Origins: A Deepwoods Book - a Collection of Deepwoods Short Stories (Deepwoods Series 0) (3 page)

“No, I think they made a good choice,” Hughes disagreed.
“It’s clear to me that you’re a natural at this. Alright, Guildmaster Maley,
you have a deal. We’ll take that twenty percent discount and will do all of the
advertising for you for the first three months that you are in business. I’ll
have six men at your doorstep after breakfast tomorrow to help you with your
pathmaking. Do we have a deal?”

Trapped, knowing that she had the job whether she wanted it
or not, Siobhan put on a game smile and shook the man’s hand. “Deal.”

“Good.” Hughes drew out a clean sheet of paper and jotted down
several names and locations, then handed them up to Gage. “Here. Guildmaster, I
expect that Darrens will want to speak to you before the day is out, so be
prepared for that.”

In that case, while they were walking, she was definitely
going to have Gage tell her where to get some good pastries. Talking business
without food handy was anathema to her. “I will, sir, thank you.”

“Good luck, Deepwoods. I look forward to having you in our
city.”

“Thank you, sir.” Siobhan stood, a copy of her contract with
Blackstone in hand, and followed Gage off the porch and toward the compound
gates. As they walked, she dropped back enough to hiss at her two childhood
friends, “And when, exactly, did you two louts decide that I was to be the
guildmaster?”

“A while ago,” Beirly drawled.

“It was never an ambition of mine to be a guildmaster,” she
observed tartly. “In fact, I thought it was set that you would be guildmaster,
Beirly.”

“It’ll be good for you, Shi,” Beirly intoned, not in the
least worried about gaining her ire.

“And Master Hughes is right, you’re a natural at it,” Grae
opined, trying to keep his face straight and failing miserably. “You spoke to
him so comfortably, like you’d known him for years. Neither Beirly nor I can
manage to connect to people like you can.”

“You also have a talent for getting people to help you,”
Beirly tacked on. “If I had been the one dealing with the man, we wouldn’t have
a list of cheap guild halls in hand. Or three months of free advertisement from
the main guild of this city, for that matter. You have a charm about you that
makes people want to help you. That’s essential for a guildmaster to have.”

All of that sounded fine and dandy, but Siobhan knew the
real reason. “In other words, both of you would rather cut off your ears rather
than be guildmaster.”

“Exactly,” they said in unison.

Gage, ahead of them, started laughing.

“A fine pair you are,” she groused. “And quit that, Master
Gage, it’s not that funny.”

“Just Gage is fine,” he told her, looking back over his
shoulder. “I have a feeling that we’ll be friends before the day is out. Tell
you what, new guildmaster, why don’t I treat the three of you to an early
lunch? And then we’ll go shopping for your new guildhall.”

“That’d be a fine thing. And introduce me to a good bakery
as we go, as I need something on hand for when Guildmaster Darrens comes.”

“I will,” Gage assured her. He paused a step so that she was
now walking evenly with him, and took the time to point out good places to
shop, and even called some people over and made introductions.

Siobhan felt the city settle into her bones a little more
with each step, each new face, as the people did their best to make her new
guild feel welcome. Every corner they turned, people were delighted to hear
that an escorting guild was making its home there, and a few offered little
gifts of welcome, making Siobhan smile and promise a visit later after they
were properly settled.

Their method of choosing a new city might have been somewhat
haphazard, but Siobhan had a premonition that Goldschmidt would be good to
them. Strange, how it felt like she was having a homecoming to a city she had never
been to before, but that was exactly how it felt.

“You’re smiling, Shi,” Grae whispered.

“I am,” she responded, casting him a wink. “Because as
beginnings go, I can’t imagine a better one than this.”

ӜӜӜ

“And that is the story of Deepwoods,” Siobhan finished in
true Wynngaardian fashion.

“It was a good telling, and I thank ya for it,” Rune
responded automatically. “Did they really bend over backwards like that for
ya?” Rune asked in amazement.

“They truly did. In fact, when Darrens came that first night
to introduce himself, he gave me even more favorable terms and doubled the work
crew for gathering stones. They were
that
pleased to have a Pathmaker in
residence. Moving to that city was the best business decision we’ve ever made.”

 “I always wondered why it was Darrens favors ya.” Rune gave
a wise nod. “Now I know.”

