Chapter Nine
NINE
ASPETH
Ifuss with the sash on my shoulder over and over again, just for an excuse to touch it. Right now the sash is plain white, but I envision the day it’s covered in pins representing the artifacts I’ve brought to the guild. Small circles for minor artifacts, and the four-pointed stars for the major artifacts. I imagine Magpie’s sash must be absolutely encrusted, and the weight of it on her shoulder must bring so much pride.
I cannot wait to meet her. It’s going to be glorious.
Glancing up, I eye the others in our nest. Lark looks bored and slightly hungover, slumped on a bench. Gwenna sits properly on the bench in front of her, frowning as the brown-skinned priestess at her side folds her hands and goes through yet another prayer. On the far side of Gwenna, the strange child-sized lizardman slitherskin sits, swinging his tiny feet, the massive shell of his house on his back. I haven’t heard him say two words since we arrived, but maybe that’s normal? I genuinely don’t know.
Our teachers are nowhere to be seen. There’s still no Magpie, and now we’ve lost Hawk, too.
I purse my lips, trying not to frown. The other nest groups have abandoned the hall, along with their teachers. I’m not sure what we do now. Do we follow them out? Wait for instructions? Gwenna looks at me, curious, and the priestess does, too. It’s clear they’re looking to me for answers.
All right, then. “I’ll go find our teacher.”
“Your husband ,” Gwenna says, pretending to study her nails. “You’ll go find your husband.”
“Right. Yes. That.” My face gets hot. It’s jarring to think that I’ve just married a stranger, but I don’t want anything to come in the way of the classes here. “My husband,” I say confidently, lifting my chin. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”
Lark tumbles back on the wooden bench, lying flat and flinging an arm over her eyes. “Wake me up when you find him.”
I frown at her, but it’s not like I can scold her. She’s a student, just like me. With a flick of my fingers over my coveted sash, I pretend to wipe away a speck of dust. “Be right back.”
I turn and walk away, heading out of the main hall and into one of the side corridors. I’ve never been deeper into the actual guild hall before today, but it can’t be that hard to figure out? I hope. I’m familiar with the entryway, as that was where I was humiliated yesterday, but deeper inside? Not at all.
All of the students filed out of the main doors, heading toward the Swan statue, but I head in the opposite direction. Something tells me that Hawk wouldn’t leave without us. He seems to take his job quite seriously. So I head farther into the hall, turning down one curving corridor lined with doors. I pass something that looks like a blurry library (I wish I was wearing my spectacles) but appears to be empty.
Farther down the hall, I hear the sound of arguing.
“I said I’m handling things,” a deep, sonorous male voice says as I quietly approach. That’s Hawk, and he’s in one of the nearby rooms. I peek in, and when I see his enormous, blurry brown form standing near a short, squat man who has to be that Rooster arse, I duck behind the door and hover in the hallway. Should I let them know I’m here? Say something?
“Your version of ‘handling things’ is very different from mine,” Rooster says in a haughty voice.
I hear the stamp of hooves on the ground and a loud, bullish snort.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but your only male candidate for your nest has fled. He signed up with Mallard’s class this morning, filling their last slot. Now you’ve nothing but a horde of flighty females—”
“Don’t forget the slitherskin,” Hawk drawls.
“—and a lizardman who won’t take off his house to get in uniform. Truly, it’s embarrassing.”
My mouth purses into an angry little pucker. How dare he?
“It’s a disgrace to the guild’s history,” Rooster continues. “And where is Magpie?”
“Like I said, she’s sick. I’m handling things.”
“She was sick last year on enrollment day,” Rooster counters. “And the year before she showed up late.”
She was? She did?
“Like I said, I’m handling it.” Hawk’s tone grows more and more impatient.
“I do not doubt your competency, Hawk. That has never been in question. You are good at your job, but you’re not a guild master. Only guild masters can teach a fledgling nest. You know the rules as well as I do.”
Silence.
Chicken-man continues. “Twenty guild masters are allowed at one time, for twenty nests. Twenty teams of fledglings are allowed to join every year. Magpie might be a guild master due to her past exploits, but she is in danger of losing her position. If she doesn’t get herself in order, do you know what’s going to happen?”
