Deepwoods (Book 1) (5 page)

Now, let’s see…the bells had tolled out the ninth hour just
now. By the time they reached the bridge itself, it would likely be closer to
ten. Thereby leaving them eight hours until nightfall. Ouch. On the one hand,
they’d had new moons just two days ago, so the tides wouldn’t be as high as
during full moons. If they walked quickly and didn’t have any difficulties in
crossing, they’d make it to Island Pass. But just barely.

On the other hand, every day that passed without them
actively searching on Wynngaard made their rescue that much harder. Did she
dare delay for a full day in Converse and wait to travel over the bridge in the
morning?

Siobhan stared sightlessly ahead and weighed the pros and
cons. “Grae!”

Her Pathfinder came around the cart and stopped long enough
for her to catch up to him before falling into step. His eyes scanned her face,
reading her like an open scroll, and guessed, “You’re not sure if we have
enough time to cross today.”

“How high is the tide likely to be?”

“Not as dangerous as the last time we crossed,” he assured
her. “It’ll take a full hour after sunset before the bridge is truly covered in
water. I think we have enough time and even a little leeway if we need it.”

He knew tides and seasons better than she. His pathfinding
ability depended on such knowledge. Humming thoughtfully, she mulled that over
before raising her voice slightly to ask Beirly, “Bei, how sure are you that
the cart’s in good shape?”

“Might could break unexpectedly,” he returned, twisting in
his seat as he answered. “Can’t predict the future. But it’s as solid as my
head and won’t break of its own accord. Kit’s fine as a fiddle, too.”

If anyone became unable to walk, for whatever reason, she
could just throw them onto the cart. Making a snap decision, she said to the
group, “We’ll cross today then.”

Hammon raised his hand to get her attention. “If I may…?
Guildmaster Maley, I have an old family friend in the city that runs a stable.
We could likely rent horses from him and make it across much faster. His
business partner is on the other end in Quigg and will take the horses from us
at that point.”

Thereby avoiding having extra weight for Grae to transport.
Siobhan perked up at the idea. Horses would make crossing the bridges much
faster and lower the risk considerably. “We’ll do it. How much will he charge?”

“Depends on who asks,” Hammon responded dryly. “Miss Waverly,
if you’ll do the honors, he’ll surely drop it down to half his usual price.”

Sylvie gave him a casual two-finger salute. “Consider it
done. Although it’s not like price is really an issue. Not with that fat purse
Darrens gave us.”

Too true. Though Siobhan didn’t intend to squander it little
by little with unnecessary expenses either. They had no idea where this trip
would take them, after all.

It took a remarkably short amount of time to visit Hammon’s
friend, rent their mounts, and get through Converse. In fact, they arrived at
the beginning of the bridge before the bell could toll out the tenth hour.
Siobhan couldn’t remember a time they’d made it through a city
that
quickly.

They exited the western gate while leading the horses,
nodding respectfully to the gate guards as they passed. Siobhan led them off to
a small waiting area off the side of the road and gestured for everyone to
gather around. She mounted her horse so that they could all easily see her.

“Alright, everyone hear me? Good. Usual rules of crossing
the bridges apply—we go at a quick walk, nothing faster than that. I don’t
intend to waste our stamina if we don’t need to. If any of the horses pull up
lame or something, tell me immediately.”

Grae raised a hand and pointed toward the bridges. “You did
see the storm front moving in on us?”

“I did,” she grimaced, shooting the sky a look over her
shoulder. “Getting rained on won’t kill us, so I don’t want to hurry across the
bridge unless we absolutely need to.” For one thing, making several horses run
on stone could become deafening after a while. But they’d all learned the hard
way that a steady pace would get them across faster than trying to run the
distance, losing their strength, and stumbling to a near halt.

Shaking off the worry, she finished, “Everyone mount up!”

They all climbed aboard their horses—all except Beirly and
Fei, that was. Fei chose (for some inexplicable reason) to not ride but stay in
the cart, and of course Beirly was driving. Siobhan watched long enough to make
sure they were all ready to go before she kneed the placid mare around and led
them off in a steady walk onto the bridge.

