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)
“Humph. Only wrens I know of nest in the hayloft and shit all over the barn.”
“Well, then, it’s the perfect name,” I say brightly. “I come up with plans and you shit all over them.”
We blink at each other, Gwenna staring at me in surprise. Then we both burst into laughter.
“ ‘Wren’ will do,” Gwenna tells me, chuckling. “I won’t remember it, just like I won’t remember to call you ‘Sparrow,’ but it’ll do.”
I grin at her and take another bite of my food, glad that, whatever route this journey of mine will take, I’ll have a friend at my side.
It isn’t until much, much later, as I’m lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling as Gwenna snores next to me, that I think of my father. Has he returned from court yet? Or is he still in his mistress’s bed? When he returns, will he even notice that I’m gone? That I haven’t come down to dinner for many nights in a row? Will he inquire with the staff about my absence?
No, probably not.
The thought’s a depressing one. I told everyone that I was visiting Grandmama at her Celen Hills manor, which will work until Grandmama sends one of her letters wanting to know why I haven’t married yet and enumerating all the ways I’ve grown up into an unmarriageable spinster instead of the in-demand heiress I should be. She sends those sorts of letters about once a fortnight (Grandmama is nothing if not determined), and once one arrives, they’ll realize I’m gone, but I figure it’ll take a while, and by the time my disappearance is noted, I’ll be enrolled as a guild fledgling and safe in Vastwarren City.
I picture the scene. Father will return home from court after being away for months. He’ll brush past the staff like he always does, ignore the scrolls and letters full of notices from debt collectors. Instead, he’ll retreat to his study for a drink and to relax. He’ll go out riding for a few days, visit his tailor, get new clothes, and at some point, decide that he should check in on his heir. He’ll invite me to dinner in the main hall—and it’s always more of a demand than an invitation—and then sit as far away from me as possible at the long trestle table that spans the length of the enormous hall. At some point, he’ll realize I’m not sitting opposite him.
Then, and only then, he’ll realize I’m not in the hold. That I’m not waiting around for him to notice that I exist.
It would have been nice for someone to care that I’m gone, I think wistfully. After all, I’m the heir to Honori Hold. No one knows that we’re broke and artifact-less except myself and Father and a few of our most trusted servants. A holder’s daughter should be important.
Shouldn’t someone care?
Anyone at all?
Squeaker makes a loud mrowr near my ear and paws at the blanket. Obediently, I lift it up, and she shoves her way under, curling up against my side. At least my cat loves me.
TWO
ASPETH
26 Days Before the Conquest Moon
The next morning, I read over the well-worn pamphlet yet again, just to make certain that I haven’t missed anything. The Royal Artifactual Guild meets once a year, on the eve of Swansday, to say a prayer to the gods, to honor the king for his benevolence, and to update any rules of the guild itself. It’s a time when artificers are officially promoted, artifacts are haggled over by holders, and those who wish to join the guild can pledge to a teacher, who will do their best to prepare their fledglings over the next year in order to take the certification test.
That’s where I come in. I clutch the pamphlet to my chest and take a deep breath.
I’m ready. More than that, I need this. Artifacts would solve all of my family’s problems. Two or three Greater Artifacts would settle us once more and give us safety. Several Lesser Artifacts would staunch the bleeding, and could hopefully be traded for a Greater, depending on how useful they are. Truly, I’m well-equipped for this job. I learned Old Prellian for amusement. I can read and speak three other languages in addition to the Prellian glyphs. I’m well educated and good with math.
They should be salivating over my skill set.
With another deep breath, I dress, casting off the last vestiges of Aspeth Honori, only child of Holder Corin Honori of the Far Reaches. Today I truly become Sparrow, applicant and fledgling to the Royal Artifactual Guild and general nobody. I pull on my underclothes, petticoats, and corset, cinching it up the front. Brown stockings go over my sensible boots. Over my head, I toss my least extravagant dress. It’s made of a thick, sturdy brocade in a dull pattern, the skirts swishing at my ankles. Ties have been added to the skirts so they can be hiked up at the front for ease of walking or hiking—or tunneling, since Sparrow will be expected to venture into the dark and mysterious tunnels of the Everbelow. The bodice attached to this one is decorated with brown ribbon at the edges, all to convey a subtlety to my clothing. I lace myself up, the bodice bound at the front so I can dress myself instead of having a lady’s maid do so.