The Guild (33 page)

Alonnen frowned at that, but it was too late to question her. The dark-haired man made his way around the three Holy Guild apprentices, who were fielding questions from the others. Flicking a wary look at the green-spectacled Guild Master not quite looming over Rexei’s shoulder, he braced his palms on the front of the table, leaned over the corner, and spoke in a low, urgent tone.

“I have several questions for you, lad,” he asserted. A flick of his brown gaze at Alonnen’s face and back, and he added, “So unless you want this aired in public, I suggest you point out some place private where we can talk.”

“You’ll speak with Master Longshanks in full view of everyone else,” Alonnen told him, leaning half over Rexei’s shoulder. “If you want it private, keep your voice down.”

Eyeing the two men, both in their early thirties, both determined to have their way, Rexei sighed heavily. Scooting to her left on the bench into the fading warmth left behind by the head of the Actors Guild, she snapped her fingers under Alonnen’s sharp nose to get his attention, then pointed at the spot she had just vacated.

“You. Sit. Behave,” she added. Hesitating only a moment, Alonnen did as she bid. That freed her to face what she hoped was her half brother. “If your mum’s name was Luwese and your next-mother’s name was Yula . . . then you tell me the family name of Luwese, and I will tell you the family name of Yula.”

“How do
you
know such things?” Lundrei asked, suspicion clear in the narrowing of his brown eyes and the crease that formed between his brows.

He didn’t recognize her? Rexei had seen his long, hard looks all through the lengthy meeting, and she had hoped he had figured it out.
I guess I need to start spending more time trying to look and act like a girl. Wear a dress, grow out my hair . . . well, not a dress all the time.
Sighing, she fixed him with an honest, blunt look. “Because I earned a master rank in the Actors Guild?”

His brows lowered farther in confusion. She rolled her eyes. This close, she could feel his aura, though he wasn’t technically a mage. There were hints of home, of baked breads and worn fabric, in its feel, but there was also something else, something like a cheese that had aged and grown more sharp. Rexei wasn’t sure yet
if she liked the new flavor of her brother. Or how long it was taking him to get her point.

“As a
lad
?” she emphasized carefully.

Comprehension dawned. Eyes widening and brows lifting in shock, he gaped at her for one moment, then lunged inward, arms wide—and got stopped by the slapping of Alonnen’s palm on his chest, straight-arming him from behind Rexei’s neck.

“Guild Master Longshanks asked you a
question
, Master Laticifer,” he growled, using the man’s guild for lack of a family name. “You will answer it to
both
our satisfaction.”

Lundrei pulled back, visibly affronted and tense with a pent-up retort. Rexei blushed a little, but she didn’t counter or soften Alonnen’s demand. Sharp brown eyes flicked between her face and her companion’s before the man standing to her left did an odd thing.

He relaxed. He even lifted his chin at Alonnen, though he kept his gaze on Rexei’s face. “You know, he’s not worthy of you.”

For a moment, she didn’t know what Lundrei was talking about. Alonnen lowered his arm to her shoulders in what would look to anyone else like a casual touch, but which to her half brother would be a clear statement that Alonnen didn’t give a damn what the other man thought of his presence in Rexei’s life. It felt good to know that she only had to say the word, and Alonnen would fight at her side for whatever she wanted. She slipped her arm around his waist in return, a visible show of solidarity. It felt right to do so.

Still, a ghost of an old memory teased at her senses; the scent of the apple pocket pies the Hospitallers had served along with the mutton and beef pies brought back the memory of her father sliding an apple cobbler out of the brick oven in their little house and her two brothers teasing each other about whether or not some of the local girls were “worthy” of them . . . and then they’d turned
on Rexei and teased her, too, until their father, Gorgas Porterhead, had asserted that
no
man would be “worthy” of his little girl.

That was when her mother—his second wife—had given her husband an arch look and a witty retort. Smirking, Rexei gave it right back to Lundrei, if worked around a little so that it fit the current circumstances better. “I don’t know,
he
seems to have managed . . . just like Da did for Momma. But I’ll have
your
mother’s family name out of you.”

“Springfan. Now give me yours,” Lundrei ordered, lifting his chin.

