Deepwoods (Book 1)

by Honor Raconteur

  “Boys. Why were you fighting?”

  “I have a headache,” Wolf volunteered easily.

  Tran half raised a hand. “I have a stomach ache.”

  Patience. She had to exercise patience. “And how does that tie into getting into a bar fight?”

  “Well,” Wolf explained innocently, “destroying things makes us feel better, so….”

  Behind her, Fei choked on a laugh. Without looking, Siobhan threw an elbow into his ribs, which he mostly dodged, the rat. “Be serious.”

  The two men exchanged glances, heaved identical shrugs, and came clean.

  “Actually,” Tran admitted, “the real reason isn’t much better. See, we were arguing over who has the most scars—”

  “Never did agree on that,” Wolf muttered to himself, as if only just realizing this.

  “—and for some reason, the tables around us got really into it,” Tran continued with a cough and exasperated glance at Wolf. “One side said it was me, the other table said it was Wolf. So they got up and started wrestling our clothes off.”

  Ahhh, that was why they were half-naked.

  “And then one man said, ‘Let me help even it out!’ and he came at us with two kitchen knives,” Wolf held up his hands a good foot apart, “about yay big. Almost short swords, they were so long.”

  “If they’d had a hilt, I’d have thought they were,” Tran agreed. “Anyway, he comes straight at Wolf. Without that metal hand of his, he’d have lost a hand.”

  “Then the rest of the crowd thinks he’s got a point, or something, ‘cause they pull out swords too and go at us.” Wolf shrugged, a grin on his face in memory, because in truth, he didn’t care what the reason was as long as he got to be a little rowdy. One quelling look from Siobhan and his smile instantly dropped from his face. “Anyway. We were defending ourselves,” he ended with righteous indignation that almost sounded genuine.

  The master of the tavern came from a back room with a broom in his hands. He’d apparently overheard most of their exchange, as he came up to them with a deferential bow and offered, “It truly wasn’t them that started this, Miss…?”

  “Siobhan Maley,” she introduced herself with strained politeness, offering a hand. “I’m their guildmaster.”

  “Oh, pleasure, certainly, a pleasure,” he bobbed his head nervously and grasped her hand in a quick, flimsy way before letting go. “Guildmaster, don’t be too harsh on them. As I said, they didn’t start it. And they did their best to end it quick, to not let things get out of hand. But well, most of the men here are from other places and far from home, so they tend to drink too much and things like this…” he trailed off as he looked around him in dismay, “well, this isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

  The poor man. If this was a regular occurrence, how by the four winds was he staying in business? “Regardless, my men were in the fight and caused damage. I’ll compensate you as much as I can.”

  He gave a duck of the head, rubbing at his neck sheepishly. “Obliged, much obliged, I’m sure. But I won’t take more than two golds. I know these men’s taskmaster, I’ll get the rest from him.”

  Well that wasn’t half-bad, compared to the other spectacular fights these two idiots had gotten involved in. Siobhan, with a secret sigh of relief, handed the golds over. Then she turned back to her enforcers with a quirked brow. “Since you two aren’t screaming with pain or bleeding anywhere, I assume you got through it relatively safe?”

  “A few bruises,” Wolf admitted.

  “I think I did get cut on my back,” Tran twisted about as if to see, which of course he couldn’t. “But I’m not sure how bad it is.”

  Fei came around the table, opened up the small black satchel, and set about tending to Tran.

  Siobhan just sighed, eyes closed for a moment, offering a silent prayer of thanks to any god listening. Then she called out, “Rune?”

  From somewhere above her head, the assassin responded, “Yes?”

  She’d just known he was around somewhere. “You didn’t get involved in this too, did you?”

  There was a suspicious moment of silence. “I might’ve knocked a few heads together.”

  Of course he’d joined in. She pointed an accusing finger at Wolf. “You’re setting a bad example for the children.”

  “He had bad habits before he met me,” Wolf protested, not at all upset with the accusation.

