“There are certain people that you do not wish to awaken if you can help it,” Siobhan informed him, not at all joking. “If we leave them to their own devices, they’ll come down eventually. If not, we sic the dogs on them.”
Fei pointed at the large clock sitting on the mantel. “Isn’t it about time for that?”
“If we’re stuck here for another day, no sense in upsetting people when I don’t need to.”
“Coward,” Fei teased.
“I prefer to call it survival instincts,” she corrected loftily.
“Ahhh…” Hammon glanced between the two of them, unsure if they were joking or not. “For my information and future safety, who isn’t safe to wake up?”
“Conli-ren, Sylvie-jae, and Tran-ren,” Fei said.
“But for entirely different reasons,” Siobhan couldn’t help but explain. “Tran’s first instinct on waking is to maim or kill anyone leaning over him. He apparently had an interesting childhood. Conli doesn’t wake up so much as leap into wakefulness. He comes awake as if there’s an emergency and he has to be in motion right that second. We’ve bumped heads quite a few times because of it. But Sylvie doesn’t want to wake up. She’s quite stubborn about it, actually. She doesn’t really do anything but kick at you and grumble. It’s what she does afterwards, to get revenge, they make men tremble.”
“As bad as a cat, that one,” Fei grumbled. “Her methods are devious and underhanded.”
Hammon caught the muttering and inclined his head toward the Saoleoran in question.
Siobhan carefully mouthed, ‘Bad experience.’
His mouth formed a silent ‘Ahhh’ but didn’t say anything more than that.
One of the kitchen girls came out bearing a steaming plate and a large tankard of tea, which was plopped down in front of Hammon with nothing more than a ‘Good morning to you, sir.’
Hammon dug in and lingered over the first bite before saying with approval, “This is quite good.”
“Gramms is a good host and has good cooks,” Siobhan informed him after taking a long swallow of hot tea. “It’s why we always stay here.”
“Just that?”
“And he likes the dogs.” Fei looked down at Pyper’s upturned face, moving an arm so he could scratch behind one floppy ear. “And what do you want, hmm?”
“Your unfinished plate,” Siobhan translated dryly. “Isn’t that obvious?”
Fei played along with a straight face. “I thought she finally came to me for affection.”
“The more you feed her, the more she’ll love you. It’s the rule of dogs,” Hammon offered, eyes dancing.
Hoping to get a little more information about her newest guildmate, Siobhan asked casually, “That sounds like the voice of experience. Had a dog, did you?”
“A collier, growing up,” he admitted just as easily, eating steadily. “He was more mischievous than these two. Is it Icean that trained them so well?”
“It is,” Fei answered. Giving up, he lowered his plate to the ground and let Pyper lick it clean.
Wolf came back into the room with his usual heavy stride, making the floor vibrate at his passing. Siobhan looked up in surprise, protesting, “You can’t possibly have gone to the watchtowers and back that fast!”
“Didn’t,” he agreed, bracing both hands on the table’s surface and leaning over it slightly. “Gramms beat me to it. The guards report stormy skies in every direction, but there’s a warm wind picking up from the south. Mayhap the storm will pass today, or so they say.”
She let out a breath of relief. “Thanks to any god listening for that. Alright, then we need to get ready to leave tomorrow. We might as well spend today doing a little research and getting Hammond a ring.”
Hammon quirked a brow at that. “A ring? What sort?”
In demonstration, she held up her right hand, which had a silver ring embossed with the basic arch of a bridge on it. “Bridge rings are what we call ‘em. They’re specifically for Island Pass. See, the rule they have for visitors here is that you’re only allowed to use the hostels, inns, and stores as you pass through. It prevents mischief from happening in the more residential areas of the island. But if you wear this ring, you’re a trusted man by the officials and allowed to wander in wherever you will and access records as you need them. If you plan to stay with us for any length of time, you’ll need a ring. We come through here often and the rings help us with our clients.”
“May I…?” he asked, with a gesture toward her ring.
“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, tho
ugh, 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.
Deepwoods (Book 1) Page 7