Deepwoods (Book 1) (31 page)

Siobhan’s joke about buying a whole wardrobe turned out to
be more accurate than she’d predicted. Between the two of them, they managed to
buy a cloak, coat, shirt, boots, and two pairs of pants in their search. In
spite of their intense pursuit and Sylvie’s silver tongue, they didn’t get much
more information.

As night threatened to fall, the whole guild met back up at
their inn’s tavern room and sat down at a round table for dinner. The lighting
in here wasn’t the best, so the room with its low ceiling seemed casted in warm
lantern light and cool shadows. After spending the majority of the day in harsh
sunlight, Siobhan was thankful for the cool darkness.

She did feel somewhat sorry for Tran and Wolf, though, as
they kept knocking their foreheads against the rafters.

A thick beef casserole of some sort was dished out onto
plates with warm biscuits and set on the table. Silence descended as everyone
focused on the food, and it wasn’t until the second serving was half-consumed
that Siobhan felt it safe to ask questions. “So…how did it go today?”

Everyone just grimaced at her or gave a glum shrug.

“Well, now, that’s informative,” she said sarcastically,
pushing her plate away from her. “Come on, people, tell me what you
do
know.”

Beirly, being a brave sort, started after clearing his
throat. “Bridge is solid. Good construction, good design. When I went to get a
closer look, the foreman there tried to hire me on the spot. Said he was short
on workers. From what I see, they’re taking any man who can lift a stone, no
matter where he comes from. Bridge isn’t as big as the ones near Island Pass,
about half the width, but that’s wide enough for caravans and the like.”

“Did he mention how long it will take to build?”

“He said it’s due to be finished in 37 years.”

A more accurate timeline had been gained, then. “Did he mention
where exactly it was supposed to end up?”

“They’re going straight across, so just northeast of Quigg.”

Sylvie let out a low whistle. “If they do that, I can
imagine that Quigg will rapidly expand that direction.”

“Either that or another city will start up nearby,” Markl
agreed. “We talked to a great many people and no one knew who was behind it.
Now, according to the masons’ guild here in the city—they’re apparently over
the design and construction of the bridge—they’ve gotten approval from Fallen
Ward to construct it. But they were adamant that it wasn’t them who funded the
project.”

Siobhan’s brows arched. He’d learned something that she
hadn’t. “So who did?”

“Client privileged information,” he said sourly, with a tone
that indicated he’d heard nothing but that phrase all day.

“That’s a fancy way of saying, ‘I won’t tell you.’” Beiryl
shook his head. “We heard that a lot today.”

“Whoever did this is very good at covering their tracks.”
Markl braced his forearms against the table and leaned across the surface
wearily. “In fact, the way the information has been so thoroughly squashed
makes me believe it really
is
Fallen Ward. Only the main guild of a city
could exert this kind of influence over everyone.”

Truly. A city guildmaster was like a minor deity to its
city. No one would dare to disobey for fear of the consequences, which could
range from anything between a fine to being stripped of all possessions and
thrown out. “Speaking of, anyone gain any information about the new
guildmaster?”

“Not a thing,” Markl sighed. “People would tell us about the
funeral of the old guildmaster—apparently it was quite a grand affair and the
whole city got drunk for three days—but no one seems to know about the new one.
Ever since the guild’s changed hands, the security around their main compound
has tightened to the point that very few can enter or leave.”

Hence why Jarnsmor hadn’t been able to get any messages from
his people. If they truly were still alive, and in there, they were probably
unable to leave long enough to send any message out. She nodded understanding.
“Sylvie and I didn’t do much better. Anyone else find out anything? Anything at
all?”

People shrugged or grimaced but no one spoke.  

“Alright, that begs the question,” Siobhan raised an
illustrative finger, “will we gain more answers if we stay longer?”

Most of the table shook their heads no.

“I think between all of us, we covered most of the city
today.” Denney grimaced and stretched. “Or at least, my feet say we did. Siobhan,
honestly, I don’t know who else to
ask
. The few people that are in this
city that know all the answers aren’t going to tell the likes of us. So unless
you want to start a war right here in the city—”

Tran, Wolf, and Rune all perked up and eyed their guildmaster
hopefully.

“—and force information out of people, then I don’t know
what else we can try,” Denney finished with a sour look at the men.

“I
highly
doubt that we’re allowed to start a war
here,” Siobhan responded dryly, giving the men quelling looks. It didn’t have
quite the effect she was going for, as they seemed more crestfallen and
disappointed than afraid of her future wrath. “In that case, I think we should
leave in the morning. Beirly, find the ship’s master and relay a message to him
that we’d like to go back to Sateren in the morning.”

Beirly gave her a casual salute of acknowledgement.

Pushing back from the table with a scrape, she stretched her
arms above her head with a yawn. “See you in the morning.”

ӜӜӜ

“Siobhan.”

“Uhhhh.” She batted the hand away and attempted to roll
over. This effort was thwarted by the wall that she smacked her forehead into.
The beds in the inn were clean, but one could not describe them as
wide
.

A hand grabbed her by the shoulder and insistently shook her
awake. “Siobhan!”

She cracked open one eye and aimed a murderous glare over
her shoulder. Markl was leaning over her with a lantern in one hand,
illuminating a worried expression on his face. Judging from the narrow window
behind him, it was still in the middle of the night.

Uh-oh. Her brain woke up enough to point out to her that the
only time anyone woke her up like this, something had happened. It usually
involved property damages, too. “Who’s injured?” she slurred out, dragging her
hair out of her face as she sat up.

“Wolf and Tran, although it doesn’t look too serious,” he
answered promptly.

“Where?”

“Tavern across the street.”

