‘Now how did Flowerdew describe it?’ the gnome pondered, before slowly drawing the bow to and fro. A mournful tune ushered from the violin. The man watched as the light around them seemed to dim. His eyes widened and he grabbed the instrument back.
Sawwse chuckled.
‘Not a fan of that one then?’
The older man then placed a hand on Sawwse’s back and proceeded to push her from box to crate; each time taking out a different instrument and handing it to the gnome.
Some of the items were more familiar to Sawwse: a silver flute, a larger version of her lute, a bigger violin that had to be stood upright. However, some of the items were missing from Emmeline Flowerdew’s work: a spidery object, with eight smaller shells connected to a central drum, an enormous horn, which had to be stepped inside of in order to play, and a piece of fabric that created a high pitched squealing sound when scratched.
The man did not say anything while thrusting Sawwse toward the instruments. He merely raised his eyebrows from time to time, or let out an abrupt noise. It was unclear in each case whether this was approval or discontent.
Finally, he took his palm from Sawwse’s back and spun her around to face him.
‘And can you sing?’
The little gnome cleared her throat and began softly singing the lullaby about the moon in the lake.
The man quickly muttered something under his breath, causing a faint glimmer of light to glow at his edges.
‘Yes, yes I thought as much. Okay, that’s enough, thank you.’
Sawwse stopped singing right away and stared at the man. She was exhausted, but exhilarated.
‘Well then, there’s nothing for it. I’ll have to tutor you myself. You’ll start-’
‘But you said the conservatoire had closed?’
‘Djinn’s luck! I got carried away and forgot for a moment.’
‘I thought it was too good to be-’
‘Still though. Yes, well, it’ll have to be private tuition then. I demand it. Not ideal to study without a cohort or an orchestra, but with your innate ability you should be fine.’
‘That’s brilliant-’
‘You’re aware now that my source of income has gone,’ he said, gesturing around them. ‘I’ll need to be paid per session.’
‘Yes, of course-’
‘Shall we say fifty aur? At this time, and three weeks today? You’ll find me here.’ He picked up a random parchment from a nearby box and scribbled his address on it.
Sawwse looked it over and hummed out the musical notation on the parchment: a jaunty little ditty this time. When she raised her head, she saw the man holding what she now knew to call a bassoon.
‘I will see you in three weeks’ time Ms. Bohge. For now, I must get back to clearing up this hall.’
He blew into the bassoon and Sawwse felt herself flying backwards through the air. Rather than crashing into the boxes and crates behind her, as she imagined she would, the fabric of the room peeled away around her as if shedding her from itself, leaving her stood outside the entrance once more.
Disoriented, she took a few moments to regain her coordination. Then, grinning madly, she began to skip along the road shouting ‘hullo’ at everyone she passed.
Stalling outside a shop selling delicious-looking sandwiches, she noticed a sign that read ‘Special offer: buy two fish and egg sandwiches for three aur.’ It was only at this point that she realised money was something she did not readily possess. She felt her pocket for the pouch that Mirrah had given her. Nothing.
‘That’s right, I gave the driver all those coins,’ she said, feeling a bit foolish. And then another thought collided with this one, she could not afford the tuition.
Sawwse pulled out the man’s note from her pocket and reread it.
‘Fifty aur. What even are aur?’ she said, trying to make herself chuckle.
She was annoyed at her own naiveté. Walking away from the sandwiches she noticed that the road was currently having its torches lit. ‘Have I really spent all day in the conservatoire?’ Sawwse thought to herself.
The golden hourglass flashed before her eyes.
‘The guild,’ she said aloud. ‘That’s right, that beetle-man said there might be money in it.’
Sawwse was about to ask herself where the meeting was taking place when a series of images flowed into her mind, as they had the night before. Without questioning how this was happening, she tuned into the images, turned down one small side street and then another, until she screeched to a halt in front of a familiar figure. Ruby was back in her humanoid form. She stood, mouth agape, staring at an unusual alpaca outside a cheese shop. It had purple, cloud-like fur, a long neck, and a perm atop its square head. A leather collar sat at the base of its neck.
