Deepwoods (Book 1) (7 page)

“Oh, sure.” She slid the ring off her middle finger and
handed it over so he could more closely inspect it.

“It’s not a very elaborate design,” he observed as he turned
it this way and that.

“There’s different levels of rings,” she explained, taking
it back from him. “This is a more basic level, one that doesn’t have a lot of
power to it. It goes like such: silver, gold, then bejeweled. The bejeweled
ones have either mother of pearl or crystal inlaid on top.”

Hammon stared more intently at the ring before glancing up
at the ceiling, a frown of concentration on his face. “A golden version with
inlaid mother of pearl, you say?”

“Conli has one,” she answered the unspoken question written
all over his face. “He’s from a prominent family on Island Pass.”

From the blank stare he gave her, Hammon hadn’t expected
something like that. “He is?”

“He is.” She splayed her hands in an open shrug. “Why he’s
in Deepwoods serving as our physician, I can’t explain. He’s never volunteered
that information and I’ve never felt it right to pry.”

“You’re dying to pry, though,” he said in a knowing tone.

“I hate unresolved riddles more than any other thing,” she
grumbled. “But if I do, I’ll drive him and Denney away, and I’d rather not lose
good people. So, I bite my tongue.”

“Why him and Denney?”

“They come as a set, those two. Which is another riddle I
want answered. The most Denney has ever told me about herself is that she’s
half-Teheranian, half-Wynngaardian—which I’m sure you’ve guessed, judging from
her looks—but I know precious little of her background aside from that. Those
two came in together six years ago looking for a guild and work, and I took
them on because of Conli’s medical skills. I haven’t once regretted that
decision, either. Although there are days when I
do
wonder what they’re
doing with us…” she trailed off, her own eyes straying up the stairs to where
the two in question were still fast asleep. “With Conli’s doctoring skills, he
can work wherever he wishes to. I’m thankful to have him, mind, and certainly
don’t wish to see the back of him. I just don’t understand what I did to gain
him, either.”

“Your stunning and dynamic personality?” Hammon offered
artlessly, with an innocent blink of the eyes.

She threw her head back and laughed. “That I doubt! But I
thank you for the flattery.” Actually, while Denney was upstairs and still
asleep, this would be a good time to warn Hammon of certain things. “Hammon,
have you ever been to Wynngaard before?”

“I was three at the time,” he answered with a wry shrug. “I
don’t remember much.”

“Ahhh. Then you might not know this.” She waved him closer
and lowered her voice to a more confidential murmur. “I want you to be on your
toes as we reach Wynngaard. There’s a stigma attached to people like Denney,
who obviously have mixed blood. They mistake her for a prostitute or some
lower-class worker all the time. If she stumbles into a crowd of Teheranians,
it’s especially bad, which might happen in Quigg. There’s quite a large
neighborhood of them in the city.”

Hammon raised a hand in a staying motion. “Wait, why?”

“As it was explained to me, there’s one thing that Wynngaardian
and Teheranian culture have in common: they don’t tolerate half-bloods. Those
poor souls that are born to mixed parents are in for a rough life afterward. I
think that’s why Denney chooses to stay in Robarge, as we don’t have that
prejudice.” That was pure guesswork on her part, though, as Denney had never
said a word one way or the other. “Regardless, when we’re in Wynngaard, keep an
eye on her and step in if you need to.”

He gave her a solemn nod and promised, “I will.”

“Good man.”

“Ahhh…speaking of her….” Hammon’s eyes started twinkling in
a devilish fashion. “I was promised a story that I never got to hear. Something
about her falling off the cart while on the path and getting lost for several
days?”

Siobhan’s expression melted into an evil smile. “Oh, that?
True, I do need to tell you that. To serve as an example and prevent you from
repeating her mistake, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed with a straight face.

