Deepwoods (Book 1)

by Honor Raconteur

  “No doubt.” Wolf didn’t seem the mind the impending interrogation. “Why did you agree?”

  “He said he’d do the books.”

  Wolf chuckled as he reached for another strawberry. “Now it makes sense. What do we know about him?”

  “Not enough,” she admitted, swatting at his reaching hand and missing. “But he had a good look in his eyes and he was respectful and willing to work, so I don’t think he’ll cause trouble.”

  Wolf glanced up at her face for a moment as he reached for the last plump strawberry. “I’ll keep an eye on him anyway.”

  She knew he would, no matter what she said. Wolf didn’t trust anyone the first six months they were in the guild. His caution had saved her hide more times than she cared to remember, so she didn’t argue with him. He’d come around eventually. “Will you stay out of my strawberries?!”

  Laughing, he stuck his finger in the chocolate bowl before going on his merry way.

  ӜӜӜ

  Hammon came back well before dinner, arms weighed down by various bags. Siobhan saw his approach from the second story window, where she had been freshening up a room for him. Seeing that he was struggling to hang on to everything, she called down the stairs, “Someone go help Hammon!”

  Even as she spoke, she hurried out the door and downstairs, intent on helping him herself if no one else had heard her. But as she hit the ground floor, she saw that Conli had beaten her there. Denney hovered nearby, eyes doing a toe-to-head sweep of Hammon before catching Siobhan’s eye and mouthing, That’s him?

  Siobhan nodded confirmation as she strode around the table to the door.

  “—take at least some of this from you,” Conli offered, already lifting a wicker basket out of Hammon’s hands. “How did you manage to get it all here without dropping something?”

  “Who says I didn’t?” Hammon returned with a wry smile.

  “Uh-oh.” Siobhan bit back a smile as she took in the bags. “Which one? Anything break?”

  “No, likely not, as it was the bag with all my clothes and books.”

  “Good, good.” She looked at Conli. “Did you introduce yourself?”

  “Barely.” Conli turned to Hammon and offered a hand, now that Hammon had one free. “Conli Rorona, the physician of the guild.”

  Hammon blinked at the word ‘physician’—it was a rare occupation, as most chose to be bonesetters or apothecarists—but accepted the hand readily. “Light and peace upon you, Rorona. I’m Markl Hammon, Scholar.”

  “Welcome,” Conli responded with a slight smile. “We’re glad for anyone that will take the books away from Siobhan.”

  Siobhan gave him a dirty look, which he returned with a mischievous grin. “The love I feel from you is underwhelming, Conli, thank you. Hammon, I have a room set up for you at the top of the stairs. Throw everything in there.”

  “And after you do so, come see me,” Conli directed. “It’s procedure in the guild that I examine every new member that comes in.”

  Hammon pointed a finger at his own chest, head canted in question. “I’m not ill.”

  “No, you look perfectly healthy,” Conli agreed pleasantly. “But this way, I know if you have anything that I need to be aware of, medically speaking. Like allergies to foods, or medicines that don’t work well on you. It’s best to know these things in advance.”

  “Ahh, I see. Then, I’ll come see you in a moment.”

  “Denney,” Siobhan directed, “play tour guide for him.”

  Hammon turned, just noticing the young woman standing quietly behind Conli.

  Conli gestured toward Denney, then Hammon in an inviting manner. “Hammon, this is Denney Icean. She’s our resident animal expert. Denney, Markl Hammon, our new master of finances.”

  “And language expert,” Siobhan added. “He speaks two languages no one else does.”

  “And I certainly will learn more, when I can,” Hammon agreed. He regarded the girl with obvious interest, perhaps because of her milky brown skin that didn’t belong to any particular culture. He surely wondered where she was from, but aside from a brief, “Light and peace upon you, Icean,” he didn’t say anything to her.

  Siobhan didn’t miss the way his eyes darted from Conli to Denney and back again. True, the two looked similar enough that they could be kin. They had joined Deepwoods together six years ago and to this day Siobhan was not quite sure why. Siobhan had always suspected that the girl was Conli’s daughter (with a twenty year age gap between the forty year old Conli and the twenty year old Denney, it was certainly possible), but had never felt it right to pry and satisfy her curiosity. She didn’t know their precise relationship, just that Denney never strayed far from Conli’s side.