More silence. I so badly want to peek around the corner but I don’t dare.
“Your class will fail,” he continues. “Just as they failed the year before last, and the year before that. And I will not be able to protect her any longer. She will lose her guild master position to another who can make the guild money. She will lose her house and her pension, and she will end up in the gutters. You’re a good artificer and a good teacher, but you’re not in charge. She’ll undermine everything you do and chase your students away. Do you understand?”
His tone is so dismissive, so condescending, that I want to punch him. What a rude, odious little man. I loathe him. I want Hawk to give him a verbal tearing-down. I want Hawk to tell him what’s what. I want him to lay into that peahen of a man and tell him what to do with his—
“This class won’t fail” is all Hawk says.
“How can they not fail?” Rooster continues, and I can hear the astonishment in his voice. “I saw that bunch of misfits myself. You’re doomed. Magpie has doomed you.”
“I’m going to push them harder than ever. And I’ll handle Magpie, just as I always have.” Heavy hooves clomp on the floor, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s heading toward the door, where I’m spying.
Just as I jerk away from the heavy wooden door, Hawk comes around the corner.
We stare at each other for a moment, and then he grabs me by the arm and escorts me away, his grip tight and leaving me no choice but to trot alongside his much longer strides.
“You’ll keep all of that to yourself,” he murmurs as he hauls me back toward the others.
“Of course I will,” I hiss at him. “But do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Later.” We round the corner back toward the others, much quicker than I anticipated. They all sit up as we approach, and then there’s no time to ask anything else. I notice Gwenna has a tight expression on her face, and the look she shoots me indicates she wants to talk.
Well, that makes two of us.
Hawk releases my arm as we rejoin the others, and I resist the urge to rub it indignantly.
“Good, you’re all here,” he says in a curt voice. “Now, if you’ll all follow me outside, we’ll get your backpacks.”
“Backpacks?” Gwenna asks.
“Aye, to fill with rocks.” Hawk marches over to Lark’s bench and hauls her upright by the shoulder. “We’re going to see how far you can march with a full pack to determine your stamina. I need to know how fit you are…so then I can push you even harder.”
I swallow hard.
Somehow, when I’d dreamed of adventuring through the tunnels, I hadn’t thought about physical fitness. Given that I’ve spent most of my life seated at elegant tables or in front of a book, I suspect this is going to be a rather awful afternoon.
Hawk turns on us, his eyes flaring with irritation. “Well? Why are you all just standing there? Do you want to be fledglings or not?”
With a terrified squeak, the priestess races for the door, and we follow after her.
I’m right. Training isn’t fun. It’s one of the worst afternoons of my life.
With backpacks loaded down full of rocks, Hawk marches behind us and forces us to walk over Vastwarren’s rambling, twisting cobblestone streets. He yells at us if we fall behind. He yells at us if we want to take a break. If we ask for water, we’re allowed two sips before he’s demanding that we get up again. Over and over, he marches us up and down the streets, and the only thing that stops me from screaming is the fact that we pass other classes doing the exact same thing, relentlessly harassed by the teacher jogging at their sides.
Sweat pours down my face, soaking my guild blouse and making it stick to my skin. The priestess cries. Lark bitches. Gwenna doesn’t complain, but she huffs and shoots daggers at me with her eyes as if this was all my idea. The only one seemingly unbothered by all of this is the slitherskin, Kipp, who trots along with the pack on his front and his house on his back.
When we turn up another twisting street—really, does all of Vastwarren have to be sloping? Can’t one street be flat?—I want to burst into tears with relief when we spot Magpie’s symbol hanging on a flag outside her house. We’re home, just as the sun is setting and my feet are screaming in pain.
Hawk marches us up to the house and then stands in front of the door, guarding it and preventing us from going inside. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, and I’m disgusted to see he’s barely broken a sweat. Meanwhile, I’m positively dripping. Lark tosses her pack to the ground, and when he doesn’t chastise her, I slip mine off, too. The relief is overwhelming.
“That was pathetic,” he tells us.
“Such flattery,” I manage to gasp out, hands resting on my knees. By the five gods, I am exhausted.
