He chose to guard the back of the caravan, as that way he could see more problems as they came, and it took a while for him to realize that there was something going on at the foot of the path. Frowning, he came around, lengthening his stride so that he quickly came to where Grae and the caravan boss, Callie, stood.
“What’s the holdup?”
Callie was a tiny woman, whipcord hard with muscle, hair frizzy and kept up on the top of her head in a messy bun. She moved in sharp, jerky gestures that always made Erik think that she was about a second away from exploding into a sprint. At his question, she jerked her chin in an aggravated motion toward Grae. “This young whelp tells me I have to split the wagons in half.”
“There’s too much weight,” Grae said with a helpless shrug of his hands. “If we try to go all at once, the path will fail, and that’s never pretty when it happens.”
Erik didn’t know what would happen if the path failed while they were on it. He didn’t want to know, either. Going by path made him a little nervous as it was. “How much overweight are we?”
“At least two wagons. I’d feel better if we split the caravan in half though.”
He knew why the caravan boss wasn’t happy about this. It would take a half hour to get through the path at least, which meant that both halves of her train would be not as well protected for a full hour before they could get them back in the same place. Rocking back on his heels, Erik thought about it for a moment. “Grae, leave two of the wagons with me. I’ll take care of them. Go ahead with the rest.”
“Leave just you and two of my drivers?” Callie protested.
Grinning at her, he challenged, “You think someone can get past me?”
Pursing her lips, Callie looked him over from head to toe, eyes especially lingering over his new iron hand that Beirly had finished for him last week. “I’d like to see the fool who’d try to take you on. I suppose the rest of us are enough to protect the other four until you catch up.”
That was his thought exactly. He glanced at Siobhan. She had been quiet during this exchange, watching how it panned out. From the mulish set of her jaw, Erik could tell she was less than pleased with this plan, but they really didn’t have another option. Grae couldn’t very well stop and build another path that would take the whole caravan.
They organized who would stay and who would go. Grae activated the path and took the others ahead, the path making a blue, shimmery pattern in the air like a heat wave over a desert land. Erik watched, fascinated, as he had never seen a path activated from the outside before. It was rather pretty, in a strange, alien way.
With them gone, he turned his mind to more practical things and did a slow rotation around the wagons, looking for potential trouble. On his second patrol around them, one of the drivers, still sitting up on his bench, asked, “Don’t think I caught your name.”
Erik glanced up at him. The man looked seasoned, and hard, like leather that had been abandoned in the sun too long. “Erik Wolfinsky. What’s yours?”
“Ayan. Rob Ayan. You look Wynngaardian, am I right? Thought so. How’d you end up here?”
“It’s quite the story,” Erik responded, not really feeling like getting into it or explaining everything to a relative stranger.
“I bet.” Ayan seemed to realize he wouldn’t get that full story, as he let it lie. “I got that we needed to split, but why?”
“Too much weight, is what Grae said.”
Growling, Ayan spat over the side of the wagon. “I told Callie not to pick up all those glass jars. I know they sell for a pretty penny over there, but they’re as heavy as two bulls. If we’d left those behind, we’d have been at the right weight. Say, if we’re having trouble here, you think we’ll have this problem again outside of Quigg?”
A question that hadn’t occurred to him yet, but Erik thought that Grae had built the same type of path outside of Quigg as he had here. So yes, they might well run into this problem again. Only it would be more dangerous outside of Quigg. That was a city that didn’t have a ruling guild over it, so there were no laws enforced at all. Brevik wasn’t nearly as dangerous by comparison. At least, by his memories they weren’t. But he’d been through Quigg fairly recently and that…was not a good city. “I hope not. I don’t know what type of path he built over there.”
“I’d take it as a kindness if you’d ask. Either way, we’ll have to make do, but I’d like a little warning.”
Erik mentally seconded that. He’d also like some warning.
Grae came back before trouble could find them, and Erik loaded up on one of the benches so that they could go through. He was relieved to find on the other side that no one had attacked the first part of the caravan while he was away from it. Callie and Siobhan were equally relieved, although for entirely different reasons.
With the group back together, they fell back into formation and passed through Converse, then arrived on the Grey Bridges. Erik had only been on these once, when he was taken from Wynngaardian soil to Robarge. They were as wide and impressive as last time, not a thing having changed in the past six years. Even though the bridges were wide enough that eight wagons could travel side by side, they stayed in a single line formation, clattering across on the grey stone. He also stayed in the very back, not wanting something to sneak up behind them.
For two days they traveled over the bridges, passing other caravans heading the opposite direction. No one tried to give them trouble, and they didn’t offer any, so it was a peaceful trip. Erik learned more about his fellow traveling companions as they traded stories and jokes back and forth. It was, all in all, a far better experience than the last time he’d travelled across the bridges. In fact, it was all smooth sailing right up until they reached Quigg. That was when their luck ran out.
One of the gate guards, who managed the traffic coming off of the Grey Bridges, recognized him. Granted, Erik was the type of man to stand out. Never mind his height, the missing hand alone would stick in people’s minds. So when he tried to walk off the bridge and into Quigg’s city limits, he was abruptly checked with a spear across his chest.
