like, then.”

“Oh good.” She ducked back inside, her words floating on the
air. “Let me find some scissors.”

“Well, Rune, you’re going to look like a brand new man by
tomorrow,” Siobhan observed. “Conli, are you going to wrap the arm?”

“To keep it from being infected,” Conli responded without
looking up. “Alright, Rune, the worst is over. I’ve got some salve I’m putting
on—you like that? Yes, it has a cooling effect. Feels quite good, but it also
promotes healing. In three weeks, no one will tell by looking at your arm a
tattoo was ever there. But for now, we’re going to change that bandage once a
day, keep things clean, with lots of this salve on it. Geta? Good man.”

Rune finally let go of her hand with a sigh of relief. She tousled
his hair, playfully, before getting up. “He’s all yours, Denney!”

“Oh good, a new victim!” Denney caroled back, appearing with
a towel, scissors, and a comb.

Rune eyed the two women with growing alarm, although he
smiled, as if knowing they were teasing. “Ah…is it too late ta take it back?”

“Yes,” Denney informed him seriously.

“Just do a man a favor and leave me my ears?”

Denney cackled like a mad crone.

While they had been waiting in Vakkiod, Grae had been busy.
Siobhan didn’t want to travel for hours at a time if they didn’t need to,
especially with wounded people. In fact, as soon as they were well enough to
sit in a wagon, she wanted them out of this village and in a safer place. The
question was, where was that mythical place of safety?

Anticipating the need to go into Iron Dragain, she’d
directed Grae to build a path to Sateren. If she didn’t get the confirmation
she expected to, she’d have him build another path toward Quigg from there.
Several people in the guild had had nothing but time on their hands, so they’d
helped him search for stones. That said, he was building a snowflake pattern, as
it was large enough to carry their whole group, and that took 35 stones per
stepping stone. According to Grae’s calculations, it took 1,400 stones to build
a path. And that was only one direction! He’d build another, smaller path near
Sateren that would lead back to the village at her request.

 In this cold earth, digging up rocks had not been the most
pleasant of jobs.

But Grae had finished it, and Siobhan took full advantage of
that the next morning so that she didn’t have to travel three hours just to
reach Sateren. She rose leisurely, had a calm and unhurried breakfast, not in
the least bit worried about getting an early start.

From the rafters above her head, Rune cleared his throat.
“Ah, ya do remember the meeti’n is at noon?”

“I do,” she responded calmly, tugging on her boots. “Worried
we’ll be late?”

“A mite.”

“Don’t be. Grae will take us.”

“Ah, ya mean by path?”

“Yes.”

There was a ruminative silence for a second. “If ya had a
path made toward the city, why did Fei and me go the long way?”

“Grae didn’t actually finish it until yesterday before
dinner,” she explained. “You were on your way back by then.”

“Ehh.”

Siobhan got to her feet and then bent long enough to scoop a
cleaning rag off the side of the wash bucket. Without looking, she tossed the
rag up toward the rafters. Rune handily caught it. “While you’re up there,” she
informed him dryly, “you might as well put your time to use.”

Rune chuckled. “Yes ma’am.”

Judging it about time to leave, she went out onto the porch,
calling people as she moved. “Wolf, Fei, Grae, you ready?”

“Waiting on you,” Grae responded wryly, standing on the road
leading out of the village. He did indeed look ready, as he had a flask of
water hanging from one shoulder, a book tucked under his other arm. He planned
to just sit and wait for them, eh? Well, not a bad thought. If something went
wrong, and they needed to retreat in a hurry, she’d prefer to have him standing
by.

Wolf and Fei just looked ready for a fight. Well, Wolf
always looked ready for a fight, but even Fei seemed to expect trouble of some
sort. They both had weapons bristling from every limb. In this northern city,
Wolf and Rune would stand out the least, as they clearly hailed from here. Or
near here. It would be Siobhan and Fei, with their unusual coloring, who would
attract unwanted attention. Maybe she should reconsider having just her twin
swords….

As she cleared the door, she felt the floorboards vibrate
under Rune’s landing. He followed her out without a word.  

They all trooped out to the path. In deference to his need
for fresh water, Grae had not built his path near the village’s front entrance,
but at the very back, near a spring that fed into Drahn Lake. Siobhan actually
blessed that decision, as it prevented unwanted gawking by the villagers.

