Chapter Five
FIVE
HAWK
Knowing Magpie as I do, I shouldn’t be surprised that someone pounds on the door in the middle of the night.
It’s already been a particularly awful day today. Magpie didn’t show up for fledgling day, being too drunk to crawl out of her bed, which left me to recruit a class of five. Given that I’m a minotaur, and humans are naturally afraid of anything that looks different or could destroy them with a single swipe, it was a spectacular failure.
I only had to recruit three, since Magpie has already given two seats away. One’s for Lark, her headstrong niece, and the other is for a priestess of some kind. All Magpie would say is that she lost a bet, and I’m concerned the priestess is going to be as hard a drinker as Magpie is. But humans don’t trust Taurians or even particularly like us. All I managed to recruit was a slitherskin who looks barely old enough to leave his family’s hatching grounds, and a young merchant’s son named Guillam who already looks as if he’s going to bolt once he has a better offer.
Four isn’t enough, though. Four won’t qualify us to have a class of fledglings. We need five.
I should be out with the other guild Taurians, celebrating another year of business. A full class means the odds of a student passing are that much greater. Any student who completes the certification at the end of the year becomes a full-fledged guild member, and to pay back their training, they tithe a quarter of their earnings for the first five years. But I don’t have enough students for this year, and last time Magpie was in charge of training, we had no one pass because she was in her cups more than she was out of them. If we don’t get more students trained and working for the guild patrons, we won’t have enough funds to live on. The thought runs circles in my head, making me pace.
I don’t drink, though. Watching Magpie ruin herself with alcohol has killed that particular vice for me.
The pounding on the door gets louder, and I growl to myself as I throw on a pair of breeches, then storm down the hall to the entrance of the dormitory. If this is one of Magpie’s drinking friends…
When I throw the door open, a snarl on my mouth, I’m ready to shove the idiot down the alley. It’s not one of Magpie’s drunken friends, though. It’s her niece, Lark, who seems to be following in her aunt’s footsteps. She’s clearly drunk, her eyes red and slitted, a dopey expression on her face as she sees me. Her gaze roams over my bare chest and my unbelted pants, which are threatening to fall down my hips. “Damn.”
“Shut up. I’m your teacher, and you should be in your room, not ogling my chest.” I gesture up the stairs, angry at her carelessness. “Classes start at dawn.”
“Classes don’t start until we have five because five is the sacred number,” she corrects, staggering in a step to get out of the rain. She belches, then waves a hand in front of her face and mine. “Whew. I’m ripe enough to scare the ratlings in the Everbelow. Glad you finally woke up. I’ve been knocking forever .”
“I should have left you out there,” I growl.
“You wouldn’t. You’re too nice.” She pats my bare arm, squeezes it just a little more than she should, and then weaves over to the bench by the door and flops down. “Nice and built. You should be glad I’m here, Hawk. I’ve got solutions .”
Not likely. “You don’t tell a Taurian he’s nice,” I grumble. “You tell them that they’re fearsome. As for you, you’re an absolute tunneling mess , Lark. If you plan on going into the Everbelow, you need to be sober….”
I trail off as two strangers step inside from out of the rain, wearing cloaks and carrying bags. One drags a muddy cart in after her, both of them dripping water and leaving a trail on the clean floors. The first stranger shakes off a hood, showing a round, displeased face as she glares at me and then her surroundings.
“What is this?” I ask—and then the second person removes their hood.
It’s the woman from the recruitment meeting earlier. The tall, bossy one in brown who declared that she was going to be in the guild.
Oh, bury me . This cannot be happening.
“I am giving up the booze,” Lark declares in a wobbly voice. She raises a hand in the air as if toasting, but holds no mug. “Tonight was a proper send-off. Goodbye, drink. I’ll miss you dreadfully.”
“You picked up a few strays,” I say flatly, eyeing the two newcomers.
“I found more people for our class.” Lark beams at me and then slumps over the bench, yawning.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. They’re right there.” Lark gestures at the women waiting nearby. “Can’t you see them?”
Of course I see them. It’s just that this is a spectacularly bad idea.
Eyeing the two dripping women standing in the doorway, I shake my head. “You can’t just grab anyone off the street and make them fledglings, Lark. That’s not how this works. It’s a dangerous job.”
The one from the meeting earlier—the one who called herself Sparrow—draws herself to her full height and gives me a haughty stare. “What makes you think we don’t want to join? We know what we’re getting into.”
Lark chortles. “See?”
