Grae cleared his throat as his stone gatherers looked to him for guidance. “Alright, everyone, I mostly need stones that are about the size of a kor. However, if you find a flat one about the size of your clenched fist, let me know. I need those for centerpieces. Understood? Good, go.”
Rune followed Siobhan as she headed for the beach, the most reliable and rich hunting ground for stones. In an undertone, he asked her, “What am I looki’n for?”
“I’ll show you,” she assured him, spitting hair out of her mouth. Lovely, the wind was picking up over the ocean. Perhaps she should have worn a hood today. “You have much experience with paths, Rune?”
He shook his head. “Just when we used ‘em to get from Vakkoid to Sateren.”
“Really?” she gave him an odd look. Pathmakers were unusual in the world, but not that rare. Most people had traveled by path at least once. “That was the only time?”
“Never left the city,” he explained simply.
“Is that right. Then I better tell you the basics.” They hunkered down in the wet sand, combing through it for stones. As she worked, she explained how pathmaking worked and the rules he needed to follow while on an open path. He listened with the same sort of rapt attention that Markl had when he first asked Grae how it worked.
When she finished, Rune sat back on his haunches and mulled all of that information over for a moment. “So if a path is made, anybody can use it?”
“Not quite,” she corrected. “Any Pathmaker can use it, yes. You have to have the talent, not just the know-how, to use a path. Grae is actually being quite kind in building as large of a path as he is. He doesn’t need to, y’know. A smaller pattern would work just fine for the group we’re taking down to Quigg. But he’s making one that a future Pathmaker can use to bring down supplies with so they won’t have to make another path.”
“Oh.” Rune cocked his head slightly. “So there’s different levels?”
“Quite a few. Grae has told me about eight of them. We tend to only use about three, though, as we’re always going about in groups.”
Rune twisted slightly to look over his shoulder. Grae stood some distance off, sorting through the stones people brought him. He’d brought a tarp to kneel on so that he wouldn’t get his knees wet and dirty while working. Rune watched him for a long moment before asking slowly, “How good is he? At pathmaki’n.”
“He’s a genius. Literally.” Siobhan smiled when Rune’s head whipped back around, his eyes wide with surprise. “You wouldn’t think that by looking at him, would you? He’s such a quiet, humble man. But he invented a pattern eight years ago that took pathmaking to a whole new level. It used to be that caravans could never go by path as they were simply too large. None of the known patterns could carry that amount of weight. But Grae invented the coral pattern, which changed all of that. It’s because of his pattern that we can take caravans on as escorts.” And made a ridiculous amount of money doing it, too.
Rune’s brows furrowed a bit in a puzzled frown. “If he’s that good, then why…?”
“Why be in a small guild like Deepwoods?” she finished the question wryly. “Many people have asked him that. But Grae isn’t the type that does well in large groups of people. He’s far more comfortable in a smaller guild, where he only has to interact with a certain number of guildmates on a day-to-day basis.”
He didn’t ask another question, but his expression said he somewhat understood that.
They shifted through the sand for a few moments in silence. Siobhan had quite the pile at her feet. She’d need to bring these to Grae in a minute, before the weight became too much to carry. Stones added up quick.
Rune dug out a larger stone and held it up next to his clenched fist.
“Oh, that looks good,” Siobhan noted in approval. “Take that to Grae, see if he likes it.”
With a nod, he rose to his feet.
“And take these with you,” she tacked on quickly, handing him the cloth bag of her own stones.
He gave her quite the look for that, but scooped up the bag without comment and strode off.
As soon as he left, Markl shifted from where he had been gathering nearby and came to kneel next to her. “Siobhan, I have to ask—how serious are you in keeping that boy?”
Her eyebrows rose in question. “Quite serious. Why?”
Markl let out a breath of relief. “I was hoping you’d say that. You’re aware that I’ve been teaching him to read?”
She’d seen their daily lessons often, so nodded confirmation. “Yes, how’s that going?”
“He’s an amazingly quick study,” Markl told her with a twinkle of pride in his eyes. “He memorized the Wynngaardian alphabet so quickly my head spun. Right now he’s learning short words.”
Her eyes nearly crossed. “In six days?”
“His intellectual capacity is incredible. Every time I sit down to teach him, I’m astounded all over again by how fast he learns. Given some time, and dedication, he could become a scholar.”
A former assassin becoming a scholar. Her mind couldn’t quite wrap its way around that. “Did you tell him that?”
“Well, I’ve complimented him, but I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure of what you intended.” He leaned in a little more, tone lowering to a more confidential level. “You will tell him soon that you want him to stay? I don’t think he really feels like he can.”
“I’ve been trying to find the right moment,” she answered, shrugging. “Maybe while we’re building the path I can find a way to bring it up. You feel like he would, if he felt welcome?”
“No, Siobhan, I think he would run screaming in horror at the opportunity,” Markl retorted dryly.
Alright, fine, that might have been a stupid question. Especially after finding Rune sleeping on her floor the other night. “I’ll ask him,” she promised. What was taking Rune so long to come back, anyway? She looked up to find that Grae had taken him to the first stepping stone being built. Both men were kneeling on the ground with stones in their hands. Under her incredulous stare, Rune placed a stone on the ground under Grae’s direction, and then another.