She stopped with her legs half off the bed and gave him a
long look. In a painfully level tone, she said, “Wolf and Tran went to a
tavern. Together.”

“Umm…yes?”

“And no one stopped them?”

“Were we supposed to?”

She dropped her head into one hand and just groaned, long
and loud. “How much damage did they do?”

Markl hesitated, searching her face and judging what words
to say. When she just stared back at him steadily, he gave up and with a shrug told
her bluntly, “I’m honestly surprised the building is still standing.”

Lovely. Shooing him out with one hand, she threw on the
first clothes she found, dragged her hair back in a rough ponytail, and stuffed
her feet into her new boots. Snagging her purse—and praying it had enough money
to fix this situation—she stomped out of the room, down the short stairs, and
into the cold night air. Rubbing her arms briskly, she got all of two steps when
Fei appeared at her elbow like magic. He had a medical satchel in his hands,
the sort that Conli issued to take care of minor medical emergencies.

Without a word to him, she crossed the street in quick
strides to the tavern and shoved what was left of the door aside. The way it
creaked and hung, the whole thing would likely need to be replaced.

Once she got a look at the room, she realized in dismay that
the door was in
good
shape compared to everything else.

There was not one chair still intact. They were all broken,
scattered over the floor like so much kindling. Only a handful of tables were
still erect, two of which Wolf and Tran sat on. The bar behind them had mostly withstood
the fight, but it had long scores in the wood, like a dragon had gnawed on it.
People were laying injured, comatose, or just passed out drunk in every
possible angle and position. She had to maneuver her way around the bodies,
sometimes stepping over people, to get to her own.

Wolf and Tran looked up, spotted her approach, and gave her
neutral expressions. That look alone told her that this fight was, indeed,
their fault. For some strange reason, both of them were half-naked, only their
trousers still on, and Tran was even missing a boot. She’d never seen a bar
fight that had escalated to the point that it had
stripped
people
before. Stopping in front of them, she planted her feet, crossed her arms over
her chest, and gave them The Look.

“Boys. Why were you fighting?”

“I have a headache,” Wolf volunteered easily.

Tran half raised a hand. “I have a stomach ache.”

Patience. She had to exercise patience. “And how does that
tie into getting into a bar fight?”

“Well,” Wolf explained innocently, “destroying things makes
us feel better, so….”

Behind her, Fei choked on a laugh. Without looking, Siobhan
threw an elbow into his ribs, which he mostly dodged, the rat. “Be serious.”

The two men exchanged glances, heaved identical shrugs, and
came clean.

“Actually,” Tran admitted, “the real reason isn’t much
better. See, we were arguing over who has the most scars—”

“Never did agree on that,” Wolf muttered to himself, as if
only just realizing this.

“—and for some reason, the tables around us got really into
it,” Tran continued with a cough and exasperated glance at Wolf. “One side said
it was me, the other table said it was Wolf. So they got up and started
wrestling our clothes off.”

Ahhh,
that
was why they were half-naked.

“And then one man said, ‘Let me help even it out!’ and he
came at us with two kitchen knives,” Wolf held up his hands a good foot apart,
“about yay big. Almost short swords, they were so long.”

“If they’d had a hilt, I’d have thought they were,” Tran
agreed. “Anyway, he comes straight at Wolf. Without that metal hand of his,
he’d have
lost
a hand.”

“Then the rest of the crowd thinks he’s got a point, or
something, ‘cause
they
pull out swords too and go at us.” Wolf shrugged,
a grin on his face in memory, because in truth, he didn’t care what the reason
was as long as he got to be a little rowdy. One quelling look from Siobhan and
his smile instantly dropped from his face. “Anyway. We were defending
ourselves,” he ended with righteous indignation that almost sounded genuine.

The master of the tavern came from a back room with a broom
in his hands. He’d apparently overheard most of their exchange, as he came up
to them with a deferential bow and offered, “It truly wasn’t them that started
this, Miss…?”

“Siobhan Maley,” she introduced herself with strained
politeness, offering a hand. “I’m their guildmaster.”

“Oh, pleasure, certainly, a pleasure,” he bobbed his head nervously
and grasped her hand in a quick, flimsy way before letting go. “Guildmaster,
don’t be too harsh on them. As I said, they didn’t start it. And they did their
best to end it quick, to not let things get out of hand. But well, most of the
men here are from other places and far from home, so they tend to drink too
much and things like this…” he trailed off as he looked around him in dismay,
“well, this isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

The poor man. If this was a regular occurrence, how by the
four winds was he staying in business? “Regardless, my men were in the fight
and caused damage. I’ll compensate you as much as I can.”

He gave a duck of the head, rubbing at his neck sheepishly.
“Obliged, much obliged, I’m sure. But I won’t take more than two golds. I know
these men’s taskmaster, I’ll get the rest from him.”

Well that wasn’t half-bad, compared to the other spectacular
fights these two idiots had gotten involved in. Siobhan, with a secret sigh of
relief, handed the golds over. Then she turned back to her enforcers with a
quirked brow. “Since you two aren’t screaming with pain or bleeding anywhere, I
assume you got through it relatively safe?”

“A few bruises,” Wolf admitted.

“I think I did get cut on my back,” Tran twisted about as if
to see, which of course he couldn’t. “But I’m not sure how bad it is.”

Fei came around the table, opened up the small black
satchel, and set about tending to Tran.

Siobhan just sighed, eyes closed for a moment, offering a
silent prayer of thanks to any god listening. Then she called out, “Rune?”

From somewhere above her head, the assassin responded,
“Yes?”

She’d just
known
he was around somewhere. “You didn’t
get involved in this too, did you?”