Origins: A Deepwoods Book - a Collection of Deepwoods Short Stories (Deepwoods Series 0) (5 page)

He was amazed by the change his arm had undergone in just
one night. It no longer looked an angry red but a shade of healthier pink, and
the swelling had gone down considerably. Siobhan let out a pleased hum, a
slight smile on her face. “Well, the man knows his trade, I give him that.
Let’s see, he said clean it with this first…” following Vidal’s instructions,
she cleaned the wound with a noxious substance that stung like a swarm of bees,
then reapplied the poultice, which soothed his skin again. In neat, deft
movements, she rewrapped the arm with a clean bandage.

“Don’t worry about Grae,” she counseled as she worked, never
looking up. “He’s not really afraid of you. He’s just nervous. He’s always like
this when he has to work with strangers. It’s why I couldn’t let him go out
alone to make a living as a Pathmaker—he needs someone as a business partner.”

Was that all it was? Erik somehow doubted that, but was
willing to pretend he believed her. “Alright.”

“When we get to Goldschmidt, I’ll get you a guild crest of
your own. You’ll need it to cross the Bridges with.” Finished, she tied a firm
square knot and only then met his eyes. “And why aren’t you asking me more
questions?”

Because I’m scared of the answers
was the exact thing
he could not say out loud. “You’ve told me everything I really need to know.”

Siobhan huffed out a breath. “Not likely. But alright,
you’ll ask when you want to, I suppose. Pack up, let’s go to Goldschmidt.”

The trip to Goldschmidt was short and uneventful. Grae
apparently had a few dedicated paths already built, in spite of being in
business only a short while, and one of them went from Goldschmidt to Converse.
Erik had traveled by path before a few times, and found that Grae’s
was…different. Somehow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what the difference
was, just that it seemed like Grae had better control over the path. Going by
path had always made him nervous before, but this time he didn’t feel nearly as
anxious.

Goldschmidt was one of the larger cities he’d seen before,
but not the largest. He took it in from stem to stern, noting the placement of
guards up on the walls and by the gates, the amount of traffic on the road, and
the general feel of the place. It seemed like a good city, especially for
business.

Erik had worked as an enforcer a time or two before in his
previous guild, so he knew what to do. As they went through the gates, he kept
his eyes peeled for trouble, and stayed a step back from everyone so that he
could keep watch on the three. But nothing troublesome happened and they went
straight to their guildhall without him needing to do anything. Which was just
as well, considering he was still weaponless.

The Hall surprised him. It was much larger than he thought
it would be, a full two stories tall, and seemed very soundly constructed of
wood and stone. The inside had a large, raftered ceiling, plenty of tables and
chairs strewn about, and a staircase leading to the upstairs.

Siobhan paused just inside the doorway and said to him,
“Beirly, Grae, and I are all on the second story, on the right side of the
hallway. You can choose any room on the left side or in the attic. Up to you.”

“Fine.” He’d take the first room on the left, then. If
danger came up to them, he wanted to be able to react quickly.

“Come see me when you’re done unpacking,” Beirly instructed,
nodding toward the back of the main room. “I have a workshop back there. I
think it’d be easier to make you up a new hand than try to modify a shield.”

A new hand? How in mercy would he pull that off?

Siobhan didn’t seem to doubt this and actually clapped. “Oh,
you thought of a way? Good. Be careful not to make his wound worse though. It’s
just now healing properly.”

Beirly waved this concern off. “Won’t be able to do much
today except take measurements anyway, draft out a few ideas. It’ll be a good
week before I can try anything.”

“Good.” Pleased, she bounded up the stairs, calling back
over her shoulder, “Wolfinsky, after you’re done with Beirly, we’re going
shopping!”

Snorting, Beirly muttered under his breath, “She’s like a
child with a new toy.” Shaking his head, he also went up the stairs, bag thrown
over his shoulder.

Following their example, he went up as well, and took the
room that would be ‘his,’ at least for a short while. It was simply furnished
with chest, bed, and washstand. It was clean, if a little musty with disuse. He
put his gear away without dwelling on the place too much and went back down.

Beirly beat him to the workshop and was already at a table,
sketching things out with sure strokes on a large piece of blank paper. This
room seemed more lived in than any other part of the hall. There were wood
shavings on the floor, tools hanging off the walls and strewn across a
roughhewn table, with another, smaller table to the side that had stacks of
leather scraps on it. The scent of wood and leather mixed pleasantly in the
air, and he smiled unconsciously at the smell.

“Come, sit,” Beirly invited, pushing a stool out with his
foot.

Erik took it, tilting his head sideways to look at the
drawing as he did. It looked like a hand, with joints and everything. “Is that
your idea?”