Nothing could be quite as cold as the sea with winter
approaching. Siobhan rode ahead of everyone else with Tran, leading the way
across, and as they moved it felt like the wind cut right through her heavy
jacket and cloak. She shivered hard, once, and urged everyone to go a little
faster. The sooner they could reach the island, the better.

Not many chose to travel at this time of the year and the
scant traffic on the bridge emphasized the season well. Aside from them, only
one caravan and a family group with a professional escort traveled toward
Wynngaard. Since they all traveled at different speeds, a gap developed between
them, and soon it felt as if they were on the bridge alone. Almost no one came
from the other direction either. It brought up a question that Siobhan hadn’t
thought to ask before. Why had Darrens sent his daughter at
this
time of
the year to negotiate some kind of trade deal? Couldn’t it have waited until
spring?

Grae came up from behind to ride at her right side. He
usually looked a little brooding, but now he looked outright worried. “Siobhan,
do those look like rain clouds to you?”

She looked north, where he pointed, and narrowed her eyes
slightly. The clouds did look ominous, although they didn’t pitch and roll like
a thunderstorm would. In fact… “No, they look like snow clouds.”

His shoulders slumped. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Poor Grae. He only hated a few things in the world, but snow
made the top of his list. Right now, she rather agreed with him. The bridge
they were on had been made so that eight carts side by side could cross with
plenty of space in between. She’d been in buildings less solid and the way the
grey granite stones had been overlain made it nearly impregnable to anything
nature could throw at it. But despite its width and strength, no one in their
right mind would choose to be on a bridge during the middle of a storm. They
had no shelter available here—nothing but tall railings on the sides of the
bridge. If the sea did get stirred up because of the storm, they could easily
be washed over the sides before they even knew what was happening.

Siobhan looked out over the railing and toward the sea. The
water looked green-grey and choppy, the waves coming up into white peaks. It
even smelled like a storm, air heavy and moist. Hardly a good sign. “Maybe
it’ll blow past us,” she offered with weak optimism.

“
This
is why I hate bridges,” Grae grumbled, glaring
at the sky. “There’s no natural power in structures like these. Even if
something happens, I can’t open a path and carry us out of safety.”

“I know,” she soothed. “But all we can do now is pick up the
pace and hope we make it to the island before that hits us.”

Grae’s eyes cut to her in an exasperated look.
“Siobhan…doesn’t anything ever rattle you?”

“If I was easily rattled, you and Beirly wouldn’t have
unanimously decided I had to be the guildmaster,” she pointed out dryly.

From behind, Hammon asked in a carrying voice, “Is that how
you became the master?”

She twisted around with a slight creak of leather to answer.
“That’s how. I actually had no ambition to be guildmaster. But for some reason,
everybody likes for me to be one.”

“It’s because she’s tolerant of the boys’ antics,” Denney
explained to Hammon, not untruthfully. “As long as they don’t kill anyone or
bankrupt the guild, she won’t throw them out.”

“I do have a
few
more limits than that,” Siobhan
protested.

“No you don’t,” at least five people said in unison.

Hammon bit his bottom lip in an obvious attempt to keep from
laughing. “That lax, eh?”

Siobhan opened her mouth to object and paused when she
couldn’t automatically think of a good argument.

Conli, ever helpful, started ticking things off on his
fingers. “Wolf caused a riot in the Blackstone’s main hall and you only fined
him for the damages.”

“That was an accident!” Wolf protested. He didn’t sound at
all defensive with that wide smile on his face.

“Tran nearly killed three men only a month after he joined
the guild,” Conli continued, not fazed by the interruption.

“They were hassling the pretty girl that serves at the Three
Crowns,” Tran explained to Hammon, completely unworried about this open airing
of past sins.

“The pretty girl he had a crush on,” Sylvie explained
further and smirked when Tran shot her a warning look.

Conli ignored that byplay too. “Fei got drunk from that
apple cake and went around the town scrawling bad poetry on all of the walls
with red paint.”

From the back of the cart came a soft warning, “Conli-ren,
another word on that and you will not sleep peacefully tonight.”

The doctor gave the cart an uneasy look. “Well, ah…you get
my drift, Hammon.”

