Blackstone (Book 2) (26 page)

He was amazed by the change his
arm had undergone in just one night. It no longer looked an angry red but a
shade of healthier pink, and the swelling had gone down considerably. Siobhan
let out a pleased hum, a slight smile on her face. “Well, the man knows his
trade, I give him that. Let’s see, he said clean it with this first…” following
Vidal’s instructions, she cleaned the wound with a noxious substance that stung
like a swarm of bees, then reapplied the poultice, which soothed his skin
again. In neat, deft movements, she rewrapped the arm with a clean bandage.

“Don’t worry about Grae,” she
counseled as she worked, never looking up. “He’s not really afraid of you. He’s
just nervous. He’s always like this when he has to work with strangers. It’s
why I couldn’t let him go out alone to make a living as a Pathmaker—he needs
someone as a business partner.”

Was that all it was? Erik somehow
doubted that, but was willing to pretend he believed her. “Alright.”

“When we get to Goldschmidt, I’ll
get you a guild crest of your own. You’ll need it to cross the Bridges with.”
Finished, she tied a firm square knot and only then met his eyes. “And why
aren’t you asking me more questions?”

Because I’m scared of the
answers
was the exact thing he could not say out loud. “You’ve told me
everything I really need to know.”

Siobhan huffed out a breath. “Not
likely. But alright, you’ll ask when you want to, I suppose. Pack up, let’s go
to Goldschmidt.”

The trip to Goldschmidt was short
and uneventful. Grae apparently had a few dedicated paths already built, in
spite of being in business only a short while, and one of them went from
Goldschmidt to Converse. Erik had traveled by path before a few times, and
found that Grae’s was…different. Somehow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on
what the difference was, just that it seemed like Grae had better control over
the path. Going by path had always made him nervous before, but this time he
didn’t feel nearly as anxious.

Goldschmidt was one of the larger
cities he’d seen before, but not the largest. He took it in from stem to stern,
noting the placement of guards up on the walls and by the gates, the amount of
traffic on the road, and the general feel of the place. It seemed like a good
city, especially for business.

Erik had worked as an enforcer a
time or two before in his previous guild, so he knew what to do. As they went
through the gates, he kept his eyes peeled for trouble, and stayed a step back
from everyone so that he could keep watch on the three. But nothing troublesome
happened and they went straight to their guildhall without him needing to do
anything. Which was just as well, considering he was still weaponless.

The Hall surprised him. It was
much larger than he thought it would be, a full two stories tall, and seemed
very soundly constructed of wood and stone. The inside had a large, raftered
ceiling, plenty of tables and chairs strewn about, and a staircase leading to
the upstairs.

Siobhan paused just inside the
doorway and said to him, “Beirly, Grae, and I are all on the second story, on
the right side of the hallway. You can choose any room on the left side or in
the attic. Up to you.”

“Fine.” He’d take the first room
on the left, then. If danger came up to them, he wanted to be able to react
quickly.

“Come see me when you’re done
unpacking,” Beirly instructed, nodding toward the back of the main room. “I
have a workshop back there. I think it’d be easier to make you up a new hand
than try to modify a shield.”

A new hand? How in mercy would he
pull that off?

Siobhan didn’t seem to doubt this
and actually clapped. “Oh, you thought of a way? Good. Be careful not to make
his wound worse though. It’s just now healing properly.”

Beirly waved this concern off.
“Won’t be able to do much today except take measurements anyway, draft out a
few ideas. It’ll be a good week before I can try anything.”

“Good.” Pleased, she bounded up
the stairs, calling back over her shoulder, “Wolfinsky, after you’re done with
Beirly, we’re going shopping!”

Snorting, Beirly muttered under
his breath, “She’s like a child with a new toy.” Shaking his head, he also went
up the stairs, bag thrown over his shoulder.

Following their example, he went
up as well, and took the room that would be ‘his,’ at least for a short while.
It was simply furnished with chest, bed, and washstand. It was clean, if a
little musty with disuse. He put his gear away without dwelling on the place
too much and went back down.

Beirly beat him to the workshop
and was already at a table, sketching things out with sure strokes on a large
piece of blank paper. This room seemed more lived in than any other part of the
hall. There were wood shavings on the floor, tools hanging off the walls and
strewn across a roughhewn table, with another, smaller table to the side that
had stacks of leather scraps on it. The scent of wood and leather mixed
pleasantly in the air, and he smiled unconsciously at the smell.

“Come, sit,” Beirly invited,
pushing a stool out with his foot.

Erik took it, tilting his head
sideways to look at the drawing as he did. It looked like a hand, with joints
and everything. “Is that your idea?”