  Denney offered him a smile. “Come with me, and I’ll show you where everything is.”

  “You’re very kind, thank you.”

  She watched them go off toward the stairs, Conli following after with the basket still in his hands.

  Strange, from the back, it looked like Conli and Hammon were kin. They both had the same tall build, fair hair, fair skin and that intellectual air about them. Though Conli was from Island Pass and Hammon from Robarge.

  With them more or less sorted, she went and tried to put the books in some sort of semi-order for Hammon to take over. Right now, they likely wouldn’t make an ounce of sense to him. They barely made sense to her. As she sat at the main table and struggled to make things add up, time more or less passed by without her notice.

  “You really keep such detailed notes on each person?” Hammon asked, his voice mixing in with the sound of footsteps against the wooden stairs.

  “Oh, I have to. I don’t dare trust my memory,” Conli responded with a half-laugh.

  “For good reason,” Denney muttered.

  Siobhan turned and smiled up at the group as they came down, pleased by the way that Hammon respected Conli’s skills. Physicians and pharmacists were not well received, although Conli’s skills with herbs and surgery made most doctors look like quacks. He’d proven over the past six years of being in the guild that he knew his trade, and knew it well. His medical expertise had opened doors for her several times.

  She opened her mouth, intending to call Hammon over, when a clatter from behind distracted her. Wolf came inside with a slightly guilty look on his face and his right arm clasped to his chest. Tran was right behind him, an evil smile of sadistic pleasure stretching from ear to ear.

  Reading the signs well enough, Siobhan just groaned. “Wolf, you broke it again?”

  “Broke what?” Beirly appeared from the back room like magic, his leather apron on and a hammer in his hand. He took in the sight of Wolf’s hand and said on a growl, “You broke the hand again?”

  “It was an accident!” Wolf protested.

  Beirly crossed his arms over his chest, bushy eyebrow raised in challenge. “Oh, do tell.”

  “He was trying to hit me and missed, so he hit the wall instead,” Tran explained, grin widening.

  Despite being a good deal shorter, Beirly managed to reach up and snag the back of Wolf’s neck, hauling him down to his own level. “That’s not an accident, you fool! How in the world do you manage to constantly break an iron hand?!”

  Siobhan, used to such a scene, simply rolled her eyes before standing and pushing away from the table. “Alright you three, hold on a moment while I introduce you to our latest member. Beirly, you can ream Wolf later. Everyone, this is Markl Hammon.”

  Hammon gave them a cautious half-bow.

  “This is Tran Amar,” Siobhan introduced.

  “Hammon-maee,” Tran greeted with a slight head bow, his three long braids swinging forward with the motion. Hammon blinked, slightly startled as he was forced to look up to meet the man’s dark eyes. Siobhan had reacted the same way upon first meeting Tran. Between his corded musculature, imposing height, and the array of scars that mottled his pitch black skin, he looked like a thug, really. No one would suspect that a highly intelligent mind lay benea
th that rough exterior.

  “Beirly Kierkegaard.”

  “Hammon the scholar, how do!” Beirly greeted in that slightly rough, deep voice he had, bushy red beard quivering with energy. He clasped arms with the man, and judging from the slight wince on Hammon’s face, a mite too strongly.

  “Light and peace upon you,” Hammon returned. He lost some of his caution under the enthusiastic greeting.

  Without waiting for questions, Beirly volunteered, “I hail from Widstoe originally, but I’ve lived here in Goldschmidt for nearly a decade and was one of the founding members for Deepwoods. Siobhan, Grae and I are childhood friends, you could say. As far as I know, there’s no dwarvish blood in me.” He said this with a half-chuckle as people usually assumed he had a dwarf ancestor somewhere in the family tree. With his short but stout build, he certainly looked the part. “I’m the fixer in the guild.”

  “Fixer?” Hammon parroted.

