Markl let out a breath. “Miss Lirah apparently didn’t tell the villagers here that they were guildmembers.”
“It was us showing up that revealed who she was?”
Markl gave an unhappy nod. “They’re threatening to throw her out.”
Siobhan rubbed at her face. Her relief at finding the missing party faded quickly under this new problem. “How badly injured is everyone?”
“Bad, from their descriptions. I’m amazed she could move them at all, even to here.” Markl looked disturbed by his own words.
Tran and Wolf didn’t look happy to hear this either. They might get into regular scuffles with everyone in Goldschmidt, but they were also friends with a good majority of them. She knew for a fact that at least three friends of Tran’s were in Lirah’s party.
“Then they can’t be moved, Shi-maee,” Tran inserted. “Not yet.”
Which meant that before anything else, Siobhan and Lirah had to work out some means of letting them stay here. Right. “Markl, did they tell you where they were? And they’ll let us in? Good. Show me to Lirah first.”
Conli seemed to realize something serious was going on, as he also jumped out of the wagon and quickly caught up to them. As Markl led the way past the first cluster of houses, she explained in an undertone the situation, eyes darting about. At this time of the day, people should be busy getting the usual daily chores done. Should be. Siobhan saw people at every house staring suspiciously at them. My, my, word had indeed spread fast on who their injured guests were.
“Wolf, how bad is this?” she muttered from the side of her mouth.
“It will take some fast talking and a gesture of goodwill to smooth this over,” he responded, mouth in a flat line.
Marvelous. She was afraid that would be the answer.
Markl took a right, weaved his way in and around several small yards and their stone fences, then stopped in front of a house clearly meant for storage. Stacks of bound bales, barrels and boxes stood on the porch, no doubt to give room to put people inside. Sitting on the steps was Lirah Darrens, although she stood as soon as Siobhan stepped into the yard.
“Siobhan!” she greeted with abject relief. “I’ve never been so glad to see a familiar face.”
Siobhan stepped forward and gave the woman a long hug, as she looked like she needed one desperately. Then she stepped back a foot and scrutinized her for a moment. Lirah’s usual perfect blonde hair had been tied off into a messy braid, dark circles prominent under her blue eyes, and she had aged at least five years since Siobhan had seen her three months ago. Her clothes looked wrinkled and slept-in, which they might well have been.
“Lirah. What happened?”
“We were attacked just within sight of Sateren’s walls, by professional assassins or mercenaries, I can’t tell you which. It all happened so fast, without any warning, that we were barely able to defend ourselves.” Lirah’s voice shook. “We were able to fight them off, somehow, and they eventually retreated. I think it’s because they assumed we were mostly down. Some…” her voice choked and she had to take a deep breath before she could clear it, “…some of my men looked dead and for a moment I thought they were. It’s a miracle I didn’t lose anyone.”
More so than she could imagine. Although…something about this story felt wrong to Siobhan. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what, though. Shaking it off to think about later, she encouraged her to continue. “And then?”
“I was floundering, not sure what to do aside from putting some emergency treatment on people’s wounds, when a group from this village stumbled across us. They were on their way back home from Sateren, and when they saw the situation and heard my story, they agreed to shelter us while everyone healed. That was nearly two weeks ago, now, I think.” She raised a hand to her forehead, slightly shaking. “I lost track of time at one point.”
“It’s actually closer to a week and a half,” Wolf corrected her. “At least, from what we understand of your plans. You told no one you are from Blackstone Guild?”
“They don’t like guilds here. I picked up on that quickly. And I wasn’t sure why we were attacked, or by who, and I didn’t want word getting out that everyone had survived. I thought it best to just lay low, wait for people to heal, and then travel back to Quigg before trying to send word home.”
All in all, not a bad decision. Siobhan would have made the same in her shoes. “Tran tells me that you can’t move yet, that people are badly wounded. I’ll send Conli over, see how much he can help. But we need to deal with—”
“Lirah Darrens!” an aged, deep voice called out.