“It happened about, oh, two years back.” Siobhan relaxed in
her chair, crossing her hands over her stomach, and prepared to tell the tale.
“We were taking a small caravan from Cymer to Kaillmark, then escorting them
back again. On the way back, Denney got concerned about one of the dogs not being
seated properly, and as she moved to adjust the dog,
she
lost her
balance and fell straight off the side of the cart. Tran and Beirly both saw
her going over and called a halt right there, but when a person leaves a path,
you can’t see them. Grae marked the spot, but he couldn’t just stop, as our
clients had a ship to make in Dykes. So we went all the way through the path
and took them to Cymer, then Dykes. That took about an hour, mind you. I split
the guild up so that half made sure the caravan got loaded on the ship as they
were supposed to, then I took Grae and Tran back with me to go get Denney.”

Just remembering the whole situation made her shake her
head.

“Grae had run some calculations and did a little wizardry,
and he figured out more or less where she must have landed. We took a smaller
path he already had built and he took us to the right area. Or what should have
been the right area, if Denney had stayed put. But no, in her infinite wisdom,
she’d decided to walk the remaining distance to Cymer and save us some
trouble.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Hammon’s brows were furrowed in
bemusement, “but isn’t the distance between Kaillmark and Cymer about ninety
spans?”

“Indeed it is,” she assured him, like a proud teacher of a
pupil. “Someone paid attention when they were being taught their geography. But
Denney was under the impression that since she’d fallen from an active path,
she had traveled most of the distance. But this gets better: you see, she has
no sense of direction.”

Hammon blinked. “At all?”

Wolf snorted. “The girl can, and has, gotten herself lost
just going up the stairs.”

“If not for the dogs, I wouldn’t let her go out of the guildhall
by herself for fear we’d never see her again,” Siobhan added sourly. “Why she
thought she could navigate all the way to Cymer, I haven’t the foggiest notion.
So, instead of going toward Cymer as she intended, she instead headed
west
and ended up in the marshland near Priyam’s Waters. If not for Tran, we’d never
have found her.”

“Why Tran especially?”

“Oh, he’s an amazing runner.”

“Most Teheranians are,” Fei added.

“Tran can run great distances and speeds without tiring.
When I realized that Denney had gotten herself lost, I had him track her down
and bring her back so we could travel by path to Cymer. Even with his help,
what should have taken an hour or so took four days. We had to wander in every
direction looking for her, as with Denney, you never know what direction she’ll
take.”

Hammon coughed in a poor attempt to disguise a laugh. “She’s
never going to live it down, either.”

“Never,” Siobhan agreed with a genteel smile.

Conli chose that moment to come downstairs, stifling a yawn
behind one hand. “Morning, everyone.”

Everyone returned the greeting in their own way and Siobhan
called back to the kitchen for another plate of food to be brought out.

As Conli sat, she caught his eye and said, “We’ll be delayed
here a day as the storm hasn’t passed yet. Since that’s so, I think we should
speak to the guards and get more information about Lirah’s party. Were they in
good condition when they passed through? Any signs of trouble before she came
or after she left? Any information right now will help.”

“You think you’ll need me,” Conli held up his left hand and
the bejeweled bridge ring he wore, “to find all that out?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted frankly. “But I
do
know
that we’ll need your help to get Hammon a ring while we’re here. So why don’t
the three of us go get that done and ask questions while we’re about it?”

“It’s not a bad plan,” he agreed readily. “Although I’m a
little surprised, Hammon, that you don’t already have one.”

“I was very young when I left Robarge and traveled
elsewhere,” he explained. “After I turned ten, I never really went anywhere
else until a few months ago, when I left home.”

“Ahh, is that right? Then we’ll get a ring for you and show
you what you can use it for. We occasionally take side jobs separate from the
guild, and when we do, the rings come in handy as we travel.”

“You can take on side jobs in this guild?”

“I don’t prohibit it, as long as it doesn’t interfere with
guild work,” Siobhan explained absently. Her attention was on the second floor,
as half of her guild had yet made no signs of wanting to wake up. “Errr…” She
looked up at the stairs, debating on how to handle the slumbering dragons still
in their beds. “Wolf?”

“I’m
not
waking any of them up,” he said vehemently.
“And you can’t make me.”