“I do,” Hammon agreed, although he looked torn between being
flabbergasted or amused. “I just have one question, Man Lei? If you don’t
mind.”

Fei lifted up just enough for his eyes to appear over the
cart’s edge. His black hair looked a bit mussed from his nap and stuck out
slightly on the right side. “You want to know how I got drunk from apple cake.”

Hammon shrugged and gave him an expectant look.

He ducked back into the wagon, voice ordering, “Conli-ren,
you explain.”

With another wary glance at the cart, the doctor complied
hesitantly. “He’s allergic to sugar. Odd, I know, but that’s the only explanation
I have for how he reacts to it. He acts drunk after he’s consumed any real
quantity of it. Natural sugars, such as those coming from fruits, seem to be
fine. It’s the processed cane sugars that his body can’t seem to handle.”

“So don’t offer him any food with sugar in it,” Siobhan
half-pleaded. “He’s a truly unmanageable drunk.”

“I will be careful,” Hammon promised her. “But I now see
their point. I’ve never heard of a guildmaster as tolerant as you.”

“It’s why they won’t let me quit,” she complained,
half-serious.

“We never will, either,” Beirly promised her.

Resigned, she turned back around and faced forward. “Let’s
just get to the island, alright?”

Alas, the snowstorm overhead did not care about the puny
humans traveling along the bridge, or their travel plans, or the fervent
prayers about them making it to shelter before the storm unleashed. Before
their party had even made it halfway across, the sky opened up in a steady
stream of snowflakes. The wind howled over the sea, sending the snow flying
about in whirls and eddies, cutting through all layers of clothing and making
everyone shiver.

Siobhan grimly told herself to keep the horses to the quick
walk they’d been doing for the past two hours. Any faster of a pace than this,
they’d be spent by the time they reached the island. That said, she really
wanted to at least go at a trot.

Fei, Denney and Conli rearranged the cart to clear out a
hole near the front of it so they could huddle together and share body heat. It
must have been working, as those three were the only ones who had the energy to
talk. Everyone else grimly hung onto their reins and kept moving forward.

With the storm clouds blocking the sun, the only difference
between day and sunset was a slight darkening. Siobhan lost all track of time
because of it. But they had to have made good time, as the water had only come
up to the bridge’s base level by the time Island Pass’s gates came within view.

Island Pass had existed before the bridges had been built.
It had probably been nothing more than some line shacks then, but now the city
sprawled out over almost every square inch of the island and proceeded to grow
up on top of itself. Under the heavy layer of snow, it looked like a fairytale
ice castle more than anything. What little she could see of it, anyway. The
storm and the encroaching darkness obscured most of her vision.  

Everyone perked up when the main gate came into sight.
Siobhan anxiously peered ahead, trying to see through the falling snow. The
gates stood massively tall, with thick granite walls and stairs that led up on
either side so that a person could climb to the very top. A ramp led up from
the bridge so that the bottom of the gate never had seawater touch it unless a
wicked storm passed through. But what she really wanted to see were the lights.
Someone had designated a coded system for travelers to know how much time they
had to get to the gates before the tide rose to a dangerous level. Three
lanterns on either side of the gate burning meant they had all the time in the
world. Two lanterns meant they had about two hours. One lantern: one hour. If
no light could be seen in the gates, you’d better run like your life depended
on it.

Right now, she saw two lanterns…no, wait. One of the
lanterns bobbed and moved as if—wind and stars! Someone up there had just
snuffed the lantern. Only one remained burning now.

Siobhan eyed the distance between them and the main gate.
She’d traveled this way often enough that she knew the distance well. They
should be able to make it with a little time to spare, but… “Pick up the pace!”
she called over the storm, the air freezing in her mouth.

As tired as everyone had to be at that point, they moved up
to a trot and started covering ground more quickly. The rattling of the wheels
and the clacking of hooves against stone became louder, almost loud enough to
penetrate the wind howling in her ears. Really, with the storm’s roaring, it
was amazing anyone had heard her. Or maybe they had seen the light go out for
themselves and guessed what she must have said.

