Deepwoods (Book 1) (13 page)

“I do not believe that they will die just moving them back
to Sateren! You should be in a city—that is where the guilds belong. We of this
village do not deal with the guilds. This woman has abused our trust by
pretending to be a normal traveler and—”

Stubborn, arrogant, old— “Ahbiren,” Siobhan said firmly,
cutting him off mid-rant, “have compassion. Lirah is far, far from home in a
land that she does not understand. She’s in a culture that is confusing, with
no allies or friends to rely upon. Worse, she was attacked by hired
professionals with no warning, leaving her stranded here with wounded people to
take care of and no way of knowing who attacked her or why. Why do you blame
her for keeping her identity secret? Why do you judge her so harshly for trying
to protect her companions? She had no choice but to keep her identity secret,
not only for her own safety, but also for the fifteen lives that are depending
upon her!”

The Ahbiren looked uncomfortable at her scolding and he
flushed red, eyes not quite meeting hers. “What she did was a betrayal to us.”

Siobhan resisted the urge to start beating sense into him. She
took in a long breath and blew it out again. “I understand that your feelings
are hurt and that you are not pleased with her choice. I can see your point as
well as hers. In the interest of improving relations between the two of you,
and letting her stay until her people are well again, is there anything we can
do to make amends?”

At ‘amends,’ he looked up again with a light in his eyes
that scared Siobhan. She knew, instinctively, that she would not like what he
would say next. “You offer to take one of our troubles as your own?”

Trapped by her own words, she put on a game smile and said
through gritted teeth, “That’s right.”

Like a fox that had found a way into the henhouse, he gave
her a smug smile and pointed to a far off lean-to. “Then I ask that you deal
with that.”

She turned to look. In between a dozen buildings, down a
weaving, narrow path, she could barely see the kneeling figure of a person,
although she couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman. “And what is that,
exactly?”

“An assassin that came here to kill me several weeks ago.”

She blinked. An assassin?! “You look remarkably well in
spite of the attack.”

“He never reached my home,” the Ahbiren told her with
satisfaction. “My people prevented that.”

Riiiight. “And, ah, he looks uninjured as well?” After
trying to kill their leader, she would have expected someone in the village to
kill him.

The Ahbiren cleared his throat again but this time he looked
more irritated than before. “He’s quite skilled. It took all we had to subdue
him.”

Skilled enough to evade death even when in a Wynngaardian
village? It made her wonder just how good this man was. As good as Wolf, Tran
or Fei? Better? (Although she couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of someone
better.) “I see. And the reason he’s still alive even though he’s in chains is
because…?”

“He comes from one of the dark guilds of Sateren.” The
Ahbiren probably didn’t mean to sound nervous when he said this, but he looked
like a scared rabbit. “We do not wish to invite their wrath by killing one of
their own. But no one has come to claim him. We are not sure what to do. But
you
are of the guilds. You will know of the proper thing to do. Take care of this
situation, free us of him, and all hard feelings will disappear.”

She stared at him in dismay. Her? Deal with a dark guild
assassin?! Great wind and stars, how was she supposed to know what to do with
him? In desperation, she looked at Wolf, hoping he had an idea.

He cocked a brow back at her, expression saying, You got us
into this. You can get us back out again.

Some help
he
was. Grumbling mentally, she plastered a
smile on her face and assured the Ahbiren, “I’ll take care of it personally.”

The Ahbiren—crafty old fox that he was—smiled back at her
and said sweetly, “You are a true friend, Guildmaster.”

Siobhan was sure that she would like his smile better after
she knocked a few teeth out of his head. Reigning in the impulse, she turned on
her heel and headed for the assassin. She had no idea what she would do next,
but getting more information seemed like a good first step.

Siobhan stared at the assassin from several feet away.
Funny, he seemed so un-assassin-like at that moment she had a hard time
imagining him as some murderous man lurking in the shadows. He sat hunched in
on himself, pale and tired, beyond bored with life. In many respects, he looked
every inch the Wynngaardian—the ice blond hair, naturally pale skin and blue
eyes were very typical of this people. But unlike most of them, he didn’t have
the enormous build or height. Despite being slumped over like that, she could
tell he wouldn’t stand very tall and he had a wiry structure to him instead of
a massive muscularity like Wolf. Malnutrition, perhaps? She’d seen children of
this country fail to grow to their full potential simply because they didn’t
have enough to eat in their formative years.

He turned his eyes up to meet hers and a hint of something
crossed his face. Curiosity, perhaps? She reacted to his stare without
thinking, moving toward him. Wolf caught her arm before she made it a full step
and dragged her to a halt.

“What are you doing?” he murmured to her in a low tone.

“I want to talk to him,” she responded instantly.

“Why?” Wolf’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Siobhan, there
isn’t a thing you need to know about that man. He came in here to do a dirty
job and failed. He’s now a problem to the village, a problem I can quickly
solve by separating his head from his neck.”

