Deepwoods (Book 1) (4 page)

“Well, now, that depends.” Siobhan glanced at him from the
corner of her eye. “How long has it been since you picked a fight with anyone
from Blackstone? And how likely is it that they’re holding a grudge over it?”

“It’s been at least a week,” Wolf defended himself mildly,
putting a wounded hand over his heart. The gesture might have gone over better
if it wasn’t his steel hand. He’d broken many a man’s bones because of that
hand. “And I didn’t start it.”

She raised her eyes to the heavens and asked, not for the
first time, why it was that she had two fight-loving idiots as enforcers.
Siobhan honestly couldn’t decide most days who was worse, Wolf or Tran.
“Alright, you’re out,” she informed him before lengthening her stride and
catching up with Tran who scouted a little ahead of the group. Wolf, obviously
not minding, chuckled in a low rumble behind her.

Tran turned his head to answer her question before she could
even give voice to it. “It’s been a solid month, and no, I paid for his medical
bills. No grudge there.”

Except perhaps wounded pride. But it was good enough to
Siobhan’s mind. She wouldn’t have to wake up a grumpy Fei to go fetch Sylvie.
“Then go ahead. She might just be delayed weaseling more information out of
someone, but the last time she went to Blackstone they tried to recruit her,
and I don’t want her delayed uselessly.”

Tran gave a nod and sloppy salute with two fingers before he
stretched out his legs and started running at a ground-eating lope. Siobhan
watched him go in admiration, as she always did. Watching him run was like
seeing poetry in motion. But all Teheranians moved like that. Out of all the
cultures of the four continents, only they did not believe in riding animals
but in using their own feet to get them wherever they wanted to go. The only
exception to that seemed to be boats. (Probably because no one wanted to swim
in the leech infested waters of Teherani.)

As they walked down the main road, the morning traffic
started to pick up so that they weren’t the only ones on the street. Siobhan
hugged the side of the cart more to avoid the traffic going the other
direction, keeping one hand on the wooden side as she tried to plan ahead. Once
they reached the outskirts of town, they’d be able to use one of the paths that
Grae already had built there. It would let them cross the hundred spans to the
next city of Converse in one jump. Then they would hit their first delay, as
crossing the man-made bridge that connected to Island Pass would be impossible
with pathfinding. They’d have to travel as everyone else did, which would take
a solid two days to do. But at that point, they would reach Quigg, the first
city that led into Wynngaard.

And from that point on, she had no idea what they would do.

Darrens could confirm that his daughter made it to Island
Pass. But after the island, there was another bridge that connected to
Wynngaard’s shores. Many travelers had not made it across that bridge because
of the high tides. Lirah and her companions might be dead already, swept over
into the ocean and forever lost. But if they could confirm that she had reached
Quigg, then it opened up whole new sets of possibilities. She
should
have traveled due north from Quigg to Sateren, but Siobhan couldn’t be sure of
that until she reached Quigg and asked around.

Over the low side of the cart, Siobhan caught Denney’s eye and
asked, “What do you think happened? Traveling to Sateren from here is a bit
risky to the unwary, but it’s not
that
dangerous a trip.”

“Especially for her,” Denney agreed. “Like as not, she had
quite the escort with her, being Darrens’ daughter and all. There’s no the
bandits in that area I know of, and I can’t imagine slavers willing to take on
Blackstone enough to try to sell the girl.”

It would be suicide if they did. Darrens had not reached the
seat of power he had without being ruthless against his enemies. “So, what does
that leave us? Sickness?”

“Possible,” Denney said, although the way she frowned
suggested she didn’t think it likely. “I can’t imagine the terrain is
responsible for any delays. It’s mostly farmlands, small villages, and a few
foothills in that area. Honestly, I can only think of one real possibility.”
Denney looked distinctly uneasy as she said slowly, “That she actually did make
it to Sateren.”