“Thought hit me as we were on the
path that I can make a moving hand, with joints and such, and then make it so
that it can lock into place so you can hold onto things.” Tapping the pencil to
the drawing, he added, “I’ll make it of wood first. Cheaper that way, easier to
work out the mistakes. If this works, I’ll make you another of metal.”

He felt overwhelmed by the
generosity he was receiving in this guild. Even Grae, who didn’t know how to be
comfortable around him, wouldn’t even say a harsh word to him. How had he been
so blessed to be picked up by these people?

“You’re too generous,” he said
huskily.

“Naw, it’s a fun challenge.”
Beirly belied his words by giving Erik a clap on the shoulder in a gesture of
comradeship. “Now, give me your good arm. I need to know how long to make your
wood one so they match.”

Erik cooperated as Beirly took
measurements of his arm in every possible direction. He measured both arms,
actually, so that he knew precisely what lengths to make everything. Done,
Beirly shooed him out, and he went back to the front door to meet Siobhan.

She sat at a table near the front
door, clearly waiting on him. “Done? Good. Let’s go.” Standing, she led the way
out and waited for him to fall into step beside her before saying, “I’ve been
thinking of where to go, but I don’t really know your preference in weapons.
What do you like?”

“A broadsword,” he admitted
frankly. “But they’re pricey. A long dagger will do.”

“Broadsword?” Siobhan gave him a
quick head-to-toe study. “Yes, with your size, that’d be the best weapon.”

The look on her face was one he’d
seen before—on his mother’s—when she set her mind to have something. Hoping to
derail her, he tried again, “But they’re hideously expensive. It’s too much.”

“Deepwoods is actually a guild
under Blackstone, the ruling guild of this city,” she explained. “I’m allotted
a certain amount every year to pay for weapons, housing, etc, as long as I meet
their financial milestones. Which, so far, we’ve exceeded them. It’s part of
the reason why I wanted to form a guild in this city. Anyway, up to this point
we haven’t used any of the allowance I have for weapons. So, if we want to get
a broadsword for you, we can do it for free. We just have a narrow selection,
as only a few swordsmiths are directly connected to Blackstone.”

While all of this sounded
reasonable, what did she plan to do for the next enforcer she brought into the
guild? Pay for his weapons herself? He had no room to ask the question, or
argue, as she dragged him abruptly into a smithy.

It was a prosperous place, he
could tell that at first glance, as every style of weapon imaginable donned the
walls or were leaning up in barrels. The price of the metal alone in this
single room would be enough to feed a large family for a year.

A long counter split the room in
half and divided the smithy from the shop area. Siobhan stopped in front of it
and aimed a charming smile at the middle-aged man standing behind it. “Good
master, I’m in the need of a broadsword and a shield.”

The master gave her a dubious
look. “You are or he is?”

“He is, to be precise.”

“Left or right han—” the man cut
himself off as he took in Erik’s missing hand. “Left handed, obviously.”

As if this hadn’t occurred to her
before, Siobhan asked curiously, “Wolfinsky, were you naturally right or left
handed before that happened?”

“Right,” he answered calmly. “But
my sword master taught us how to fight with both hands.”

“That was good fortune for you.”

Truly. If not, he would have to
train with his left hand from the ground up, and that could take years.

The sword smith eyed his new
customer with a speculative gaze. “I have a Wynngaardian broadsword if that’ll
be of interest?”

“You do?” Erik responded wistfully.
He hadn’t held one since he was taken from his home seven years ago.

“Aye, took it in on trade last
week. Mighty fine sword, but no one here knows how to use it properly. Not to
mention it’s too long for most men here. We don’t get many your size.” This
last part was said dryly. Coming around the counter, he lifted up a section so
he could walk to their side and take a broadsword off the wall.

Erik balanced the sheath on his
bad arm as he drew the sword free with the other hand. Even before it cleared
the scabbard, he could tell this was a fine weapon. The balance was perfect,
the metal gleamed with blue steel, and the hilt had been recently rewrapped
with brown leather.

Siobhan read his expression easily
and said to the master, “We’ll take it.”

The master chuckled. “Yes, it’s
clear he wants it. I don’t have a shield large enough for a man his size, but I
can make one up within a week. That soon enough?”

“That’ll be fine.” Siobhan pulled
out her guild crest and flipped it open so he could see it. “My allotment from
Blackstone should cover about one hundred and twenty kors. How much will that
cover?”

“For the sword and shield? All of
it, I think. It’ll leave you about five kors left over. That alright by you?”

“Perfectly fine,” she assured him.

