Blackstone (Book 2) (28 page)

“You’re both fools, that’s the
problem,” he snarled at her. Skidding to a stop, he loomed over her, torn
between shaking sense into her and collapsing in relief that no trouble had
found them yet.

Grae scrambled to his feet, then
shifted from one foot to another in unease. Siobhan popped up as well, but she
met Erik’s enraged expression head on, not in the least fazed by his temper.
“What’s this about?”

He flung a finger toward the gate.
“Do you really think that just because you’re within sight of the gate that
you’re safe? That no trouble will find you here? That just because there’s two
of you, you can handle things if thieves or brigands
do
approach?
Siobhan, that’s madness!”

Arms akimbo on her hips, she
argued, “Well, what do you want us to do? We have to work! The paths don’t
build themselves.”

“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO CALL ME TO
WATCH YOURS BACKS!” he thundered, a vein throbbing at his temple.

Even Siobhan flinched back, eyes
shooting wide. Grae was about a hair’s breadth from hiding behind her.

Immediately regretting his loss of
control, he lowered his voice to a more quiet tone and pleaded, “Siobhan,
please. Don’t do this again. Grae, you either. If you need to leave the city,
even if you need to leave the Hall,
please
call me. I will happily go
with you rather than face something bad happening.”

Grae and Siobhan shared a glance
before Grae ventured, “Then you were serious? You sincerely want to be our
enforcer until you return home?”

“Yes, man, I was serious,” Erik
said as patiently as he could.

They shared glances again, and
this time, a multitude of words and emotions were expressed without them saying
a word to each other. Erik could tell that this time, they knew he was sincere.
He would not be repeating himself again on this topic nor fear them going out
without his knowing.

“Then stay,” Grae invited, not
quite meeting his eyes. “Help us.”

“Gladly.” Erik looked about on the
ground, noticing for the first time where he stood. “Is this near a dry
riverbed?”

“Yes, exactly,” Grae confirmed.
“We’re harvesting rocks to build a path with.”

“We only have 5,800 something to
go,” Siobhan said mock-brightly, voice heavy with sarcasm. “I’m so glad you
volunteered to help, Wolf.”

Erik bit back a groan. Digging
about in the dirt for pebbles was hardly a fun way to pass the time, but if it
meant getting the job done faster, he would do just that. Resigned, he turned
to Grae. “Show me what to look for.”

For the first time, Grae’s eyes
came up and met his. Those blue eyes were wide with surprise. “You’re truly
going to help us? Not just guard us?”

“Aye.”

Grae’s lips parted in wonder and
what might have been the beginnings of a smile. “Then,” turning, he bent and
scooped up a pile from a canvas sack before splaying them out on his open palm.
“See? About this size. And if you can get them flat, that’d be best, as they’re
easier to work with that way.”

“No specific color or anything?”
Erik asked, bending slightly to get a better look.

Grae shook his head. “No, that
doesn’t matter. The size and weight of it, that’s what matters.”

The man was the Pathmaker, not
him, so he took his word for it. “Right.” Bending, he splayed his good hand on
the ground and started searching. “Ones like these, then?”

Grae sank into a crouch next to
him and tentatively took the pebbles from his hand. “Yes, these two are good.
This one isn’t. See how it’s cracked down the middle? We want ones that are
solid.”

“Got it.”

They all bent down and set to
work, sorting through rocks and tossing anything that looked good into a canvas
bag at their feet. Erik kept a general eye on the area in case of trouble, but
no one seemed inclined to approach them.

The day slowly passed and
eventually it got too late to stay out any longer. They packed up and went back
to the Hall. Wolf’s knees were killing him, his back was aching, and his good
hand was dry and dusty. But Grae was now speaking easily to him, Siobhan had
gotten comfortable enough to try teasing and joking now and again, and he knew
them both far better than he had this morning. And because of that, all of his
aches and pains were well worth it.

 “Wolf, everything fine back
there?” Siobhan called from the front of the caravan.

“Just fine!” he assured her.

The anticipated escorting job of
taking a caravan to Wynngaard had finally arrived. Erik was of two minds about
this. He was of course overjoyed at the thought of finally going home, and
seeing friends and family, but…there was another part of him that hated the
idea of leaving Siobhan, Grae, and Beirly behind. He’d only had a month with
them, but that month was precious. The thought that he might never see them
again made his heart rebel.

They had a prebuilt path outside
of Quigg that would take them to Brevik. Actually, that was why the guild had
been in Converse and met him. They were coming back from a pathmaking trip.
Siobhan had taken advantage of having a job scheduled a month in advance and
used the time to build the paths they needed. So all they had to do was use the
path to get to Converse, cross the Grey Bridges, get through Quigg, and then
take the path to Brevik. In all, it shouldn’t be more than a four day journey.
If things went wrong, perhaps five days.

And then after that, they would
travel up to Reske. So in ten days or less, he would be home.

Erik wasn’t as nearly happy about
that as he should be.

So it was hard to diligently work
on getting the caravan lined up and in motion, to make sure that there were no
problems, and be professional as they left Goldschmidt. Really, all he wanted
to do was find ways to delay the inevitable as much as possible.

In terms of caravans, this one was
not particularly large. It was only six wagons, two outriders, and about ten
traders and drivers that belonged to the company. Because of that, they could
hire a small guild of four like Deepwoods to escort and guard them. Brevik was
on the western side of Wynngaard and about a five day journey from his
hometown. Erik had been through there a few times as a child, and while his
memory was hazy, he had more experience with the route than anyone in Deepwoods
did.

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.

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.”