Siobhan felt a cold chill go down her spine that had nothing
to do with the outside temperature as she understood what Denney meant. “She
went to negotiate with Iron Dragain Guild. You think they’d double-cross
Blackstone?”

“They’d best have a very good reason for doing so,” Denney
responded grimly. “Let’s hope I’m wrong. It’s just a dark theory that occurred
to me last night.”

“I hope it’s just you being paranoid and suspicious.”

“Me too.” Denney turned her eyes northward in the direction
of Sateren as she repeated softly, “Me too.”

ӜӜӜ

Sylvie and Tran waited for them at the eastern gate, not
looking at all worried or hassled, although Sylvie kept rubbing her arms
against the cold. As soon as they came abreast of them, Tran took up his usual
position at the front of the group and Sylvie fell into step with Siobhan.

“So?” Siobhan prompted.

“I have a copy of their itinerary but it’s not anything
unexpected. They were planning to travel straight to Sateren, no stops, and
stay there for two weeks before coming back. She had an escort of fifteen
people, three of them very experienced with Wynngaard, and the rest known for
their fighting abilities. I recognized some of the names because Tran and Wolf
have both tussled with them before. Siobhan, this isn’t looking good. With an
escort like hers, and the way that she was supplied for the trip, she shouldn’t
have run into any trouble she couldn’t handle.”

Siobhan rubbed at her head, feeling a brooding headache
coming along. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“One more thing. Darrens came and talked to me personally
and handed me quite the bag of gold to finance this trip.” Sylvie tapped the
leather bag strapped to her waist meaningfully. “He said to make sure to send
reports daily to keep him updated.”

“Don’t blame him,” Beirly grunted from atop the cart.

“He also said,” Sylvie added, “that we’re not the only ones
he’s sending out. Apparently he has friends near Sateren that he’s also sent
word to and they’re searching for her even now. So this might turn out to be a
wasted trip.”

“Let’s hope it is,” Wolf said quietly.

“Regardless, we act like we’re their only hope,” Siobhan
said firmly. “Darrens trusts us to save his daughter and we’ll do exactly that.
Unless someone else beats us to it.” She looked through the iron and stone east
gate, looking past it and to the open stone highway that led west. Only a few
carts and pedestrians traveled out of the city at this hour of the morning and
absolutely no one traveled toward Goldschmidt. They had plenty of room to use
Grae’s pathways without any danger of being jostled.

She studied the ground with a keen and discerning eye. She
didn’t have an ounce of talent where pathfinding was concerned, but after
working with Grae for ten solid years, she knew how to judge the ground and sky
and predict whether they could use the paths or not. “Grae? I’m seeing a lot of
frost.”

“It won’t hinder us,” he assured her, interrupted mid-sentence
from his conversation with Hammon. “We’re going to need another hour or so of
daylight anyway before the sun is strong enough, and the frost will melt by
then.”

He could very well be right. It would take them an hour to
reach his pathways too. But she’d timed their departure with that in mind.
Satisfied, she waved them back to their conversation before turning to Sylvie.
“Did Darrens say whether or not he could confirm that they made it through
Quigg?”

“He said he’d sent word asking but hadn’t gotten a response
yet.”

Quigg was an insane hub of traffic coming and going. Never
mind people, large circuses could be lost in there without trouble. Even her
plan of going into the city and asking for information was flawed and depended
more on luck than anything.

She let out a low breath and wished, not for the first time,
that the guilds that controlled all of the cities had better working
relationships with each other. Or were at least on better speaking terms. Ever
since the fall of the great four nations that had once ruled over these
continents seven hundred years ago, the world had changed drastically. Now,
each city had a guild that ruled over it like it was a miniature country. The
economy, politics, and livelihood of a city survived on the trade and governing
ability of the major guilds. Small guilds like hers always owed allegiance to a
large guild because of that. On a day-to-day basis, the governing of
independent guilds worked—more or less. It was just in times like these, when
emergencies popped up, that she saw how flawed the system had become. The areas
between cities might as well be a no man’s land as far as the guilds were
concerned. If you got lost traveling between one city and the next, well, you’d
best hope you had strong allies that would come looking for you.

