“Don’t worry about Grae,” she counseled as she worked, never looking up. “He’s not really afraid of you. He’s just nervous. He’s always like this when he has to work with strangers. It’s why I couldn’t let him go out alone to make a living as a Pathmaker—he needs someone as a business partner.”
Was that all it was? Erik somehow doubted that, but was willing to pretend he believed her. “Alright.”
“When we get to Goldschmidt, I’ll get you a guild crest of your own. You’ll need it to cross the Bridges with.” Finished, she tied a firm square knot and only then met his eyes. “And why aren’t you asking me more questions?”
Because I’m scared of the answers was the exact thing he could not say out loud. “You’ve told me everything I really need to know.”
Siobhan huffed out a breath. “Not likely. But alright, you’ll ask when you want to, I suppose. Pack up, let’s go to Goldschmidt.”
Chapter Three
The trip to Goldschmidt was short and uneventful. Grae apparently had a few dedicated paths already built, in spite of being in business only a short while, and one of them went from Goldschmidt to Converse. Erik had traveled by path before a few times, and found that Grae’s was…different. Somehow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what the difference was, just that it seemed like Grae had better control over the path. Going by path had always made him nervous before, but this time he didn’t feel nearly as anxious.
Goldschmidt was one of the larger cities he’d seen before, but not the largest. He took it in from stem to stern, noting the placement of guards up on the walls and by the gates, the amount of traffic on the road, and the general feel of the place. It seemed like a good city, especially for business.
Erik had worked as an enforcer a time or two before in his previous guild, so he knew what to do. As they went through the gates, he kept his eyes peeled for trouble, and stayed a step back from everyone so that he could keep watch on the three. But nothing troublesome happened and they went straight to their guildhall without him needing to do anything. Which was just as well, considering he was still weaponless.
The Hall surprised him. It was much larger than he thought it would be, a full two stories tall, and seemed very soundly constructed of wood and stone. The inside had a large, raftered ceiling, plenty of tables and chairs strewn about, and a staircase leading to the upstairs.
Siobhan paused just inside the doorway and said to him, “Beirly, Grae, and I are all on the second story, on the right side of the hallway. You can choose any room on the left side or in the attic. Up to you.”
“Fine.” He’d take the first room on the left, then. If danger came up to them, he wanted to be able to react quickly.
“Come see me when you’re done unpacking,” Beirly instructed, nodding toward the back of the main room. “I have a workshop back there. I think it’d be easier to make you up a new hand than try to modify a shield.”
A new hand? How in mercy would he pull that off?
Siobhan didn’t seem to doubt this and actually clapped. “Oh, you thought of a way? Good. Be careful not to make his wound worse though. It’s just now healing properly.”
Beirly waved this concern off. “Won’t be able to do much today except take measurements anyway, draft out a few ideas. It’ll be a good week before I can try anything.”
“Good.” Pleased, she bounded up the stairs, calling back over her shoulder, “Wolfinsky, after you’re done with Beirly, we’re going shopping!”
Snorting, Beirly muttered under his breath, “She’s like a child with a new toy.” Shaking his head, he also went up the stairs, bag thrown over his shoulder.
Following their example, he went up as well, and took the room that would be ‘his,’ at least for a short while. It was simply furnished with chest, bed, and washstand. It was clean, if a little musty with disuse. He put his gear away without dwelling on the place too much and went back down.
Beirly beat him to the workshop and was already at a table, sketching things out with sure strokes on a large piece of blank paper. This room seemed more lived in than any other part of the hall. There were wood shavings on the floor, tools hanging off the walls and strewn across a roughhewn table, with another, smaller table to the side that had stacks of leather scraps on it. The scent of wood and leather mixed pleasantly in the air, and he smiled unconsciously at the smell.
“Come, sit,” Beirly invited, pushing a stool out with his foot.
Erik took it, tilting his head sideways to look at the drawing as he did. It looked like a hand, with joints and everything. “Is that your idea?”
“Thought hit me as we were on the path that I can make a moving hand, with joints and such, and then make it so that it can lock into place so you can hold onto things.” Tapping the pencil to the drawing, he added, “I’ll make it of wood first. Cheaper that way, easier to work out the mistakes. If this works, I’ll make you another of metal.”
He felt overwhelmed by the generosity he was receiving in this guild. Even Grae, who didn’t know how to be comfortable around him, wouldn’t even say a harsh word to him. How had he been so blessed to be picked up by these people?
“You’re too generous,” he said huskily.
“Naw, it’s a fun challenge.” Beirly belied his words by giving Erik a clap on the shoulder in a gesture of comradeship. “Now, give me your good arm. I need to know how long to make your wood one so they match.”
Erik cooperated as Beirly took measurements of his arm in every possible direction. He measured both arms, actually, so that he knew precisely what lengths to make everything. Done, Beirly shooed him out, and he went back to the front door to meet Siobhan.
She sat at a table near the front door, clearly waiting on him. “Done? Good. Let’s go.” Standing, she led the way out and waited for him to fall into step beside her before saying, “I’ve been thinking of where to go, but I don’t really know your preference in weapons. What do you like?”
