Page 11 of Bull Moon Rising

“I do. We turn around and we leave. We go home and we figure something out. You marry some idiot for his fortune and we forget this nonsense.”

She doesn’t understand. Gwenna doesn’t realize that Barnabus would likely get rid of me once he finds out my family has no artifactual value. That our hold has no defenses and the mystical renowned Honori faeriefire cannons are dead, their charges expended. That our defense stones are depleted. We can’t protect anyone or anything, and once that’s discovered, everyone will attack us. Our neighbors, our friends, our enemies—they’re going to realize we’re weak and try to take over Honori Hold. If we’re lucky, Father and Grandmama and I will be cast out. Unlucky? Someone will find what’s left of us in the moat.

And she doesn’t realize that it won’t stop there. Anyone with any sort of connection to us will be either driven out or killed, simply so there will be no one contesting the new rulers.

I can’t even approach the black market because Honori Hold is penniless. Our credit is gone and there’s nothing to pay my father’s debtors with. Father sold all of our valuable artifacts.

I haven’t told Gwenna that Barnabus only wanted me for my family’s holdings. That he’s never been interested in kissing a spinster like me, and all the times I let him touch me, he was pretending. Even now, the thought makes me feel like vomiting. It’s too shameful to bear. I know I’m not particularly pretty or charming, but finding out what Barnabus really thinks of me has made me feel ashamed. Like I’m some sort of disgusting creature that can only be tolerated because of the title I bring. I’ve tucked it all deep in my heart and kept it to myself. As far as Gwenna knows, we’re low on artifacts and I’m here to find new ones for my family. My father’s gambling problems are well-known by all the servants already, though I don’t think they realize how vulnerable it’s made all of us.

“I’m not leaving,” I tell Gwenna softly. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, but we’re not leaving. We’re not giving up. Not after we’ve come this far.”

“Mrrrrowr,” Squeaker agrees. But she also just might want out of my clinging grasp.

Gwenna takes a deep breath and then jumps to her feet, pacing the room. “All right, then. We’re not leaving. We’re still going to join the guild. So if those twits won’t let you in the front door to join the guild,how do we get in the side door? Who do we know that we can pull connections with?”

For a moment, I stare at her in awe. Of course we’re not giving up. It’s time to enact another plan. I’m humbled by her faith in me, and new tears threaten, but I blink them away. Just like Gwenna isn’t a hugger (gods, I could really use a hug right now), she’d hate crying even more. And those horrible men aren’t worth crying over. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t know what we do from here. Father no longer sponsors a guild Five because we haven’t the funding. Even if he did, we couldn’t approach them because I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Right.” She pauses, drumming her fingers on her crossed arms, thinking. “Well, perhaps we should find out where they drink and seduce our way into the school. A man with a tired cock can’t refuse a woman anything she asks.”

Seduction?

Me?

It’s…not a bad plan. If she was suggesting this to anyone other than me, it’d be an excellent plan. As it is, I’m not sure I’m the right person for the job. “How am I supposed to seduce someone? Sit on them and recite Old Prellian poetry until they give in? I don’t know the first thing about being appealing to men. The only experience I’ve had is with Barnabus.”

And I can’t trust any of it.

My cat twists in my arms, digging in her claws, and I let her go. Squeaker abandons me, leaving behind floating bits of fur in her wake, and I cough, waving a hand in the air to clear it.

“All right. Not seduction, then.” Gwenna continues to pace, thinking. “But if we can find out where the guild men drink, perhaps we can bribe or trick one into getting us in.”

“I’m not sure that’s going to work,” I tell her, uncertain. “They seemed pretty against women overall.”

“Because they were in a group,” she says, all confidence. “Men say very different things when they’re alone with a woman.”

This sounds suspiciously like seduction again. But I don’t have any other plan, and I don’t want to give up, so we might as well give it a try. Find a nice man at a bar. Talk to him. Get him to realize how much thismeans to me and see if he can’t persuade them to let me in. I don’t have the funds for bribery, but there are other things I can do. I can read and translate. I know how to deal with holder nobility. I’m very good at etiquette. I have an excellent grasp of Old Prellian history.

And if nothing else seems to be effective, perhaps tits will work.

We argue overwho will stay with the luggage and the cat. Gwenna wants to go with me as I head out into Vastwarren City after dark, and I would love for her to accompany me as well, but I also don’t want to abandon our things.

“Let’s go downstairs and talk to the innkeeper,” she suggests. “Maybe she’ll know something and we can go from there.”

It’s a good compromise, and a short time later, we’re downstairs in the raucous tavern room. There’s a woman in the corner shouting a story at a nearby man, a large mug of ale in her hand. Two other men watch her with annoyance, and there looks to be a family tucked away at a table in the corner, by the hearth. The room is dimly lit and smells of smoke; the battered tables are greasy and look as if they haven’t been cleaned in years. Behind the bar, the innkeeper leans against a cask of ale, talking to a man seated by himself at the bar. He looks…unsavory, and I nudge Gwenna to make sure we keep a safe distance between us and him.

We settle at the other end of the bar, near the door, and the woman in the corner gets louder. “AND THEN I WALLOPED HIM,” she howls. “SHOULDA SEEN HIS FACE!”

I wince delicately and wait for someone to tell her to calm down, but no one does. Perhaps this is a normal occurrence here. That’s…worrying.

The innkeeper saunters over to us, and I’d swear she’s wearing the same clothing as yesterday, stains and all. She slaps at the counter with her wet rag, and it’s the same one, too, and smells awful. I swallow hard and decide to breathe through my mouth.

“Y’hungry?” she asks us.

Oh, by the five gods, I don’t think I’ll eat anything in this placeagain. I try not to stare at the dishrag in horror. “We are seeking information—”

Gwenna puts her hand on mine, shaking her head. “What my friend here is trying to say is that we’re looking for men.Guildmen.”

The barkeep eyes us as if we’re fortune hunters. “Mm-hmm. I suppose it’s that time of year.”

---