“Wait a minute,” the guard growled at him. He was a foot shorter, shoulders and arms impressively wide with muscle. Erik sized him up and realized quickly that this was not a man he would take lightly in combat. “I know you. You came through here two months ago as a slave.”
Erik glanced up and found that the caravan had kept going, not realizing he was caught and detained. It might be some time before someone realized that there was a problem and then even longer to figure out where he had disappeared to. Groaning to himself, he tried to explain, “I was, yes. I was bought and freed by a guildmaster from Robarge. I have my guild crest, if you want to see it?”
“Robarge,” the man said dubiously. “I don’t care what you are registered there as. Here, in Wynngaard, you are a slave. The records will say as much. You’ll have to follow me down to holding.”
He cursed a blue streak in his head. This was why Quigg was not a good city. The only law they recognized was the law of gravity. Everything else was up to interpretation. Erik knew good and well why the guard wouldn’t even try to see him as something other than a slave—a sizeable reward came from capturing escaped slaves. Unless Siobhan could miraculously prove that he belonged to her, he would be labeled as an escapee and resold.
Panicked at the thought, he did the only thing he could do. He raised his head and bellowed at the top of his lungs, “SIOBHAN!”
The guard jumped at having that yelled right in his ear. “Myrkr! What are you yelling for!”
Erik ignored him, eyes peeled toward the direction the caravan had disappeared to. It took a minute, but both Siobhan and Beirly appeared from the crowd of people, pushing their way roughly to him. Siobhan’s eyes darted between him and the guard, taking in the spear still pointed at his chest, and her brows snapped together, a dark thundercloud crossing over her face. Well, it didn’t take her long to put the pieces together.
&nb
sp; Nearly stomping, she marched directly to him, grabbed the spear, and yanked it away from him, throwing the guard off balance. Taking advantage, she shoved it toward him, and he fell back a step, giving her enough space to stand between him and Erik. “What is going on here?” she demanded of the guard. “Why do you detain my guildsman?”
The guard pointed a self-righteous finger at him. “This man is a slave, I recognize him—”
“He was a slave, I bought him, he’s now an enforcer in my guild,” Siobhan snapped.
Erik looked down at her in astonishment. It had been years since anyone was so angry and defensive on his behalf. He could swear that the look in her eyes alone was enough to turn a man into stone.
The guard drew himself up, slamming the butt of his spear against the ground. A smirk was tugging at his lips as he said to her, “Unless you can somehow prove that, this man will come with me.”
Siobhan tapped her fingers against her upper arm, eyes narrowed to a lethal degree. Then she said, “Fine.” The word was not an agreement.
Fine? Erik blinked at her. She could prove that? How?
From her vest pocket, she drew out a leather wallet, which held several folded pieces of paper. Erik recognized one of them as the map she had of Wynngaard. Shuffling through the pile, she found the one she wanted, unfolded it with a snap, then held it up in the air so the guard could read it. “Bill of sale.”
The guard’s smirk drooped and his jaw tightened in aggravation. Any other documentation he would have been able to argue against, as one city was not liable to hold true to another city’s laws. But a bill of sale was universal and no one would dare to discount it. The only thing that every city and continent respected was trade. She had pulled out the one thing the guard could do nothing about. Erik grinned in appreciation.
Satisfied she had made her point, Siobhan folded it and tucked it away again. Then she stepped directly into the man’s space, her nose practically touching his. In a tone of pure menace, she breathed, “We won’t have this discussion again. Will we. Because no one here will make this mistake again.”
Not once before had Erik ever found Siobhan threatening, but a chill raced up his spine in that moment. He made a mental note to never, ever cross her.
“My apologies,” the guard gritted out, more angry than cowed.
“Good enough.” Grabbing Erik’s hand, she collected Beirly with nothing more than a jerk of the head, then spun on a heel and dove onto the main street with a quick stride.
Seeing that she was in no mood to talk, Erik wisely directed his questions to Beirly, who was struggling to keep up with them. “She kept my bill of sale on her?”
“Takes a while to get a man’s name cleared after he’s been black listed,” Beirly explained, puffing slightly. “She was worried something like this would happen at Island Pass, but none of us expected it here.”
Made sense. Usually if a man could go through Island Pass, he didn’t get any questions at the next city. They were much more strict than anyone else about who went through their territory.
“Shi, slow down,” Beirly pleaded.
Siobhan slowed her steps an nth degree. “The gall of that man, thinking he could take Wolf and resell him! I’m going to hunt down his guildmaster and have a good talk with the man on the way back. Otherwise, after Wolf’s home, he won’t be able to leave Reske at all without worrying about this.”
Oh. He hadn’t thought of that, but yes, he would land in this situation again unless it was straightened out now. Only he wouldn’t be so handily rescued next time because Siobhan wouldn’t be with him and no one would have proof he was a free man.