I cut her off with a wave of my hand, staring down the stranger. Bad enough that Magpie already has a priestess and a slitherskin and her niece. We’re already not being taken seriously because Magpie’s a drunk and I’m a Taurian. Two women and a slitherskin is just going to add fuel to the fire, but Magpie’s made promises and I’ve no choice except to keep them. Might as well lump all our problems into one group and realize we’re wasting our time.
Every year, something like this happens. Magpie takes in the dregs and then none of them pass the guild tests after months of hard work. I then chastise her for her carelessness and she agrees that I’m right, promises to change, and then spends her days sucking on the nearest bottle of alcohol. The moment students arrive again, she takes in more dregs. Rinse and repeat.
I’m a good teacher, but I need students who give a damn, and Magpie doesn’t seem to recruit those. She picks the rebels, the wastrels, the misfits—anything that speaks to her. If she was sober for longer than an hour a day, we could probably make it work between the two of us. As it is…not so much.
But to add this woman who’s already made herself notorious? That’s just begging for problems. “We’ve only got room for one more in the class, not both of you.”
If I put this “Sparrow” in our class, they’re going to laugh Magpie right out of the guild halls.
“They’re both joining,” Lark says, oblivious to my train of thought. “Her and Gwenna.”
“No, they’re not. Five’s the sacred number, remember?” I gesture at the door, indicating that the two women should turn around and head back out into the night. “You’ve wasted your time, both of you. Magpie won’t be having a class this year.”
It seems the wisest decision. Magpie’s in no state to teach, and if she’s not got enough for a class, I can cry off. Lark won’t be offended for long. She’ll find another job with a traveling troupe. The priestess that Mags owes money to will just have to deal with it. The slitherskin can find another teacher, as can Guillam.
As for me…
I’ll just have to take on odd jobs until the annual guild fees are paid. I can run as a substitute in a group that needs five but is missing a member, or do rescue runs. We sure as shit can’t send Magpie into the tunnels. We’ve been in worse situations as business partners, Mags and I. And I hate to say it, because Mags is the one who gave me a chance all those years ago, but maybe it’s time for me to move on, too.
I immediately squash that thought. If I leave, Magpie has no one but Lark, and they certainly wouldn’t be a good influence on each other. I have to stay.
And then I think of the Conquest Moon and my frustration mounts. Why is it that bad luck has to come in a chain? Why can’t it be strung out between phases of pleasant monotony? As it is, all this bad luck is a cascade threatening to bury us.
“You can take both of us,” the tall woman says, her expression as stony as mine. “I’ve done a great deal of reading on fledgling classes. Teachers have taken on additional students in the past, but only five can be sent for testing. You can teach us all, and the best five will be tested at the end of the year, correct?”
“Are you spouting guild law at me ?” I glare at her as mightily as I can, tired and annoyed. If it were any other person and any other situation, I might be amused at the woman’s bravado. As it is, I’m frustrated with Magpie and her reckless niece, and irritated that I’m being lectured by a stranger. “You want another guild law? How about the one where women can’t join the guild—”
“Oh, don’t start that again,” the woman snaps, interrupting.
“—without a chaperone’s permission?” I finish.
The woman’s jaw drops, and pink blooms on her cheeks.
I think I’ve finally silenced her. Maybe now I can go back to sleep.
“Are we done here?” I ask, my arms crossed over my chest. I eye the two newcomers and then turn to glare at Lark. “I don’t know what sort of drunken idea you’ve all gotten in your heads, but this isn’t happening. You can just—”
“How does one get a chaperone?” the woman in brown says suddenly.
“What?” I scowl in her direction.
She gestures at me with her hand, indicating that I should continue. “You said we need a chaperone to give us permission. Are there specifics on the chaperone? Does the chaperone need to produce a letter of some kind?”
They’re truly going to debate this? My glare deepens.
Lark speaks up. “Magpie’s my chaperone!”
The round-faced shorter woman points at the bossy tall one in brown. “She’s my chaperone.”
“Very well, then,” the tall one says, smoothing a hand down the front of her soaked bodice. She lifts her chin as if she’s the queen herself and gives me a steady look. “I’m the only one who needs a chaperone, then. May we speak privately, you and I?”
I should say no. I should absolutely say no. Something in her manner tells me that she thinks she has the upper hand, and though I’m curious, I also sense a very bad idea in the works. I hesitate, and then think of the spectacle she made of herself earlier in the guild hall. “No.”
She ignores me as if I haven’t spoken. Instead, her gaze goes to the open door of my quarters. “Is this your sitting room?” she asks, striding toward it. “We can talk in private there.”
And before I realize what she’s doing, she’s heading straight into my bedroom. Me, a minotaur.
A minotaur on the brink of the Conquest Moon. Is she…insane?