Dreamer's Daughter (9 page)

“I fear I am.”

She closed her eyes and forced herself to relive her memories. She walked through the gates, heard them click shut behind her, heard the heavy metal doors of the building close behind her as well and felt something come down behind her that wasn't visible. She walked to the dormitory where she'd slept for the whole of her life with three score other girls and women. She forced herself to look at the weaving room and the Guildmistress's chambers, then follow along the stark white passageways until she found herself standing at Mistress Muinear's doorway.

She sighed deeply, then opened her eyes and looked at Rùnach.

“There is a spell of watching surrounding the outer walls,” she said, trying not to shudder. “I'm not sure what else to call it but that. There is no action to it; it simply watches what comes and goes through the gates. There is another much more powerful spell of containment that closes behind you when you enter the Guild building. Mistress Muinear had, I think, a different sort of spell in her chambers. A more pleasant one, but the magic is unfamiliar to me. Twisted beyond what it was meant to be, perhaps.”

“And the Guildmistress herself?”

“Something very unpleasant there. Not Olc, I don't think. I can't name it now, but I think I might be able to if we were closer to her chambers. Not that I'd ever find myself in that place again, of course.”

“I wouldn't think to ask you to go,” he said quietly. “Leave that to me.”

She felt her mouth fall open. “Leave it to you?” she repeated. “What does that mean?”

“What it means is that I'll be the one to go inside and ask the Guildmistress where your parents live.”

She turned to face him fully. “You can't be serious.”

“Actually, I am,” he said carefully. “I won't have you subjected to that place again. I'll find you a safe place to stay whilst I see to what needs to be done today.”

She had thought, a fortnight earlier, perhaps a pair of fortnights earlier, that even thinking to take up her quest to find a way to save Bruadair was taxing the limits of her courage. Actually putting her foot to that path had required yet more digging deeply into her heart for the strength to ignore her fear. Coming to Bruadair with Rùnach hadn't been as hard as she'd suspected it would be, mostly because she had assumed they would find what they needed to overthrow Sglaimir, Rùnach would use a few handy spells to put him in his place, then they would hurry off—well, she hadn't considered exactly where they would hurry off to, but she'd been fairly certain it would be a pleasant place.

She had never once considered walking back into the Guild. That was something else entirely.

“Or we could try a library,” he said quietly.

She looked at him, grandson of elven royalty and a powerful wizardess, a man who could have easily taken up a place as an equal to any number of lovely if not sharply heeled princesses and lived out his life in splendor and ease. Yet there he sat on a rotting bench, waiting for her to decide what she was willing to do so he knew what unpleasantness was left for him.

She closed her eyes briefly, then looked at him.

“I'll come.”

He looked as if he intended to protest, then he sighed. “I'm not sure you would be any safer tucked away in an inn than you would be with me which is the only reason I'll agree to this.” He shot her a look. “We might make a bit of a mess getting out if things go south.”

“Don't expect me to clean it up.”

He smiled faintly. “Nay, I'll see to it.”

She chewed on her next words for far longer than perhaps she should have. “I'd like to see the Guildmistress with boils or some other nasty ailment.”

“I'm not sure I can manage that and everything else,” he said thoughtfully. “You might have to see to the festering sores.”

“Have you a spell for that sort of thing?”

“I have spells for all sorts of things, love.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Off we go, then.”

Her good humor lasted approximately ten paces, but no more. She knew what lay ahead of her and could scarce bring herself to enter those terrible gates voluntarily.

Then again, Rùnach had done the same thing twenty years earlier when he'd walked into a glade to try to keep his father from unleashing an incalculable amount of evil.

She took a deep breath and kept walking.

R
ùnach walked behind a pair of very burly guardsmen and wondered if he'd just walked into hell.

He supposed he could thank his uncle Nicholas for the spell of clarity that had seemingly only been enhanced by the recent return of his magic, though thanks were not precisely what he was interested in offering at present. Being able to see the spells that hung like filthy drapes over the entire Guild was extremely unpleasant. How Aisling had borne it so long was a mystery to him.

Perhaps she was blessed not to have been able to see at the time.

She was half a step behind him, close enough that he could turn and pull her close if something went wrong, but far enough away that it didn't look as if that were his intention. She was, after all, merely his assistant and he a very rich, rather annoyed trader come to find out details about a customer who owed him money.

He walked along floors of dingy grey tile and suppressed the urge to flinch at the relentless whiteness of the walls. At least in Ceangail, there had been blood, a decent layer of fear, and the shrieks of lesser mages coating the castle walls. It had added a bit of interest to the relentless grey of the stone. Here, there wasn't even that. How Aisling had survived so long in such stark surroundings, he didn't know. He fully intended to be in and out of the place in less than half an hour. He didn't think either of them would survive any longer than that.