“I mean it,” Hawk growls out, glaring at me. “You think this is all fun and games? You think when you’re two leagues under the city and a tunnel collapses on you that you’re going to have the stamina to dig yourself out? You all need to get better. Stronger. Faster. Be ready to do this again at dawn. All of you.” He points at the slitherskin. “Leave your house behind this time. I mean it.”
Kipp licks his own eyeball with his long tongue, and I don’t know if that’s agreement or an insult.
“You’re dismissed for the night,” Hawk says, stepping aside from the door. “Stay in the nest. From now on, if you go anywhere, you have to clear it with me before. Tomorrow is your first full day of training and you’re going to need your strength.” As we file in, he glares at Lark. “And no drinking.”
“Of course not,” she says sweetly.
I walk inside and sit down on the closest seat near the cold fireplace. The windows have been shut tight and the darkness is welcoming, as I just want to crawl away and hide. My feet throb in time with my pulse, and I bend over to unlace my boots, only to have Gwenna march to my side and grab my arm.
“We have a problem,” she whispers in my ear. “Let’s go upstairs and talk.”
I don’t know that I can make it up the stairs, but at least up there I can take my sweaty clothes off. I consider this and then abandon my seat by the fireplace. The others are heading in the opposite direction, toward the kitchen. They haven’t noticed Gwenna heading upstairs. With a sigh, I follow my former maid up each step with painful thumps. It eases my heart a little to see Squeaker curled on the bed. The cat looks up and howls for dinner the moment she glimpses me.
“One moment,” I tell the cat with an affectionate scratch to her ears. I slip off my boots and stockings, then peel the rest of the clothes off. They’re as sweaty as a devil’s arse and I don’t know how I’m going to get them clean for the morning, but that’s a problem for tomorrow morning. I pull off layers, finally removing my corset—damp with sweat—and scratching at the skin underneath. “Oh gods, that’s better.”
Gwenna puts down fresh food and water for Squeaker, then leans against the door, saying nothing. I put on a fresh chemise, and it feels like heaven. When I dramatically flop down onto the bed in the place the cat just vacated, she finally speaks. “We have a big stinking problem, Lady Aspeth.”
“Just Aspeth,” I remind her, fighting back a yawn. By all the gods in their realms, I’m exhausted. I continue to scratch at my waist, enjoying the cool air against my overheated skin. “We’re incognito.”
“That’s the problem,” she hisses. “While you were busy chasing after our teacher, I chatted with Mereden, the priestess, for a bit.”
She seems sweet enough, if overly teary-eyed. I didn’t pay much attention to her because she kept weeping and praying, as if being part of Magpie’s fledgling team is the worst thing to ever happen to her. She wore her veil, too, as if protesting in some quiet way. “Dedicated to Asteria, is she?”
“Not exactly. Apparently”—Gwenna exaggerates the word, her hands on her hips as she approaches me—“Mereden is from the Convent of Divine Silence. Sound familiar?”
It’s where a lot of wealthy women are sent when they are widowed. “It does.”
“Also apparently , Mereden offered to tithe a share of her guild income if they would write her a letter of recommendation and let her come for training. The church is looking to acquire more artifacts, and so they reached an agreement with Magpie. But Mereden fears her father is going to be quite upset when he finds out she’s here and not at the convent. And do you know who her father is?”
I’m too tired to think straight. Fighting back a yawn, I shrug. “Is he rich?”
“He’s Lord Vatuo Morsell of Morsell Hold’s youngest son. She’s the lord holder’s granddaughter.”
I blanch. She’s right, that’s not good. I’ve met Lord Morsell at several parties. He’s got a long, wiry beard and ropes of braided hair that are beaded with the finest shells. I remember that much. I also remember that his sons were quite a bit older than me and thus not considered good marriage candidates, so we didn’t visit them often. But holders travel in tight circles, and we all know one another.
Still, a younger son’s daughter isn’t that important in the scheme of things, hence why they allowed her to join the church. It’s why I didn’t recognize her. “Has she recognized me?”
“I don’t think so. But you’re going to have to be doubly careful around her, and we need to make sure that she remains ignorant.”