She took in a deep breath for patience. “Do we know that?
Really? Wolf, think about this. He’s been sitting here locked up for three
weeks and not one soul has come here to either see if he finished the job or
died in the attempt.
No one has come looking for him
.” Wolf opened his
mouth to respond, paused, and closed it again as he took on her meaning. “You
understand what that means, right? You should, even more than I. When a member
of a dark guild fails, he isn’t helped. He’s gotten rid of.”

Wolf looked away at that. She didn’t press the point, as
Wolf had experienced firsthand what happened to someone who was no longer
useful to a dark guild. They were disposed of, one way or another. Wolf had
been insanely lucky to have been sold when he was deemed “useless.” Most were
not dealt so kind of a fate.

“The only reason he’s sitting there, alive, is that his guild
assumed he was killed in his failed attempt.”

Raising a hand, he scrubbed at his forehead roughly. “So? If
you understand that, what’s the point of talking to him?”

“Because he’s a valuable resource. And I don’t waste
resources.” Shaking off his restraining arm, she marched dead ahead again and
paused two feet away from the assassin.

He watched her with cold blue eyes, not with any hostile
intent, but with open wariness. She didn’t see any signs of fear, though. In
his situation, she would think he would feel some fear of what was to come. “I’m
Siobhan Maley, Guildmaster of Deepwoods. You are?”

This civil greeting surprised him, a little, and he sat up
straighter, becoming more animated as he responded, “Most know me as
Bloodless.”

“Is that a description of your occupation or a warning?”
Surely it couldn’t be a name.

“Yes,” he admitted with a slight shrug, mouth quirked in
amusement. “What, ya haven’t heard of me? I’m rather famous in certain
circles.”

“I’m from Robarge,” she explained. “And I’m not associated
with the darker guilds. Sorry, your name won’t ring any bells with me.”

“Ahh, Robarge.” He nodded understanding. “Although that
doesn’t explain ya toweri’n Resken guard dog there.”

“I adopted him several years ago,” she answered
half-truthfully, and smirked when Wolf choked behind her. Her bantering answer
was calculated to see how the assassin would respond. So far, he seemed to have
a rather dry sense of humor, which she hadn’t at all expected.

“Siobhan…” Wolf growled out in warning.

Ignoring him, she went to the task at hand, all the while
studying Bloodless carefully. “The people here don’t know what to do with you.
They want to be rid of you but aren’t sure if killing you outright will be a
wise idea. They’re afraid that if they do so, your guild will come and exact
revenge. But they’re wrong, aren’t they? No one will come to rescue you. No one
cares if you’re alive.”

“That’s right,” he confirmed.

There’s nothing in his eyes
. A chill went up her
spine as realization hit. His eyes were empty. Completely void of fear,
caution, curiosity…all emotion. His mouth smiled, he reacted as if he were
truly engaged in the conversation, but in truth his heart failed to feel
anything at all. If he were older than twenty, she’d shave her head. Just what had
been done to him that he couldn’t feel anything even in the face of his own
death?

Without taking her eyes from him, she asked Wolf, “What
would you call sending a lone assassin into a Wynngaardian village with the
assignment he had?”

“A suicide mission,” Wolf answered bluntly. “You send a
squad of ten or more to do what he was sent to do. Less won’t cut it. I bet he
ticked someone off, or made the wrong man his enemy; that’s why he was sent out
here alone.”

It fit with what she knew of the dark guilds. “So in truth,
I can kill you right here and there’s nothing that will happen to me.”

“Will ya?” he leaned in a little closer and said in a
confidential tone, “I prefer ta die at the hand of a beautiful woman like yerself.”

“Oh? But I have a different idea in mind.” Ah,
that
had
gotten his attention. “How well do you know Sateren?”

“Born ‘n raised there,” he responded swiftly. “I know it
better than the back of my hand.”

“I want to send a message to Iron Dragain without raising
any flags of where we are or that we even exist. Can you do that?”

He kept his voice carefully level as he responded, “Yes.”

“I need a guide to bring us through the city and safely
deliver us into Iron Dragain’s main building. Can you do that?” she asked in
the same tone he used.

“Ya’d have ta move very, very fast ta manage that, but yes, I
know several routes ta take ya there.” He lifted his bound hands and gave the
chain a rattle. “What are ya offeri’n for my knowledge and help? Freedom from
these?”

“I can do you one better.” She sank down to her haunches so
that she could be at eye level with him, eyes locked onto his. “If you promise
to help us—
truly
help us, guide us, guard us, even when I don’t know the
right command to give you—then I’ll do more than free you. I’ll take you from here
and right through Island Pass. When we reach there, you can go any direction
you please and I will not stop you.”

He didn’t react, but that lifeless quality drained from his
eyes. “Ya’d have ta act like I was a guildmember to do that. No one willi’n
lets a member of a dark guild travel anywhere.”

“I know. But it won’t be an act. For the foreseeable future,
at least until we’re able to leave for Robarge, you’d
be
a member of
Deepwoods. I won’t be able to convince the villagers here to release you unless
you agree to be in my custody.”

Wolf let out a hiss and snarled a few choice words under his
breath. She steadfastly ignored him.

“Yer guard dog doesn’t like this idea,” Bloodless informed
her with sadistic cheer.

“He doesn’t like a lot of things. It hasn’t killed him yet.”