  “Blacksmithing, carpentry, leatherworking—if it requires tools, I’m your man. I keep everything in repair around here, and when we’re traveling I’m responsible for fixing anything that breaks.” Pointing at Wolf’s iron hand, he said proudly, “That’s a bit of my handiwork right there. I fixed it up for him when he first joined us.”

  “It’s good for fighting and working,” Wolf added with a slight smile. “But not for loving.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Hammon admitted, torn between staring at the hand or at Beirly.

  “Wolf will let you get a good look later, won’t you, Wolf?” The question was clearly rhetorical as Beirly didn’t pause before continuing, “He likes to show it off.”

  “Not as much as you do,” Wolf retorted with a snort.

  “And finally, Erik Wolfinsky,” Siobhan finished. “We all call him Wolf, though.”

  “You’re welcome to as well,” Wolf offered him although his tone was neutral. “Forgive me if I don’t shake hands.”

  “Quite understandable,” Hammon assured him with his eyes locked on the broken iron hand.

  Beirly blew out an irritated breath. “Alright,” he directed Wolf, “come on back, I’ll fix it before dinner.”

  “Hurry,” Siobhan advised. “I’m assured it’ll be on the table soon. Hammon, if you’ll follow me, I’ll try to explain my insane book-keeping method to you so you can take over.”

  “Oh, yes, certainly,” he agreed.

  As the boys tromped back into Beirly’s shop, she led Hammon to the table and ran him through the books. He was more or less able to grasp what she wanted done the first time through, which Siobhan appreciated. So he truly did have the mind to be a scholar, eh? Seeing his intelligence at work pleased her.

  They wrapped it up when their cook started setting dinner on the table. People filtered in from every direction—barring Sylvie, who had stepped out for an errand—and she waited until they were all gathered before snagging Hammon by the elbow, preventing him from sitting down. “I’ll introduce you to the last two. This is Fei Man Lei, one of our enforcers.”

  Hammon perked up slightly meeting him, not unexpectedly. Hailing from the mountains of Saoleord, Fei fit the description of his people to the letter: slick black hair, pale skin, slanted eyes, small stature and the fighting prowess of a tiger. The Saoleorans didn’t normally descend from the mountains, so finding one living here was a rare opportunity for the scholar. “Light and peace upon you, Man Lei.”

  Fei rose from his chair long enough to clasp hands with the man but didn’t do more than say, “Hammon-jia.”

  Siobhan sighed at his antisocial tendencies and moved on. “And Grae Masson, our Pathmaker.”

  Grae leaned over the table long enough to briefly clasp arms with Hammon before quickly retreating back to his seat. She could tell Hammon wanted to speak with him and silently wished the scholar luck. She’d known Grae since they were teenagers and the man had always been shy and slow to warm up to people. Even as he sat there, he ducked his head to hide behind his bangs, not comfortable with a stranger’s attention.

  “Well, Hammon, that’s everyone.” Siobhan encouraged him to take a seat by nudging him in the middle of his back. “I’m told dinner’s coming soon, so let’s sit.”

  “Oh! Wait.” Hammon turned back toward the stairs and grabbed his wicker basket, which he set with a slight clatter on the table. “I wish exaltations and blessings upon this house, family, and its companions. I brought a gift with me, as thanks for welcoming me into the guild. I wasn’t sure of everyone’s tastes, so bought a little of everything. There’s sweet rolls in here,” as he spoke he took things out and spread them over the table, “four bottles of apple brandy, and some white goat’s cheese for the flatbread.”

  Siobhan silently applauded his choices. Neither Denney nor Tran cared much for meat, preferring fruits and bread instead, so his choices meant that everyone could enjoy the food equally. Lucky guess on his part? Or did he know enough about the cultures in this guild to know that might be the case? She caught his eye and gave him a nod of approval, which made him wink back at her.

  As her guildmates good-naturedly passed the treats about, their cook, Sara, brought out several plates of spicy curry and rice, which everyone greeted with happy faces. Thick, spicy scents filled the air and set her mouth to watering. They ate with gusto for several minutes, the conversation overlapping and sometimes loud, as usual. Hammon didn’t say much as he ate, just watched with slightly wide eyes. Wasn’t used to this sort of scene, eh? Hopefully he’d get used to it quickly. Siobhan’s guild could not be described as quiet.