‘Ruby. What are you doing?’
‘Oh hi Sawwse,’ Ruby said, distractedly. ‘You’ll never guess what Emmanuel here just told me.’
Sawwse looked at the alpaca expectantly before shaking her head.
‘Never mind that now. I’m going to that adventuring guild, do you want to come?’
‘Potentially,’ Ruby paused, and turned back to look at the purple cloud.
A portly man left the shop holding a paper bag barely containing a tremendous amount of cheese. He took out a lead and attached it to the alpaca’s collar.
‘Come on Bessie,’ he said, leading it away.
Ruby watched them turn a corner out of sight.
‘He hates it when he calls him Bessie. Anyway, what were you saying?’
‘Let’s go.’
Sawwse grabbed Ruby’s hand and ran with her to the end of the road. They turned onto a narrow, winding path. Crooked buildings either side of the cobbled walkway looked as though they were in danger of collapsing, leering as they did into the centre.
‘It’s around here somewhere.’
The gnome definitely had reservations about trusting a disappearing man, possibly with no face, who implanted images into her mind. However, knowing nothing about market economies, she wasn’t entirely sure how else one received money, and if she gained adventures along the way, all the better.
Between two fairly innocuous timber-framed buildings sat a tall, thin inn. It had maybe been cosy at one point, but now the white paint on the walls was chipped, and the sign attached to the wall was hanging off at an angle. The sign held a faded picture of a human man, woman and child, smiling while warming their hands by a fire. The lettering above the sign read: ‘The Happy Hearth.’
Sawwse and Ruby rushed inside and found their low expectations matched. The furniture was falling apart, and the pub was sparsely attended: two old men who did not look up from their pints. A large stone-lined hearth was positioned as a centrepiece to this room. However, it looked like it had been many years since the fire was last lit.
A lanky human man known as Grimiser stood behind the bar, drying tankards with a cloth. His hangdog expression suggested that it’d been years since a kind word had been said about him. Grimiser was the landlord of the inn. He looked Sawwse up and down, and snorted.
‘A gnome now as well.’ Shaking his head, he pointed to a small door nearby to the bar. ‘They’ve already started.’
Panicking, Sawwse rushed into the small room behind the door. As she entered, she missed the step down and tripped head over heels into the room. She used the forward momentum to turn the fall into a kind of dance, ending with a low bow.
‘I might just have managed to style that out,’ she thought.
After a few moments of silence, she looked up and saw a large oak table dominating the room. Several figures sat around it. Others stood leaning against the wall or, as with one jolly fellow, sat atop a barrel. Ruby shyly stepped into the room and stood behind the gnome.
‘Ah, two more. Now we’re an even ten.’
The speaker from the previous night sat at the table, hidden by the same white mask and black cloak. He spoke with none of the passion
from the previous night.
A stout man with a bulging red nose slowly slumped over, knocking his head on the table and passing out on the floor.
‘Right. That’s fine, we can work with nine.’
Two elves that stood at the back of the room shared a look with one another, before asking the speaker whether this was the ‘Cosm Card Collecting Club?’
He simply shook his head and waited for them to shuffle out of the room. They carried the unconscious man with them.
‘Seven. Seven is perfect.’
Chapter 9: Guild Meet
Sawwse scanned the room. Immediately to her left sat a tall elf with long tight curls of fiery red hair. She wore what appeared to be ranger’s gear: a long camel coloured cloak with leaf-patterned leather armour underneath. Sawwse had heard it said that there was something cosmic about elves. That their eyes were a portal to other worlds. That may have been so, but the galaxy seen in the elven eyes beside her had been tempered by a hot rage: vengeance simmered just below the surface. The elf cast her intense gaze at Sawwse.
Feeling uncomfortable, Sawwse decided now was a good time to introduce herself to the room.