  “I don’t want those bad habits to continue. Having two of you is bad enough. I do not want THREE.” That said, she craned her head around, trying to spot Rune. In vain. How a man could possibly hide up in those airy log rafters, she had no idea, but he’d managed it somehow. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

  “Naw, I’m fine,” he assured her, voice amused.

  Under her breath, she muttered, “Thank the winds for that. Alright, now that the fun is over, I expect everyone to go to bed and stay there until dawn. At least. Am I clear?”

  A chorus of obedient “Yes, ma’am” came to her. Satisfied, she turned on her heel and went back to the inn, shivering. As she went, she grumbled to herself, “Seriously. What part of ‘we do not want to start a war here’ did they not understand?”

  Ugh. Men.

  ӜӜӜ

  After the late night misadventures, Siobhan found it hard to get up the next morning. Since the ship was at their beck and call, she took advantage of it a little and didn’t try to rush getting ready. In fact, she went down to breakfast a good hour later than she normally did, only to find that most of the guild had also risen late.

  Waving good morning to people, she sat and filled up a plate but didn’t try to really talk until she had consumed about half of it. At that point, she realized that the table had two notable absentees. “Where’s Sylvie and Rune?”

  “They were gone when I came down,” Markl responded, a slightly unhappy set to his mouth. “The innkeeper said they left early this morning together.”

  Yes, and you’re jealous of that, aren’t you? Siobhan carefully bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from smiling. Markl wouldn’t take any sign of amusement well. “I see. Is everyone packed and ready to board the ship?”

  “We can’t leave until those two show up,” Tran pointed out, calmly eating.

  “I’m aware. I’m also aware that out of this entire group, it’s the men that are always ready to leave last.” She cast the repeat offenders pointed looks, although none of them looked particularly abashed at her silent scolding. “So be ready to leave the minute they’re back.”

  Getting grunts and waves of acknowledgement, she felt satisfied she’d gotten the point across and resumed eating.

  As it turned out, everyone was downstairs with their bags packed, just chatting, when the errant duo finally returned. Sylvie looked particularly put-out with the world, a scowl twisting her mouth. Siobhan didn’t have to ask to know where the other woman had been. Sylvie must have been visiting her parents while she was in town.

  They’d been through here several times over the years, and it was always the same whenever Sylvie went home. Her parents were dead set on living in Coravine, heaven only knew why, but they couldn’t really make much of a living here. In fact, all seven of their children had left the city—some of them had left the continent altogether—and made homes elsewhere because of Coravine’s poor economy. Sylvie tried to convince her parents on every trip to move, to go to one of the places where their children lived, but they wouldn’t hear of it. Instead, they wanted Sylvie to live here and take care of them in their older years.

  Siobhan gave her points for trying, but her parents would have to be in a far more desperate situation before they’d finally give up and leave the city. Until then, anything Sylvie said was just a waste of breath.

  More curious to her was, why had Rune gone with her? Simply because he was worried about Sylvie being out and about on her own? “Where have you two been?” she asked them.

  “Morning market, and a few other places,” Sylvie responded. �
��Is that my bag? Thanks.”

  “Morning market?” Markl repeated in confusion.

  Rune came to stand in front of Siobhan and handed her a small bundle wrapped in a grey handkerchief. Bemused, she took it and hefted it in her hands. Strange, it felt warm and was that…did she smell apple? “What’s this?”

  “I lost the bet, remember?” Rune reminded her. “Sylvie says ya like these.”

  Bet? Oh, right! When they were in the rafters together. They’d bet on whether or not Wolf and Tran would fight. Having a good idea of what he’d bought her, she nonetheless unwrapped it and found two small fried apple pies, still steaming and fresh. “She’s right. I do. Thank you, Rune.”

  He gave her a boyish grin.

  Siobhan grinned back, wrapping them up again. “I’ll eat these on the ship. Alright, people, let’s go back to Wynngaard.”