He was just sure it was his imagination, but he felt as if the passageway were constricting the farther along it they went until there was finally nowhere else to go. The guard stopped in front of an unremarkable steel door, rapped smartly, then stepped aside. Rùnach was very grateful for all the years he'd spent perfecting the ability to remain still and, when warranted, paste a neutral expression on his face.

The door was wrenched open and a tall, austere woman stood there. She was dressed in black, which surprised him slightly. She was wearing an expression of annoyance, which didn't surprise him at all.

He found himself sized up expertly in the space of a pair of heartbeats. The Guildmistress glanced at Aisling, but immediately dismissed her. Rùnach supposed the close-fitting hat, the dirt-smudged cheeks, and the hood pulled close to her face was disguise enough. As he had said, despite it all she was safer right next to him than waiting in some seedy inn. Perhaps he'd spent too much time imagining the horror of returning to their lodgings and finding her gone. Besides, if things truly became dodgy, he could release his magic and save them both.

Assuming his magic worked as it should.

The Guildmistress stepped back and welcomed him into her office with a sweeping motion. “Do come inside, Master Buck.”

Rùnach felt a little as if he were going into Droch of Saothair's chambers at Buidseachd, but there was nothing to be done about it now. He found himself regretting sorely having brought Aisling along even though he couldn't have done anything else. He would die before he left her behind to be yet again imprisoned, though he sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that. His goal was to slip in and out of the Guild whilst garnering as little notice as possible, not raze the place.

The Guildmistress reached out suddenly and took Aisling by the arm. “Do not sit.”

“Oh, I wouldn't think to have him dirty one of your chairs,” Rùnach drawled in his best imitation of his grandfather, Sìle. “I know I never let him dirty any of mine. He spends more than his fair share of time trotting behind the carriage, as you can see.”

The woman pursed her lips. Perhaps she was smiling. Rùnach had no idea. She sat down behind her extremely large and heavy desk, then motioned for him to take a seat on the other side.

“My men said there was a trader here to see me on business that required my immediate attention. I had assumed it would be someone here for large quantities of cloth. Is that your need?”

“Actually, I'm here for an exchange that I hope will prove mutually beneficial,” Rùnach said smoothly. “Weighted, of course, more heavily on your side of the scale.”

The Guildmistress studied him for several minutes in silence. Rùnach didn't begrudge her that examination. Aisling hadn't told him much at all about her, but he hadn't needed the details. He could immediately see that there was a woman who took pleasure in small things: intimidating those weaker and poorer than she, sending fear rolling through the passageways to bring her workers to heel, no doubt torturing small animals. He'd seen his father do much worse, so he was less intimidated by it than perhaps he should have been.

“So,” she said, leaning her elbows on her table and clasping her hands in front of her. “What do you have to offer me?”

Rùnach smiled. “Why don't we discuss what I need first?”

“Because I am not particularly interested in what you need,” she said with a very slight lifting of one of her shoulders, “only in what you can provide me. Perhaps you might begin with your trader's license.”

Rùnach removed that from the purse at his belt, making sure to brush the coins lingering there in a way that could leave no doubt as to their quantity. He slid the paper across the desk toward her.

“There you are.”

“Gold?”

“I have plenty,” he assured her.

“Allow me to admire some of it.”

He reached in and pulled out several gold sovereigns minted in an equal number of locales. He put them just within her reach and watched as she picked them up one by one, examining where they had been struck. She looked at him calculatingly.

“You have traveled far.”

“Exclusive goods are my delight,” he said easily. “And one travels where one must to find them.”

“Pricey goods, are they?”

“Extremely.”

“What did you bring with you today?” she asked, fingering one of his coins.

“A question and ample payment for the answer.”

She frowned as if that answer had displeased her somehow, but she examined his license just the same. He only watched with as bored a look as he could muster. Soilléir had obviously gotten himself in and out of Bruadair many times with the same sort of thing. Rùnach had no doubt the current sheaf in question would survive even the Guildmistress's scrutiny.

She didn't shortchange the process, which Rùnach appreciated. She was obviously waiting for him to shift first, if shifting was to be done. He didn't move. He'd learned that much at least from all his years as his father's son.

She finally shot him a glare, then shoved the license back at him. She gathered the coins onto her side of the desk.

“Ask,” she said briskly.

Rùnach removed the purse from his belt and put it on the edge of the table nearest his knee, which he'd propped up against the wood. He also took a packet from within his cloak, set it on the table, then opened it partially to reveal the contents. It was nothing more than a silk scarf, but the fabric had come from a Cothromaichian loom, so perhaps the Guildmistress would find that rare enough for her tastes. He set it next to the gold, then looked at Aisling's former jailor.

“As I said,” he said, “I deal in only the most exclusive of goods, and my clientele is equally discreet. I was persuaded by a third party to engage in a piece of business with a man I'd never met before and had not interviewed myself.”