“He does
not
want us leaving.” Siobhan grinned as she
said this. “After all, I’m cheaper than hiring an outside escorting guild,
faster, and I give him breaks sometimes on fees. I’ve been very careful to make
myself as irreplaceable as possible.” Thinking back, she added, “It was just as
well Grae had us with him, as he was overwhelmed with strangers for months, and
was tongue tied quite a bit of the time.”

“So he wasn’t exaggerating when he said the guild was formed
just for him.”

“Not in the least. Once he got used to the place, he liked
it fine, and it’s hard for a man to not become attached to a place that clearly
adores him. We had no trouble with the city, no serious trouble, until I
brought Wolf home. Only then did fights start, mostly from idiots that thought
Wolf was a fun challenge.” Just remembering those early days gave Siobhan a
headache.

“Do ya still feel that someone else should be guildmaster?”
Rune asked this out of curiosity and nothing more.

Siobhan chewed on the question for a while before answering,
“No. I now understand that Beirly and Grae didn’t have the temperament for it,
even back then. And honestly, no one else in the guild would have thought to
take either you or Wolf on, and where would we be without you? I need to be
guildmaster for one reason: I take chances that no one else will take.”

“Like forming a guild in a city ya’ve never been ta before?”

“Sounds insane, doesn’t it?” she admitted, laughing. “But
where would we all be if I hadn’t? If I had turned Grae down that day, then
Deepwoods wouldn’t exist, and I shudder to think of that possibility. As crazy
as my life is now, as hectic and painful as it sometimes gets, I wouldn’t trade
my present life for anything.”

“I’m selfishly glad ya did,” Rune said softly, a smile on
his face. “I’m glad, too, that my master had the courage ta step outside of his
comfort zone.”

“That’s the hardest thing to do, to let go of what’s safe
and comfortable, and try for the unknown. Grae’s a shy man, likely always will
be, but of us all I think he has the most courage.”

“I hear you, Siobhan!” Grae called from the front of the
cart.

“And you’re likely blushing and embarrassed at the praise,”
she called back. “But I won’t let up! Your punishment for making me guildmaster
without my consent is getting teased for the rest of your life!”

Grae groaned, making the rest of the guild laugh. “You’re
never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Never, ever, ever,” she agreed, sing-song.

“We’re nearly off the bridge,” Beirly informed them all
dryly. “Siobhan, what’s first?”

“Food,” she informed him. “Then, the usual.”

Grae twisted on his seat, cheeks slightly pink, but a grin
on his face. “Build a path?”

“Build a path.”

The first night outside of Channel Pass was a little rough.
They’d spent the majority of their energy on gathering stones instead of making
camp, and so only the barebones were in place. Denney had thoughtfully broken
off an hour ahead of everyone else and went to prepare a thick stew—the easiest
thing to make while camping out. She also wisely made more than enough for
people to get seconds, or thirds, or (in Wolf’s and Tran’s cases) fifths.

After eating, Wolf propped himself up on his bedroll and
seriously considered just falling asleep in that position. If he did, though,
he’d wake up with a terrible crick in his neck in the morning. And he hadn’t
sorted out who was taking which watch yet, either. So he really couldn’t afford
to fall asleep right here.

Siobhan seemed to realize that full stomachs, plus hard
work, equaled tired people. She pushed herself to her feet and announced to the
group, “I think it’s best the watches go in pairs while we’re out here. We
might fall asleep if on our own. So Rune and Wolf first watch, Tran and Markl
second watch, Fei and Beirly third watch, and I’ll take fourth watch.”

Since fourth watch was early in the morning, when Siobhan
normally chose to rise, Wolf didn’t argue this. Besides, fourth watch was the
safest of all, so if there was any watch to let her take alone, it’d be that
one.

Resigned to having to stay awake a few more hours, he rolled
himself up to his feet. “Rune, help me mark out a perimeter.”

“I’ll mark north side,” Rune said, already moving that
direction.

Kiō had gotten quick on things like these. Smiling to
himself, he went the opposite direction, marking how far out to patrol with any
large stone that came to hand. Satisfied, he went back to camp.

Everyone had more or less turned in at this point. Beirly
was snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Wolf met Rune near the campfire.
“Shall we walk the first circuit?”

Rune shrugged agreement and fell into step with him. They
walked in silence the full circle around the camp. At this distance, they
couldn’t feel the heat of the campfire, and could only see the silhouettes of
their companions as they slept. Wolf was just glad it was a peaceable night
with fair weather. Camping in foul weather was something to avoid at all costs.

