Deepwoods (Book 1)

by Honor Raconteur

  She didn’t need to give exact orders to everyone, as they had been through similar situations before, so she simply rapped her knuckles on the table in an obvious signal. “Move, people.”

  They were up before dawn, everyone bringing down bags of supplies and equipment, loading it all into the cart pulled by their faithful reinmal. This far north of Robarge, a reinmal was not only an odd choice for pulling a cart but a rare sight entirely. Horses and mesans were the norm here. The breed was used more in Wolf’s area of the world as they were made for the winter cold. Siobhan thought of them as an odd cross between a deer and a camel—they had the narrow legs, facial structure and coat of the deer but the robust size and color of the camel. If not for the fact their backs were more flat instead of humped, most people would probably mistake a reinmal for a camel.

  Denney, hooked the reinmal to the cart while everyone loaded bags and boxes into it. Grae, always the one that worried about how much weight went into the cart, sat in the driver’s seat and oversaw the packing. Siobhan packed for her and Sylvie both as she had sent the other woman to Blackstone to get more information about the party they were pursuing. She wanted an itinerary and a list of who was missing at the very least before they went hunting.

  By the time she made it out of the building, the sun had just started to flirt with the rooftops and the air had gone from severely cold to just cold. She hugged the jacket’s collar up around her ears a little more, feeling the bite at the exposed skin of her face. What a terrible time of the year to have to go searching for anyone. Winter was quickly approaching here, and in Wynngaard, it’d likely already arrived. Unless they wanted to search for people in three feet of snow, they’d best find the missing travelers quickly.

  Hammon appeared at her side, cheeks rosy from the cold. “Guildmaster Maley. Anything I can help with?”

  She’d passed him several times on the stairs as he helped carry things down. He seemed intent on being supportive, which was not a habit she wanted to dissuade. “Not a thing. I think we’re more or less ready to go.”

  Grae must have heard her as he lifted his head and complained, “There’s too much weight on the cart!”

  “You always say that,” Siobhan returned with a roll of the eyes.

  “That’s because it’s always true,” he grumbled. “You’re not the one that has to carry the cart!”

  “It’ll lighten up in a day once we eat some of the food,” she soothed, as she always did.

  He gave her a long, searching look. “You’re really not going to let me take anything off, are you?”

  She met his eyes squarely. “Grae, I don’t know what we’re walking into. I don’t know what equipment we might or might not need. I’d rather take shorter hops and be an hour or two delayed in the journey than to abandon something here that we might desperately need once we find them.”

  Seeing her point, he raised both hands in surrender and bent back to the cart, securing everything with a rope net.

  Hammon lowered his voice as he asked, “Is pathfinding that hard? He seems legitimately worried about the weight.”

  “Hard isn’t the word,” she corrected. “Complicated is a better way to put it. But he’s not going to be able to do any pathfinding until we’re well clear of Goldschmidt. Why don’t you ask him how it works as we travel through the city?”

  He blinked at her. “Would he mind?”

  She snorted. “No. But I warn you, the last time someone asked him that question, he spent three weeks explaining the answer. And that was the short version.”

  Far from being dissuaded, Hammon’s brown eyes shone with anticipation. “Excellent. I’ll ask. I’ve always wanted to know the specifics of how pathfinding works, but I rarely encounter a Pathfinder willing to explain it all.”

  Truly a scholar, this man. Siobhan couldn’t be more pleased with his attitude. It killed multiple birds with one stone: it would help forge a friendship between Pathfinder and scholar, keep the scholar happily occupied as they traveled, and more importantly, keep Grae occupied. Her childhood friend had a bad habit of worrying about unnecessary things unless he had a mental task to chew on.

  She stepped back into the thick of things, calling out a checklist of items and equipment to people, getting verbal assurances as she did. She’d done this so many times over the years that she only had half her mind on the task, and she let her eyes rove over the group, verifying for herself they were all ready. Wolf and Tran already had their leather armor on, winter coats and weapons strapped in place. Tran kept toying with the twin short swords strapped behind his waist, sliding them an inch out of the sheath and back in again in a bored fidget as he waited for them to move out. The man had the patience of a fruit fly most of the time. Wolf stood behind everyone else, standing there like an immovable stone statue, eyes making the same visual check she was.

