Chapter Eleven
ELEVEN
ASPETH
23 Days Before the Conquest Moon
“You fell asleep last night,” Hawk hisses at me as I trudge up one of Vastwarren’s sloping streets. Truly, are there no level places in this blasted city? Not a single gently meandering road? Does everything have to be an uphill climb?
At my side, the Taurian practically stomps his hooves as we straggle up the street. He’s sulking, I suspect, because I fell asleep while he was nattering on about gods and how Taurians are sacred. “You mean I fell asleep after a hard day of training when you decided you needed to lecture me? Like I’m some idiot girl who’s never seen a cock before?”
I mean, I haven’t, but he doesn’t need to know that.
His nostrils flare and the ring in his septum jumps. He glances up the street, where Kipp the slitherskin is bounding away happily, carrying both house and backpack as if he was born without fatigue. Behind him, Gwenna is doing a good job of carrying her pack, and both Lark and Mereden are lagging behind both of them. I’m at the rear, limping along in my boots and wondering what ever possessed me to try to become a guild artificer.
Oh, right. Because the enemies of Honori Hold will execute us to steal our lands. Can’t forget that.
And now I’ve got to deal with a pouty bull-man who tried to lecture me when I wanted nothing more than to sleep.
“Have you seen a Taurian cock? With the sacred knot engorged?”
Oh my, the word engorged just makes me all kinds of flustered. “I…well, no.”
“Then save some energy for tonight, because you’re going to see one.” Hawk leans in. “You need a lesson because I don’t plan on being the villain in this. It was your idea to marry.”
“So it was.” I can handle a cock showing. Truth be told, I find the entire idea a little fascinating. “But if you want me to stay awake, you’ll have to stop lecturing me and actually let me catch my breath today.” Already the backpack straps are burning two strips of pain on my shoulders.
“This is for your own good,” he reiterates, and casts a stern look in my direction. “Don’t think you can get away with anything simply because we’re married.”
I gasp in outrage. “I wouldn’t! And I’m offended you think I would use our connection like that.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“No!” I sputter. “You’re the one who brought up your cock, not me.”
He arches a brow at me. “Don’t pretend like it’s never crossed your mind to milk your advantage here by milking my cock.”
I sputter again. “Rude!”
He snorts.
“Let it be said that I wish to learn everything there is to be taught here,” I tell him indignantly. “I didn’t come here to be coddled. I came here to be part of the guild. Anything extracurricular is going to have to wait until I’m rested so I can be a beneficial part of the team, and that means bed sport.”
My teacher grunts. Is Hawk relenting? Have I convinced him that carrying rocks isn’t the way to teach us? “We still need to train with Magpie, too.”
I have to admit, I am more than eager to meet her. I want to hear all her stories. I want to learn what she knows. I want to absorb everything there is she can teach.
“Soon.” Hawk’s voice is terse. He jogs ahead, agile on those enormous hooves, and moves to Kipp’s side. “I thought we talked about the house?”
The slitherskin ignores him.
Up and down we go, marching all over Vastwarren’s streets until I’m heartily sick of backpacks and guilds and, most of all, Taurians. Sweat drips down my face, and I’m relieved when Hawk calls for lunch and a rest break. We eat and drink water while sitting on the curb of a busy lane, watching donkeys pull carts up to the apex of the city, where the ruins are walled off.
“When do we get to go up there?” I call out. “To the tunnels?”
“You’re not ready yet.”
Humph. Of course he thinks that. “Yes, but when will we be ready?”
Hawk crosses his arms over his chest. “How long do you plan on keeping your arse on the curb and resting, fledgling?”
Grumbling, I get to my feet.
We march for a little longer, until we’ve circled the upper quadrant of the city again and returned to Magpie’s home. At Hawk’s instruction, we deposit our packs by the door for tomorrow’s drills, and then head inside after him. To my surprise, we enter an empty, narrow chamber. If I put my arms out on each side, I’ll be able to touch both walls at the same time. At the far end of the room is a weapons rack.