Grae had taken charge of the caravan, while Siobhan dealt with matters, and had led them to an inn up ahead. They met up with them, the drivers still dealing with unhitching their teams and settling them into the stable yard for the night. Even though Erik had felt his heart drop out of his stomach because of the whole situation, it hadn’t actually taken more than five minutes and most of the caravan didn’t seem to even be aware that something had gone on.
He kept his mouth shut as they went through the motions of settling into the inn for the night. Thanks to Siobhan’s foresight, they were booked into a nicer inn on the north side of town with enough rooms that no one had to share unless they wanted to. In fact, the group took the whole second floor for themselves.
Siobhan stopped just long enough to make sure that everyone was settled, then she marched right back out. Worried about her going around alone at this late point of the day, Erik automatically followed her. She seemed to take no real notice of him as she weaved through the streets, heading back toward the main gates they had left only an hour before. When she arrived, she cracked her knuckles, like she was preparing for a good fistfight. She rolled her head back and forth on her neck, too. Erik eyed this body language with the beginnings of trepidation. She wasn’t going to go in there and start a brawl, was she?
To his relief, she did not actually go to the gates, but instead headed directly into a building nearby. He glanced at the sign hanging over the open doorway. City Administration Office? Siobhan did not pause in the doorway but strode straight in.
The place was short, short enough he could swear his hair brushed the ceiling. It was a single room with two counters lining forming an L-shape and shelves upon shelves lining the walls. Rolled papers and ledgers were shoved inside in every possible direction, and Erik was convinced there was little in the way of organization in this place. No one could find something the way this place was managed.
“I’m Siobhan Maley, Guildmaster of Deepwoods from Goldschmidt,” Siobhan announced to the room in general. The two bored clerks at the counter paused in their conversation and looked up at this greeting. “I need to register a free man.”
Erik’s head snapped around and he stared down at her in astonishment. She was registering him as a free man?! Hadn’t she just said that she was going to deal with this on her way back? Why the sudden urgency?
One of the clerks raised a hand and waved her over. “Guildmaster,” his voice sounded like a bullfrog’s, “please give me the specifics. You have a man that was a slave and now needs to be registered as free?” The way he asked this suggested that she was insane for doing so.
“That’s correct.” Siobhan set her feet shoulder-length apart and met him squarely in the eyes. “You have a procedure for doing that, don’t you?”
“Ah, well, yes.” The clerk looked at his coworker, who seemed just as baffled by this. Erik knew why—slaves were a pricey and important commodity here in Quigg. The idea of setting one free was nigh unheard of. Erik was astonished there was a way to register a free man in this city to begin with. Clearing his throat, he went back to a more professional tone. “You have a bill of sale for this individual?”
Siobhan pulled it out of her wallet and handed it over.
His eyebrows arched as his eyes skimmed over it. “You bought this man in Robarge?”
“I did.”
“Then why register him here?”
“Because I want him to have the freedom to travel if he so wishes to.”
It was in that moment that Erik experienced an epiphany of sorts. Back in Converse, when he ate with her for the first time, Siobhan had told him that eating with him made them friends. He hadn’t believed her. Or maybe he had, but what she said hadn’t sunk in. But at this moment, he realized she had meant every word. To Siobhan, the two of them were friends. He was as dear to her as Beirly or Grae and she would do whatever it took to defend him.
Even in the future, the actions she took now would help defend him.
Tears pricked his eyes. Half the time he’d known this woman, he’d thought her crazy. Or whimsical. Or reckless. But none of that was true. Siobhan just had a different standard than the rest of the world. To her, the people around her were the first priority. Always. Everything else was second to that.
The clerk, with open misgivings, pulled out a clean sheet from underneath the
counter. “We can register him here for you. Your full name and rank, please?”
Siobhan rattled off answers as the clerk asked them. In the space of fifteen minutes, the form was filled out, stamped and filed. Siobhan had a clean copy made for her, which she then in turn presented to Erik with a bright smile. “Here. Now you can travel without worry.”
Unable to help himself, he leaned down and grabbed her up in a bear hug.
Siobhan flailed for a moment, but laughed and hugged him back. “You’re welcome.”
“I still think you’re crazy,” he whispered against her hair. “But I wish there were a hundred more like you. The world would be a better place for it.”
“Wolf, I daresay that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” From the watery sound in her voice, the words had touched her deeply. “Now, let me down. Let’s go get dinner.”
He reluctantly let go and set her back on her feet. In a manner reminiscent of their time in Converse, she took his hand, and they walked that way back to the inn.
Chapter Six
The drivers and caravan boss were lively at dinner, throwing jokes back and forth and eating heartily. Of course, they had every reason to be in good spirits, as they were making good time on their journey and hadn’t encountered any trouble. For them, this was a smooth trip.
Erik hardly felt the same way about it. He sat in a corner and brooded, eyes staring sightlessly forward. What happened to him after he left Deepwoods? The thought of staying in his small village until he died of old age was incomprehensible to him. He had seen so much of the world, true, but there was still so much of it he hadn’t seen. Could he be content to stay in Reske and work day-to-day without yearning for more?
Blackstone (Book 2) Page 27