Siobhan turned around sharply. Standing at the gate was an old man that seemed to be in his late seventies or eighties, stooped over slightly with age, white hair long and tied up into a high ponytail, skin bronzed from the sun. He wore the long white robe of a village leader, so Siobhan pegged him as the local Ahbiren.
His eyes narrowed on Wolf, then switched to Siobhan with the same suspicions. “Who might you be?”
Siobhan took in a breath before she faced him squarely. “Siobhan Maley, Guildmaster of Deepwoods. This is Erik Wolfinsky.”
“Deepwoods?” he repeated without any recognition.
“We are a guild from Goldschmidt,” she explained bluntly and without apology. “We have been looking for Lirah and her people for the past week.”
His lip curled slightly in distaste at the word ‘guild.’ “Then take them away.”
“We cannot at this time. They are too injured to move yet.”
He slammed the staff in his hands on the ground—which was not for support, but a bo staff—and repeated, “They are to leave! They are not welcome here. They misled us, abused our hospitality, and brought a threat upon this village. I do not want them here!”
“Ahbiren, respectfully, this is not a matter of wanting to move or not wanting to. We cannot move them. We risk killing these men if we do so. Would you have innocent blood on your hands because you feel misused and taken advantage of?”
“I do not believe that they will die just moving them back to Sateren! You should be in a city—that is where the guilds belong. We of this village do not deal with the guilds. This woman has abused our trust by pretending to be a normal traveler and—”
Stubborn, arrogant, old— “Ahbiren,” Siobhan said firmly, cutting him off mid-rant, “have compassion. Lirah is far, far from home in a land that she does not understand. She’s in a culture that is confusing, with no allies or friends to rely upon. Worse, she was attacked by hired professionals with no warning, leaving her stranded here with wounded people to take care of and no way of knowing who attacked her or why. Why do you blame her for keeping her identity secret? Why do you judge her so harshly for trying to protect her companions? She had no choice but to keep her identity secret, not only for her own safety, but also for the fifteen lives that are depending upon her!”
The Ahbiren looked uncomfortable at her scolding and he flushed red, eyes not quite meeting hers. “What she did was a betrayal to us.”
Siobhan resisted the urge to start beating sense into him. She took in a long breath and blew it out again. “I understand that your feelings are hurt and that you are not pleased with her choice. I can see your point as well as hers. In the interest of improving relations between the two of you, and letting her stay until her people are well again, is there anything we can do to make amends?”
At ‘amends,’ he looked up again with a light in his eyes that scared Siobhan. She knew, instinctively, that she would not like what he would say next. “You offer to take one of our troubles as your own?”
Trapped by her own words, she put on a game smile and said through gritted teeth, “That’s right.”
Like a fox that had found a way into the henhouse, he gave her a smug smile and pointed to a far off lean-to. “Then I ask that you deal with that.”
She turned to look. In between a dozen buildings, down a weaving, narrow path, she could barely see the kneeling figure of a person
, although she couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman. “And what is that, exactly?”
“An assassin that came here to kill me several weeks ago.”
She blinked. An assassin?! “You look remarkably well in spite of the attack.”
“He never reached my home,” the Ahbiren told her with satisfaction. “My people prevented that.”
Riiiight. “And, ah, he looks uninjured as well?” After trying to kill their leader, she would have expected someone in the village to kill him.
The Ahbiren cleared his throat again but this time he looked more irritated than before. “He’s quite skilled. It took all we had to subdue him.”
Skilled enough to evade death even when in a Wynngaardian village? It made her wonder just how good this man was. As good as Wolf, Tran or Fei? Better? (Although she couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of someone better.) “I see. And the reason he’s still alive even though he’s in chains is because…?”