“What if I betray ya?”

“We’ll kill you.” She said it matter-of-factly, but inside
she knew it wouldn’t come to that. She was his best ticket to getting out of
here safely and into a different continent. His only chance of making a new
life for himself without constantly having one eye over his shoulder would be
to leave Wynngaard completely.

Bloodless glanced up at the hovering Resken, the unspoken
question in the air,
What if you betray me?

Siobhan answered it as if he’d spoken it aloud. “Don’t worry
about Wolf. He growls a lot, but as long as you don’t provoke him, he won’t do
anything to you.”

“Well, in that case….” He held out a hand to seal the deal.
She took it without hesitation, gripping his forearm, surprised that it felt like
she gripped an iron bar. He was deceptively stronger than he looked.

Bloodless shook his head in wry amusement. “Don’t ya know
better than ta come within arm’s reach of an assassin?”

“You’re not going to kill me,” she responded with absolute certainty.
“My death won’t profit you anything.”

He reclaimed his hand and asked Wolf, “Is she always this
crazy?”

“No,” Wolf growled in true agitation. “Sometimes she’s
worse.”

Bloodless grinned. “My sympathies.”

Siobhan ignored this by-play and rocked back up to her feet.
“Alright, sit tight. I’ll negotiate you out of those chains in a minute. But
there’s one last thing.”

Bloodless cocked his head at her, silently questioning.

“I’m not calling you Bloodless,” she informed him bluntly.
“That’s the name you give a hunting dog, not a human being. Don’t you have a
true name?”

“Not that I know of.”

The answer told her more than he probably intended. Just how
young had he been abandoned to the cold mercies of the world that he didn’t
even remember the name his parents had given him? If he’d had parents at all,
that was. She didn’t like the return of that lifeless quality in his eyes,
either. Blowing out a breath, she flipped her hand palm up, letting that pass.

“Then is there a name you prefer to be called by? Or shall I
choose one for you?”

He blinked at her, nonplussed and confused.

Wolf cleared his throat behind her. “Siobhan, the only
person that can name another is their parent, or someone who acts as a mentor.
It’d be very strange for you to name him.”

Oh? Ooops. She hadn’t known that little fact of Wynngaardian
culture.

“Ya can,” Bloodless said suddenly, eyes intent on her. For
some reason, the expression on his face reminded her of a hungry animal,
although why, she couldn’t begin to understand. “Ya can name me.”

She stared back at him for a long moment, trying to figure
out why he said so. Was he afraid of upsetting their deal by denying her? That
didn’t seem to be it, though. She glanced up at Wolf, but he seemed just as
puzzled by this.

Well, alright, he was willing and she truly couldn’t bring
herself to call him by a pet’s name. She thought on it for a moment before
offering, “Rune. It means ‘secret.’” Heaven knew the man had a boat-            load
of them.

“Rune,” he repeated and smiled slightly as he said it, as if
liking the taste of it. “Sure. I’ll be ya secret, sweet Guildmaster.”

“Not quite how I meant it,” she denied with a shake of the
head. “But fine. Rune, sit tight. I’ll have you out of those chains in a few
minutes.”

ӜӜӜ

The Ahbiren did not at all like her proposal. In fact, he
was with Wolf on this one—the only good assassin was a dead assassin. But after
much discussion, promises, and such, he finally relented. Siobhan was well
aware that she only got permission because Wolf cheerfully swore that if Rune
acted up at all, he’d kill him without hesitation.

Siobhan decided not to care as long as she got Rune out of
those chains and under her custody.

She went back to Rune with the key for the manacles in hand,
knelt, and undid the chains, taking in his overall condition with a clinical eye.
He looked—and smelled—terrible, as if he had been completely neglected except for
the odd meals shoved his direction. Assassination attempt aside, how could
anyone treat another human being like this? She understood anger, and
retaliation, but outright cruelty was beyond her ken. She couldn’t stomach him
being left like this.

“Rune, listen to me carefully. The Ahbiren does not like the
idea of you living one little bit and he’s going to keep a close eye on you. So
stay close to me and don’t cause trouble, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he promised without a hint of sarcasm.

“Good. Now, first order of business, bath.”

He blinked at her, as if he couldn’t possibly have heard her
right. “Bath?”

“Bath,” she repeated firmly. “While you’re washing, I’ll
rummage up some clothes for you to change into. These need to be in a waste-bin.
Then we’ll have Conli—he’s our doctor—take a look at your wrists. Are you
hungry? When did you last eat?”

For some reason, Rune watched her with a strange look on his
face, as if he was having trouble following what she said. But he opened his
mouth and managed, “Yesterday morni’n they fed me.”

“Yesterday?” she parroted in exasperation. “You’re a grown
man, for pity’s sake! Were they trying to slowly kill you through starvation?
Never mind, I’ll get a meal together while you’re washing as well. Where’s
Beirly?” she stood and turned on her heel, looking about. “Ah, there he is.
BEIRLY!”

Her friend looked up from the box he was moving and called
back, “What?”

“Find some clothes that will fit him!” she ordered, pointing
a finger down at Rune’s head.