  Conli already sat on top of the wagon next to Beirly, stifling a yawn behind his hand. He’d never been the best morning person. He had so many layers of shirts and coats on that he looked as round as a ball. Siobhan had a mischievous urge to push him off the cart and see if she could roll him down the street. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the time for any playful wrestling, so she squashed the impulse. Fei, who hated mornings on general principle, had squirreled himself away in a cranny of the cart and had already fallen asleep. She couldn’t see anything more than the tip of his ponytail trailing out from the edge of his collar. For his sake, she hoped he hadn’t forgotten anything as she wasn’t about to wake him up to ask.

  Denney already had their dogs Pyper and Pete out. Pyper’s pure black coat and Pete’s mix of black and silver shone in the cold and they moved with an extra bounce in their step. But then, these dogs were bred for cold weather—their long, thick coats, padded feet and flopped ears had all been designed to protect them from the cold. Both dogs made the rounds and checked in with everyone, pushing their noses into welcoming hands in a greeting before moving on. At some point, they must have met Hammon as they didn’t do anything but give him an extra curious nudge and a wag of the tail. Hammon, proving to be a man that knew how to charm people, knelt and gave both colliers an extra scratch behind the ears and a word of praise. Denney beamed at him. Siobhan had bought the colliers for the guild three years ago—dogs were excellent guards and traveling companions in their profession—but the whole guild knew that they were Denney’s babies. Hammon had just won the girl over.

  Seeing that they were ready, she retreated back to the Hall long enough to lock the doors and pocket the key before waving Beirly forward. “Go.”

  With a click of the tongue and a soft slap of the reins, the cart rumbled into motion. It went slow enough that they all kept up at a walking pace without trouble. The dogs, in fact, sprinted a short distance ahead, automatically scouting their road, before running back to the cart again. They’d steady out as they traveled, but would likely do this dozens of times before they left the city.

  At this hour of the morning the city still lay half-asleep. Goldschmidt had become one of the major cities of Robarge over the past two decades, but even it didn’t stay up all hours of the day. The brick and mortar buildings they passed all had their wooden shutters closed against the chill, the doors locked, and not a shred of light could be seen from the inside. A few businesses had opened their doors by the time they left the guild quarter and entered the main thoroughfare—mostly bakers and the like. Siobhan could tell by the sweet smell of bread baking that floated through the air. But they’d all munched on something as they’d packed this morning, and no one felt particularly tempted to stop for another breakfast.

  As they walked, she heard Hammon join Grae on the back of the wagon, settling in with a slight squeak as the springs took his weight. “Masson, I wonder if I can ask a few questions?”

  “Grae is fine,” the Pathfinder corrected in his usual soft tone. “And by all means. We like to talk as we travel.”

  “Excellent. I thank you for the offer of informality. I wo
nder if you can explain pathfinding to me? I know very little about it.”

  Siobhan cast a glance back over her shoulder. She walked to the side of the wagon, so couldn’t see Hammon’s face, but she could see Grae’s. He had noticeably perked up at Hammon’s frank interest. Instead of sitting folded in on himself, he’d stretched his lean frame out, blue eyes alert and focused instead of hiding behind his dark brown bangs. Here we go, she thought to herself with a wry smile.

  “Yes, certainly.” Grae answered with noticeable animation. “I’m not sure how familiar you are, so I’ll start with the basics. Pathfinding is actually an erroneous term in some respects. It’s more like Pathmaking. People who possess the ability to form paths can, with the right know-how, build a path that will take you over land. The ability gives you a way to travel significant distances within a few short strides, as you know, but there’s many different aspects in making a path.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, there’s certain factors that I must calculate before I can determine just how far we can travel. The condition of the land, for instance. The more natural power that resides in the land, the farther we can go on the path. Deserts are impossible to cross by pathfinding because of this. So, for that matter, are cities.”