“Thought hit me as we were on the path that I can make a
moving hand, with joints and such, and then make it so that it can lock into
place so you can hold onto things.” Tapping the pencil to the drawing, he
added, “I’ll make it of wood first. Cheaper that way, easier to work out the
mistakes. If this works, I’ll make you another of metal.”

He felt overwhelmed by the generosity he was receiving in
this guild. Even Grae, who didn’t know how to be comfortable around him,
wouldn’t even say a harsh word to him. How had he been so blessed to be picked
up by these people?

“You’re too generous,” he said huskily.

“Naw, it’s a fun challenge.” Beirly belied his words by
giving Erik a clap on the shoulder in a gesture of comradeship. “Now, give me
your good arm. I need to know how long to make your wood one so they match.”

Erik cooperated as Beirly took measurements of his arm in
every possible direction. He measured both arms, actually, so that he knew
precisely what lengths to make everything. Done, Beirly shooed him out, and he
went back to the front door to meet Siobhan.

She sat at a table near the front door, clearly waiting on
him. “Done? Good. Let’s go.” Standing, she led the way out and waited for him
to fall into step beside her before saying, “I’ve been thinking of where to go,
but I don’t really know your preference in weapons. What do you like?”

“A broadsword,” he admitted frankly. “But they’re pricey. A
long dagger will do.”

“Broadsword?” Siobhan gave him a quick head-to-toe study.
“Yes, with your size, that’d be the best weapon.”

The look on her face was one he’d seen before—on his
mother’s—when she set her mind to have something. Hoping to derail her, he
tried again, “But they’re hideously expensive. It’s too much.”

“Deepwoods is actually a guild under Blackstone, the ruling
guild of this city,” she explained. “I’m allotted a certain amount every year
to pay for weapons, housing, and the like, as long as I meet their financial
milestones. Which, so far, we’ve exceeded. It’s part of the reason why I wanted
to form a guild in this city. Anyway, up to this point we haven’t used any of
the allowance I have for weapons. So, if we want to get a broadsword for you,
we can do it for free. We just have a narrow selection, as only a few
swordsmiths are directly connected to Blackstone.”

While all of this sounded reasonable, what did she plan to
do for the next enforcer she brought into the guild? Pay for his weapons
herself? He had no room to ask the question, or argue, as she dragged him
abruptly into a smithy.

It was a prosperous place, he could tell that at first
glance, as every style of weapon imaginable donned the walls or were leaning up
in barrels. The price of the metal alone in this single room would be enough to
feed a large family for a year.

A long counter split the room in half and divided the smithy
from the shop area. Siobhan stopped in front of it and aimed a charming smile
at the middle-aged man standing behind it. “Good master, I’m in the need of a
broadsword and a shield.”

The master gave her a dubious look. “You are or he is?”

“He is, to be precise.”

“Left or right han—” the man cut himself off as he took in
Erik’s missing hand. “Left handed, obviously.”

As if this hadn’t occurred to her before, Siobhan asked
curiously, “Wolfinsky, were you naturally right or left handed before that
happened?”

“Right,” he answered calmly. “But my sword master taught us
how to fight with both hands.”

“That was good fortune for you.”

Truly. If not, he would have to train with his left hand
from the ground up, and that could take years.

The sword smith eyed his new customer with a speculative
gaze. “I have a Wynngaardian broadsword if that’ll be of interest?”

“You do?” Erik responded wistfully. He hadn’t held one since
he was taken from his home seven years ago.

“Aye, took it in on trade last week. Mighty fine sword, but
no one here knows how to use it properly. Not to mention it’s too long for most
men here. We don’t get many your size.” This last part was said dryly. Coming
around the counter, he lifted up a section so he could walk to their side and
take a broadsword off the wall.

Erik balanced the sheath on his bad arm as he drew the sword
free with the other hand. Even before it cleared the scabbard, he could tell
this was a fine weapon. The balance was perfect, the metal gleamed with blue
steel, and the hilt had been recently rewrapped with brown leather.

Siobhan read his expression easily and said to the master,
“We’ll take it.”

The master chuckled. “Yes, it’s clear he wants it. I don’t
have a shield large enough for a man his size, but I can make one up within a
week. That soon enough?”

“That’ll be fine.” Siobhan pulled out her guild crest and
flipped it open so he could see it. “My allotment from Blackstone should cover
about one hundred and twenty kors. How much will that cover?”

“For the sword and shield? All of it, I think. It’ll leave
you about five kors left over. That alright by you?”

“Perfectly fine,” she assured him.