“Wolf.”

“Hmm?”

“What’s your story?”

For a second, he didn’t quite know what Rune was asking.
Then it clicked. “You mean how I came into the guild?”

Rune nodded, a barely discernable gesture this far from the
firelight. “I heard how Deepwoods was originally formed. But I don’t know how
any of you came into it.”

That was a very reasonable question to ask. In fact, Wolf
was surprised that Rune hadn’t asked it earlier. Looking about him, he took in
the starry sky, the soft breeze coming in off the ocean, and the stillness of
the night.

“My father always said that secrets and stories were best
shared at night. Alright, Rune. Let me tell you the story of Erik Wolfinsky.”

He stared straight ahead with dead eyes, the raucous noise
of the crowd washing over him without touching him. He stood on a
platform—little better than a slab set a foot higher than the ground—with a
half dozen other men. All of them were in poor condition, weak, half-starved. 
They were squeezed in together, so much so that just taking a breath would
jostle the person on either side. He had his half-healed arm held protectively
to his chest to keep it from being injured further.

Early this morning, they’d been dragged into an outdoor
shower of sorts, where they’d been given strong lye soap and cold water. No new
clothes, though, just a rag to dry off with. The chance to be clean had been
welcome, but the effort his slave masters had made to better their appearance
was too slipshod to do any good. His beard and hair still were matted, as were
the other men’s, and their clothes tattered beyond repair.

Then again, it wasn’t like the masters really cared. They
had every intention of selling this lot cheap, as they were in too poor of a
condition to get a high value. He had no illusions about his own value at this
point. A former dark guild mercenary with a missing hand would not be
attractive to most buyers. If he didn’t sell today, though, he likely wouldn’t
see a tomorrow. His masters were tired of towing him from market to market.

The sun rose, filtering through the awnings of the market
stalls and heating up the place to an unbearable level. The stench of unwashed
bodies, rotting food, and manure from the various animals became ripe enough to
gag on. But Erik Wolfinsky was used to such smells after the past three months
and he simply waited it out until his nose grew accustomed to it.

By midday, three of the men that were standing with him were
sold off. He took little notice of it, save that he now had room to stand with
arms akimbo if he chose. His bad arm he let hang at his side now that he wasn’t
worried about it being banged against.

“Hello?”

Strange. That voice gave the impression a woman was speaking
to him. He lowered his gaze, looking down. Clear green eyes looked straight
back at him, and in them, he saw sympathy. He blinked, for surely this was an
illusion. People looked at him with fear, distaste, but never sympathy.

“I’m Siobhan Maley,” she introduced herself with a winsome
smile.

What a beautiful woman. And where was that accent and red
hair from? She looked different than the people of western Robarge. Her skin
was pale, except the freckles across her nose, and she was taller than most
women.  The lilt to her words was foreign to him and he couldn’t place her. She
wasn’t from Orin, Wynngaard, or Teherani, though. That he knew. So she must
hail from some other part of Robarge.

When she didn’t get a response, she prompted, “What’s your
name?”

It had been so very, very long since someone asked him that.
He had to wet his lips before he could answer. “Erik. Erik Wolfinsky.”

“Wolfinsky?” she repeated, eyebrows raising. “You look
Wynngaardian. Are you?”

“Aye.”

She let out a low whistle. “You’re far and away from home,
sir.”

Sir? The respect made his throat tighten.

Cocking her head, she asked, “Do you want to go home?”

Home…he’d dreamed of it often. “I…don’t think I can.”

Shaking her finger at him, she tsked him gently. “That’s not
what I asked. Do you
want
to go home?”

Something about the way she asked, the way she looked at him
without flinching, made a small flicker of hope ignite in his chest. Barely
able to breathe, he forced out, “Yes.”

“Well enough, then.” Nodding in satisfaction, she turned to
the master standing nearby. “How much?”

The master eyed her dubiously, studying her from head to toe
again. “Forgive me, Miss—”

“Guildmaster,” she interrupted. The smile and charm she had
before were gone, and in their place was a woman that was not to be trifled
with. Those green eyes pinned the master in place with a stare lethal enough to
melt iron. “I’m Guildmaster of Deepwoods. And I asked you how much.”