  During the course of her term as guildmaster, Siobhan had reported to various other guildmasters about the status of things. However, she had never reported to three guildmasters of major city guilds all at once before. Well, alright, Lirah was standing in for her father, but it was the principle of the thing.

  As soon as they’d landed, Siobhan went straight to Jarnsmor’s study to report their findings. She hadn’t expected Hammon and Lirah to already be there, all of them seated around the table, but was half glad that they were present. It saved her from hunting them down later and repeating herself.

  “Guildmaster Maley,” Jarnsmor greeted with open relief. “You came back quite quickly! Please, sit, sit.”

  She took a seat next to him with subtle pleasure. Sitting on something that didn’t sway back and forth was a blessing.

  “You were able to gather information expediently,” Hammon noted, eyes sharp on her. “Or you weren’t able to find out anything at all. Which is it?”

  Siobhan grimaced. “A little of both. Good news is, we’ve found the reason why they’re so adamantly against the trade agreement between you. It is, in fact, blatantly obvious if you get close enough to Coravine. They’re building a bridge.”

  “A bridge?” Hammon repeated in shock, eyes wide in his face.

  “It’s quite sizeable.” Siobhan’s hands rose in illustration as she tried to describe it. “Not as wide as the Grey Bridges, I’d say it’s about half the width, but that’s more than large enough for trade caravans and such to go across. According to rumor, it’ll connect directly over to Wynngaardian soil, just northeast of Quigg.”

  Jarnsmor turned in his seat to look at the map hanging on the wall nearby. “There’s no cities or villages in that area.”

  “Yet,” Lirah corrected, mouth a flat line. “You know as well as I that if you build a bridge that connects there, then a city will develop around it by default. Trade always has such an effect on places.”

  “She’s right,” Hammon agreed. “No, the lack of city or such doesn’t matter in the long run. I think whoever is building that bridge knows it, too, which is why they chose to build a bridge the shortest distance possible.”

  Siobhan couldn’t help but agree with all of this. It was very similar to Sylvie’s conclusions. “They haven’t been working on it long, about four or five months. They’re years from completing it.”

  “Of course they would be.” Jarnsmor sat back in his chair, making the leather sigh. “That’s no easy feat, building a bridge that far. But how in the world are they financing this? We’re going to just build on top of an existing bridge and it’s taking three guilds to finance that!”

  “They must have been planning this for years, working up to it,” Hammon hypothesized. “I can’t imagine how they’re doing this otherwise.”

  Lirah put her head in both hands and spoke to the table’s surface. “At least I now understand why I was attacked. Years of planning would be destroyed instantly when a trade monopoly was formed.”

  “Sending assassins after you was a delaying tactic and nothing more,” Siobhan agreed, although she winced at the harshness of her own words. “Although, really, it still doesn’t make sense to me that they chose to attack instead of join in. If they had, then they might well have been able to convince you to help them build the bridge.”

  “Not necessarily,” Hammon disagreed, his expression smooth and unreadable. “Our agreement was based upon the market trends and economics of the world as they stand. Making trade easier with Orin would not be to our benefit.”

  Which someone in Orin had obviously realized, hence the lack of effort to join the monopoly. Siobhan let out a resigned sigh. If people had been thinking less about lining their pockets and more about the good of the world as a whole, they wouldn’t be in such a mess right now. “Bad news is, I couldn’t get any information about the new guildmaster of Fallen Ward. Even the people in the city don’t know anything. Ever since the death of the old guildmaster, the main compound has been completely sealed tight. It’s hard for anyone to even approach the gates.”

  “Hence why I can’t get in contact with my people,” Jarnsmor sighed. He rapped his fingers against the tabletop. “But you didn’t hear anything? Not even rumors?”

  “Not a thing. It’s very strange.”

  “Yes, so it is,” Nuel Hammon agreed slowly.

  Siobhan was left with the obvious question. “So what now?”