Erik started adding up all that she had spent on him in his
head and balked at the figure. “Wait, Siobhan, this really is too much to spend
on me considering I won’t stay with you long—”

“Oh, just take it, will you?” she responded in exasperation.
“If I don’t use it in the next three months, I lose it.”

Really? Well, if that was the case…. He eyed the sword
longingly. “I’ll work it off. Promise.”

“That’s the spirit,” she responded cheerfully.

They stayed long enough for Erik to describe what he needed
for the shield, the master to take some measurements, and for them to adjust
the sword so that it hung correctly on his right hip. But once that was
settled, they left the shop, satisfied.

“What now?” he asked her.

“Food,” she answered, already heading the opposite way of
what they had come. “There’s nothing in the Hall to eat, since we just came
back. Wolfinsky, can you cook?”

“A few things.”

“Praise all mercy. You don’t want Grae cooking, so that
usually means it’s either me or Beirly. One more cook in the place will be a
welcome thing. In that case, pick up what ingredients you need. You’re on duty
tonight.” She flashed him a half-teasing smile.

Cooking a meal for her seemed a small thing to do so he
inclined his head, agreeable.

Slowing her pace, she tilted her head to look up at him.
“What I call you is bothering me.” Siobhan looked at him with narrowed eyes,
using one finger to poke at her lips. “Wolfinsky seems so….distant.”

He went abruptly still, watching her with rising hope in his
chest. “So what do you want to call me?”

“I think ‘Wolf’ would be better.”

Wolf? “Not Erik?”

“Oh, it’s a fine name, don’t mistake me. I just like to call
people by nickname. Besides, you growl just like one when you’re hungry or
angry. Wolf fits you fine.”

He couldn’t remember anyone calling him by a nickname.
Strangely enough, he liked it. “Wolf, is it?” He tested the idea out and liked
the taste of it. “Alright. I’ll answer by it.”

“Good.” She beamed at him, beyond pleased. “Wolf it is.”

ӜӜӜ

Erik was used to fighting and working for long hours before
getting any sleep. For the past three days, the most strenuous thing he had
done was shop. It left him feeling restless with too much pent up energy. Even
though it was late in the evening, and everyone else had already retired for
the night, he couldn’t do the same. The bed was comfortable enough—it was his
own demons that wouldn’t let him rest.

Irritated with himself, he slung the covers off, and moved
with silent feet out of his room. He first checked on Siobhan and found her
deep asleep in her own bed. Satisfied she was fine, he moved to the stairs with
the half-formed notion of a late night snack.

“—still think Siobhan is crazy for taking him on?” Beirly’s
voice asked. Even though it was muted, it was still understandable.

Erik stopped dead on the stairs, staying in the shadows and
just out of sight of the main room. Who was Beirly talking to? Grae?

“Yes,” Grae said firmly. His voice wasn’t quite as loud as
Beirly’s and Wolf had to strain more to hear him.

“The man’s done nothing to you,” Beirly pointed out. “Hasn’t
even looked at you sideways.”

“It’s nothing he’s done or said,” Grae admitted grudgingly.
“But the man’s just
menacing
. All he does is stand there and breathe and
he’s menacing!”

“Aye, well, no arguments there. It still boggles my mind
what Siobhan saw in him that made her so adamant to have him.” Wood creaked, as
if Beirly had shifted his weight in the chair. “He looks better now, but you
didn’t see him with his hair like a bird’s nest and a beard down to his chest.
He looked like a Wildman.”

“What did she see?” Grae wondered, bewildered.

“Don’t know. But she was right to get him. I mean, look at
the way he behaves. He follows her like a giant shadow. More fierce than a
guard dog, that man is. If the least bit of danger comes near her, he snarls
and snaps at it and drives it away.”

“I do feel better about her walking around now that he’s
with her,” Grae reluctantly admitted. “Shi has never been aware of the fact
that she’s a pretty woman.”

“Well, with those twin swords on her back, she likely thinks
that she can handle whatever danger comes near her. And she’s not wrong half
the time.”

Erik snorted. Siobhan could handle the regular thief or
drunkard, but if true trouble came her way, she’d be hard pressed to combat it.
Erik had been fighting long enough that he could evaluate someone just by
watching them move. Siobhan had the balance and strength to be a good
swordswoman, but she lacked the reflexes to make her formidable.

“I just don’t know how to react to the man,” Grae
complained.

“That’s fair,” Beirly allowed. “I don’t either. For that
matter, I don’t think he knows how to react to us. But Grae, I’ll tell you
this. For every show of kindness I’ve offered him, he’s shown respect and
kindness in return. He might come from a dark guild, but he was in a good home
before that, that’s as clear as the nose on my face. Treat him well, and he’ll
do the same to you.”