“Tell her that I’m named after Aspeth Honori if she inquires. Tell her I’m from the area and my father met Lord Honori once and named me after his daughter to curry favor. Tell her anything.” I shrug. “It’s not as if she can do much now. She needs me on the team. We’ve five now, and five’s the sacred number.”
“You’re not worried?” Gwenna looks shocked.
“I’m too tired to be worried. Do you think we’re going to have to carry rocks tomorrow, too?”
“We should dye your hair. Or cut it. How do you feel about being blond?” She paces, thinking hard. “The spectacles are obviously out of the question. And it’s a good thing you’re wearing the same uniforms we are. She’d suspect something for sure if she saw your tailored clothes…. Are you even listening? Aspeth?”
I force my eyes open. “I’m listening! I swear. Mereden. Younger son’s daughter. Me with new hair. Rocks tomorrow.”
Gwenna throws her hands up in the air. “I can’t believe you’re so casual about this. Why do I even bother talking to you?”
I grab the nearest pillow and tuck it under my head, too fatigued to get up. There’s probably dinner somewhere downstairs but I don’t want to move from this spot. “Because you have to complain to someone and no one else will listen.”
“I should have stayed home,” she mutters.
“But I’m so glad you didn’t,” I say sweetly. “Can we hug?”
“Oh, piss off.” She huffs in irritation, and I chuckle. I’m so glad Gwenna’s here to keep me company. This adventure wouldn’t be the same without her.
A knock at the door startles us both. We exchange a look, and then Gwenna heads to the door, shooting me a cautious glance. She leans against the door, calling out, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Lark,” answers the voice on the other side.
Gwenna shrugs and looks at me. I pull a robe over my chemise, and she opens the door.
Immediately, Lark tumbles inside, followed by Mereden and Kipp. Both Lark and Mereden are in their nightgowns and Kipp is wearing his house, as usual. My spirits sink at the sight of them. All I want to do is sleep, and I’m worried something new and dreadful just occurred.
“What’s going on?” I ask, scooping up my cat so she doesn’t run out the door. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Lark reassures us, and grabs one of the throw pillows on a nearby chair and takes a seat on the rug. Mereden joins her, primly adjusting her skirts. Kipp moves across from them, shrugging the large shell of his house off his back and then sitting atop it. Lark grins at us. “We’ve decided to have team-bonding time. Get to know one another.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” I say.
“Forget it,” Gwenna says at the same time. Then she realizes what I’ve just said, sighs, and closes the door.
Lark pats the rug on the floor. “Come sit with us.”
I immediately do so, settling Squeaker in my lap and stroking her ears. Squeaker loves a good pet, and settles in, ignoring the tufts of hair flying as I scratch at her thick ruff. “This makes me so happy,” I confess to them. “Other than Gwenna, I’ve never had friends before.”
“Weirdo,” Lark says.
I chuckle, because it probably is a bit strange. But as someone who grew up alone, surrounded by no one but tutors or chaperones, I love the thought of becoming close friends with everyone in the room.
Lark leans on the pillow and eyes me. “So tell us about you , Aspeth.”
“Oh. Um.” I scratch at Squeaker’s ears. “There’s not much to tell. I’m just another person who wished to join the guild.”
“Mm-hmm,” says Lark, and clearly she doesn’t believe me. She exchanges a look with Mereden, who raises her brows and gives us a prim expression. Kipp just licks his eye.
Gwenna nudges me, leaning forward. “She’s being modest. For as long as I’ve known Aspeth, she’s had her nose in a book about the guild. She’s told everyone who would listen about Old Prell and the guild history and what kinds of adventures guild members get up to. She’s studied it ever since she was old enough to read. She’s here because it’s her dream . Because she wants to make something of herself.”
Her vehement response changes the way everyone looks at me. Mereden’s lips quirk in a tiny smile. Lark just “Humphs” but relaxes. Kipp gives a quick nod as if full of understanding.
“Why, thank you, Gwenna,” I say softly. “But yes. It has always been a dream of mine. I grew up reading stories of Guild Master Magpie and her exploits. I want to be just like her.”
“Gods, no you don’t,” Lark says with a chuckle.