  “We ignore it.” Jarnsmor’s mouth twitched in a brief, dry smile. “Oh, we’ll keep an eye on them and make sure that we’re prepared for more assassins, if they choose to send them after us. But really, with the monopoly now formed, there’s not much they can do. We know the bridge is there—it loses its threat because it’s incomplete. The money that they’ve managed to save can’t possibly be enough to complete the project.”

  She searched his face, looking for some insecurity or worry, but he seemed entirely confident of his own opinion. “You think ignoring them will work?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve little other choice,” Hammon added, tone reassuring. “We must focus on the renovations of the Grey Bridges. If we lose them, then it’s not just the economy of Orin that will take a plunge, but all four continents.”

  Well, he had a good point, but….

  “Speaking of,” Jarnsmor caught her eye, “Miss Darrens and I have been discussing logistics. We have a team of architects that will be traveling to Island Pass in the next few days in order to study the bridges and make plans. Might we employ you as escorts for them?”

  Siobhan blinked at this unexpected offer. “Well, I certainly don’t mind.” She glanced at Lirah, not quite sure if she should accept or not.

  “I assured him you can go,” Lirah responded as if she had asked the question aloud. “After all, my people aren’t going to be in any shape to move for weeks yet and there’s still the finer details of our agreement that need to be settled on. There’s no reason for you to sit here waiting about on my behalf.”

  “I’ve assured her that when it’s time for her to return home, I’ll send an escort with her,” Jarnsmor added.

  Oh. Well, in that case…. “Certainly, we’ll act as escorts for your people. Would you wish for us to stay with them and bring them back after they’re done with their work?”

  He shook his head. “No need. They’ll stay on and oversee the masons. The architects are only the first wave, you see.”

  “I’m gathering masons and building supplies along with Blackstone that will join the architects in a month or so,” Hammon explained. “So once you take the architects to the Pass, there’s no reason to remain.”

  So they could all go home shortly, in other words. She was relieved to hear it. “In that case, we’d be more than willing to take on the job.”

  “Excellent. Your whole guild will do so, I assume?”

  She understood what he meant and gave him a smug smile. If he’d placed a bet that Rune would desert her, he’d lost it. “All of my people are accounted for.”

  “I see.” The other two were confused but neither Siobhan nor Jarnsmor felt it necessary to expl
ain it to them. He continued with an inviting smile, “It will be some days before we’re ready, so take this time to relax and rest.”

  Siobhan gave him a strained smile in return. Several days? They’d be here for several days with nothing to do? Could she keep her rowdy boys in check that long?

  No.

  She was doomed.

  After spending the majority of the day in meetings, Siobhan had to have a hot bath and a massage from Denney to get all the kinks out of her back. Even then, she found it hard to sleep and ended up outside on the back porch overlooking the garden. She sat down in what was fast becoming her favorite spot, letting her feet hang over the side and in the cool pond water. Ahhh, paradise. The night air was a bit too chilly to sit out here long, but her cloak dispelled most of the cold, and sitting here cleared her head.

  From behind her, the door opened and quietly shut. She half-turned, and wasn’t really surprised to see Wolf coming toward her. In the few days they’d been here, they’d both developed the habit of sitting for a while, looking over the garden, before going to bed.

  He sat next to her with a muted grunt, also letting his feet dangle in the pond. For several moments they sat in companionable silence before he asked in a quiet rumble, “Did you spend all day up in meetings?”

  “Well, the majority of it,” she admitted. “I’d much rather have joined Rune back in the rafters.”

  “You’d rather have crawled around in dusty, spider-infested rafters than sit through meetings,” Wolf repeated in bemusement.

  She shrugged, grin stretching over her face. “It was surprisingly fun.”

  Wolf eyed her sideways. “Rune mentioned in passing that you gave him your last name?”

  “I rather felt I should. I mean, he needed a full name just to be registered a guildmember, and to be able to book passage on the ship. I’d started the job, after all, so I might as well finish it.” She cocked her head at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”