No one else would.

“Alright, everyone into the cart!” Siobhan commanded.

They’d reached the pathway exactly on schedule. To the
novice eye, it didn’t look like anything more than some elaborate stonework set
into the earth, forming a straight line of stepping stones. In all actuality, there
were two lines, one of which sat a hundred marks farther to the right, both of
them well away from the main highway. It sat near a running brook—which had a
thin layer of ice on it still—and so provided an excellent source for Grae’s
necessary water element. He preferred the far path above the one they stood
poised to walk on for that reason. Well, that and the fact that this path was
built to carry a smaller load. The other path was made to handle large groups,
like caravans. (Hence his habitual arguments with her about weight.)

Grae left the paths in place without worry because so few Pathmakers
existed in the world. Anyone without a Pathmaker’s ability couldn’t use them,
after all. But leaving a bunch of stones buried in the earth didn’t mean that
they would stay obediently in place, so Grae hopped out of the cart and
carefully checked to make sure that nothing had moved.

The day had not noticeably warmed up as they traveled, even
though no clouds obscured the sun. Grae muttered under his breath things like
“sun’s not strong this morning” and “wish we could wait another hour” but he
didn’t pause in dipping his leather flask into the brook and fetching water, so
Siobhan assumed that in spite of his mutterings, he still felt it safe enough
to continue.

Used to the routine, everyone that hadn’t already been
riding in the cart climbed on top. This proved to be a little challenging as
one small cart couldn’t really hold eight full-grown adults, much less two
giants. The dogs, also used to the routine, jumped up at Denney’s urging and
found a human to cuddle in with.

Sylvie, playing on the moment, batted her long eyelashes at
Hammon and purred, “Mind if I do?”

“Eh?” Behind his glasses, his eyes went wide. “I-uh, pardon,
what do you mean?”

“There’s not enough room to sit separately on the cart,”
Denney explained, already sitting on Conli’s lap. “So to avoid trouble, the
women usually borrow someone’s knee until we’re through the path.”

“Ahhh.” Hammon reverted back to his usual good-natured
expression and waved Sylvie forward. “In that case, my knee is your knee, Waverly.”

Sylvie giggled in true amusement as she slid into place,
putting both arms around his shoulders. “You truly aren’t the lecherous sort,
are you, Hammon?”

Hammon gave a one-shouldered shrug as he answered, “I have a
mother and three sisters who made sure of that.”

“Bless them for it,” Sylvie responded, only half-joking.

Siobhan stayed on the ground and watched to make sure that
everyone had found a good spot and wouldn’t be knocked off if someone shifted
unexpectedly. She did
not
want to repeat that mistake. It’d taken four
days to find Denney in that gods-forsaken marshland.

As she oversaw them, Hammon asked why they were on top of
the cart to begin with, and Sylvie explained that it was easier for Grae to
transport them all at once this way. Not to mention avoiding anyone
accidentally putting a foot in the wrong place. Kit had been trained to put his
feet only on the stepping stones, and the cart would follow where the reinmal
went.

Grae came around to stand at the front of the cart, flask at
the ready, and called back to Siobhan, “We can go!”

Good. Siobhan put one hand on the cold wooden side of the
cart and looked around in slight perplexity. Well, everyone else had settled,
but where was
she
supposed to go?

Wolf, seeing her confusion, extended a hand and offered
dryly, “Need a lap, Siobhan?”

“If you’re offering, I’ll take it.” She gripped the hand he extended
and swung nimbly up and onto his lap. It felt rather like sitting on a carved
wooden chair. Wolf didn’t have a spare inch of fat on him anywhere.

He put both arms around her waist to secure her better and
complained, “You’re too light, Siobhan. You need to eat more.”

