work, I don’t know. The thing sticks out over the water like a sore thumb. Eventually enough sailors will spread the word. But they’re building a bridge to Wynngaard, like the Grey Bridges.”
Sylvie gave a shocked expression that would have made any credible actor envious. “Oh my! Are you serious?”
“Yes, yes. I don’t remember where it’s supposed to connect…” the woman trailed off, staring up at the ceiling as if she was trying to recall. “Somewhere on the continent, anyway.”
“But that’s a long ways!” Sylvie protested, more genuine this time.
“Oh, I know it. It’s supposed to take another forty years, they said. Long past when I’m dead and buried, leastways. But can you imagine what it will do for this city? Why, trade will shoot right up!”
“Who’s behind the building of it? It’ll take a pretty penny to build something that size.”
“That’s the thing.” The woman leaned forward even more, her voice lowering to a conspiratory tone. “No one knows.”
Siobhan snapped around to stare at her incredulously. “What?”
“No one knows,” the woman repeated with a furtive look toward the door. “We all suspected Fallen Ward, but they’re denying it, and it’s true—we never see their members working on the bridge. It’s always workers and masons from other cities that come and do the construction.”
She shared a speaking look with Sylvie. This just got stranger and stranger. Even the people of this city didn’t know?
After a little more digging, Siobhan found a good pair of boots that only had light wear to them, and she bought them for a reasonable price thanks to Sylvie’s bartering. They exited the shop and went ten steps down the street before daring to speak to each other.
“It’s not Fallen Ward?” Siobhan said in confusion. “How can that be possible?”
“It can’t be,” Sylvie denied. “No way. Can you imagine a guild coming into Goldschmidt and building something that large without Blackstone somehow being involved? No, they’re working with someone behind the scenes. This attitude of ‘not involved’ is camouflage. Why they’re bothering to act innocent, I don’t know.”
Siobhan rubbed a temple, feeling the pangs of a headache coming on. “I’m getting more confused, not less. And we’re here so I can be less confused!”
“I hear you. Cloak?”
“Why are ya shoppi’n anyway?” A familiar male voice asked from above their heads.
Both women stopped and craned their necks around to look up. Rune squatted casually on the edge of a nearby roof, looking as comfortable up there as a cat in a sunny perch.
Sylvie didn’t even look surprised to find him up there when she explained, “Buying something is the easiest way to loosen a shop owner’s tongue. Thereby, shopping is the most effective method of gathering information.”
Rune gave her a look that said he didn’t buy that for one second. “Ya like ta shop.”
“You bet.” Sylvie winked at him, lips curled in a smirk. “You don’t have to lurk on the rooftops, you know. You can join us.”
He held up a hand in refusal. One shopping trip with Sylvie was enough for him, eh? “Ya keep goi’n.”
“Suit yourself.” With a shrug, Sylvie kept walking, Siobhan keeping pace with her.
“At the rate we’re going, we might need to buy a whole wardrobe before we find all the information we need,” Siobhan muttered.
“You think Iron Dragain will reimburse us?” Sylvie batted innocent eyes. “After all, it’s a business expense.”
“I highly doubt it, but can you pitch the idea to Jarnsmor when we get back? The expression on his face is bound to be priceless.”
“I bet you I can,” Sylvie challenged with a gleam in her eye.
“Usual bet?”
“Usual bet.”
“You’re on.”
Siobhan’s joke about buying a whole wardrobe turned out to be more accurate than she’d predicted. Between the two of them, they managed to buy a cloak, coat, shirt, boots, and two pairs of pants in their search. In spite of their intense pursuit and Sylvie’s silver tongue, they didn’t get much more information.
As night threatened to fall, the whole guild met back up at their inn’s tavern room and sat down at a round table for dinner. The lighting in here wasn’t the best, so the room with its low ceiling seemed casted in warm lantern light and cool shadows. After spending the majority of the day in harsh sunlight, Siobhan was thankful for the cool darkness.
She did feel somewhat sorry for Tran and Wolf, though, as they kept knocking their foreheads against the rafters.
A thick beef casserole of some sort was dished out onto plates with warm biscuits and