“Dartingcam.” That earned her a grin, which she returned. She wanted to rise and hug him until the break of dawn, but Alonnen’s arm on her shoulders was a reminder that they were in a hall still partly filled with people, some of whom were close enough to maybe overhear and definitely see.

She also felt an uneasy distrust at how quickly she had found one of her long-lost brothers.
It could just be a decade-long habit of caution, or it could be a worry that somehow he’s been converted by the priesthood, or it could be . . . I don’t know. Guildra, I just don’t know, other than I want to take things slowly.

That, and Alonnen had promised her there would be more fondling and cuddling tonight, and she suspected he would need some soothing and reassuring after this unexpected encounter with her brother. Not to mention hunger now warred with her weariness, letting her know that retiring to Big Momma’s would not be amiss for yet another reason.

Still, this was her long-lost brother. Contenting herself with a smile, she said, “I’ll be here tomorrow morning to take care of some business. We’ll have more time and privacy for talking then.”

Lundrei frowned at that. “Why not tonight?”

“Because I am a Guild Master.” Gathering her papers, Rexei stood. Alonnen rose with her, guarding her almost like a hound
standing over a fallen bone. She would have to talk with him about that, but first she needed to deal with her brother. “I still have to find quarters tonight for my brand-new apprentices plus give them their initial instructions, and that takes precedence.”

“But, I haven’t seen you in ten years!” Lundrei protested. He had the courtesy to keep his voice low, but the intensity was still there. “What happened to you? Where have you been all this time? Don’t you want to know about Father and Tandron and me? Where we’ve been and what happened to us? Don’t you want to tell me what happened to
you
?”

“Of course I want to know. But I am not going to abandon my responsibilities. I am not a little . . . child anymore,” she amended carefully, mindful of the others still in the meeting hall. “Now, what name are you known by, and where are you staying? Since, if you’ve paid attention to this meeting, you’ll know my name by now.”

“Lundrei Cogsprite. And I’m staying at the Fallen Timbers,” he added, naming an inn she vaguely recalled being on the southeast side of town. “Rubber makers get a discount there, same as Lumber and Woodwrights.”

“I’m glad you get a discount,” Rexei told him. She wished she could just toss the papers out of her arms and hug her brother instead, but too many years of caution said be careful, be cautious, don’t rush things. “If I don’t see you here tomorrow morning, I’ll leave word at the Fallen Timbers.”

Grandmaster Toric approached along the curve of the head table. “Guild Master Longshanks, I know night has fallen, but if I could have an hour of your time, Grandmaster Della Grindhammer of the Exchequers Guild is willing to begin the paperwork assigning you . . . and your apprentices . . . the funds allocated to your guild during this meeting. The local grandmaster for the Mintners Guild is also willing to work on a suitable set of guild medallions for your, ah, growing numbers.”

Since it was clear he wasn’t going to get the freedom to speak with her tonight, Lundrei sighed, ran a hand over his dark hair, and gave Rexei a look that said they
would
have words later. “I can’t believe
you
were appointed a Guild Master at your age.”

“I am what I am . . . and I am not the only one who has to deal with what
is
, instead of how we all wanted things to be. A good evening to you, Master Cogsprite,” she told him. “I look forward to catching up with you tomorrow morning. Tuckerhart, Cartwound, Foundertack, if you’ll come with me, we’ll see about getting our first stipend set up, then see if the Mintners have the tool-spoked gearwheel already among their designs, or if not them, then the local Engravers Guild. Master Tall, if you’d like to accompany us, I’d be grateful for your continued guidance.”

Thankfully, Alonnen simply nodded, relieving Rexei that he wasn’t going to cause further trouble.

• • •

A
lonnen held his tongue until after they left the Shambling Mountain Inn, where Rexei had secured temporary rooms for her three apprentices. It was late, he was tired, he had been looking forward to fooling around with his Rexei . . . and he didn’t know what to make of the turmoil of feelings he had at the thought of that man. Under the prodding of young Alsei during the walk to the inn, Rexei had confessed the gentleman from the Laticifers Guild was her half brother, and Alonnen had felt a bit of a fool over his reaction. Or rather, his overreaction. He still felt protective of her, but he should not have reacted so strongly.