They stopped at the gate with a slight huff of mixed relief
and exhaustion. The granite pillars on either side almost had enough width to them
to make the wall of a house, and the roof loomed high overhead, blocking most
of the storm. It still felt unreasonably cold, and the guards had a hidden
brazier on either side of the gate so that they wouldn’t freeze. She felt sorry
for them, but not sorry enough to stay out here and keep them company. Siobhan
reached into her shirt pocket and took out the leather encased seal with her
guild’s mark on it and flipped it open to show the two guards on duty.

“Deepwoods Guild. Party of ten.”

They’d been through here so many times that the guards
nodded in recognition, one of them jotted down their arrival in a large book
that leaned in a wall alcove, and the guild was waved through.

Despite it being such a late hour, the streets were lively.
People of every possible age, gender and profession seemed to be out and about,
scurrying from one building to another, bundled up against the snow. But
through the glass windows came a great deal of light, and the faint tones of
raised voices and laughter.

The main road they traveled on went straight through the island
and served as the main causeway. Because of that, the governor of the island
had deemed it illegal to encroach on the road with any building projects and
make it narrow. They had an easy time going up into the city, heading for the
inn they habitually stayed at. The trouble came when they had to turn onto a
side road. People had been fighting with limited space for so long that they’d
gotten creative in their building habits. Now, little add-ons jutted out from
the sandstone walls here and there, while brick overpasses and second-story
levels arched over the street. Anyone that had a problem with enclosed spaces
would have found it unbearable to travel down this street.

Siobhan blessed the crazy building habits at this moment
simply because it blocked a large majority of the snow and wind. Despite being
surrounded by stone on all sides, she felt almost warm in comparison to being
on that thrice-cursed bridge.

The cart had to squeeze through in a few places, but they
made it to Sunrise Tavern without a problem. The inn’s windows in the front had
light blazing out of them, and through them she could see quite the crowd
huddled around the two large fireplaces on either end of the main room.
Hopefully they still had a few rooms available. Siobhan forced her half-frozen
hand off the reins and slowly creaked out of the saddle, dropping heavily and
hissing as pins and needles shot through her legs at the impact. She hadn’t
frozen to the point of frostbite, but it had been a little too close for
comfort. With any luck the storm would blow over tonight and it would be clear
tomorrow. She didn’t think anyone would be able to travel through a storm like
this again. Herself included.

“Siobhan?” Wolf came over and hunkered down slightly to see
her face. “Your lips are turning blue.”

She turned a glare on him.
He
looked fine, and the
unfairness of it rankled. That Northern blood of his made him almost immune to
weather like this. “Wolf, don’t you ever get cold?” she demanded, almost
whining.

He grinned at her in a quick flash of slightly crooked
teeth. “Not like you do. Let me see to the rooms, alright?”

“Make absolutely sure they come with hot baths,” she
insisted.

Patting her shoulder lightly in reassurance, he opened the
door with a slight creak of hinges and pushed through, bellowing as he went,
“Master Gramms! We need rooms!”

Gramms, looking as burly, surly, and round as ever, turned
from where he stood near the bar and bellowed back in a rough voice, “You best
be willing to make do with three of ‘em! It’s all I’ve got left!”

“They come with baths and dinner?”

“They do.”

Wolf turned slightly and cocked an eyebrow at her. She
nodded confirmation. They’d make do. They’d done so before. If Hammon hadn’t
gotten comfortable with their party yet, he would need to do so quickly, as he
would be bunking down with at least two of them.

“Stop hovering in the door, then, and letting in all that
cold air!” Gramms commanded, bushy eyebrows pulled together.

Beirly stayed in the driver’s seat long enough for everyone
to scamper off and gather their bags before he went through the narrow pass
with the cart to the inn’s stable yard in the back. Two young boys, Gramms’
sons, came out and took their horses and led them the same way, letting the
cold and weary party enter the inn. The close confines of the tables, already
loaded with customers, made it hard for them to cross the room without bumping
into anyone. A few gave them curious glances but did nothing more than that.

Everyone had plates of food in front of them and the sight
and scent of it filled her head in a sweet, intoxicating way. The aroma set her
stomach to rumbling petulantly, reminding her she’d only had cold fare for
lunch several hours ago. But the thought of food came in a distant second to
the idea of soaking in a large tub of scintillatingly hot water.

