Page 29 of Bull Moon Rising
“Mm-hmm,” says Lark, and clearly she doesn’t believe me. She exchanges a look with Mereden, who raises her brows and gives us a prim expression. Kipp just licks his eye.
Gwenna nudges me, leaning forward. “She’s being modest. For aslong as I’ve known Aspeth, she’s had her nose in a book about the guild. She’s told everyone who would listen about Old Prell and the guild history and what kinds of adventures guild members get up to. She’s studied it ever since she was old enough to read. She’s here because it’sher dream. Because she wants to make something of herself.”
Her vehement response changes the way everyone looks at me. Mereden’s lips quirk in a tiny smile. Lark just “Humphs” but relaxes. Kipp gives a quick nod as if full of understanding.
“Why, thank you, Gwenna,” I say softly. “But yes. It has always been a dream of mine. I grew up reading stories of Guild Master Magpie and her exploits. I want to be just like her.”
“Gods, no you don’t,” Lark says with a chuckle.
“So does your family have a lot of books?” Mereden asks politely before I can inquire what Lark means. Immediately, I know it’s the wrong thing to say. Books are a rich person’s possession, much like spectacles. I might as well confess that we’re wealthy or powerful if I admit that I have a great many books—or that I used to before my father sold off my library. “We had a fair amount at one time,” I say, hesitating. “But they were too expensive to keep. I borrowed whenever I could from the nearest monastery, or from my tutors.”
“Oooh, tutors. Fancy.” Lark makes a flourish with her hand. “We’ve got ourselves a rich woman. What about you, Gwenna? You a big reader?”
“No,” Gwenna says in a flat voice. “My ma worked for Aspeth’s father. That’s how we know each other. I’m here because I don’t want to work in a kitchen all my life.”
I tense, worried they’re going to ask where we’re from.
Instead, Lark rolls onto her back, nodding. “I understand that very well. My family never had two pennies to rub together, and as for myself, you can only juggle blades for so long before you have to seek out other careers. My aunt said she’d train me if I ever wanted to join, and so that’s why I’m here. Figure it’s time to learn a new skill before I lose a finger or six.”
Wincing, I keep petting Squeaker’s ears and scratch her chin. “Fingers are important.”
“And what about you, Mereden?” Gwenna asks. “A convent novice doesn’t strike me as the type to join the guild, no offense.”
Mereden’s smile is tremulous. “I was sent to the convent because I didn’t want to marry. After being there for a while, I realized I didn’t want to devote my life to the gods. This seemed as good an option as any.”
“Sounds like we’re all desperate,” Lark says. “Except for Aspeth. She’s just a nerd.”
“What about Kipp?” I ask, looking at the slitherskin. “What’s your story?”
He blinks at me, then licks his eyeball with his long tongue.
Is…that a response? Helpless, I look over at the others.
“Slitherskins don’t talk aloud,” Lark says helpfully. “They gesture if it’s important, but otherwise they only talk to their own.”
“I see,” I say, though I’m not sure I see at all.
“I worked with a slitherskin in the troupe. Nice guy. Good with coin. Better at keeping secrets.” She winks at Kipp. “He’ll talk to us if he feels like it, but it’ll be with hands and not lips.”
I’m not even certain Kipp has lips.
The slitherskin rolls his eyes at Lark and then looks at our group. He lifts his hands, and then starts to gesture. It takes a little time for me to understand what he’s trying to say without words, but I think we get the gist. He and his family are wanderers. Everything he owns is in his house, which he pats affectionately. His parents have left—or died—and he’s alone in the world now. He wants to join the guild because it’s exciting to him. He wants to be a hero, judging from the straight-backed, arrogant pose he sets.
Strangely enough, I relate to Kipp more than anything after that. He wants to be more than he is. He has a dream of becoming someone great. He’s not escaping his life, he’s improving it. I love that. “Can I hug you?” I ask him, full of emotion.
Kipp recoils, an offended look on his face.
“You don’t ask a slitherskin that,” Lark protests. “It’s rude. You don’t touch them without invitation.”
“I asked.” My face is hot. “And I didn’t mean to offend. My family doesn’t hug and I’ve decided that now that I’m going to be my own person, I’m going to ask for hugs. I love hugs. I want hugs every day. It’s just the warmest, best feeling…but I seem to be surrounded by non-huggers.”
“I’ll hug you,” Mereden says in a soft voice.
“You will?” I look at her in surprise.
She nods, getting to her feet as I do. “It’s a new start for all of us, isn’t it? I might as well be a hugger.”
Squeaker mrowrs a protest at being set on the floor, but I dust cat hair off my robe and hug Mereden. She’s shorter than me, and soft, but she smells sweet and lovely, and her embrace is warm. It’s a good hug.