Chapter Four

The Mark of the Guild

“Soren, stay close. I don’t want to lose you,” Inerys said as she hurried after her brother.

It was one of those rare days where the sun had managed to chase away the stubborn mists in their entirety, leaving the city open and bare. Shadows stood dark and crisp between the stonework buildings of the district square and the whole world was somehow sharper than she remembered. The towering spires of the Sorcerers Guild, which were all but invisible any other day, stood tall and proud amid an unfamiliar blue sky. If she were honest, she found it all a touch disconcerting.

She felt oddly exposed here in the city, despite the throng around them. She could see everything, sure, but everything and everyone could see her. She stifled a shudder. Perhaps she was spending too much time out in the Wilds.

At least there were fewer purebloods in the forest.

With a deft hand, Inerys checked the pins holding her hair in place about her ears. Mercifully, still snug. Even so, if she jostled about too much, they were likely to fall free. Hounds were not banned from the city by any stretch, but their mundane, city-dwelling kin were about as tolerant as the purebloods. If one appeared too much like their feral, Adai forebears, they were dismissed entirely, if not openly harassed. Not that there were many left who still bore the tell-tale ears after so many generations. Soren had been lucky, having inherited their father’s rounded, unremarkable ears.

She spied his bobbing mop of unruly hair a few paces ahead and quickened her pace. Every so often, she caught the scent of a particularly ripe armpit amid the sweeter scents of baked goods and late season flowers as she wove her pursuit through the masses. And took her fair share of wayward elbows to the gut. She muttered under her breath, cursing the whelp for talking her into this venture in the first place.

The boy was sharp and even at twelve, knew just how to play her. Curse her sweet tooth. After he’d brought her breakfast in bed this morning, how could she refuse him a trip into the city? He’d gone so far as to feed Milo for her as well. However, she was fairly certain he’d done so to eliminate any possible arguments or excuses as to why they could not leave early. His plan had worked flawlessly.

“Soren!” She called.

He stopped short and glanced back over his shoulder.

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late!”

“And we’ll be even later if you lose your way,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“I won’t get lost,” he said in a huff.

“Even so,” she said, offering her hand.

She was more concerned about him being out among so many strangers. If she somehow lost track of him . . . She shoved the thought away. These days, she feared she was becoming far too paranoid for her own good. The cities were not the Wilds, she reminded herself, even if they occasionally felt like it.

Soren huffed a sigh, but took her hand without protest. He was practically shaking with excitement and Inerys found herself lengthening her stride to keep up with him as he led her along. He clutched the strap of his satchel with his free hand, eagerly searching the many market stalls for his favorite vendor. As always, he found the merchant beside the great tree at the center of the district, seated upon a carved wooden stool with his wares spread out before him on a long, low table draped with azure cloth.

Dozens of leather bound books lay across the table in varying shades of color. Most, Inerys noticed, were copies of tales Soren already possessed. It was hardly surprising, given his affinity for reading, but it filled her with a certain degree of disappointment. Eventually, he would consume all the city had to offer outside the Guild, fiction or otherwise. He had even burned through her personal field guides. She would have to find him a proper apprenticeship soon enough, perhaps even in another city.

“Soren, my boy!” The merchant called, holding his arms wide as the pair approached.

He was perhaps in his mid thirties, dark of hair and eyes, with a certain, permanent smirk. The man always appeared to be privy to something he shouldn’t be, regardless of his expression. Her brother grinned and quickly abandoned her hand in favor of Fain and his precious books.

“Good morning, Fain!” He said, kneeling beside the table and sweeping its length as he inspected today’s offering, “Do you have anything new?”

Though he hid it well, he’d evidently reached the same conclusion Inerys had in his brief assessment.

Fain grinned, a fond glint to his eye. “For you? Of course.”

He pulled a deep wooden box from beneath the table and removed the painted lid with a flourish. The four books nested within were remarkably well kept, despite their apparent age, if their yellowed pages were any indication. They appeared to belong to the same collection, though immediately gave Inerys pause. A silver, four-pointed star lay stamped in the center of the dark leather cover, barely contained within four concentric circles. Two smaller circles dwelled within the main body of the star, the innermost of which was haloed by eight sharp points. The complex geometry of the design created the illusion of an open eye at the heart of the sigil. Inerys was intimately familiar with the mark, for a variation of it branded the inside of her forearm - the mark of the Guild.

A shiver ran up the length of her spine.

“Are those what I think they are?” She asked quietly.

The merchant nodded, “A complete collection of first year Guild texts.”