Erik started adding up all that
she had spent on him in his head and balked at the figure. “Wait, Siobhan, this
really is too much to spend on me considering I won’t stay with you long—”

“Oh, just take it, will you?” she
responded in exasperation. “If I don’t use it in the next three months, I lose
it.”

Really? Well, if that was the
case…. He eyed the sword longingly. “I’ll work it off. Promise.”

“That’s the spirit,” she responded
cheerfully.

They stayed long enough for Erik
to describe what he needed for the shield, the master to take some
measurements, and for them to adjust the sword so that it hung correctly on his
right hip. But once that was settled, they left the shop, satisfied.

“What now?” he asked her.

“Food,” she answered, already
heading the opposite way of what they had come. “There’s nothing in the Hall to
eat, since we just came back. Wolfinsky, can you cook?”

“A few things.”

“Praise all mercy. You don’t want
Grae cooking, so that usually means it’s either me or Beirly. One more cook in
the place will be a welcome thing. In that case, pick up what ingredients you
need. You’re on duty tonight.” She flashed him a half-teasing smile.

Cooking a meal for her seemed a
small thing to do so he inclined his head, agreeable.

Slowing her pace, she tilted her
head to look up at him. “What I call you is bothering me.” Siobhan looked at
him with narrowed eyes, using one finger to poke at her lips. “Wolfinsky seems
so….distant.”

He went abruptly still, watching
her with rising hope in his chest. “So what do you want to call me?”

“I think ‘Wolf’ would be better.”

Wolf? “Not Erik?”

“Oh, it’s a fine name, don’t
mistake me. I just like to call people by nickname. Besides, you growl just
like one when you’re hungry or angry. Wolf fits you fine.”

He couldn’t remember anyone
calling him by a nickname. Strangely enough, he liked it. “Wolf, is it?” He
tested the idea out and liked the taste of it. “Alright. I’ll answer by it.”

“Good.” She beamed at him, beyond
pleased. “Wolf it is.”

ӜӜӜ

Erik was used to fighting and
working for long hours before getting any sleep. For the past three days, the
most strenuous thing he had done was shop. It left him feeling restless with
too much pent up energy. Even though it was late in the evening, and everyone
else had already retired for the night, he couldn’t do the same. The bed was
comfortable enough—it was his own demons that wouldn’t let him rest.

Irritated with himself, he slung
the covers off, and moved with silent feet out of his room. He first checked on
Siobhan and found her deep asleep in her own bed. Satisfied she was fine, he
moved to the stairs with the half-formed notion of a late night snack.

“—still think Siobhan is crazy for
taking him on?” Beirly’s voice asked. Even though it was mute, it was still
understandable.

Erik stopped dead on the stairs,
staying in the shadows and just out of sight of the main room. Who was Beirly
talking to? Grae?

“Yes,” Grae said firmly. His voice
wasn’t quite as loud as Beirly’s and Wolf had to strain more to hear him.

“The man’s done nothing to you,”
Beirly pointed out. “Hasn’t even looked at you sideways.”

“It’s nothing he’s done or said,”
Grae admitted grudgingly. “But the man’s just
menacing
. All he does is
stand there and breathe and he’s menacing!”

“Aye, well, no arguments there. It
still boggles my mind on what Siobhan saw in him that made her so adamant to
have him.” Wood creaked, as if Beirly had shifted his weight in the chair. “He
looks better now, but you didn’t see him with his hair like a bird’s nest and a
beard down to his chest. He looked like a Wildman.”

“What did she see?” Grae wondered,
bewildered.

“Don’t know. But she was right to
get him. I mean, look at the way he behaves. He follows her like a giant
shadow. More fierce than a guard dog, that man is. If the least bit of danger
comes near her, he snarls and snaps at it and drives it away.”

“I do feel better about her
walking around now that he’s with her,” Grae reluctantly admitted. “Shi has
never been aware of the fact that she’s a pretty woman.”

“Well, with those twin swords on
her back, she likely thinks that she can handle whatever danger comes near her.
And she’s not wrong half the time.”

Erik snorted. Siobhan could handle
the regular thief or drunkard, but if true trouble came her way, she’d be hard
pressed to combat it.

“I just don’t know how to react to
the man,” Grae complained.

“That’s fair,” Beirly allowed. “I
don’t either. For that matter, I don’t think he knows how to react to us. But
Grae, I’ll tell you this. For every show of kindness I’ve offered him, he’s
shown respect and kindness in return. He might come from a dark guild, but he
was in a good home before that, that’s as clear as the nose on my face. Treat
him well, and he’ll do the same to you.”