“So does your family have a lot of books?” Mereden asks politely before I can inquire what Lark means. Immediately, I know it’s the wrong thing to say. Books are a rich person’s possession, much like spectacles. I might as well confess that we’re wealthy or powerful if I admit that I have a great many books—or that I used to before my father sold off my library. “We had a fair amount at one time,” I say, hesitating. “But they were too expensive to keep. I borrowed whenever I could from the nearest monastery, or from my tutors.”
“Oooh, tutors. Fancy.” Lark makes a flourish with her hand. “We’ve got ourselves a rich woman. What about you, Gwenna? You a big reader?”
“No,” Gwenna says in a flat voice. “My ma worked for Aspeth’s father. That’s how we know each other. I’m here because I don’t want to work in a kitchen all my life.”
I tense, worried they’re going to ask where we’re from.
Instead, Lark rolls onto her back, nodding. “I understand that very well. My family never had two pennies to rub together, and as for myself, you can only juggle blades for so long before you have to seek out other careers. My aunt said she’d train me if I ever wanted to join, and so that’s why I’m here. Figure it’s time to learn a new skill before I lose a finger or six.”
Wincing, I keep petting Squeaker’s ears and scratch her chin. “Fingers are important.”
“And what about you, Mereden?” Gwenna asks. “A convent novice doesn’t strike me as the type to join the guild, no offense.”
Mereden’s smile is tremulous. “I was sent to the convent because I didn’t want to marry. After being there for a while, I realized I didn’t want to devote my life to the gods. This seemed as good an option as any.”
“Sounds like we’re all desperate,” Lark says. “Except for Aspeth. She’s just a nerd.”
“What about Kipp?” I ask, looking at the slitherskin. “What’s your story?”
He blinks at me, then licks his eyeball with his long tongue.
Is…that a response? Helpless, I look over at the others.
“Slitherskins don’t talk aloud,” Lark says helpfully. “They gesture if it’s important, but otherwise they only talk to their own.”
“I see,” I say, though I’m not sure I see at all.
“I worked with a slitherskin in the troupe. Nice guy. Good with coin. Better at keeping secrets.” She winks at Kipp. “He’ll talk to us if he feels like it, but it’ll be with hands and not lips.”
I’m not even certain Kipp has lips.
The slitherskin rolls his eyes at Lark and then looks at our group. He lifts his hands, and then starts to gesture. It takes a little time for me to understand what he’s trying to say without words, but I think we get the gist. He and his family are wanderers. Everything he owns is in his house, which he pats affectionately. His parents have left—or died—and he’s alone in the world now. He wants to join the guild because it’s exciting to him. He wants to be a hero, judging from the straight-backed, arrogant pose he sets.
Strangely enough, I relate to Kipp more than anything after that. He wants to be more than he is. He has a dream of becoming someone great. He’s not escaping his life, he’s improving it. I love that. “Can I hug you?” I ask him, full of emotion.
Kipp recoils, an offended look on his face.
“You don’t ask a slitherskin that,” Lark protests. “It’s rude. You don’t touch them without invitation.”
“I asked.” My face is hot. “And I didn’t mean to offend. My family doesn’t hug and I’ve decided that now that I’m going to be my own person, I’m going to ask for hugs. I love hugs. I want hugs every day. It’s just the warmest, best feeling…but I seem to be surrounded by non-huggers.”
“I’ll hug you,” Mereden says in a soft voice.
“You will?” I look at her in surprise.
She nods, getting to her feet as I do. “It’s a new start for all of us, isn’t it? I might as well be a hugger.”
Squeaker mrowrs a protest at being set on the floor, but I dust cat hair off my robe and hug Mereden. She’s shorter than me, and soft, but she smells sweet and lovely, and her embrace is warm. It’s a good hug.
Tight arms lock around my waist. “Come here, you,” Lark grumbles. “I can be a hugger, too.”
I chuckle, and then Gwenna sighs and gets to her feet, adding herself to our group hug. “Fine,” she says, “but I’m doing this for you lot, not for myself.”
Kipp pats my leg, the closest he’ll get to the group hug.
It’ll do.