Hammon paused mid-bite and looked at Wolf with mild alarm.
“Are they truly that bad?”

Wolf nodded several times in vigorous confirmation.

Rolling her eyes, Siobhan said patiently, “I was about to
say, sic the dogs on ‘em.”

“Oh. That I’ll do.” Relieved, Wolf whistled for both of them
and headed up the stairs, the dogs climbing ahead of him with happy bounces.
But then, for them, waking up sleeping people counted as ‘fun.’

Ignoring the outraged yells coming from the second floor,
Siobhan prudently decided to hunt down Gramms and settle their account. She’d
worry about looking for information
after
the three grumps had
breakfast.

The storm passed by noon, leaving traces of snow behind that
collected along the sides of the streets and in shadowy corners. By that point,
they’d gone through all the bothersome paperwork and procedures to get Hammon a
ring of his own. Since she had Conli with her, they inquired about the
Blackstone party, even going so far as to cross from the eastern gate over to
the western gate, questioning the gatekeepers themselves and looking at the
records.

They found nothing out of the ordinary.

According to the records and the guards’ somewhat hazy
memories, the party had come through and traveled on the bridges on a fair
weather day. They hadn’t looked distressed, preoccupied, or in any way worried
about their journey. In fact, their attitudes and condition had been so
completely normal that the guards couldn’t remember them at first, and it was
only the unusual size of the party that struck a mental chord with them.
Usually people that traveled were much smaller in number or a great deal
larger, such as merchants and caravans.

Having only been able to confirm what the initial report
said didn’t satisfy her, but at least Siobhan knew that whatever had happened
hadn’t happened here.

They couldn’t leave for Quigg that day, as they wouldn’t
have enough time to get over the bridges before the tide rose, so they had
several hours to kill. That in mind, she led the men back to the inn and had
everyone grab their weapons, announcing to the guild that since they had the
time, they might as well spar with each other and get a feel for how their new
member fought.

Wolf and Tran were all for this idea, and they quickly led
the way up to the inn’s roof, which had a flat area open for guests to relax
in. Gramms probably had some notion of turning this place into a garden, as he’d
put flower pots and benches up here, but it was never used for relaxing. Not
with her group, at least. In this overly crowded city, the rooftop had the only
open space available for sparring that didn’t risk striking a wall.

With everyone gathered, she caught Beirly’s eye and motioned
with her chin toward Hammon. Catching her drift, Beirly lifted a hand and waved
Hammon down.

“Why don’t you and I spar first?” he invited with a wide
smile behind his bushy red beard. “I’ve never fought against a weapon like
yours before and I’m curious.”

“That’s fine,” Hammon agreed readily.

Siobhan leaned against the cold stone wall, safely on the
sidelines, and watched with interest as Beirly and Hammon picked up their
weapons and faced each other. She was very curious as to what Beirly would do,
as he only had a long sword in his hand. In reality, the sword spear that
Hammon used was one of the deadliest and most effective weapons in the known
world. It combined two dangerous elements: it was essentially a short sword on
the end of the spear. It gave its wielder incredible reach and range,
effectively cutting the opponent’s offensive power in half. Of course, being
able to wield something six feet long without accidentally slicing your own
foot off brought its own challenges, but from the way Hammon carried that
thing, he’d been well trained in it.

The only way to really face a sword spear was with a shield,
which Beirly didn’t have. In truth, Wolf should be Hammon’s opponent as he
normally fought with shield and longsword. But pitting Wolf against the scholar
seemed totally unfair. The man was a demon when it came to fighting. Only Tran and
Fei seemed to be able to fight toe-to-toe with him. Beirly, being no slouch
when it came to fighting, seemed a fairer opponent for this testing of skills.

Hammon settled into a wide stance, both hands on the wood in
a steady grip, eyes on Beirly. Beirly had both hands on his sword hilt as well,
the tip of the blade circling ever so slightly as he eyed Hammon. For several
seconds, both men sized each other up, weighing options and tactics.

