Deepwoods (Book 1)

by Honor Raconteur

  Published by Raconteur House

  Manchester, TN

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  DEEPWOODS

  A Raconteur House book/ published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Raconteur House mass-market edition/August 2014

  Copyright © 2014 by Honor Raconteur

  Cover Illustration by Katie Griffin

  Portraits by Christa Triumph

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information address:

  Raconteur House

  164 Whispering Winds Dr.

  Manchester, TN, 37355

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  www.raconteurhouse.com

  Other books by Honor Raconteur

  Published by Raconteur House

  THE ADVENT MAGE CYCLE

  Book One: Jaunten

  Book Two: Magus

  Book Three: Advent

  Book Four: Balancer

  Advent Mage Compendium

  The Dragon’s Mage

  Special Forces 01

  The Midnight Quest

  Kingslayer

  THE ARTIFACTOR SERIES

  The Child Prince

  The Dreamer’s Curse

  DEEPWOODS SAGA

  Deepwoods

  To Darby Ann – a faithful friend and companion for many years.

  You will be sorely missed.

  The only way to make a man trustworthy is to trust him.

  -- Henry L. Stimson

  Siobhan leaned back in her chair, propped her boots up on the table, and sighed with ultimate contentment. Truly, today couldn’t be going better. She sat within her guildhall, enjoying the peace while it lasted. Sylvie had pulled one of her trading schemes that borderlined magic and found a small bag of chocolate. Siobhan had promptly confiscated it and volunteered herself as a taste-tester. Just to make sure it wasn’t poisoned, of course. For the sake of the guild.

  A sizeable bowl of warmed chocolate sat at her elbow, another bowl of fresh strawberries next to it, and she dipped the fruit liberally before popping it into her mouth. No signs of poison yet, but it might take three or four strawberries before the poison took effect. These things took time after all. Easing back even further into her padded rocking chair, she snagged another strawberry and coated it nice and thick with chocolate.

  “Siobhan!” Sylvie called from the front of the Hall.

  Siobhan paused with the strawberry halfway to her mouth and cautiously looked toward the door. The sunshine outside was strong enough to make the room look dim, casting Sylvie and a strange man in shadow, so she couldn’t make out much. It didn’t look like any sort of trouble to her, though. “Yes, Sylvie?”

  “Someone wishes to speak to you!”

  Well that certainly left the door of possibilities wide open. “One or two?”

  “Four!”

  Four? Eyebrows quirked, she called back, “Bring him to me.”

  As Sylvie escorted the stranger inside, Siobhan popped the strawberry into her mouth and chewed, watching the man carefully. He didn’t pay much attention to her at first, his eyes roving over the Hall instead. He took in everything from the high vaulted ceilings with their wooden rafters to the stone tiled floor, square oak tables, chairs, and the rounded bar in the far corner. She’d bought the two-story building ten years ago cheap from a failing guild and it was twice the size they actually needed. She kept thinking they’d grow to fit it, but it never seemed to happen.

  His perusal of the Hall gave her time to study him without being caught staring. He didn’t look like much. Of average height and build, he was far from physically imposing, and nothing about his features really stood out. Slightly shaggy blond hair, oval glasses that masked his eyes, clean-shaven fair skin, and an air of harmlessness. The only thing distinguished about him was his clothes. That thick wool sweater, dark suede jacket, and black trousers all said money from the way they fit him so well. His polished half-boots alone probably cost as much as her monthly salary. Now, what was a rich boy like him doing in a small guild like hers? Escort service? Men of his wealth normally went to the larger guilds. Actually, men like him didn’t make their own travel arrangements at all but had one of their servants do it for them.

  His eyes finally turned toward her and took her in from head to toe in a quick scan. He didn’t look surprised by her dark auburn hair, green eyes, or fair skin—all of which were somewhat unusual in this corner of the world. It made her think that he’d done some asking around before coming here. She took her boots off the table as he stopped in front of her and stood to give him a proper greeting, hand outstretched.

  “Siobhan Maley, Guildmaster of Deepwoods.”

  “Markl Hammon,” he responded in a surprisingly pleasant tenor, grasping her forearm in a firm warrior’s clasp. “Light and peace upon you, Guildmaster Maley.”

  “Likewise.” Just plain Markl Hammon? No mention of guild or family connections? He couldn’t possibly be related to Nuel Hammon, founding Guildmaster of Silver Moon, could he? The way he politely responded to her with Winziane greetings made her think so. No wonder Sylvie had said four. “Sit, please. Might I offer a strawberry?”

  “Ahhh…” he paused and glanced at both bowls. “It looks very inviting, thank you. I saw you dip one into the chocolate. I’ve never seen that done before.” His statement tilted up in tone, making it into a question.

  “A habit of my own making,” she admitted cheerfully. “It’s quite divine that way. Try it,” she encouraged, and not just out of generosity. Much could be learned by offering people food, but it also went against her culture to talk business without offering something edible.