  Over the sound of the wheels on the cobblestone came the scritch scritch of a pen on paper. Siobhan glanced back again, looking for the source, and nearly stumbled over her own feet when she found it. Hammon was actually taking notes? Grae was smiling from ear to ear, enthusiastic that someone took him seriously enough to record what he said.

  She caught Beirly’s eye, cocking her head to indicate the two happily talking on the back of the cart. The other man bit his lip to keep from laughing before mouthing carefully, ‘There will be no livin’ with Grae after this.’

  Siobhan nodded in wry agreement.

  “So assume that you have land under you that has inherent power,” Hammon prompted, still scribbling away in the leather-bound book in his hands. “What other factors are there?”

  “I need strong sunlight, as the power of the sun affects pathfinding as well. I also need water from a pure source, which I drop at certain intervals to open the path. But the hardest part is gathering enough stones to create the stepping stones. You see, it’s not just finding a path in the soil—I have to create large stepping stones that tap into the land’s power. Most places already have several paths available because people cross them so often, although only another Pathfinder can activate them. But if we’re in an underpopulated area, I have to gather enough stones to make the stepping stones myself. Sometimes, too, the paths that are there aren’t large enough to carry a party this size.”

  “Right picky he is about the stones, too,” Beirly added over his shoulder. “We all pitch in and help him, but it’s still sometimes a full day’s work to make him happy.”

  “Would you rather be suddenly dropped in the middle of a swamp?” Grae shot back with false mildness. “Or the ocean? If a path isn’t made correctly, that’s what happens.”

  “Was I complaining?” Beirly retorted without looking back. “Just commentin’ is all.”

  Grae grunted a “Ha!” under his breath. “Anyway, the more weight and people that I have to make a path for, the more complicated the pattern is for the stepping stones.”

  “Ahhh,” Hammon said in understanding. “Is that why you were so concerned earlier about how much weight is in the cart?”

  “I’m glad someone understands,” Grae said sourly. “We always hover right between the balance of ten to twenty chuls of weight. With this amount of people, we should be fine at ten chuls. But then Siobhan insists on bringing the cart along, which adds two chuls all by itself, never mind factoring in Kit—”

  “Kit?” Hammon interrupted in confusion.

  “The reinmal,” Beirly answered, still not looking away from the road ahead of him. “His name is Kit.”

  “Ah. Sorry, Grae, do continue.”

  “Well, Kit is about a chul and a half because of his size. So we pass over ten chuls and therefore have to use the snowflake pattern, which is much more complex than the rose pattern, and it takes more energy for me to use—”

  Siobhan tuned him out at that point as she had heard this complaint before. Multiple times. In fact, she could probably give the lecture word for word from here on out. Instead she shortened her stride and fell into step with Wolf, who was guarding the rear. “Sylvie was supposed to meet up with us by now.”

  Wolf gave a grunt, eyes narrowed against the morning sun as he looked ahead. “I don’t see her. Want me to go ahead and see if she’s found trouble?”

  “Well, now, that depends.” Siobhan glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “How long has it been since you picked a fight with anyone from Blackstone? And how likely is it that they’re holding a grudge over it?”

  “It’s been at least a week,” Wolf defended himself mildly, putting a wounded hand over his heart. The gesture might have gone over better if it wasn’t his steel hand. He’d broken many a man’s bones because of that hand. “And I didn’t start it.”

  She raised her eyes to the heavens and asked, not for the first time, why it was that she had two fight-loving idiots as enforcers. Siobhan honestly couldn’t decide most days who was worse, Wolf or Tran. “Alright, you’re out,” she informed him before lengthening her stride and catching up with Tran who scouted a little ahead of the group. Wolf, obviously not minding, chuckled in a low rumble behind her.

  Tran turned his head to answer her question before she could even give voice to it. “It’s been a solid month, and no, I paid for his medical bills. No grudge there.”