“He comes from one of the dark guilds of Sateren.” The Ahbiren probably didn’t mean to sound nervous when he said this, but he looked like a scared rabbit. “We do not wish to invite their wrath by killing one of their own. But no one has come to claim him. We are not sure what to do. But you are of the guilds. You will know of the proper thing to do. Take care of this situation, free us of him, and all hard feelings will disappear.”
She stared at him in dismay. Her? Deal with a dark guild assassin?! Great wind and stars, how was she supposed to know what to do with him? In desperation, she looked at Wolf, hoping he had an idea.
He cocked a brow back at her, expression saying, You got us into this. You can get us back out again.
Some help he was. Grumbling mentally, she plastered a smile on her face and assured the Ahbiren, “I’ll take care of it personally.”
The Ahbiren—crafty old fox that he was—smiled back at her and said sweetly, “You are a true friend, Guildmaster.”
Siobhan was sure that she would like his smile better after she knocked a few teeth out of his head. Reigning in the impulse, she turned on her heel and headed for the assassin. She had no idea what she would do next, but getting more information seemed like a good first step.
Siobhan stared at the assassin from several feet away. Funny, he seemed so un-assassin-like at that moment she had a hard time imagining him as some murderous man lurking in the shadows. He sat hunched in on himself, pale and tired, beyond bored with life. In many respects, he looked every inch the Wynngaardian—the ice blond hair, naturally pale skin and blue eyes were very typical of this people. But unlike most of them, he didn’t have the enormous build or height. Despite being slumped over like that, she could tell he wouldn’t stand very tall and he had a wiry structure to him instead of a massive muscularity like Wolf. Malnutrition, perhaps? She’d seen children of this country fail to grow to their full potential simply because they didn’t have enough to eat in their formative years.
He turned his eyes up to meet hers and a hint of something crossed his face. Curiosity, perhaps? She reacted to his stare without thinking, moving toward him. Wolf caught her arm before she made it a full step and dragged her to a halt.
“What are you doing?” he murmured to her in a low tone.
“I want to talk to him,” she responded instantly.
“Why?” Wolf’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Siobhan, there isn’t a thing you need to know about that man. He came in here to do a dirty job and failed. He’s now a problem to the village, a problem I can quickly solve by separating his head from his neck.”
She took in a deep breath for patience. “Do we know that? Really? Wolf, think about this. He’s been sitting here locked up for three weeks and not one soul has come here to either see if he finished the job or died in the attempt. No one has come looking for him.” Wolf opened his mouth to respond, paused, and closed it again as he took on her meaning. “You understand what that means, right? You should, even more than I. When a member of a dark guild fails, he isn’t helped. He’s gotten rid of.”
Wolf looked away at that. She didn’t press the point, as Wolf had experienced firsthand what happened to someone who was no longer useful to a dark guild. They were disposed of, one way or another. Wolf had been insanely lucky to have been sold when he was deemed “useless.” Most were not dealt so kind of a fate.
“The only reason he’s sitting there, alive, is that his guild assumed he was killed in his failed attempt.”
Raising a hand, he scrubbed at his forehead roughly. “So? If you understand that, what’s the point of talking to him?”
“Because he’s a valuable resource. And I don’t waste resources.” Shaking off his restraining arm, she marched dead ahead again and paused two feet away from the assassin.
He watched her with cold blue eyes, not with any hostile intent, but with open wariness. She didn’t see any signs of fear, though. In his situation, she would think he would feel some fear of what was to come. “I’m Siobhan Maley, Guildmaster of Deepwoods. You are?”
This civil greeting surprised him, a little, and he sat up straighter, becoming more animated as he responded, “Most know me as Bloodless.”
“Is that a description of your occupation or a warning?” Surely it couldn’t be a name.
“Yes,” he admitted with a slight shrug, mouth quirked in amusement. “What, ya haven’t heard of me? I’m rather famous in certain circles.”
“I’m from Robarge,” she explained. “And I’m not associated with the darker guilds. Sorry, your name won’t ring any bells with me.”
“Ahh, Robarge.” He nodded understanding. “Although that doesn’t explain ya toweri’n Resken guard dog there.”