“Wolf,” she said patiently, for what felt like the
thousandth time, “
Anyone
would be small compared to you.”

“She has a point,” Conli piped up. “And Wolf, I disagree
with you. Medically speaking, she’s in the peak of health.”

How had they gotten on the subject of her weight, anyway?
Hoping to cut the topic short, she called forward, “Alright, Grae!”

The cart inched forward, wheels bumping and clacking a
little as it crossed the multitude of small pebbles forming the stepping
stones. She had no pathfinding sense and never had, but even she could feel it
when Grae worked his ability. The air became softer, more distorted, and it
felt heavy and humid. The area to either side looked strange as two different
landscapes mixed and overlapped with each other, their colors mingling into odd
blurs. To the naked eye, it seemed as if they moved at a snail’s pace but, in
fact, they were crossing spans upon each step. She preferred staring at the
stepping stones the most, as they glowed under Grae’s power, sparkling
blue-white and reflecting the light in a dazzling display.

She glanced at Hammon and found him staring with wide-eyed
wonder, mouth slightly agape. “Have you never traveled by path, Hammon?”

“Once before,” he admitted without looking at her. “But I
was a small child then. My memory is a little hazy.”

“Ahhh.” That explained his reaction. It reminded her that
she still didn’t really know who he was. He had mentioned a family earlier, so
he wasn’t an orphan. He kept presenting a growing puzzle to her, though, the
more she discovered. Most people who were wealthy enough to be scholars traveled
by path often. Why had he only done it once? And despite his very sensible,
logical reasons in joining her guild, she couldn’t help but feel that he could
have found an easier way to do his studies, especially if he was funded as he
claimed to be.

Rain and drought, but she really wished they’d had a day or
two more in Goldschmidt so she could have done some discreet inquiries about
Hammon before traveling with him.

“Then basic rules.” Sylvie ticked off points on her fingers.
“First, don’t fall off the cart. If you land on anything other than a stepping
stone, you’ll leave the path completely and we have no way of knowing where you
ended up. Ask Denney sometime about that.”

Denney stuck her tongue out and looked away with a
humph
,
refusing to be baited.

Hammon took in this interaction with arched eyebrows. “I
take it something happened.”

“It’s a long trip,” Sylvie assured him with sadistic cheer.
“I’ll tell you the story sometime. Anyway, rule two: only Grae can end the path
so don’t climb down until he says so. Rule three: if you do fall off, no moving.
We can find you a lot easier if you’re not wandering around in circles. Isn’t
that right, Denney?”

“You’re forgetting something, Sylvie,” the woman told her
with a dark glower.

“Oh?” Sylvie looked innocent. Or tried to, although her lips
kept quivering as if she suppressed a smile.

“Yes.” Denney growled out, “I know where you sleep at night
and you’re a deep sleeper. I’d be concerned if I were you.”

“Why should I?” Sylvie snuggled in closer to Hammon, making
the man blush a little. “Hammon will protect me.”

“Ah…” Proving he could play along with their teasing, he
gave Sylvie an apologetic smile, “I’m actually a very deep sleeper as well. My
house was struck by lightning once and I slept right through it.”

Sylvie pursed her lips as she studied his expression. “I’d
best find a different protector.”

“I certainly would,” he responded with a distinct twinkle in
his eyes.

“We’re almost through!” Grae called back to them.

Siobhan let out a subtle breath of relief. She couldn’t
really tell Wolf this, but that steel hand of his rested right against her ribs
and pinched a little. Normally, when he touched someone else, he took great
care with that hand so as to not accidentally cause any injuries. After all, he
couldn’t feel anything through it except distant pressure. He’d broken more
things accidentally than she could recall. But she didn’t dare say anything to
him about it—the last time she had, he’d been so regretful of leaving a mark on
her he hadn’t touched her for nearly two months. She could put up with a bruise
on her ribs rather than reliving that awkwardness.