Guildmaster? Erik stared at her incredulously. If she was
older than eighteen, he’d eat his boots. What was left of them. How in the
world had she become a guildmaster this young?

The master must have thought the same thing as he cleared
his throat and said in a wheedling tone, “If I can see your guild crest…?”

She pulled a leather case from her inside vest pocket and
flipped it so that he could see a D in an elaborate scroll, like a leaf and
vine twisted in on itself in shades of greens, oranges, and golds. “I’m an
escorting guild from Goldschmidt.”

“Ahhh, yes, so I see.” With that confirmed, the master did a
sharp about-turn in attitude and smiled at her in an oily fashion. “As you can
see, he’s very large and strong in spite of the missing hand. He’s also a
former mercenary, so has good fighting skills. He’d be perfect for an escort
guild such as yours—”

Her eyes narrowed, toe tapping an impatient rhythm in the
dirt. “How much.”

“One hundred kors,” the master said brightly.

The guildmaster’s toe stopped tapping. Putting both hands on
her hips, she leaned toward him menacingly. “The man’s half starved, his
clothes are rags, and it’ll be quite the feat to find anything that’s going to
fit him. That’s not even taking into account the medicine it’s going to take to
get him healthy again. And you’re asking how much?”

“Yes, but his experience is such that—”

“Fifty,” she countered, cutting him off.

“That’s robbery!” the master wailed in a practiced whine.

“No, one hundred is robbery,” she snorted.

The master studied her again and this time seemed to realize
that however young she might be, she was shrewd, and he was not going to con
her into something. Besides, she was the first to show interest in Erik in the
last three months. “Seventy kors.”

The guildmaster didn’t even blink. “Fifty-five.”

“Sixty.”

“Fifty-eight.”

“Sold.” The master held out a hand, and she took it, sealing
the deal.

Satisfied, she inclined her head toward the chains. “Take
those off.”

“Of course, Guildmaster.” He rubbed his hands together. “If
it is agreeable, you can pay me first…”

“I better get paperwork for him,” she added, pulling a money
purse from her belt pouch. Frowning, she started counting it out in her hand,
lips pursed. “Hmm, I’m a mite short. Hold on.” Turning in place, she yelled out
over the crowd, “BEIRLY!”

From somewhere within the crowd of pedestrians a man’s deep
voice called back, “Here! Shi, where are you?”

“Slaver’s corner!” she called back.

There was a great deal of swearing in response, which Erik
found interesting. From the man’s reply, he hadn’t expected his guildmaster to
be over here. So they hadn’t come to the market to buy a slave? Then why had
she bought him?

From the crowd, a man pushed his way through, huffing and
puffing as he did so. At first glance, it looked like he was related to the
woman, as they both had red hair. But it was a brighter shade of red, the man
was stocky and short, and his eyes were brown. He visually latched onto the
woman and strode straight to her, face drawn together in an unhappy frown.

“Shi, what are you doing?”

She pointed straight to Erik. “Buying him. Give me ten kors,
I’m a little short.”

The man called Beirly didn’t budge. “Shi, have you lost your
mind?”

“No, not at all,” she denied pleasantly. “We’re heading
toward Wynngaard in a month, right? Well, he’s from Wynngaard. I figure he can
serve as translator and guide while we get the caravan there. He’s a former
mercenary, so he can help guard the caravan too as we travel. It’s perfect.”

Oh. Was that why she wanted him?

Beirly didn’t buy this logic and shook his head at her.
“That isn’t why you’re buying him. I know you better than that.”

Not denying this, she waggled her fingers at him. “Ten
kors.”

Blowing out an irritated breath, he dug his money purse out.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t I always?”

“You don’t really want me to say something to that, do you?”

Laughing, she shook her head no.

Erik watched this play out with his heart in his throat.
Part of that was because his future, out of these chains, depended on the man
giving her those missing ten kors. But part of it was that it had been many
years since he had seen such a warm interaction between two people. It was true
friendship between them, sweet and easy. In that moment, even in this bleak
place, they seemed to glow to him.

His lips parted as memory came back to him of a distant
time, when he was still a child, and he had such warm connections to people. It
made his heart ache at the loss of it.

She handed over the kors, receiving the receipt of sale in
return, which she carefully stowed in her vest pocket. Then the chains were
taken off his wrists and he tentatively stepped down. Far from alarming her,
she craned her neck to look up. “My, you
are
tall! You make me feel
short. Are all of your people like this?”