“Markl.” She couldn’t tear her eyes away. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
Markl peered in Grae’s direction, hand lifted to block out the morning sun. “Is Grae teaching Rune how to build a path?”
“It looks that way to you too?”
He lowered his hand and looked at her questioningly. “Is that unusual?”
“Unusual? No. It’s downright strange. I’ve never seen Grae teach anyone pathmaking before. He’s never even offered.” What on earth was going on?
“Siobhan…” Markl said slowly, hesitantly, “how do people know if someone has the talent for pathmaking?”
“Grae was tested for it at an early age. We all were as children.”
“But would someone test street rats or children in dark guilds?”
She opened her mouth only to slowly close it again. “No, probably not.”
“So is it possible for Rune to have pathmaking talent? Undiscovered talent?”
She’d have laughed and said no, of course not, just moments earlier. But she couldn’t dismiss it now. Grae would not be sitting there, so patiently teaching Rune, unless he saw something that made him think Rune had the right talent. “If he does, then he has a lot of studying to do in the future. But then, from what you said, he’s got the mind to learn with.”
“He does.” Markl rose to his feet and offered her a hand up. “I think we need to double check this.”
She accepted the hand without hesitation and rose, her knees protesting a little from all of the kneeling. Siobhan went directly to Grae and Rune, standing on the other side of the stepping stone they were building. This close, she realized that Grae was not giving precise instructions. In fact, as she watched, Rune placed three stones without any direction from the man at his side, and to her eyes, it looked perfect. Heavens, she might not be an expert, but even to her
it seemed obvious what was going on. In a deliberately casual way, she asked, “Oh? Rune, you helping him actually make the path?”
Rune shot her the brightest smile she’d ever seen from him. “Surely am.”
Wind and stars, look at that smile. It’s the same expression Grae wears when he’s building a path. She glanced at Grae and found him watching her with quiet intensity. “You seem to be picking this up quickly.”
Grae was the one that answered. “He doesn’t quite understand the weight of the stones yet, and how that affects the pattern, but he’s got good instincts. He’s built most of this stepping stone himself.”
Siobhan scanned the half-finished pattern in front of her with disbelieving eyes. Rune had done this? Not Grae? It looked so pristine and precise, she’d never have believed a complete amateur did this if Grae hadn’t said otherwise.
“All I did was follow that un,” Rune jerked his chin to indicate the other stepping stone nearby that Grae had built.
Grae didn’t take his eyes from hers, his expression validating her suspicions. “It takes talent to do that, Rune. Very few can simply look at a stepping stone and duplicate it like you have done.”
Rune is a Pathmaker. A novice Pathmaker. By the four winds, she could not have been more surprised if a star fell out of the sky and landed on her head. Her desire to keep Rune in the guild tripled in that moment. One way or another, he was staying in Deepwoods. Even if she had to twist his arm and bribe him, she’d keep him. Somehow, she kept her voice at a normal tone. “Rune, why don’t you stay here with Grae and help him build the path? Since you’re one of the few that can.”
Oh, he liked that idea. His smile came back full force. “Sure, sure.”
She forced herself to smile back even as her mind whirled. “Markl and I will go back to gathering, then.”
Grabbing Markl by the arm, she hauled him away.
“Why didn’t you tell him?” Markl hissed at her, stumbling along at her side.
“I can’t, not right now,” she whispered back quickly. “Markl, think. You know how rare it is for Pathmakers to be born. Sateren doesn’t have one, even though they’re a major trade city. Jarnsmor is even now hiring one from Quigg so that he can move supplies back and forth after Grae leaves. If he found out that Rune was a Pathmaker, do you know what he’d do?”
“Keep him,” Markl groaned in realization.
“Rune cannot stay in that city. He especially can’t stay in Iron Dragain. Pathmaker or not, they’ll never accept him, not with his history. I have to take him out of here before anyone knows about his talent. It’d be even better still to tell him after he’s through Island Pass,” she realized this as an afterthought. “Once he’s in Robarge, Darrens will never let another guild get their hands on him. He’ll protect Rune.”
Markl stole a glance back. “Does Grae realize all this?”
“He must, otherwise he would have said something to Rune by now.” She’d have a good talk with him later, though, to make sure he understood just what was at stake. She tightened her grip on his arm, voice intense. “Do not breathe a word of this. Understand me?”
He held up a placating hand. “I won’t.”
“We have to bide our time, or we lose Rune entirely.”
By some minor miracle, they managed to keep Wolf and Tran from starting any fights for the next week. Tran’s bruised ribs and limited movements might have had something to do with that. Regardless, the first wave of architects and bridge engineers were assembled, supplies packed and loaded, and Grae’s new path toward Quigg finished.
They assembled in front of the main gate of Iron Dragain in the cool chill of the morning. Siobhan had her own people in their cart, along with what supplies they would need for the full trip home. Since they now had ready paths that took them all the way to Goldschmidt, Siobhan didn’t expect it to take more than three days to get back to their guildhall. At some point during those three days, she had to find a moment to talk to Rune about staying in the guild. She still hadn’t found a moment to do that yet. Every time she’d tried, she’d either been surrounded by other people, or had been interrupted. It was more than frustrating.