“A broadsword,” he admitted frankly. “But they’re pricey. A long dagger will do.”
“Broadsword?” Siobhan gave him a quick head-to-toe study. “Yes, with your size, that’d be the best weapon.”
The look on her face was one he’d seen before—on his mother’s—when she set her mind to have something. Hoping to derail her, he tried again, “But they’re hideously expensive. It’s too much.”
“Deepwoods is actually a guild under Blackstone, the ruling guild of this city,” she explained. “I’m allotted a certain amount every year to pay for weapons, housing, etc, as long as I meet their financial milestones. Which, so far, we’ve exceeded them. It’s part of the reason why I wanted to form a guild in this city. Anyway, up to this point we haven’t used any of the allowance I have for weapons. So, if we want to get a broadsword for you, we can do it for free. We just have a narrow selection, as only a few swordsmiths are directly connected to Blackstone.”
While all of this sounded reasonable, what did she plan to do for the next enforcer she brought into the guild? Pay for his weapons herself? He had no room to ask the question, or argue, as she dragged him abruptly into a smithy.
It was a prosperous place, he could tell that at first glance, as every style of weapon imaginable donned the walls or were leaning up in barrels. The price of the metal alone in this single room would be enough to feed a large family for a year.
A long counter split the room in half and divided the smithy from the shop area. Siobhan stopped in front of it and aimed a charming smile at the middle-aged man standing behind it. “Good master, I’m in the need of a broadsword and a shield.”
The master gave her a dubious look. “You are or he is?”
“He is, to be precise.”
“Left or right han—” the man cut himself off as he took in Erik’s missing hand. “Left handed, obviously.”
As if this hadn’t occurred to her before, Siobhan asked curiously, “Wolfinsky, were you naturally right or left handed before that happened?�
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“Right,” he answered calmly. “But my sword master taught us how to fight with both hands.”
“That was good fortune for you.”
Truly. If not, he would have to train with his left hand from the ground up, and that could take years.
The sword smith eyed his new customer with a speculative gaze. “I have a Wynngaardian broadsword if that’ll be of interest?”
“You do?” Erik responded wistfully. He hadn’t held one since he was taken from his home seven years ago.
“Aye, took it in on trade last week. Mighty fine sword, but no one here knows how to use it properly. Not to mention it’s too long for most men here. We don’t get many your size.” This last part was said dryly. Coming around the counter, he lifted up a section so he could walk to their side and take a broadsword off the wall.
Erik balanced the sheath on his bad arm as he drew the sword free with the other hand. Even before it cleared the scabbard, he could tell this was a fine weapon. The balance was perfect, the metal gleamed with blue steel, and the hilt had been recently rewrapped with brown leather.
Siobhan read his expression easily and said to the master, “We’ll take it.”
The master chuckled. “Yes, it’s clear he wants it. I don’t have a shield large enough for a man his size, but I can make one up within a week. That soon enough?”
“That’ll be fine.” Siobhan pulled out her guild crest and flipped it open so he could see it. “My allotment from Blackstone should cover about one hundred and twenty kors. How much will that cover?”
“For the sword and shield? All of it, I think. It’ll leave you about five kors left over. That alright by you?”
“Perfectly fine,” she assured him.
Erik started adding up all that she had spent on him in his head and balked at the figure. “Wait, Siobhan, this really is too much to spend on me considering I won’t stay with you long—”
“Oh, just take it, will you?” she responded in exasperation. “If I don’t use it in the next three months, I lose it.”
Really? Well, if that was the case…. He eyed the sword longingly. “I’ll work it off. Promise.”
“That’s the spirit,” she responded cheerfully.
They stayed long enough for Erik to describe what he needed for the shield, the master to take some measurements, and for them to adjust the sword so that it hung correctly on his right hip. But once that was settled, they left the shop, satisfied.
“What now?” he asked her.
“Food,” she answered, already heading the opposite way of what they had come. “There’s nothing in the Hall to eat, since we just came back. Wolfinsky, can you cook?”
“A few things.”
“Praise all mercy. You don’t want Grae cooking, so that usually means it’s either me or Beirly. One more cook in the place will be a welcome thing. In that case, pick up what ingredients you need. You’re on duty tonight.” She flashed him a half-teasing smile.
Cooking a meal for her seemed a small thing to do so he inclined his head, agreeable.
Slowing her pace, she tilted her head to look up at him. “What I call you is bothering me.” Siobhan looked at him with narrowed eyes, using one finger to poke at her lips. “Wolfinsky seems so….distant.”
He went abruptly still, watching her with rising hope in his chest. “So what do you want to call me?”
“I think ‘Wolf’ would be better.”
Wolf? “Not Erik?”
“Oh, it’s a fine name, don’t mistake me. I just like to call people by nickname. Besides, you growl just like one when you’re hungry or angry. Wolf fits you fine.”
He couldn’t remember anyone calling him by a nickname. Strangely enough, he liked it. “Wolf, is it?” He tested the idea out and liked the taste of it. “Alright. I’ll answer by it.”
“Good.” She beamed at him, beyond pleased. “Wolf it is.”