By the time Siobhan made it across to Gramms, her skin
tingled painfully. Gramms had three keys in his hands, but he watched her
instead of handing them over, dark eyes looking her over carefully. “Hot baths
before dinner, I think.”

She managed to move her frozen muscles into a semblance of a
smile. “That obvious?”

“With you, at least.” He gave the keys over and pointed up
the stairs. “Back three rooms on the left. Women’s and men’s baths have hot
water in ‘em, and towels and soap, so come down when you’re ready.”

Never before had she felt like kissing the innkeeper as much
as she did now. “Bless you.”

“I’ll have Maddie bring up pallets and such,” he promised,
shooing her on her way.

She trudged up the stairs, her pack bumping along on her
back, sorting out the keys in her hands as she went. They were simple black
cast-iron keys with a ring on them and a small leather square with a number
embossed. It didn’t take any brains to put the right key to the right room, and
when she did, she left the key in the doorknob to let the boys sort themselves
out. She would take the far back room, the one that sat over the kitchen. She
had absolutely no intention of being cold tonight.

Siobhan entered the room and took a glance around. Two narrow
beds, one on either wall, with enough space for a pallet on the floor between
them, a fireplace that sat cold but with logs ready to be lit, and a single
washstand holding up the corner. Large enough for the women, certainly, but she
didn’t know how Tran or Wolf could begin to fit on those beds. They normally
had the larger rooms when they stayed here. She’d never seen Gramms so full
before. The storm’s doing, perhaps?

Choosing the bed closest to the door, she set her pack down
and started rummaging through it for a set of clothes that would be comfortable
enough to sleep in but decent enough to wear downstairs. Sylvie came in after
her, setting her pack on the opposite bed and doing the same search. Siobhan
could hear the men’s low voices next door as they talked amongst themselves.

Denney came up a few minutes later and without ceremony
dropped her pack onto Siobhan’s bed. “Phew! Got that sorted.”

“The dogs?” Siobhan asked. In her preoccupation to get warm,
she’d temporarily forgotten about them.

“Gramms had some of the scraps brought in from the kitchen
and made them a place near the fire. Said they’d be fine there while we had our
bath and he’d keep an eye on ‘em.” Denney smiled as she spoke, digging out a
loose sweater and matching pants. “I do love the man.”

Actually, Gramms’ easy-going nature about having dogs stay
in his inn was one of the reasons why they always chose the place. His surly
attitude aside, the man knew how to be a good host.

“Good enough. Bath,” Siobhan said firmly. Clothes tucked
under her arm, she headed back downstairs.

The baths had sensibly been put in the same hallway as the
kitchen so that hot water could be easily carried over. Siobhan’s stomach
started rumbling all over again as she passed the wealth of delightful smells
coming from that room. She ordered it firmly to be quiet as she kept right on
going into the women’s bathing room.

She took in the sight of the six wooden barrels and their
steaming water with a smile of delight. Little benches sat next to each barrel,
holding clean towels neatly folded and bars of soap. She went directly to the
nearest one, setting her clothes under the towel, and quickly stripped of her
shirt, vest, coat, riding skirt and boots. Someone paused long enough to draw
the curtain in front of the door closed (thereby preventing any accidental
shows for whoever might be in the hallway). Sylvie and Denney went to the
barrels near her, and they didn’t pass a word among themselves until they’d
settled into the hot water with a long sigh of pleasure.

Knees folded up slightly, Siobhan laid her head against the
side of the tub and let the water erase every trace of cold from her skin.
Ahhhh. Paradise. Her hair still felt frozen against her head, so she unbraided
it and let the long length of it flow into the tub. Mmmm, better.

Companionable silence descended for a long moment as they
soaked and enjoyed. But silence could never last long with Sylvie in the room
and eventually the woman broke it. “So…what do you two think of Master Markl
Hammon?”

“I’ve never seen such an easy-going, amiable man,” Denney
answered promptly, lifting her head so that she could look at everyone
properly. “He’s been very helpful ever since he joined.”