“If you’re not wanting to build your endurance, we’ll have to work on your combat skills,” Hawk tells us. “Each excavation team sent into the tunnels consists of five people, and each person on the team has a particular job assigned to them. Someone will be the navigator, ensuring you don’t turn in endless circles. Someone will be the healer, in charge of keeping the party healthy. Each team will have a gearmaster in charge of supplies. A good gearmaster won’t let you run out of food three days in. And then we have our combat members, our sword and shield. The shield—or bulwark—will protect the other members of the party while the sword takes point on combat. Even if you’re not the assigned sword for your group, you’ll be expected to handle yourself with your weapon of choice. Sometimes the sword gets killed early on and someone else has to take over the role. Understand?”
Mereden raises her hand, trembling.
“Speak,” Hawk says.
“Do we have to fight ratlings? Or will they leave us alone?”
“Not just ratlings are in the Everbelow,” Hawk says, voice ominous.
“What else?” Lark asks.
“Spiders, for one,” Hawk says. “Big, nasty beasts with too many legs that come out of nowhere and crawl over your shoulder. Monstrous things.”
“How monstrous are we talking?” asks Gwenna, a frown etching her face.
“Monstrous enough.” Hawk shakes his head and moves over to the weapons rack. “And ratlings, of course. They moved in when Old Prell collapsed, and they’re not keen on anyone digging around in the ruins. If they hear you in the tunnels, they’ll come after you. You will need to be on guard. And then there’s other teams.”
“Wait, did you just say ‘other teams’?” I blurt out. “They’d attack us?”
“It’s not unheard-of. We all know of teams that die down to a man and yet someone else makes it out with a fantastic artifact but they can’t exactly describe where they found it. No one would accuse them directly, but…it’s best to be careful.” He gestures at the weapons rack. “Does anyone have experience with any of these?”
I stare at his broad back, agog. I knew that there would be ratlings in the tunnels. I knew that there would be other problems, like collapsing paths and rockslides and things nature presented to us as we crawled leagues under the earth for ancient treasures. It never occurred to me that other teams might attack and rob us simply to get what we’ve uncovered. Gooseflesh pimples my arms and I rub them tightly. I wonder just how common “accidents” are in the guild.
“Anyone?” Hawk turns to look at us, and I’m pretty sure he’s frowning.
Kipp moves forward and grabs a sword from the rack. It’s the smallest one. Actually, it’s probably more like a dagger. He twirls it around his wrist expertly and then sheaths it, gazing up at Hawk.
The Taurian glares down at him. “You want to be the sword?”
Kipp shrugs.
“You’re half the size of anyone else, and you’re still wearing your house, despite me reminding you repeatedly that you can’t do so. If you won’t listen now, what makes you think I’ll trust you to listen when your team is in the tunnels?”
Kipp shrugs again, and this time the twirled shell of his house slips off his back in a fluid motion, clanging to the floor like a dropped bowl. He flourishes the blade again and then races up the side of one of the narrow walls, then onto the ceiling, his sucker-like toes clinging to the wood. When he’s upside down, he twirls the sword again and assumes a warrior stance.
Hawk sighs heavily and tugs on his nose ring again. “Fine. Great. You’re agile. I meant it. You’re not a team of one, you’re a Five. Understand?”
The slitherskin licks his eyeball, his long, sticky tongue darting out. He sheaths the tiny blade at his waist and crawls over to a corner, watching.
Our teacher turns back to us. “Anyone else?”
Gwenna raises a hand. “I’m good at cooking. And mending. Used to be a maid, right up until I came here. I could manage the gear.”
Nearby, Mereden claps her hands. “Oh! I could be the healer!”
“What, I’m supposed to navigate?” Lark asks, belligerent. “I can’t even find my way out of a pub. I should be the sword.”
Kipp growls, the sound adorably cute instead of alarming. He clearly doesn’t like that idea.
“You could be the shield,” Gwenna tells her in a reasonable voice. “Aspeth can’t.”