ӜӜӜ
Erik was used to fighting and working for long hours before getting any sleep. For the past three days, the most strenuous thing he had done was shop. It left him feeling restless with too much pent up energy. Even though it was late in the evening, and everyone else had already retired for the night, he couldn’t do the same. The bed was comfortable enough—it was his own demons that wouldn’t let him rest.
Irritated with himself, he slung the covers off, and moved with silent feet out of his room. He first checked on Siobhan and found her deep asleep in her own bed. Satisfied she was fine, he moved to the stairs with the half-formed notion of a late night snack.
“—still think Siobhan is crazy for taking him on?” Beirly’s voice asked. Even though it was mute, it was still understandable.
Erik stopped dead on the stairs, staying in the shadows and just out of sight of the main room. Who was Beirly talking to? Grae?
“Yes,” Grae said firmly. His voice wasn’t quite as loud as Beirly’s and Wolf had to strain more to hear him.
“The man’s done nothing to you,” Beirly pointed out. “Hasn’t even looked at you sideways.”
“It’s nothing he’s done or said,” Grae admitted grudgingly. “But the man’s just menacing. All he does is stand there and breathe and he’s menacing!”
“Aye, well, no arguments there. It still boggles my mind on what Siobhan saw in him that made her so adamant to have him.” Wood creaked, as if Beirly had shifted his weight in the chair. “He looks better now, but you didn’t see him with his hair like a bird’s nest and a beard down to his chest. He looked like a Wildman.”
“What did she see?” Grae wondered, bewildered.
“Don’t know. But she was right to get him. I mean, look at the way he behaves. He follows her like a giant shadow. More fierce than a guard dog, that man is. If the least bit of danger comes near her, he snarls and snaps at it and drives it away.”
“I do feel better about her walking around now that he’s with her,” Grae reluctantly admitted. “Shi has never been aware of the fact that she’s a pretty woman.”
“Well, with those twin swords on her back, she likely thinks that she can handle whatever danger comes near her. And she’s not wrong half the time.”
Erik snorted. Siobhan could handle the regular thief or drunkard, but if true trouble came her way, she’d be hard pressed to combat it.
“I just don’t know how to react to the man,” Grae complained.
“That’s fair,” Beirly allowed. “I don’t either. For that matter, I don’t think he knows how to react to us. But Grae, I’ll tell you this. For every show of kindness I’ve offered him, he’s shown respect and kindness in return. He might come from a dark guild, but he was in a good home before that, that’s as clear as the nose on my face. Treat him well, and he’ll do the same to you.”
Grae contemplated that for several minutes. “You don’t believe he’ll turn on us.”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“Gut feeling.” Beirly let out a low chuckle. “Don’t glare at me so. Look, lad, if the man had wanted to take advantage of us, he could have done it a half a dozen times over. He could have stolen all our money—and we had quite a bit on us in Converse—our guild crests, our weapons, and made off like a bandit. Even injured as he was, we would have been hard pressed to stop him. But what does he do? He guards us. He does his best not to scare us. He treats Siobhan like a precious jewel. It’s not money or freedom he’s after.”
“So what does he want? Safety?”
“And kindness, aye, I think that more or less covers it.”
Safety? Kindness? Erik couldn’t refute the man’s words. That was indeed what he wanted. That and a deeper connection to these three people which had allowed him to live as a human being for the first time in seven years. But he didn’t know how to reach them. Grae he scared just by standing there. Beirly was a little nervous around him still, in spite of the words he was saying. Only Siobhan seemed able to take him at face value.
From the depths of the past, he dre
dged up memories of what it had been like with his friends and family. And from them, an idea sprouted. Maybe, instead of waiting for the other three to reach out to him, it was time he turned the tables and did something first.
Scheming, he silently stood and retreated back to his room, not leaving behind any sign of his eavesdropping.
Chapter Four
Something about the man just felt off. Erik couldn’t put his finger on what, but he didn’t like the overall feel of the man. From that cautious expression on Siobhan’s face, she felt the same way.
Ranton, as he had introduced himself, looked like a shady trader. His clothes just this side of respectable, but worn in. One eye squinted slightly every now and again, and there was a permanent smile etched into his face no matter what Siobhan said. He sounded like a foghorn, too. The voice grated on Erik’s ears.
“We’d only have two wagons,” Ranton said, rubbing his hands together in a habitually nervous habit. “So no need to weigh or measure anything.”
Erik frowned. He’d only been in the guild two weeks, granted, and he hardly knew more than the basics of pathmaking. But after helping Grae build three paths, he knew enough to realize that everything had to be weighed. Grae had to know the weight of everything in order to properly use the paths.
Siobhan, of course, knew this as well. A professional smile pinned to her face, she responded, “I’m sorry, sir. We must weigh everything. It’s impossible to take you on a path otherwise.” She shifted in her chair, sitting more upright and on the edge, as if ready to move out of it quickly. Erik also noted that even though they sat in their own guildhall, she had not offered any food or drink to their guest. In the time he’d known her, she’d never failed to offer that courtesy.
Blackstone (Book 2) Page 25