“I adopted him several years ago,” she answered half-truthfully, and smirked when Wolf choked behind her. Her bantering answer was calculated to see how the assassin would respond. So far, he seemed to have a rather dry sense of humor, which she hadn’t at all expected.
“Siobhan…” Wolf growled out in warning.
Ignoring him, she went to the task at hand, all the while studying Bloodless carefully. “The people here don’t know what to do with you. They want to be rid of you but aren’t sure if killing you outright will be a wise idea. They’re afraid that if they do so, your guild will come and exact revenge. But they’re wrong, aren’t they? No one will come to rescue you. No one cares if you’re alive.”
“That’s right,” he confirmed.
There’s nothing in his eyes. A chill went up her spine as realization hit. His eyes were empty. Completely void of fear, caution, curiosity…all emotion. His mouth smiled, he reacted as if he were truly engaged in the conversation, but in truth his heart failed to feel anything at all. If he were older than twenty, she’d shave her head. Just what had been done to him that he couldn’t feel anything even in the face of his own death?
Without taking her eyes from him, she asked Wolf, “What would you call sending a lone assassin into a Wynngaardian village with the assignment he had?”
“A suicide mission,” Wolf answered bluntly. “You send a squad of ten or more to do what he was sent to do. Less won’t cut it. I bet he ticked someone off, or made the wrong man his enemy; that’s why he was sent out here alone.”
It fit with what she knew of the dark guilds. “So in truth, I can kill you right here and there’s nothing that will happen to me.”
“Will ya?” he leaned in a little closer and said in a confidential tone, “I prefer ta die at the hand of a beautiful woman like yerself.”
“Oh? But I have a different idea in mind.” Ah, that had gotten his attention. “How well do you know Sateren?”
“Born ‘n raised there,” he responded swiftly. “I know it better than the back of my hand.”
“I want to send a message to Iron Dragain without raising any flags of where we are or that we even exist. Can you do that?”
He kept his voice carefully level as he responded, “Yes.”
“I need a guide to bring us through the c
ity and safely deliver us into Iron Dragain’s main building. Can you do that?” she asked in the same tone he used.
“Ya’d have ta move very, very fast ta manage that, but yes, I know several routes ta take ya there.” He lifted his bound hands and gave the chain a rattle. “What are ya offeri’n for my knowledge and help? Freedom from these?”
“I can do you one better.” She sank down to her haunches so that she could be at eye level with him, eyes locked onto his. “If you promise to help us—truly help us, guide us, guard us, even when I don’t know the right command to give you—then I’ll do more than free you. I’ll take you from here and right through Island Pass. When we reach there, you can go any direction you please and I will not stop you.”
He didn’t react, but that lifeless quality drained from his eyes. “Ya’d have ta act like I was a guildmember to do that. No one willi’n lets a member of a dark guild travel anywhere.”
“I know. But it won’t be an act. For the foreseeable future, at least until we’re able to leave for Robarge, you’d be a member of Deepwoods. I won’t be able to convince the villagers here to release you unless you agree to be in my custody.”
Wolf let out a hiss and snarled a few choice words under his breath. She steadfastly ignored him.
“Yer guard dog doesn’t like this idea,” Bloodless informed her with sadistic cheer.
“He doesn’t like a lot of things. It hasn’t killed him yet.”
“What if I betray ya?”
“We’ll kill you.” She said it matter-of-factly, but inside she knew it wouldn’t come to that. She was his best ticket to getting out of here safely and into a different continent. His only chance of making a new life for himself without constantly having one eye over his shoulder would be to leave Wynngaard completely.
Bloodless glanced up at the hovering Resken, the unspoken question in the air, What if you betray me?
Siobhan answered it as if he’d spoken it aloud. “Don’t worry about Wolf. He growls a lot, but as long as you don’t provoke him, he won’t do anything to you.”
Deepwoods (Book 1) Page 13