Without warning, Beirly lunged forward, sword striking
Hammon’s blade, attempting to knock it far to the side. Hammon didn’t try to
force it back, just slid the blade abruptly down, robbing Beirly’s thrust of
its force, before he reversed directions and snapped the blade back up. Beirly
was forced to rapidly retreat or lose part of his beard.

“They do remember they’re not trying to hurt each other,
right…?” Siobhan muttered anxiously under her breath. Maybe she should have
insisted that they leave the weapons sheathed before doing this.

“They’re fine,” Tran assured her in a low tone. “They’ve got
good control right now, and it’s obvious neither of them are fighting at full
speed.”

Well, true, they were obviously holding back. But she knew
from experience that these things could get out of control very quickly and
neither man was wearing any sort of protective armor.

Thwarted, Beirly circled back and tried again. Hammon wasn’t
giving him any opening this time, however, and moved the sword spear in a series
of quick thrusts, the wood sliding in his forward hand, so that Beirly had to
dodge every direction to avoid getting a foot of metal in his gut.

Beirly seemed to realize that if this kept going, he would
dramatically lose the fight. In a short burst of speed, he closed the distance,
sliding his sword against the staff, keeping Hammon from putting the blade into
play. But Hammon didn’t hesitate or panic, he simply raised the staff above his
shoulders, forcing Beirly’s sword up as well. Beirly had time to give a
wordless protest before Hammon brought his knee up and rammed it into Beirly’s
chest, forcing him backward.

Losing his balance entirely, Beirly stumbled and collapsed
onto his back, sword falling from his loosened grip. Hammon lost no time in
putting the edge of the sword spear against the redhead’s throat.

In good humor, Beirly spread his hands in surrender. “You
won that bout, friend.”

Hammon grinned at him. “You almost got me, though. A little
faster, and I wouldn’t have been able to stop you.”

“Ha!” Beirly didn’t believe that for one second.

Grin widening, Hammon retracted the weapon before leaning
forward, offering Beirly a hand up. Beirly took it and came easily to his feet.

Siobhan watched this scene with open satisfaction. Yes,
Hammon had the skills to defend himself and then some. She needn’t worry about
that in the future. She clapped her hands together. With that settled, they
might as well go in—

“Me next!” Wolf said with unabashed excitement.

She stared at him in horror. “What? Why?”

“I haven’t faced a sword spear user in quite some time,” he
responded as if the answer was obvious. “A man gets rusty if he’s always
sparring with the same opponents.”

“Pull the other leg, man!” Beirly responded, amused. “You
spar with the whole city!”

“They’re still the same opponents,” Wolf argued, already
drawing the shield from his back. “Besides, I want to see if he knows how to
get past a shield.”

“You can hold a shield and fight?” Hammon asked, tone not
condescending, but honestly intrigued.

“Of course,” Wolf assured him. Turning sideways, he
demonstrated for the other man. “Beirly made it so that I can lock the hand in
place. See? Once I have the fingers through the handle, I use the thumb here to
latch the others in position. It won’t release until I pull this lever here.”

“Ingenious,” Hammon breathed, leaning in closer for a better
look. “Beirly, have you considered selling this design? Actually marketing it?
I know you’d only be able to make limbs for people able to afford them, but I
still think you’d make a pretty kor from it.”

“Now that is a good business proposition.” Beirly stroked
his beard as he thought about it. “What do you think, Sylvie? You think you can
help me sell it if I make it?”

“Beirly,” the brunette drawled, “I can sell your beard to
apes if I’ve a mind to. The reason I didn’t suggest it before is it’s hard to
market something you have to custom make for people. I saw how much time you’ve
invested in Wolf’s arm, making it so that it fits him just right.”

“There’s a drawback, alright.” Beirly frowned in thought,
still tugging at his beard. “But in the beginning, it was all trial and error.
I bet I can do it faster now, not fumble as much.”

“Debate this over dinner,” Wolf suggested, clearly not
interested in business deals when there was new blood to spar with.

Hammon good-naturedly raised his weapon again, ready to take
on the next opponent.