  A little gingerly, he picked up one of the smaller strawberries and dipped it into the chocolate before taking a tentative bite. Then his eyes went wide behind those thick glasses and his mouth turned up into a smile. “Mmm! It’s good like this.”

  “Have another,” she offered. “Wait, Sylvie, not you.”

  Too late. Sylvie already had the berry firmly in her mouth, dark eyes sparkling with laughter. “Escorting charges,” the other woman defended herself, licking traces of chocolate from her lips.

  Siobhan rolled her eyes and shook her head in resigned amusement. She couldn’t help but notice that as Sylvie left, Hammon’s eyes strayed to watch her go for a moment. But she didn’t blame him. The man would have to be dead and six feet under to not be attracted to their resident trader. Sylvie had been blessed with gorgeous dark hair, a voluptuous body, and an exotic-looking face—all of which she used ruthlessly to her advantage. No one got better deals than she when it came to trading.

  “So, what brings you to Deepwoods?” Siobhan brought his attention gently back to her without embarrassing him.

  “Ah, hmm.” Hammon swallowed the mouthful he had and gave her a game smile. “Well, let me explain. I’m a scholar by profession, you see.”

  Actually, she didn’t. Scholars were not a profession as no one paid them for their information. In fact, to call it a profession was
the greatest oxymoron in the known world. But she had heard of families that were so wealthy that their children took on that title and studied whatever suited their fancies. Waste of time, education, and money in her opinion. Still and all, she didn’t make a habit of judging paying clients, so she made an encouraging sound and let him continue.

  “I want to study specifically the cultures of this world and the interactions each nation has with each other,” he expanded, warming up to his subject. “I think if we all understood how the other cultures worked, we could have better relationships with them, especially where trade is concerned.”

  Oh? Well, what a surprise. At least he wanted to study something sensible instead of how air was formed or some such nonsense. “How do we come in?”

  “I’ve come to you for two reasons.” He held up two fingers in illustration. “One is that I’m informed that out of all the guilds, yours tends to travel the most because of your specialties in pathfinding and escorting.”

  Thereby meaning…what exactly? “So you want us to escort you all over the four continents?”

  “Well, yes and no. I actually hoped to just stay with your guild for a time and whenever you take a job, I travel with you. It’s less cumbersome for you that way.”

  Her eyebrows rose in surprise. He wanted to live with the guild? “What’s the second reason?”

  “Of the guilds in this city, yours is the most ethnically diverse. I understand you have people from five different nationalities here.” He waited for her confirming nod before continuing. “I didn’t hear wrong, then. Good. So you see, you actually have the perfect place for me to observe right in this Hall. Your people, despite their different cultures, get along peacefully and work well together. I can learn a great deal by watching them interact and asking questions.”

  ‘Get along peacefully’ was it? That might be stretching things a tad. “So you wish to live with us.”

  “An unorthodox idea, I know,” he admitted with a wry shrug, expression bashful yet somewhat charming. “I would of course be willing to pay you for the expense of having me.”

  Ohhh? So this study of his had funding to it? Siobhan sat back in her chair and regarded him frankly, the wheels in her mind spinning. She saw something in his eyes that made her pause before giving him an immediate answer. She’d seen it before—and it made all the difference to her. Logical reasons aside, she had a feeling why he had really come.

  She could charge him some exorbitant price for the privilege of staying here, but she had a gut feeling it wouldn’t work. Her people didn’t esteem wealth. They would be polite to a paying guest but not welcoming. It would add tension in the guild, and she avoided tension like the plague.

  She had half a mind to let him stay just because she rather liked what she saw. But she wouldn’t be a guildmaster if she couldn’t somehow turn this to her advantage. Right now she didn’t need money so much as another set of useful hands. “Are you willing to work to stay here?”

  He blinked at her several times, head cocked. “Work? Well, certainly, if you prefer that. But, ah, what would you want me to do?”

  “What skills do you have?” she countered. “We’re a small guild. We can use a helping hand in almost every department.”

  It took a second for Hammon to answer her. “Well, I’ve experience in booking, trading, and research. I speak three dialects—”

  “Which ones?” she interrupted.

  “Blasden, Ellertish and Kaberrin,” he responded promptly.

  Oh? No one in the guild knew two of those dialects. It opened up trade possibilities if he chose to stay. “Good. Anything else?”

  “I’m completely literate,” he said dryly. Of course, as a scholar, he would have to be literate.

  “Good skills,” she commended. “I’d ask for your help in translating, when necessary, but we need someone to take over the books more than anything. I’m doing that right now and I frankly loathe it.”

  He smiled at her words but it didn’t do more than flash across his face. His eyes studied her intensely before he asked slowly, “You’d prefer that I work over paying you. Why?”

  “If you want the respect of my guild, you earn your bread. You don’t pay for it.”

  His expression relaxed into a soft smile and he nodded once. “I understand.”

  “Hammon, I must ask a few questions first. Your family?”

  “I’m from the southern end of Robarge. My family knows what I intend to do, and while they’re not quite sure what to think of it, they have no problem with it either.”