Grae took them through the path with only a brief warning to
Rune of “Step only where I do” and to the outskirts of Sateren without mishap.

Siobhan stood staring at the front gates of the city with a
vague sense of foreboding. Even though this whole thing was her idea, she
didn’t care for it one bit. “Grae,” she murmured for his ears alone, “If we’re
not out in three hours, send a message to Blackstone and tell them everything.”

He gave her an alarmed look. “You expect trouble?”

“Call it woman’s intuition.”

“Siobhan, your woman’s intuition is scarily accurate.”

She grimaced. “Don’t I know it.” Patting him on the shoulder
in reassurance, she moved past. “Alright, Rune, lead me.”

Her assassin did exactly that, taking the front position and
guiding them into the city.

Sateren strongly reminded her of Goldschmidt in some ways.
The men guarding the main gate asked her the same questions, and recorded their
passing in a very similar fashion. The cramped stores and buildings just inside
the gate were the same, all of them offering foods and services that a traveler
might be in need of. The din of noise from people going every direction, the
overripe smell of too many people living in too small a space, all of it was
similar. If not for the tall, sloping roofs and the grey stone everywhere, she
might have thought Grae had taken her to the wrong place.

This city had been built centuries ago, when there were
still formal governments in the world. According to the briefing Rune had given
them last night, parts of the city were so old that no one knew who had
actually built them. He’d also assured her that there was so much trade and
foreign business here that two more foreigners wouldn’t warrant a second
glance. Siobhan saw now that he had spoken simple truth. At least a third of
the pedestrians on the street were from other continents, and her ears picked
up every possible dialect as she passed different groups of people.

The main street connecting to the gate had wall-to-wall
people, but Rune didn’t stay on it for long. He quickly switched to a side
street that had half the traffic, flashing her a smile over his shoulder as he
walked. “Less crowded here.”

“And I’m thankful for it,” she responded with a breath of
relief. “At least I can hear myself think now. Will this road take us the right
direction?”

“Mostly.”

“It’s another street over,” Fei volunteered from behind her.
“We scouted it out yesterday to make sure it was a good place to meet. It’s a
small shop, like a miniature tavern, and sits on a corner. It gives us two ways
out if we need them.”

Good to know.

Siobhan kept her eyes peeled, but really, the way that the
streets crisscrossed each other at random quickly baffled her. Why did she have
the feeling that this place was even more confusing than Quigg?

Rune navigated it with ease, taking them to a quaint little
shop that seemed to have been there since the city’s founding. It had a fresh
coat of paint on it, and someone kept it in good repair, but there was no
disguising the age of the building. Siobhan liked the atmosphere of it, though.

They took a seat near the front table, which gave them good
line of sight in all directions. Siobhan took a better look around, trying to
see more of the place. Fei had described it fairly accurately—it looked exactly
like a miniature tavern. It only had eight tables, and one long booth
dominating a wall with every possible liquor known to man for sale. Not wanting
anyone drunk while trying to meet with a dark guildsman, she ordered salted
chips and apple brandy, one of the few non-alcoholic drinks to be had in
Wynngaard. Taking their cue from her, everyone else did the same.

“Ya must be the guildmaster.”

Siobhan’s heart tried to leap into her throat. She had a
hand on her sword, halfway out of her chair, on sheer instinct.

“Whoa there, didn’t mean ta startle ya.” A man with quite possibly
the ugliest face she had ever seen came into view as he stepped more fully into
the light. Half his right ear was missing, nose misshapen into a blob, with a
lazy right eye. His clothes were in good condition, though. Or at least, she
assumed they were. It was hard to tell under all the knives. He had a band of
them around his waist, two on each arm, and four strapped to each leg. Even in
this cool weather, he didn’t wear more than a leather vest and simple pants
tucked into high boots.

Siobhan put her sword back into its sheath before spreading
her hand carefully away from the weapon. “Quite alright. I’m Siobhan Maley,
Guildmaster of Deepwoods. You are?”

“Knives, Karl of Silent Order.” He gave a brief inclination
of the torso to her. “Pleasure. One of these I’ve met before…” he eyed Fei,
then Wolf. “But who are ya?”

“He’s Wolf, a guildmember of Deepwoods,” Rune introduced.