Siobhan leaned back against the wall with a sigh. Well, if
it truly did start to get out of hand, she’d send Tran in to break it up. 

ӜӜӜ

In an unusual turn of events, Siobhan was not the first down
to breakfast the next morning. She came downstairs to find that Hammon, Grae,
and Beirly had beaten her there, with half-consumed plates in front of them.

“—was actually for my sake that the guild was formed,” Grae
explained to an attentive Hammon. “You see, I studied under a master Pathmaker
in Widstoe—that’s our hometown—and became a master there myself. But once I had
the ranking, I discovered that most of the people in the city still went to my master
for work. He’d been doing it for over twenty years, so I guess people were just
used to dealing with him. But that didn’t leave a lot of customers for me, so I
did a little research and discovered that Goldschmidt didn’t have a Pathmaker
but it
did
have the size and demand to support one.”

“So you moved there?” Hammon guessed.

Ah, Hammon must have asked how the guild was first formed.
Siobhan silently joined them at the table, serving up a plate of food for
herself from the dishes in the middle, and started eating without even trying
to interrupt.

“Well, I was set to do that, but I’m bad with people.” Grae
gave a self-depreciating smile. “I don’t deal well with strangers, especially.
But Siobhan, she’s always been good with people. So I asked her to form a
business with me—she’d handle the clients, I’d build the paths.”

Hammon glanced at her.

“I thought it a good business plan,” she said easily. “So I
agreed.”

“Right before we left, though, my master warned me that most
Pathmakers don’t do well unless they’re part of a guild,” Grae continued. “It’s
the protection of belonging to a guild more than anything else. Otherwise
people try to pressure you into joining up with their guild, and you end up in
a place where you’d rather not be. But it takes at least three people to form a
guild, so…”

“So they asked me,” Beirly piped up, stroking his beard in a
reminiscent manner. “I’d built myself a carpentry business by that point, and
had run it for two years, so I knew more about forming a guild than either of
them. It didn’t set right with me, either, sending them off alone to a city
that they’d only heard of. I couldn’t convince their parents to talk them out
of the idea—they’re both from large families and I think they were just as glad
for one less child to feed—so I thought, I’d best go with them. Turns out to be
the best decision I ever made.”

“Somehow—mind you, I don’t remember hearing this discussion
at all—they talked about it behind my back and nominated me as guildmaster,”
Siobhan couldn’t help but add dryly.

“We took a vote,” Beirly defended himself mildly.

“The majority carried,” Grae tacked on with a small grin.

“Ha ha ha.” She glared at both of them, muttering under her
breath.

“Although I almost rethought that decision after two
months,” Beirly admitted ruefully to Hammon. “See, we got a guildhall for
cheap, and set up business easily enough. With Grae’s skills, we had a good
number of clients within the first month. We’d barely gotten our feet wet when
she stumbled across a black market and saw Wolf. Siobhan’s always been the sort
to take pity on outcast souls, and after one look at him, she couldn’t leave
him there. So she bought him.”

Hammon’s eyes crossed. “You
bought
Wolf?”

“For fifty-eight kors,” Beirly stated factually. Cocking his
head, he asked rhetorically, “Has he ever paid that back?”

Siobhan snorted. “I couldn’t begin to tell you. Considering
how often I’ve had to dock his pay or fine him for damages, it’s a miracle he
has any money at all.”

Beirly waved this away as unimportant. “We thought she was
crazy at first. I mean, who buys a former dark guild mercenary with a missing
hand? Especially one that’s as big as a giant and strong enough to snap your
neck like a chicken’s? But he was so grateful for any show of kindness, I
realized she was right to take him from there. That’s when I thought, if he
just had that hand of his back, he’d be a force to reckon with. We needed a
good fighter in the guild with all the traveling we did. So he and I made a
deal. I’d make him up a hand so he could fight if he promised to stay until we
could find another enforcer to replace him with.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait!” Siobhan threw up both hands to stop him.
“I never heard about this! When did you two promise that?”