“Not all of Wynngaard,” he denied, voice rusty from disuse.
“But I’m from the mountains, and my people are this large.”

“Well.” Eyeing him up and down, she seemed to be making a
judgment on what to do with him. “First things first. Food. Beirly, mark his
sizes, find him several changes of clothes and new boots.”

Beirly gave him that same look of sizing him up. “Tall
order, Shi.”

Her smile at him meant,
move it.
“Then you’d best get
started.”

Raising his hands in surrender, he asked, “Is your purse
empty, then?”

“Just about.”

Beirly handed over a few more coins, which she took amiably,
before he turned on a heel and went back into the main market.

Erik nearly leapt out of his skin when she slipped her hand
into his, her hold firm. Seeing his reaction, she shrugged at him. “I don’t
want to lose you in the crowd. Now, tell me, when was the last time you had a
proper meal?”

He had to think for a moment. Did last night’s tossed scraps
count as a proper meal? “A while.”

“That’s what I thought. Alright, we’ll head down Food Row.
If you see something that tempts you, sing out, and we’ll stop there for
lunch.” So saying, she towed him along.

Even as weak as he was, he could snap this woman’s neck in
half without much effort. Surely she knew this. But she didn’t seem in the
least afraid of him. She just walked, trusting him to be at her side. Trust
like that was something else he hadn’t had in a very long time.

He had no idea why she had really bought him. Her friend
hadn’t believed it was for business reasons, but that brought up the question
of what her true motives were. But in the ten minutes he’d known her, she’d
shown him kindness and trust, and he was loath to lose this chance of being
treated like a human being again. Then and there, he promised himself that
whatever she asked of him, he’d do. Even if she never took him home, as she’d
said she would, he’d still do it.

Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, “Anything look good
to you?”

Oh, right. Food. He looked to the right and left of the
road, spied a roasted chicken stand, and pointed his chin at it. “There.”

“Oh, chicken? Sounds good.” Smiling, she cut between two
carts and dragged him straight there.

The cart wasn’t much, just something that could feed four
people at most, but the smell coming from it was a good one. He took the stool
next to hers tentatively, aware of the sidelong glances of the people around
them. But she didn’t seem to either see or care what other people thought. She
smiled up at the cook and said, “One chicken for me, flat bread if you have it,
and…oh, is that apple cider I see?”

“Yes, miss,” the burly cook responded with a weather eye on
Erik.

“Good, I’ll have a tankard of that. Wolfinsky, order what
you want.”

Not sure how much generosity he could impinge on, he said,
“What my guildmaster ordered.”

With an exasperated sigh, she turned to face him.
“Wolfinsky. It’s Siobhan to you, not Guildmaster. And there is no way under the
heavens that a man your size can eat what I do and be satisfied with it.
Beirly
eats twice as much as I do and he’s shorter than me! Goodman, give him three
times the amount you serve me.”

Siobhan? She wanted him to call her by name? He drew back in
confusion. What did this woman really want from him?

Tapping a finger on the wooden surface, she called his
attention back to her. “I hail from Widstoe, which is on the eastern edge of
Robarge. And among my people, we eat together to form friendships. So. Won’t
you eat with me?”

“You want…” he had to take a breath before he could force
the full sentence out, “You want to be friends with me.”

“Right.” She said this easily, as if it was the most natural
thing in the world.

“A former dark guild mercenary and slave. For a friend.”

“Right,” she agreed again. Her eyes tilted up in a silent
smile. “It’s not a bad deal for you. Being my friend means being part of my
guild, so you can cross over the Grey Bridges, and can make it back home
again.”

While that was true—a dark guildsman couldn’t travel across
the Grey Bridges, it wasn’t allowed—that wasn’t the point at all. “Aren’t you
worried that
you
might be getting the raw end of this deal?”

“The fact that you are worried about me says I made the
right choice.” She waggled her eyebrows at him. “A truly bad man wouldn’t be.
He’d have already taken off and run for freedom.”

Oh. True, even though she’d held on to him, if he was truly
determined to get away from her, he could have managed it easily. So, she felt
she knew everything she needed to know because of how he’d acted in the past
fifteen minutes? Oddly enough, it made sense. She seemed whimsical, as if she
was simply doing what she wanted to do, but there was method to her madness
after all.