The temperature had thawed a bit, melting most of the snow left over from that snowstorm, but the night was cold and damp from an intermittent drizzle. Since they had several blocks to go before reaching Big Momma’s, he adjusted the scarf to cover his nose a bit more, caught her gloved hand in his, and tucked both
into the pocket of his leather motorhorse coat. Thankfully, she didn’t object. In fact, she huddled closer while they walked.

“Rexei . . . I’m sorry I got a bit jealous in the meeting hall over your brother,” he found himself confessing. “I’m not used to that. I didn’t know who he was, and I was a bit of a guard dog there, but . . . you’re not a bone for me to claim or fight over.”

“I know,” she murmured. Then clarified. “I mean, I know you didn’t mean it. I already know
you
know I’m not something to be fought over. And I do appreciate that you are willing to help protect me. I’m feeling just as cautious, too—excited,” she admitted. “Part of me just wants to run to the Fallen Timbers and talk with him all night long about . . . about everything. But part of me is wondering, why is he here
now?
Is this some trick or trap of the priests? Is it some subtle maneuvering of my Goddess, to try to restore all that I’ve lost? Or is it pure coincidence only?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “If you like, we can swing by the Consulate and I can put in a call for a scrying specialist to come out tomorrow morning to examine him for priest-spells. We have all manner of amulets and pendants for that sort of thing. I’d do it myself, but it’s not my specialty.”

She nodded. “I think I’d like that. I mean, he
is
my brother. He looks like him, he knows the family names, he . . . I don’t like having to doubt.”

“It’s just the product of living too many years with a False God,” Alonnen teased lightly, nudging her with his elbow. “You’ll get over it. Now, since we can’t do anything else about
that
until tomorrow morning . . . do you remember what I promised and what you offered yesterday?”

She blushed, cheeks heating despite the cold, damp wind curling through the streets. A particularly strong gust tried to extinguish the flicker of the gas lamps, but the glass panes kept most of the breeze out. “I remember . . . and I think I’d like to try that big
bathing tub. That is, if it doesn’t cost too much to fetch up hot water?”

“They have a big boiler in the attic,” he told her. “Hot water on demand for every room, fed by the aqueducts from the Heias Dam. None of that tedious heating it by the kettleful, even if they don’t have magical runes.”

“Good. Then we’ll get warm, and, um . . . yeah.” She blushed again, but grinned, thinking of the possibilities inherent in old but clean sheets and elderberry jelly.

The rumble of several engines approached. Wary of the noise, the pair slowed and moved close to the side of the nearest building, where motorcarts and motorhorses would be less likely to pass. Sure enough, a full seven glass-enclosed motorcarts drove past. It wasn’t the sight of so many expensive machines that made Alonnen and Rexei stare, however. It was a glimpse of the Priests Guild symbol enameled onto the side of one of the carts.

“Did you see . . . ?” Alonnen asked her.

“It . . . it looked like the Patriarch’s seal,” Rexei confirmed, eyes wide. “I had to study it when I joined the Engravers Guild.”

“This isn’t good. If that’s the Patriarch . . .” Giving the last of the vehicles a worried look, Alonnen stepped up his pace, heading for the Consulate.

Several blocks, a bit of ringing and waiting for someone to answer, and a little bit of fast-talking later, Alonnen had the talker-box cranked up and working. “. . . Are you sure you cannot see anything, Gabria?”

“
Yes, and I’m sorry, Master Tall
,” the young woman on the other end of the aether-connected machine stated in his ear.
“But wherever they are . . . ah! Aha! I just checked the paper roach in the dining hall. They’ve been taken there, and . . . yes, here comes an apprentice priest with the first of what looks like plates. They’re going to be fed after their long journey.”

“It’s rather late; I suppose food
would
be foremost on their minds, not business. What about the Patriarch?” he asked as Rexei listened in to his side of the conversation alone. “Can you see him?”

“
Elderly, gray haired, long beard in the traditional braid, with the God’s Sigil on his forehead? . . . Well, not that the symbol would be there, since it’s vanished from everywhere,
” Gabria muttered.
“No, I cannot. I . . . oh, a name! Oh. Archbishop Gafford. And he looks like the descriptions I’ve heard. Tall, lean, thin mustache, soothing voice. That’s . . . not good.”