Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
I eye my surroundings with distaste. There are so many people—people of all kinds. There are the pale northerners from the mountains like myself, and the sun-kissed southerners from the coast. There are Taurians marching through the crowds, their sweeping horns threatening to take out the nearest awning if they walk too close to a building, and their hooves clop on the cobblestones. I even see a slitherskin darting amongst the crowd, small and quick, his portable home perched on his back. I want to stare but it doesn’t seem polite. Honori Hold is high in the mountains, isolated by the landscape and our name. Honori is the oldest of holds, and we’re expected to hold ourselves to a higher standard than the newer holds. We only consort with other families nearly as old, and even though I’ve traveled to many other holds while attending court and visiting allies, I’ve always been left with the women, supervised and stuck in a parlor somewhere, pretending to embroider. Most of the time I can’t even bring a book, because Grandmama thinks no one will wish to marry a bookish woman and that’s why I’ve remained unattached for so long despite the Honori name.
(Then again, Grandmama would have wanted me to marry Barnabus regardless of the fact that he was a title hunter. I would be fine with that if the title wasn’t bankrupt. I’m just afraid of what would happen when he found out it is, and we’ve got no artifacts to boot.)
I once read a pamphlet that compared Vastwarren to an anthill built atop a graveyard, and now I can’t unsee it. The houses perching up the slope that elevates Vastwarren City above the surrounding lands are all clustered together, sharing walls and overhanging roofs, and I get the impression that if one house were to fall, the entire city would crumble. The streets seem to wind around the city in a spiral, lined with more run-down buildings every step of the way. Everything seems to be made of wood and patchwork remnants of other old houses. Overhead, laundry lines hang between houses on opposite sides of the street, dripping water on passersby below.
Something wet drips on my face and I swipe at it in horror. I certainly hope that was from laundry.
“Where to now?” Gwenna hisses at me, her expression expectant. “Do you need to consult your pamphlets about the guild?”
No need—I have them memorized. For years, I’ve gathered every book I could find on the Royal Artifactual Guild. I have the memoirs of Sparkanos the Swan. I have three books written about Guild Master Magpie and her adventures. And every time the guild releases an informational pamphlet, I have one sent to me so I can pore over it. I know precisely the location of the guild headquarters. “The annual meeting is tomorrow. At that time, the doors will be opened for newcomers to find a master to apprentice to. Until then, I suppose we find a nearby inn for the night and bide our time.” I smile brightly at her. “All according to plan.”
“Is it?” Gwenna asks. “Is it really?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
She thinks for a moment and then sighs heavily. “I do not.”
“Me, either. So come on.” Squeaker howls at me and I adjust her on my hip once more. “Let’s find ourselves a nice clean inn and tidy up.”
“Oh, a clean inn?” she grumbles at me. “Are we leaving the city, then?”
“Very funny.”
But I suspect she’s correct, which is a little alarming. Vastwarren City is a dump.
Still, I knew that this place would be a little sketchy. No one comes to Vastwarren for the scenery. They’re here because this is where all the great risk-takers live, after all. Men daring enough to brave the deep tunnels of the ruins of the Everbelow, seeking out the artifacts of the ancients and fighting off thieves and monsters. Teams of artifact hunters delving the ruins of Old Prell and then celebrating their discoveries in the legendary guild hall. Fighters forcing back hordes of ratlings. Of course the city’s going to be a little frayed around the edges.
Quite, quite frayed, actually.
“Hey!” Gwenna’s indignant screech interrupts my thoughts. “That’s not yours!”
Turning around, I see Gwenna in a wrestling match with a strange man over one of my bags. The man snarls at my maid with a mouth full of yellowed teeth, and to my surprise, she snarls right back. He rips the case from her grip and then races away down the busy street, Gwenna chasing after him.
It’s like when Cook feeds the fish in the moat the scraps after dinner, I realize. Several others turn to look at the cart, adrift in the middle of the street.
They’re about to swarm in a feeding frenzy.
Too late I realize that the rich brocade dress I’m wearing is a terrible idea when one is trying to lie low. As another man in worn clothes surges toward the cart, I do the only thing I can think of—I fling myself on it and promptly sit on the pile.