short staircase and to the gate. Siobhan judged him to be the majordomo just from his attitude alone. Well, the prominent crest on his coat and the high quality of his clothes influenced that snap judgment too.
“I am told that a Guildmaster of Deepwoods seeks audience with Guildmaster Jarnsmor,” he said in perfectly flawless Robargean.
“I do.” She took a step forward. “I am Siobhan Maley of Deepwoods. I carry a message on behalf of Lirah Darrens of Blackstone.”
His brows twitched together either in a gesture of disbelief or interest, she couldn’t quite tell which. “Forgive me, but do you have identification on you?”
She pulled out the Deepwoods seal from a pocket and flipped the leather flap open so he could see it.
He verified it with a brief, but thorough scrutiny. “But you say Lirah Darrens? We expected her some time ago but have not seen anyone from Blackstone.”
“She was ambushed before she could arrive,” Siobhan informed him grimly. “Within sight of your city gates, no less.”
He blanched at this. “You jest…no, I can see from your expression you do not. She is well?”
“I wish I could say so, but no. Most of her party is heavily injured. Sir, I must speak with your guildmaster as quickly as possible. Lives are at stake here.”
“Nortin is my name, Guildmaster Maley. I will take you to him.” He nodded to the guards, who quickly unlocked the gates and ushered them through.
Nortin, for a man that had an obvious bad leg, could move like lightning. Siobhan had to once again lengthen her stride in order to keep up. He pushed through the main door and inside of the building without pause, leading them from strong daylight into much dimmer lighting. Siobhan had to blink several times to adjust her vision to this cool interior.
She had the impression of smooth, polished wooden floors and white stucco walls before Nortin took a sharp left, into a room that branched off the main hallway. Siobhan followed him in only to stop abruptly at the doorway. When Nortin said he would take her to his guildmaster, he hadn’t been kidding. This had to be the man’s personal study. There were floor to ceiling bookshelves dominating one wall, a massive desk that sat squarely in the middle of the room, and a small gathering of wooden stools around an oblong table that took up the other half of the room. The table had been completely overtaken in paper and maps, with a slightly older man leaning over the surface. He looked up at their entrance, dark brows drawn together in a frown of confusion.
“Nortin? Who’s this?”
“Guildmaster Siobhan Maley of Deepwoods, Master Jarnsmor. She comes to speak with you as Lirah Darren’s Voice.”
Oh, was that the proper way to say it? Siobhan mentally noted that even as she took in Jarnsmor with frank appraisal. So this was the most powerful man of northern Wynngaard, eh? He certainly looked the part. His pepper-grey hair spoke of age, as did the harsh lines around his eyes and mouth, but there was nothing weak about the rest of him. His black eyes were sharp, shoulders broad, and his clothes did nothing to hide the powerful muscles of his arms and thighs. If someone told Siobhan that this man was capable of splitting boulders with brute strength alone, she would believe it.
“Lirah Darrens?” he exclaimed, voice booming out at an almost deafening volume. “Guildmaster Maley, have you an idea of where she is?”
“I know exactly where she is.” Siobhan concealed a wince as her abused ears protested. “Sir, there is much that needs to be explained and I will happily do so, but right now I need an escort of your strongest men. Lirah’s party was ambushed by assassins and they are gravely hurt. They need refuge.”
“They have it,” he granted immediately, without a second’s hesitation. “Nortin, arrange a guard of fifty men. Guildmaster Maley, do you judge that to be sufficient?”
She judged that to be overkill but wasn’t about to say so. “Thank you, yes.”
Nortin gave a short bow before disappearing from the room.
“Where are they?” Jarnsmor pressed, coming around the table to speak with her more directly. “You said ambushed? Where?”
“They are in Vakkiod, and yes, ambushed. In fact, Lirah was within sight of Sateren when they were hit.”
Jarnsmor couldn’t conceal a wince. “In my own front yard? By who?!”
“I swore not to say their name,” she apologized, spreading her palms in a helpless gesture.
Rune, at her shoulder, cleared his throat. “Actually,