The Guildmistress snorted. “I can see where this is going already.”

“I would imagine you can,” he said. “Unfortunately, I was far less perceptive at the time and I found myself swindled over an exceedingly rare and valuable piece of carving. Elvish, of course, and almost impossible to come by. Once I realized my prize was gone but my payment not forthcoming, I set about tracking down this cagey lad and his lady wife.”

“Tracking them down where?”

“Here.”

She looked momentarily confused, then she frowned. “There are no married couples here at the Guild. Only women.”

“I was led to believe they had done business of some kind with you,” he said. He reached for his package and his gold. “My mistake, obviously—”

“Don't be so hasty,” the Guildmistress said, holding out her hand. “I do business with many.”

Rùnach released the prizes and sat back. “Then hope remains.”

“How long ago was the crime?”

“Three months.”

“Why didn't you come to me three months ago?”

“I only discovered the fraud a pair of fortnights ago, of course,” Rùnach said coolly. “Why else would I wait so long? While the theft was an annoyance, I have had other, more profitable transactions requiring my attention. I am just recently arrived in Beul with time to see to the matter. I called at their reputed lodging to find them gone, of course. Unfortunately, no number of threats jogged the innkeeper's memory as to where they might currently find themselves.”

“You didn't threaten me.”

“I am a gentleman.”

“So you appear to be.” She looked at him. “Very well, what are the names of this unwholesome pair?”

“The husband's name is Riochdair. The wife had a very unusual name. Dannar, Dagnar, Dannemar.” He shrugged. “Something akin to that.”

The Guildmistress had gone very still. “And you didn't bother to find out the particulars of this pair?”

Rùnach drew himself up slightly. “Perhaps I wasn't clear before,” he said evenly. “I do not screen my clients personally. I have trusted, very ambitious tradesmen chosen especially for that pedestrian labor. It is their business to seek out suitable buyers for me.”

“I'd suggest firing the one who set you up with this pair.”

“Oh, he's no longer in the business of trade,” Rùnach said with a shrug. “I believe his convalescence will be long and unpleasant.”

The Guildmistress snorted, then seemed to realize they weren't alone. She looked at Aisling, who was standing by the door, then seemed to consider things she perhaps hadn't before.

“Their daughter was one of my workers,” she said thoughtfully.

Rùnach merely looked at her politely. “And?”

“I thought you might find that interesting.”

“I don't deal in human prizes,” he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “They squirm too much.”

The Guildmistress pursed her lips, then reached for a piece of paper. She scrawled something on it, then shoved it across the desk. Rùnach looked at it.

Riochdair and Dallag of Malcte. He frowned, then looked at the Guildmistress. “This is the pair?”

“I said it was,” the Guildmistress snapped. “And they owe me as well. Their brat is a runaway. If I find her, I'll do worse than simply put her back at her loom.”

Rùnach shook his head. “Again, too much work,” he said. “Much easier to deal in inanimate objects.” He considered the paper again, then pocketed it. He pushed the bag of coins across the table, then placed the wrapped package next to it. “A pleasure.”

The Guildmistress spilled the coins out onto the table. Rùnach rose, glancing behind him at the guard standing in front of the door. The man hadn't moved, which wasn't particularly encouraging, but perhaps he was waiting for a signal from his employer. Rùnach turned back in time to see the Guildmistress pull the scarf from the packet. She froze briefly, then looked at him in surprise.

“Cothromaichian silk.”

He nodded. “You have a keen eye.”

“How on earth did you come by this?”

“Fairly,” he said mildly.

“Traders lie.”

“Which is why most of them only have substandard goods to sell,” he said, “which I do not. There's a reason for that.” He inclined his head. “A pleasure, madame.”

He walked over to the door, nodded for the guard to move, then let himself out. He was, he had to admit, vastly relieved that Aisling had exited with him. He put her one step in front of him and loosened both his sword in its sheath and the spell surrounding his magic. First and last resort, respectively, but he could feel the hair on the back of his neck prickling, so they were most certainly not out of the woods yet.

He wasted no time in walking down the hall, though he went out of his way to make it look like a saunter and not a hasty retreat. He heard nothing behind him, though he expected to have someone raise the alarm at any moment.

He nodded to the guards at the front door and was allowed out. Good, but not a complete escape. He didn't relax fully until they were outside the stone wall and the gates had clanged shut behind them. He looked up and down the street, but there wasn't a damned carriage in sight.

“We'll have to walk for a bit, I imagine,” he said with a curse.

“I know shortcuts.”

He smiled grimly. “I wouldn't expect anything less. Can you get us back to the inn—or, nay, perhaps just to a main street. We'll find a carriage there, I'll warrant.”

She nodded. Rùnach followed her, glancing casually over his shoulder now and then whilst doing his damndest not to be obvious about it.