‘What a pleasure to make your acquaintances. My name is Sawwse, rhymes with house.’
She bowed again, adding a particularly fanciful flourish with her hand. A nasally voice travelled from across the room.
‘We’re not here to make friends.’
Across the room from Sawwse, lurking in a corner, stood a man with an equally penetrating stare, though somehow more hostile than the elf’s. He was tall and lean, standing crooked within the low-ceilinged room. His face offered Sawwse nothing, it could have been chiselled from the rocks for all she knew. Where the elf’s eyes contained a fiery cosmos, the two human eyes set on Sawwse felt chasmic, a vacuum threatening to suck her inside.
‘Not with that attitude,’ she replied, jokily.
Sawwse nudged Ruby and pulled a face, gesturing to the man with her thumb. A growl returned from Sawwse’s side. Turning, she saw that Ruby was now somehow caught between hound and human. The downy hair along her arms had grown into thicker fur that covered her face, bristling at the nape of her neck. Ruby bared sharp pointed teeth.
In return, the man began to lurch forward. A metallic, whirring sound preceded his movements. He grabbed at his scabbard only to find that it was empty. A look of confusion passed over his face.
‘Let’s settle down.’
The host’s calm, firm voice cut through the already-strained atmosphere.
‘Welcome friends. I do hope you aren’t here to cause trouble.’
Sawwse quite liked the fact that someone might think she was the sort to cause trouble, but tried to keep the delight from showing on her face. She apologised and placed a hand on Ruby’s back to calm her down. Her friend slowly altered back into human form. Whiskers and claws drew inwards, fur prickled before shrinking away, and the dog’s frame contracted, leaving Ruby’s diminutive form in its place, less furry and less confident. They each took a seat at the table, as did the stooping man.
The room was dingy and dimly lit. Barrels and casks occupied much of the space. The large table imposed itself on the rest of the room. The only source of light came from three meagre candles, already waning. It was clear that this room wasn’t really meant for meetings, but for storage.
The masked man at the centre of the table looked at the seven people around the room. Up close, Sawwse could see that his horned mask was made from light. It continued to hover an inch from his face, but glowed with less intensity than it did the night before.
Opening the heavy, leather-bound ledger set in front of him, he spoke.
‘I am pleased that you have made it here today. I expect we will find that you all have different reasons for getting involved with this new guild, and together I believe we can build it into something strong and prosperous. Firstly, some business. I will act as our convener for the moment, and we will refer to ourselves as an adventurers’ guild. Welcome. And apologies for our current lodgings,’ he said, gesturing to the room. ‘This is something I will be negotiating with the landlord of this establishment.’
Convener (he never offered another name) then began to describe the rules of guild membership, the fees involved, the ethos of the guild etc., but Sawwse found herself zoning out. She was slowly looking about the room, wondering what brought these other people here. Her eyes met those of a dwarf sitting on a barrel on the other side of Convener. Beneath his bushy beard were hidden youthful features framing a kind face. Ruddy-cheeked and brown-eyed, he smiled warmly at Sawwse. She nodded in return. ‘Good, an ally,’ she thought.
While Convener continued to talk, ‘a cut of all treasure will be brought back to the guild, to a central pot,’ Sawwse began to feel a strange itchiness moving from place to place around her body. It felt as though something were inside of her, searching and seeking.
Watching Sawwse fidget from beyond Ruby’s chair to the right, Osrik, the battleworn dwarf leaned his crinkled face on his fist. It seemed impossible that Sawwse had not noticed him straight away after their encounter outside the shack on the road into Rhyddinas, but then again, the older dwarf had long ago mastered the art of not drawing attention to himself. A thread of loneliness ran through his sad, grey-blue eyes as he met Sawwse’s gaze, vanishing when he saw the gnome’s little face transform with the thrill of recognition. After a few moments, he too felt an itchiness begin to grow at the tip of his neck.
The excited gnome was about to wave hello, when Osrik slammed his hands down on the table and shouted.
‘Stay out of my mind.’