The stepping stones faded, returning to their normal color
of brown and grey. The distorted and humid pressure of the air also dissipated
and Siobhan knew they were through before Grae could get out the words, “We’re
here! You can get down!”

Wolf gave her a hand down—with his natural left hand—which
she used gratefully to clamber off the cart. A slight breeze washed over her,
causing an errant shiver to dance over her skin, and she grimaced. Sitting on
Wolf might have given her a bruise, but at least he’d kept her warm. “No one
fell off, right?” she teased as her boots touched the ground.

“Ha ha ha,” Denney shot back sarcastically.

Wolf put a hand on the side of the cart, levering himself
up. “I think we’d know—”

Tran, an evil smirk on his face, reached out a hand and
grasped Wolf’s ankle before yanking hard. Wolf had just enough time to gasp,
eyes wide in panic, before he face-planted into the grass, sprawled out like an
abandoned ragdoll.

Dead silence.

When Wolf didn’t do more than twitch, Siobhan dared to ask,
“So, ah, how you doing down there?”

Without lifting his face, Wolf growled, “Me? I’m dandy. I’m
so happy I’m eating grass.”

Tran threw back his head and roared.

With an outrageous twinkle in his eye, Hammon turned to
Conli and asked mock-seriously, “Doesn’t grass have several medicinal
properties?”

“Actually, it does,” Conli agreed in the same tone. “It’s
quite good for the digestive system.”

Beirly twisted about in his seat to add, “Animals eat grass,
so makes sense to me.”

“That confirms a few things,” Tran said to no one in
particular.

Wolf finally rolled over to his side and lifted himself up,
giving Tran a glare hot enough to melt steel. Siobhan had no doubt that
later—when they were out of her sight and hearing—there would be revenge.

Well, as long as they didn’t kill each other. Shaking her
head, Siobhan looked around. They’d reached the end of the path without mishap,
bless Grae’s skills, and had come to the outskirts of Converse. Siobhan had
been in, through, and around this city often enough to know it at a glance.
Converse sat at the very northern tip of Robarge, placed at the opening of the
Grey Bridges that connected to Island Pass and through the island to Wynngaard.
To label it a ‘trading city’ would be a severe understatement. Despite that, it
had never become particularly large. Goldschmidt took up three times the amount
of land Converse did and saw far more livelihood. Most people passed through
Converse and did a little business as they went, but few chose to stay.

But then, the high tides of the Mother Ocean could likely be
blamed for that.

People who wanted to stay on the cart did—Fei actually went
back to sleep—but most chose to dismount and continue walking alongside.
Siobhan studied the city as they angled their way across the wild grassland and
toward the stone highway. Quite a bit of traffic went up and down the road,
either leaving Converse for another destination further east or heading toward
the west with plans to pass through. The western gate leading into the city
stood wide open and traffic flowed through unchecked. From here, only the
tallest structures remained visible beyond the high stone walls. Bells tolled
out over the city, telling the time, and she could faintly detect the smells of
food baking, all of it saying no trouble lay ahead. She never quite knew with
this city whether they’d be walking into a dangerous situation or not.

After all, everyone had to go through Converse to reach
Robarge. Good and bad alike.

“Seems peaceful,” Wolf said quietly from behind her.

“Let’s hope it holds true,” she responded just as quietly.
Now, next important thing to consider: how much time did they really have? It
took a solid eight hours to cross the first section of the Grey Bridges and
reach Island Pass. Siobhan always tried to give them an hour’s leeway just in
case something went wrong—like a wheel unexpectedly breaking—so they didn’t
face the dangers of being left out on the bridge when the tide rolled back in.
Centuries ago, when the bridges were first constructed, they were meant to be
passable at all times of the day and night. But over time, the seas had risen,
cutting the travel time down significantly. If you wanted to pass safely and
not face being swept away by the ocean, you crossed at low tide. By the time
high tide came in, the bridges would be awash under several feet of seawater.