Page 12 of By the Horns
Hawk tugs at the ring on his nose in agitation. “This problem goes pretty deep, Raptor. The two repeaters who were killed were working in different parts of the guild. They had no connection, except that they were found murdered in the same way. It could be anyone who’s next, and even if we ignore the threat to people’s safety, the thieves are costing the guild thousands upon thousands of gold crowns. Somehow, they’re getting into locked rooms and finding objects that have been discreetly hidden away by the guild. We must find out how they’re discovering these items and how they’re extracting them. Who their source is. It’s a knot with many tangled threads. We need the best to help us.”
It sounds like a clusterfuck to me. I glance over at Rooster, whose sour, disapproving look has never changed as he gazes upon me over his tiny spectacles. “You need the best, eh?”
“Hawk reassures me you will be the help we need,” Rooster says stuffily.
“I’ll agree to all of this on one condition.” At Hawk’s raised brows, I point at Rooster. “I wanthimto tell me that I’m the best.”
There’s nothing more satisfying than Rooster’s outraged sputtering.
Five
Gwenna
Swansday, One Day Before Recruitment Day
Dere Ma,
Tomorrow is the big day. Please say a prayer to the gods that I was accepted as a flegling. The men here that are artificers are all full of themselves, and it’s hard for a woman. Evin Aspeth, who had a lot of knowledge about artifacts, isn’t taken seriously. I hope I can pass this year. I don’t think I can do another year as a repeeter. We don’t work for money. We work for room and bord and to pay off our debts for flunking. If we’re good, maybe we will get picked to be a flegling next time.
I am sending along a few coins I’ve managed to make through odd jobs. Buy yourself new shoes—I no yours are always worn out.
Love, Gwenna
The nerves arestarting already, and recruitment day isn’t until tomorrow. I’ve finished my work for the day, and I can either sit in the nestmaid quarters on my bunk with the other women who work for the guild and have them ask me why I want to be an artificer, or I can get out for the night. Lark and Mereden are heading to the King’s Onion, our favorite nearby tavern, and suggested we get together for drinks before the big day.
I think getting drunk sounds like the right call. Hopefully I can get drunk enough to pass out so I don’t have to stay up all night thinking about what tomorrow will bring. With my black repeater sash slung over my shoulder like a brand, I make my way through Sparkanos Square at the center of Vastwarren’s heart and ignore the men who catcall and make rude noises as I march past. They can give a repeater shit, but the moment I have a fledgling sash they’ll leave me alone.
Actually, they won’t. But it’s a step closer to respectability, and I’m used to men making arses out of themselves and me ignoring their efforts to get under my skirts.
The tavern doors open to the smell of beer and sweat, and the overbearing scent of raw onions. I wrinkle my nose as I enter, waving to Naiah behind the bar. Her expression brightens when she sees me, and she points at the back of the crowded room, knowing just who I headed here for. Sure enough, I spot the dark, curly hair of Mereden next to Lark’s bright blond, tangled hair. As I approach, I spot their repeater uniforms…and Lark’s foot propped up on a chair beside a large leaf-green slitherskin with a patched-up shell house strapped to his back. Kipp is here, too. “Well, isn’t this a treat?” I call out as I approach, delighted. “All we need is Aspeth and we’d have our Five from last year back together.”
Mereden gets up to hug me, the warm vanilla scent of her skin comforting. She’s been working in the guild kitchens and smells like pies and fresh bread every day. “There you are,” she exclaims, hugging me tight as if we haven’t seen each other for months instead of just a few days. “I was about to come after you.”
“I had to work late,” I tell them cheerfully. “You know what Mistress Umala is like.”
She and Lark groan obligingly. They do, in fact, know what Mistress Umala is like.
“Where’s Aspe—er, Sparrow?” I ask, looking around for my friend. “Did I miss her?”
“Research project running late,” Mereden says, settling on the far side of the table next to Lark again. She sets her hand atop the table and their fingers immediately intertwine. “She said she’d be by later.”
Aspeth says that a lot. It rarely happens, though. If a project runs late, it means she’s lost in her research and won’t look up until her husband,Hawk, comes to drag her to bed. I’d be annoyed except Aspeth is living the life she’s always dreamed of, so I’m happy for her.
Glancing down, I offer a fist for Kipp to bump, as slitherskins don’t like prolonged touching of humans, and he taps my knuckles with his knife, which means he’s feeling overstimulated enough that even a brief touch will be too much. Lark doesn’t get up to greet me, and her foot remains propped up in what I assumed was my chair. Now that I’m closer, I can see the linen bandages turning her foot into what looks like nothing more than a gigantic beige sausage. “What the muck happened here?”
“Tripped on a cobblestone,” Lark says with a grimace. “I wish I could say it was something more exciting, like a runaway horse, but no. I was carrying a crate across the courtyard for Master Grackle and my foot caught. You should have heard the snap.”
My jaw drops. “Today?”
“Today. Rotten timing, isn’t it?” Lark looks annoyed, but not devastated.
I thump into the only empty chair left. I’m the one who’s devastated. If Lark’s foot is broken, then that means she can’t become a fledgling, not this year. All the masters will be selecting their fledglings tomorrow. “Rather convenient timing,” I finally manage to say, “what with it being Master Grackle and all.”
Master Grackle is well-known amongst all the women who are employed by the guild for just how dismissive he is. I’d rather have a lech for a teacher than deal with one who treats me as if I’ve got no brain in my skull.
“It’s just the fact that I was hurrying,” Lark reassures me. “Wasn’t as if he tripped me or anything.”
“But recruitment day is tomorrow.” I’m whining about the obvious.