  Half of the food had been consumed when Wolf leaned closer and asked in a low rumble, “Where did Sylvie get off to?”

  “I’m not sure,” Siobhan admitted, turning in her seat to look thoughtfully at the front door. “She said she had a quick errand to run, but I expected her back by now.”

  “Sunset’s come and gone,” Wolf said, forehead furrowing in worry. “The streets are sure to be dark.”

  Looking around, Siobhan saw that Tran’s plate was empty and she caught the man’s eye. “Tran, done? Go look for Sylvie, then.”

  “Vahh.” As he pushed back from the table, the front door clicked open.

  Siobhan turned around again, this time relieved to see the brunette striding through the door. “Sylvie!”

  “Sorry,” she said, pausing long enough to close and lock the door behind her.

  “Sylvie, we’ve talked about this.” Wolf did not look pleased as he pushed back from the table to look her dead in the eye. “You’re not to go out alone this late.”

  Sylvie held up both hands in a placating gesture. “I know, I know. I didn’t expect to be gone so long. But don’t worry, I had an escort back.”

  At the other end of the table, Hammon whispered, “Problem?”

  Beirly answered in an equally low tone, “None of the girls are allowed out late without an escort. We’ve run into problems when they do. I guess it’s just part and parcel of being beautiful, eh, Denney?”

  “Like we ask to be harassed,” Denney grumbled. “Anyway, if we do need to go out, one of the men is expected to go with us. Just to avoid trouble.”

  “Ah.”

  Siobhan gratefully let them handle the explanation as she waited for Sylvie to cross to her. “So?”

  “I was stopped by a messenger from Blackstone,” she responded simply and held out a folded sheet of paper that had been sealed with black wax, the crest of the main guild of the city impressed into it. “Seems urgent.”

  Siobhan broke the seal with a quick twist of her fingers before unfolding the paper. Deepwoods had strong ties to Blackstone, the master guild of Goldschmidt, and often took on minor jobs for them. To be given a message like this wasn’t unusual. To get it this late in the day, however, spoke of impending trouble. She scanned through the letter quickly and unease coiled into a cold lump in her stomach.

  “Listen up,” she called to the table, not taking her eyes from the letter. A hush instantly descended. “Th
is came directly from Guildmaster Darrens. His daughter Lirah has gone missing.”

  “Missing?!” several people repeated in shock.

  “She apparently was going to Sateren to negotiate something for her father but she never got there. He’s verified that she went through Island Pass so she at least got to Wynngaard, but it’s now three days past when she was meant to arrive and there’s no sign of her.” She raised her head and looked around the table, stating what everyone had already guessed. “He’s asked us to go after her.”

  Hammon raised a finger. “Ah, can I ask why? As governor of this city, Blackstone can employ more than just this guild to go looking for her.”

  “Grae is the only Pathfinder in Goldschmidt,” Siobhan explained succinctly. “We can get there faster than almost anyone else. Also, Darrens is aware that I have two people who are very familiar with Wynngaard.”

  “In other words, you’re the perfect rescue team for this situation,” Hammon summed up with an understanding nod. “I see.”

  “I don’t think we’re the only ones he’ll send,” Sylvie put in, leaning over the table to snag a glass of apple brandy. “I think we’re the ones he’s sending first.”

  “Likely,” Fei noted. “Siobhan-ajie? Leave at first light?”

  “Yes. Pack and prepare tonight. Hammon, take only what you’ll need for six days or so. Sylvie, Fei, I leave the food up to you. Beirly, how’s our cart?”

  “I just replaced the wheels but I’ll double-check everything tonight,” he promised.

  She turned to Conli, a dozen what-if scenarios flashing through her mind as she tried to anticipate what they might need. “Conli, it’s likely people are hurt.”

  “I’ll bring everything we could possibly need,” he promised. “Master Hammon? If I could enlist your help? Some of the equipment I want to bring is awkward to carry down those stairs.”

  Hammon blinked, surprised to be asked, but agreed readily. “Of course.”