Convener held up his hands and explained.
‘If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to worry about, Osrik Bitterforge. It is a simple background check,’ he replied.
Sawwse and Ruby exchanged perplexed glances.
‘No,’ the tall man with the penetrating stare said, turning his glare toward Convener. ‘Unacceptable.’
Convener apologised, but insisted that it was necessary.
‘It is important for us to know your intentions regarding this guild. We have had some difficulties in the past.’
‘You and who else?’ the elf asked.
‘Excuse me?’ Convener replied.
‘You said ‘we’. Who else is there?’
‘There is a network of guilds across the world. We are now connected with this network. Do not be alarmed. Anyway, I have already completed the checks.’
A small cough came from a slightly overweight woman sat next to the dwarf at the other end of the table. She wore deep blue hooded robes that had globes of various sizes stitched into their folds. The peak of the hood hung out over her eyes, casting them in shadow. She cleared her throat.
‘As someone recently engaged in employment within a HR department, this does seem a somewhat,’ she took her time finding the right word, ‘unorthodox way of doing things. I’m not sure this method would pass a preliminary committee session, truth be told.’
The robed woman chuckled to herself, shaking her head in disbelief, as though following the rules was the most straightforward thing in the world.
‘I’m actually not sensing any bad vibes from him to be honest,’ Sawwse chipped in. She wasn’t thrilled about being invaded in this way, but it was true that she sensed no ill will from the Convener.
‘And we should trust your “vibes”?’ the tall man snapped.
‘The gnome speaks the truth.’
The elf glared at Osrik and the tall man until they backed down. The younger, ruddy-cheeked dwarf did not get involved, and seemed content to sit on his barrel and listen.
‘No unnecessary memories were searched,’ Convener continued. ‘It was just to ensure that there were no spies in our midst. Of course, you may withdraw from the guild at any point if you would like.’
A long pause followed. The members of the new guild studied each other while waiting for Co
nvener to carry on. He flipped to the back of the large book in front of him and retrieved a crisp piece of parchment paper. Looking at each person in turn, he placed the parchment in the centre of the table.
‘This is the contract. It ensures that you will adhere to the rules of the guild.’
Convener placed a thin, wire frame over the top of the central candle on the table. Retrieving a small tub from within his cloak, he placed it on the frame above the candle, where it slowly began to give off a thin blue smoke and a smell of dying flowers.
‘Please read it through and place your mark.’
The tall man stood and reached over to the contract. Snatching it from the table, he said, ‘I am a scholar. I will assess this contract.’
His eyes darted around for a few moments, scrutinising the page. When he reached the bottom he furrowed his brow and then faced Convener.
‘How do you know our names?’
‘It is nothing sinister. A simple trick. As you are all surrounded by unfamiliar faces, your names are at the forefront of your thoughts. I simply borrowed them while performing the background check.’
Convener’s mask smiled a smile so plain that it was impossible to read anything into it.
Osrik grumbled and muttered something under his breath about trust. Convener turned his head slightly to address him.
‘No one is forcing you to sign the contract. If you have issues with our methods, there may be other guilds that will take on someone in your… age bracket.’
Osrik stopped muttering and sank his head. Standing up, he grabbed the contract, reached over and plunged his thumb into the hot wax.
‘I Osrik Bitterforge, son of no one, hereby agree to the terms and conditions of this guild,’ he said, speaking quickly. He pressed his thumb onto the contract and added, ‘My age hasn’t stopped me in battle yet.’
He pushed the contract and wax to his left, in front of Ruby. The shapeshifter reached for the wax and attempted to speak, but she felt as though a lump the size of a particularly large dog chew was stopping her throat. Why was she so nervous? ‘Relax,’ she thought to herself. ‘Just imagine they are naked. No, that’s silly. Then I’ll definitely not be able to get the words straight,’ she wittered on internally. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t even be here?’ Ruby looked at the beaming gnome next to her, who nodded encouragingly. She sighed and dipped her thumb in the wax.
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