“Why not?” Lark demands.
“Yes, why not?” I ask.
Gwenna glares at me. “Reasons. There are lots of reasons for her to be safe in the back and not at the front.”
And I’m sure most of them deal with the fact that I’m nobility, but of course we can’t say that. I just shake my head at her. “I want to do whatever I’m best at. And if it means to be the bulwark, then I shall happily contribute.”
Hawk raises his hands in the air. “This is a lovely conversation and I’m glad you’re all working together, but I didn’t ask what position you wanted. I asked what you had experience in. It’s clear to me that some of you are useless.”
“Hey,” Lark protests.
“Not you,” he says. “Aspeth. She’s the weak link in your chain right now.”
“Rude!” I’m mortified at his words. I’m a holder’s daughter. I’m educated. I cannot be the weak link. “You haven’t even assessed me yet!”
“I can tell just because of how soft you are.”
“Hear that, team? He thinks she’s soft.” Lark chortles.
He points at her, furious. “You made it sexual, when all I meant was that she has no muscles or stamina. She’s…she’s…pillowy.”
“Please, stop,” I say dryly. “My ego can’t take much more.” Pillowy. How humiliating.
Hawk glares at both me and Lark, as if I had anything to do with his assessment of my fluffiness. “It’s crucial that your skills are tested because if the wrong person is put in the lead, you could all die.” He crosses his arms over his chest and I can’t help but notice that his guild coat is missing again today. It’s almost as if he prefers to wear as little as possible when training us….
And then my face goes crimson at the thought.
“I’m going to be placing you based on your performance with weapons,” he continues. “You’ll all need some competency level, and whoever is the best at attacking—or defending—will take the front two positions. Understand?”
The slitherskin growls again.
I can already tell I’m going to be at the back, since he considers me “pillowy.”
“Enough. All of you get a weapon from the rack. Let’s practice for now and see what natural skills you’ve got.” Hawk moves aside, gesturing at the array of weapons.
Oh dear. I’m reasonably confident that I have zero weapons skills. The closest I’ve ever gotten to a weapon is choosing which knife and fork to use at society dinners. Delicately, I move forward and consider the selection. There are more knives, of course, and what looks like a rather short and skinny sword with a pointed tip. The shields at the end of the rack are excessively curved, as if cupping the body, and seem rather small for, well, shielding.
“You wear both at the same time,” Hawk says, answering my unspoken question. “There’s a bracer for each shield, and a good bulwark can utilize both at the same time and expand and combine them to provide the most shielding possible for his team.”
“Ah, I see.” I don’t, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want me going toward shields just yet. I move past Mereden, who picks up a spiky-looking club, and take the sword gingerly in hand. It looks, well…stubby. At my side, Gwenna jostles me, picking up a pair of daggers. “How come everything is so short?”
“The same reason you’re in a narrow room,” Hawk replies. “You need to learn to fight in close quarters. You’re not going to have room to swing a massive sword in a narrow tunnel, so you have to learn to fight with smaller ones. It’s why you won’t see a full-on quarterstaff or training with a bow and arrow. These are tunnel tactics.”
Oh. It makes sense, I suppose. “What about a crossbow? Or a blow dart?”
He tilts his head, and his horns look surprisingly rakish when he does. Not that I’m noticing such things about my new husband. “Are you good with either?”
“Well, no—”
“Then it doesn’t mucking matter, does it?”
Grr. I bite my lip to keep from retorting something impolite.
He takes my hand and curls it around the hilt of the sword I’m holding. “You practice with this. Learn the basics. When you master them, then we can talk about other weaponry.”
I hold the delicate sword in front of me and wave it in the air, trying to emulate Kipp’s effortless swings from earlier.
“That,” Hawk says, putting a hand over mine to lower it and stop my movements, “is a stabbing blade, not a swinging one. And you’re going to put someone’s eye out. Let’s work on your grip first, all of you. Get a sword and stand in line, and we’ll work on the basics.”