Soren’s eyes widened. “Can I-”

“Where did you get these?” She asked, sure to catch the man’s eye when she spoke.

He met her tempered glare with an easy smile. “No where of any great consequence, my dear.”

“Forgive me if that doesn’t lessen my suspicion,” she said through grit teeth.

Books like these did not simply circulate among the general public.

The man sighed. “One of my suppliers had a daughter who had no further use for them. Given my wide clientele, I offered to take them off his hands.”

“I could take them,” Soren offered, eyes bright.

“That isn’t a good idea,” she said and his face crumpled.

“Why not?”

In truth, she couldn’t come up with a fair answer.

Her heart ached. She was all too aware of the boy’s ever increasing interest in the Guild and though those of mixed heritage were rarely accepted into the Sorcerer’s college, his innate gifts all but guaranteed his acceptance already. It was one of the many reasons she and Nan had always kept quiet about them. Rumor alone may be enough to draw the Guild’s interest. If they took these books home and Soren mastered the material, that would be the end of it. Once he was taken into the Guild, he would belong to the pureblood elite. She would likely never see him again.

After all she’d lost, Inerys wasn’t sure if she could bear it. A selfish thought, she knew, but she wasn’t ready to lose her little brother, even if it was in his best interest. Disgust twisted in her gut, not with the Sorcerers and their magic, but with herself. Was she really prepared to deny Soren a better future? She wanted what was best for him, didn’t she? She couldn’t protect him forever. As it was, it was only a matter of time before the deepwoods claimed her. Once she was gone, what then? The thought of him toiling away as some second-rate apprentice among the mundanes was a dismal one. He could do so much more, deserved more.

Finally, she sighed. “You may look at them, but I haven’t made up my mind as to whether or not we’re taking these home. All right?”

Soren, his eyes bright with excitement, reached out, then hesitated, remembering his manners.

“May I?”

Fain nodded and held out one of the tomes, smiling as if he’d somehow won. “Of course. Just be mindful of the binding.”

The boy accepted it with a certain reverence, his eyes wide. He traced a finger along the sigil, then began to carefully flip through the introductory pages of the first tome. While he did, Fain turned his attention to Inerys.

“If you’re looking for something more fantastical, I have these as well,” he said, offering her a small, wrapped stack.

She took it with an air of skepticism, but unwrapped the first book nonetheless, her curiosity piqued. The binding was dry and dull with age, though the spine was still in decent shape.

“Origins of the Shattered Isles?” She asked.

The merchant glanced about a moment before he leaned in and said with a conspiratorial whisper, “If the story is to be believed, it is a broken landscape somewhere beyond the Veil. The other two mention the Adai and their great cities.”

She paused, wondering how old the books truly were. It was a miracle they had been preserved at all. Especially given their nature.

“Yet another curiosity of your supplier?” She guessed, knowing full well the man would never divulge the origin of these particular texts.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” he said with a feline grin.

“Why not keep them for yourself?”

“If I kept every trinket I came across, what sort of merchant would I be?”

“I can keep them safe,” her brother whispered, clutching the Guild book to his chest.

Inerys pursed her lips. “I’m not sure about this, Soren. Those Guild books are one thing, but we could get into trouble if someone found these.”

“Then we hide them,” he said.

If only it were so simple.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, then scanned their fellow market goers a moment, as if the city guard would show up at any moment. Perhaps she was being silly. If no one knew about the books, would anyone actually come after them? So long as no one knew, she supposed there was no harm in it. The histories would keep Soren busy for at least a few weeks and if she were being honest, she wanted to take a peek between their aged pages herself.

Her unfortunate heritage had always been something of a forbidden curiosity of hers. Little was known about the Adai, even among their own descendants. Certain aspects of their mixed blood was universal, for most Hounds bore longer, sharper ears than their pureblooded kin and possessed a sixth sense no human could ever lay claim to. Inerys often used the latter to her advantage while hunting. The inborn ability had been invaluable and had saved her life more often than she’d ever care to admit.

Their mother had been a wellspring of knowledge, but she had been gone for years. These histories could teach her more than she ever dreamed. The thought both excited and terrified her. The books would have to be kept secret, no doubt, but surely there was no harm in learning about their own people?

After a moment of further deliberation, she relented.

“Very well, but we don’t speak of these outside the house.”

Soren’s smile turned giddy. “I promise.”

She eyed him, to be certain, but eventually nodded.

“For now, we’ll tuck them away in my satchel,” she said, unboxing the Guild texts, then turned to Fain, “how much?”

“Consider them a gift,” he said.