Rune was fascinated by the whole idea of riding a path he had helped to build. Beirly had him sit on the top bench with him so he could have a bird’s-eye view once they got on the path. Siobhan felt that the safest place to put him anyway—he was less likely to fall out that way.
The total group came out to five architects, two master masons, and one of Iron Dragain’s jarls, whom Siobhan had met briefly the day before. Romohr was his name, a stocky fellow that was leaning more toward fat than muscle. His hair was pitch black—a rarity in this culture—and thick bones prominent in his face so that he looked like he could crush a rock with his head. He was apparently one of Jarnsmor’s right-hand men, one that he trusted completely. Siobhan didn’t find it surprising that Jarnsmor would send someone to watch over this highly important project and report directly back to him.
Romohr had a silent air about him, making him hard to approach, but the same could not be said of the head architect, Ardin. If someone asked her to describe what a model father should look like, she would have pointed to Ardin without hesitation. He had that comfortable, worn-in look with the spectacles perched on his nose, shaggy haircut, and loose clothes. From every pocket—and his outfit sported several—things bulged. She found it a wonder he didn’t clink as he walked. But the thing she liked best about him was his ready smile, which he always seemed to have when he saw her.
“Guildmaster Maley!” he greeted with a wave, quickening his pace to catch up to her.
Siobhan stepped away from the Deepwoods cart in order to face him. “Master Ardin. Are we ready?”
“Well, we are, or at least I hope we are.” His smile faltered and stumbled, to be replaced by a worried frown. “I just received word this morning that part of the Grey Bridge has crumbled.”
For a split second his words didn’t make any sense at all. When they did, her eyes shot wide and she demanded in a screeching voice, “WHAT?!”
Ardin winced at the piercing volume. “I’m not sure how extensive the damage is. The report just said a good stretch of the bridge near Quigg had fallen into the ocean.”
While she realized that the bridges were several hundred years old, having been built during the time of governments and kings, they were also rock solid and had been a dependable way to travel ever since their construction. The idea that even they might fall apart was akin to telling her that the moons had fallen out of the sky.
“How is this possible?” she spluttered, feeling as if someone had jerked a rug out from underneath her. “I just traveled over those bridges not a few weeks past! They were as solid as Wolf’s head!”
“Hey!” Wolf protested from behind her.
“They might have appeared to be on the surface, only to hide some internal failure on a deeper level,” Ardin responded, brows furrowed as he thought. “We won’t know until we get down there and see the situation with our own eyes. But this is partially what we feared. The bridges are old, Guildmaster, extremely so. They’ve been battered by nature, storms, time, and millions of feet pounding on them. I’m astonished they’ve held up for as long as they did! Especially since they’ve only seen sporadic maintenance.”
Well, he had a point, but still…. Siobhan shook the thought off. Talking about it here wouldn’t do any of them good. “Knowing that the bridge has damage, do you need any other equipment or supplies to bring with you?”
“Most likely, but I won’t know what until I see what the damage is,” he responded with a helpless splay of the hands.
“Then let’s go.” Hopping lightly up onto the cart, Siobhan made herself visible to the whole group. “Attention, everyone!” she waited until all eyes were on her before continuing, “I’ve just been told that the Grey Bridge near Quigg has been damaged. We need to get there quickly and fix the situation before it gets any worse. Everyone load up, we’re
heading directly to the Quigg path.”
People lost no time in obeying her direction. Within minutes they were out of the gate, traveling through Sateren’s streets and heading toward the path that Grae had made near the coastline. Even though Siobhan had helped him build part of this, she still sat on the cart and admired the path as Grae explained the rules for the rest of the party. He’d built an evergreen pattern, something that was capable of carrying an excess of one hundred people. Not that he’d needed such a large path this time, but the other Pathmaker from Quigg had requested they do so, in anticipation of needing it in the future. In the morning sun, the stones glinted in the ground like an ancient mosaic, and it was quite pretty to look at.
With the directions and warnings given, Grae ducked down to the sea long enough to fill his flask full of water, then he darted back and activated the path. They traveled uneventfully straight to Quigg, arriving just northeast of the city.
Since Ardin was the one with the report, and knew where to go, she encouraged him to lead the way. They skirted around Quigg’s outer wall—traveling through the city would have taken more time—and went directly to the bridge.
Turned out, even a blind man would have been able to find the problem.
Siobhan stumbled to a stop on the shoreline, regarding the bridge with open dismay. ‘A good stretch’ were poor words to describe the condition of the bridge and the extent of the damage. Several hundred feet were simply gone, fallen away into the ocean, leaving a gaping hole in the bridge. One cart could still pass on the far right side, but certainly not more, and the once eight-cart width had been reduced to rubble. Even from here she could see giant cracks in the support pillars and the stonework. “That…does not look good.”
“Understatement,” Denney groaned beside her. “What happened? It was fine when we crossed it!”
Deepwoods (Book 1) Page 31