“Oh, Bloodless. Almost didn’t recognize you with short
hair.” The man smiled, or at least his mouth moved in the semblance of a smile,
but there was no emotion reflected in his eyes.

It sent chills going up Siobhan’s spine. Rune had looked at
her like that, the first day they’d met. He’d slowly thawed toward her over the
past few days and now she could see genuine emotion from him. This man…Knives.
He didn’t feel human at all.

Knives gave Wolf a cautious nod before he took a side-step,
head slanting as he studied Rune’s shoulder more carefully. The former assassin
hadn’t put on a shirt this morning either, content to wear his sleeveless vest.
(Perhaps they were just that used to the cold?) Knives jerked a chin to
indicate the bandage. “What, ya had the tattoo removed?”

Rune just stared back at him, not saying anything.

“Well, well.” Knives stroked his chin idly. “I did say, if
ya didn’t kill the old man in the village, ya could leave the guild for all I
cared. Didn’t think ya’d do it, though.”

Siobhan didn’t like where this was going and stepped in,
trying to head things off. “Karl, if you wouldn’t mind? I have someone waiting
on us, you see.”

“Oh?” His black eyes were flint hard but he nodded amiably.
“Sure, sure. Ya note said, ya want to know who it was that attacked a party
coming toward the city? About a week ago?”

“That’s right.”

“Hmm, well, I looked into it a bit. There was two jobs then,
and we took on both. One of them was a caravan comin’ from Teherani.”

She shook her head, indicating that wasn’t the one.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “The other was comin’ from
Robarge. That one had an odd request to it, it did. We was to rough people up,
bad, but not kill.”

Siobhan clenched her hand into a fist so tight her nails bit
into her skin. So, she’d been right in that regard. “Can you tell me who
requested the job?”

“Well, now, it’s bad business to talk about clients, ya
know.”

Rune stepped in closer, body tense as if ready to explode
into action at the barest hint of danger. “Knives. Lives depend on her
knowi’n.”

The two men locked gazes for a long moment. The air became
stifling, hard to breathe, under the tension.

“I wasn’t really sure it was ya, back when I got the
message.” Knives cocked his head in a gesture of curiosity that seemed, for
once, to be a genuine feeling. “It’s more than odd to see ya here like this,
and bein’ protective of someone else. It looks like ya switched to another
guild, Bloodless. Why?”

“She gave me a name,” he answered with quiet simplicity.

“Did she now.” Knives eyed Siobhan from head to toe and back
again. “Well now. That’s interestin’.”

“A name, Knives,” Rune pressed.

“Can’t give ya one.” Knives shrugged, uncaring. “Don’t
remember it. But it was a guild from Coravine, that I remember.”

Coravine? She blinked. “Coravine,
Orin?
”

“That’s the place.”

“Ì fregn soemd. Ella jarn eiga hqfdi,” Wolf rumbled in a low
voice. 

Siobhan’s Wynngaardal was limited to, “Hello”, “Thank you,”
and “How much is this?” Anything after that went quickly over her head. But
even she could hear the unspoken warning in his tone.

Knives held up both hands in a placating gesture. “De soemd
lan risna.”

Oh? That phrase she recognized. Or at least the word soemd.
So he was answering in all honor, eh? She looked first at Rune, then at Wolf,
but both men seemed to believe the karl. Phew. “I thank you for the
information,” she responded politely. “Rune mentioned to me that you have a fee
for this information?”

“Rune?” he repeated before his eyes darted to the young
assassin. “Ah, ya new name? I see. The fee is twenty kors.”

She couldn’t quite conceal a wince. That was half the purse
Blackstone had given them! But it was her fault for not asking a price and
bargaining before spitting out questions. Mentally kicking herself, she pulled
her purse out of an inner coat pocket and started counting it out. Halfway
through, she paused as a thought struck her. “What if I gave you information in
return? Information that might save your life.”

Knives held his ground. “It’d have to be good, lady
Guildmaster.”

“It is. Do you know who you attacked on the highway?”

He weighed her question for a taut moment before slowly
shaking his head. “A group of sixteen from Robarge was all we was told.”

“It was an escort, actually, for Lirah Darrens.” When he
gave her a blank look, she elaborated. “The daughter of Blackstone’s guildmaster.”