  Except perhaps wounded pride. But it was good enough to Siobhan’s mind. She wouldn’t have to wake up a grumpy Fei to go fetch Sylvie. “Then go ahead. She might just be delayed weaseling more information out of someone, but the last time she went to Blackstone they tried to recruit her, and I don’t want her delayed uselessly.”

  Tran gave a nod and sloppy salute with two fingers before he stretched out his legs and started running at a ground-eating lope. Siobhan watched him go in admiration, as she always did. Watching him run was like seeing poetry in motion. But all Teheranians moved like that. Out of all the cultures of the four continents, only they did not believe in riding animals but in using their own feet to get them wherever they wanted to go. The only exception to that seemed to be boats. (Probably because no one wanted to swim in the leech infested waters of Teherani.)

  As they walked down the main road, the morning traffic started to pick up so that they weren’t the only ones on the street. Siobhan hugged the side of the cart more to avoid the traffic going the other direction, keeping one hand on the wooden side as she tried to plan ahead. Once they reached the outskirts of town, they’d be able to use one of the paths that Grae already had built there. It would let them cross the hundred spans to the next city of Converse in one jump. Then they would hit their first delay, as crossing the man-made bridge that connected to Island Pass would be impossible with pathfinding. They’d have to travel as everyone else did, which would take a solid two days to do. But at that point, they would reach Quigg, the first city that led into Wynngaard.

  And from that point on, she had no idea what they would do.

  Darrens could confirm that his daughter made it to Island Pass. But after the island, there was another bridge that connected to Wynngaard’s shores. Many travelers had not made it across that bridge because of the high tides. Lirah and her companions might be dead already, swept over into the ocean and forever lost. But if they could confirm that she had reached Quigg, then it opened up whole new sets of possibilities. She should have traveled due north from Quigg to Sateren, but Siobhan couldn’t be sure of that until she reached Quigg and asked around.

  Over the low side of the cart, Siobhan caught Denney’s eye and asked, “What do you think happened? Traveling to Sateren from here is a bit risky to the unwary, but it’s not that dangerous a trip.�
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  “Especially for her,” Denney agreed. “Like as not, she had quite the escort with her, being Darrens’ daughter and all. There’s no the bandits in that area I know of, and I can’t imagine slavers willing to take on Blackstone enough to try to sell the girl.”

  It would be suicide if they did. Darrens had not reached the seat of power he had without being ruthless against his enemies. “So, what does that leave us? Sickness?”

  “Possible,” Denney said, although the way she frowned suggested she didn’t think it likely. “I can’t imagine the terrain is responsible for any delays. It’s mostly farmlands, small villages, and a few foothills in that area. Honestly, I can only think of one real possibility.” Denney looked distinctly uneasy as she said slowly, “That she actually did make it to Sateren.”

  Siobhan felt a cold chill go down her spine that had nothing to do with the outside temperature as she understood what Denney meant. “She went to negotiate with Iron Dragain Guild. You think they’d double-cross Blackstone?”

  “They’d best have a very good reason for doing so,” Denney responded grimly. “Let’s hope I’m wrong. It’s just a dark theory that occurred to me last night.”

  “I hope it’s just you being paranoid and suspicious.”

  “Me too.” Denney turned her eyes northward in the direction of Sateren as she repeated softly, “Me too.”

  ӜӜӜ

  Sylvie and Tran waited for them at the eastern gate, not looking at all worried or hassled, although Sylvie kept rubbing her arms against the cold. As soon as they came abreast of them, Tran took up his usual position at the front of the group and Sylvie fell into step with Siobhan.

  “So?” Siobhan prompted.

  “I have a copy of their itinerary but it’s not anything unexpected. They were planning to travel straight to Sateren, no stops, and stay there for two weeks before coming back. She had an escort of fifteen people, three of them very experienced with Wynngaard, and the rest known for their fighting abilities. I recognized some of the names because Tran and Wolf have both tussled with them before. Siobhan, this isn’t looking good. With an escort like hers, and the way that she was supplied for the trip, she shouldn’t have run into any trouble she couldn’t handle.”