She blinked, arguing, “There’s no need for-”

“I insist,” he said, raising a hand to cut her off, “gifts, for my most avid and loyal customers.”

He gave Soren a wink. One the boy was quick to repay. Inerys couldn’t help but feel lost in the exchange. While she appreciated the gesture, she wasn’t asking for a hand out. They didn’t need one. But, she reminded herself that this wasn’t about her. Soren was clearly fond of the merchant and they’d paid him no small amount of coin over the years. Still, her Sense warned her the histories he’d given her were some sort of bribe.

“I- thank you,” Inerys said.

Fain waved a dismissive hand. “Make no mention of it. Few will appreciate those dusty old tomes, anyway.”

“I know just where to put them,” Soren said, passing the book he held to his sister. She slipped the second, wrapped collection into her satchel and took extra care to ensure the straps were done tight.

“There, safe and sound,” she assured him, “now what do you say?”

He smiled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Thank you, Fain!”

“You can thank me by looking after those books, hmm?”

The boy nodded vigorously.

Inerys hid a small smile, offering the merchant a polite nod she didn’t quite feel. “Thank you again. I’m sure we’ll be back in a week or two. You two are becoming inseparable.”

“I am but a humble merchant, my dear,” he said, chuckling, “the books are the true prize. You’ll have a far more difficult time prying those books away from him, I imagine.”

“Likely,” she sighed, “but those are troubles for a later time. If you’ll excuse us.”

Fain tipped his head. “Of course. Safe travels. And mind the mists.”

He certainly didn’t have to tell her twice.

Soren waved his good-bye and skipped after Inerys with a pleased hum.

“Will you read with me?” He asked.

“If you like. In the meantime, should we find you something to eat?”

His face lit up at the suggestion and Inerys hadn’t failed to notice the mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.

“Something sweet?”

Grinning, she leaned in, “My thoughts exactly.”

~*~

The huntress and her brother had spent the better part of the afternoon wandering the city together, savoring their forbidden honey cakes as well as their time away from home. Nan seldom brought her brother beyond the outer villages while Inerys was away, so such outings only ever occurred every few weeks when she was between hunts. She could easily endure another day of sore feet if it meant bringing a smile to his face.

She had taken great care to tuck him in that evening, having spent more than an hour reading to him from one of his newly acquired books. After some debate, they had settled on Origins of the Shattered Isles. A curious tale that, albeit entertaining, seemed a bit too far fetched to be true. Fiction or no, Soren had adored it all the same. She’d read until he fell asleep and then some, just to be certain. She half expected to find him up once again with one of his Guild books within the hour.

Setting the book aside, she placed a gentle kiss upon his forehead and crept out of the room. Grimacing, she inwardly cursed the wayward groan of the door’s troublesome hinges. After a moment spent in pause to listen, she dared to peek back into the room. Mercifully, her brother was still asleep, a rogue curl rustling above his nose in time with his breathing. She breathed a shallow sigh of relief and made her way to her own room to fetch her cloak and boots.

Her Nan was waiting beside the fire when she eventually made her way downstairs, fastening her cloak with her mother’s moonflower broach. Nan glanced up from the half knit blanket in her lap and offered her granddaughter a knowing smile. Inerys couldn’t help the nervous edge to her lips when she noticed the look and her skin grew flush well before the woman even spoke.

“Off to the tavern with your friend?” She asked.

Inerys’ cheeks grew hot. Her lips parted to offer explanation, but when none took wing, Nan chuckled.

“No need. He’s already waiting for you outside. Go enjoy yourself, love.”

Inerys fidgeted a moment, then awkwardly nodded.

“Thank you, Nan,” she said, almost too quickly.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She called after her.

“Of course, Nan!”

The huntress hastily shut the door behind her, only to press her back against it in the cool night air and take a breath. Alaric watched with an amused smile from the back of his dappled horse, her own resting idly beside them, saddled and ready. Eyes glinting, her friend arched a single brow in question.

“Should I be worried?”

“Hardly,” Inerys said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “If my mother’s stories are to be believed, I’m rather boring by comparison. It seems old Nan isn’t quite as innocent as she appears.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he chuckled, then raised Milo’s reins, “Shall we?”

Biting her lip, she unhitched herself from the door and swung herself into her saddle. Milo gave a soft snort and a peeved swish of his tail. Clearly, he didn’t appreciate being disturbed after dinner. She soothed him with a pat to the neck and a not-so-subtle bribe from her pocket. He reached around to accept the mint with a low, appreciative nicker.

“Spoiled old man,” she chided.

Straightening, she offered Alaric a smile. “Lead the way.”