  She frowned slightly at his wording. ‘From the southern end?’ Wouldn’t it be easier to just name the city he was from? And why not say his family name? Siobhan smelled evasion. “I see. Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

  “Not at all. I just turned twenty-five.”

  “Oh, you’d be one of the younger members in the guild, then.” In fact, Denney was the only one younger. “Are you registered with any other guild in Robarge?”

  “Well, yes,” he admitted reluctantly. “But I’m on an extended leave of absence with them and they understand it might well be years before I come back.”

  “Do I need to notify them?” she asked. In truth, she should, as it was a guildmaster’s duty and courtesy to other guilds to do so.

  “No, it’s fine, I’ll handle it.”

  Again, she smelled evasion. “Well enough, then. As long as you promise to not start trouble, I have no problem taking you on.”

  He gave her a half-bow, face brightening into a relieved smile. “Thank you. Then I’ll take up those books, shall I?”

  “Good enough.” She’d get to the bottom of just who he was later, when he didn’t have his guard up. Digging right now for answers would make him too uncomfortable and she’d prefer not to do that. “Now, I don’t know how much you’ve been told, but here’s the basics. Deepwoods only has nine members, including yours truly. Ten now with you. As you said, we usually do escorts and the like, but we don’t pass up trade opportunities either. Sylvie’s the best in that. If you want to do a trade or bargain, I’d run it past her first. Our rooms are all upstairs, and the one at the very top and to your right is empty. Take that one. Most of your meals can be had here, if you wish, but you’re not bound to eat with us. We sometimes go out to eat as well. Clothes, weapons, and the like are your own expenses. Travel expenses are handled by the guild’s coffers. Don’t do anything to kill, maim, or bankrupt us and we’ll get along fine.”

  “If you don’t mind a question?” he waited for her encouraging motion of the hand before asking, “The numbers you and Sylvie exchanged. What do those mean?”

  “Ah, that. It’s something of a code that Sylvie and I have developed over the years. It cues me up to trouble. ‘One’ means that someone in the guild has seriously hurt someone else.”

  Hammon’s eyes were in danger of crossing. “How often does that happen?”

  “More than I care for,” she grumbled. “But one of my enforcer’s a Resken and another is a Teheranian, so I suppose fighting is inevitable. Anyway, ‘two’ means that something has happened that caused damage somewhere, damage that will cost me a pretty penny in restitution fees. ‘Three’ is a trade or business opportunity coming my direction. ‘Four’ is the unquantified. It’s not trouble, but Sylvie’s not sure if it’s good news either.”

  For some reason, this made Hammon chuckle. “I suppose I fit the definition of ‘unquantified.’ Well, thank you for the explanation, Guildmaster Maley. If it’s alright with you, I’ll go collect my bags and then return here.”

  “Go, go,” she encouraged with a wave of the hand. “But Hammon? A word of advice.”

  He paused partway out of his chair. “Yes?”

  “The easiest way into the hearts of this guild is to bring them something tasty.”

  He gave her a thankful nod. “I’ll find something suitable. How much should I bring?”

  “As much as you can,” she answered seriously. “I have
several bottomless pits that masquerade as humans.”

  With a mock-bow, he promised, “I’ll do my best. Then, if you’ll excuse me, I should be back by this evening.”

  “Alright. Send word if you need help.” She meant the words literally. No matter how unorthodox this situation might be, he was still a new member of her guild, and all the guild looked out for each other.

  He seemed to understand her sincerity as his smile grew genuine before he gave her another quick bow and left as unassumingly as he’d come.

  Before Hammon had completely left the Hall, Wolf came and sat across the table from her, snagging a strawberry and dipping it in the chocolate. The wooden chair and table creaked slightly under his weight as he leaned over the surface.

  “Oy!” she protested. “I haven’t sufficiently tested that for poison!”

  Knowing very well she was joking, he replied calmly, “You’re not dead yet. I’ll take my chances. Who was that?”

  Pulling both bowls closer to her in a defensive manner, she said, “Our newest guild member.”

  Wolf gave Hammon’s back a quick glance as he licked the chocolate off his thumb. “Don’t look like much of a fighter.”

  “Scholar,” she corrected with a wry twist of the lips.

  Her giant enforcer had the blankest expression she’d ever seen as he repeated, “Scholar.”

  “He’s going to work in the guild—” might as well get that out in the open now “—but his main purpose in staying with us is to study the different cultures and figure out how to improve trade relations between them.”

  “Hoooo.” He looked thoughtful, white-blond brows screwed upward slightly as he processed this.

  “Be warned, he’ll probably ask you the most questions.” For rather obvious reasons. As far as Siobhan could tell, Wolf was the only Resken in this entire city, and his looks sometimes invited trouble. No one could mistake him for anything else, not with that giant, powerful frame, ice-blond hair and deep blue eyes. Despite his propensity to find trouble, she thanked the stars he chose to remain with her. Wolf had become the dearest friend and brother in arms she had, and if he ever did choose to leave, it would be like losing an arm.