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)
Every year, something like this happens. Magpie takes in the dregs and then none of them pass the guild tests after months of hard work. I then chastise her for her carelessness and she agrees that I’m right, promises to change, and then spends her days sucking on the nearest bottle of alcohol. The moment students arrive again, she takes in more dregs. Rinse and repeat.
I’m a good teacher, but I need students who give a damn, and Magpie doesn’t seem to recruit those. She picks the rebels, the wastrels, the misfits—anything that speaks to her. If she was sober for longer than an hour a day, we could probably make it work between the two of us. As it is…not so much.
But to add this woman who’s already made herself notorious? That’s just begging for problems. “We’ve only got room for one more in the class, not both of you.”
If I put this “Sparrow” in our class, they’re going to laugh Magpie right out of the guild halls.
“They’re both joining,” Lark says, oblivious to my train of thought. “Her and Gwenna.”
“No, they’re not. Five’s the sacred number, remember?” I gesture at the door, indicating that the two women should turn around and head back out into the night. “You’ve wasted your time, both of you. Magpie won’t be having a class this year.”
It seems the wisest decision. Magpie’s in no state to teach, and if she’s not got enough for a class, I can cry off. Lark won’t be offended for long. She’ll find another job with a traveling troupe. The priestess that Mags owes money to will just have to deal with it. The slitherskin can find another teacher, as can Guillam.
As for me…
I’ll just have to take on odd jobs until the annual guild fees are paid. I can run as a substitute in a group that needs five but is missing a member, or do rescue runs. We sure as shit can’t send Magpie into the tunnels. We’ve been in worse situations as business partners, Mags and I. And I hate to say it, because Mags is the one who gave me a chance all those years ago, but maybe it’s time for me to move on, too.
I immediately squash that thought. If I leave, Magpie has no one but Lark, and they certainly wouldn’t be a good influence on each other. I have to stay.
And then I think of the Conquest Moon and my frustration mounts. Why is it that bad luck has to come in a chain? Why can’t it be strung out between phases of pleasant monotony? As it is, all this bad luck is a cascade threatening to bury us.
“You can take both of us,” the tall woman says, her expression as stony as mine. “I’ve done a great deal of reading on fledgling classes. Teachers have taken on additional students in the past, but only five can be sent for testing. You can teach us all, and the best five will be tested at the end of the year, correct?”
“Are you spouting guild law at me?” I glare at her as mightily as I can, tired and annoyed. If it were any other person and any other situation, I might be amused at the woman’s bravado. As it is, I’m frustrated with Magpie and her reckless niece, and irritated that I’m being lectured by a stranger. “You want another guild law? How about the one where women can’t join the guild—”
“Oh, don’t start that again,” the woman snaps, interrupting.
“—without a chaperone’s permission?” I finish.
The woman’s jaw drops, and pink blooms on her cheeks.
I think I’ve finally silenced her. Maybe now I can go back to sleep.
“Are we done here?” I ask, my arms crossed over my chest. I eye the two newcomers and then turn to glare at Lark. “I don’t know what sort of drunken idea you’ve all gotten in your heads, but this isn’t happening. You can just—”
“How does one get a chaperone?” the woman in brown says suddenly.
“What?” I scowl in her direction.
She gestures at me with her hand, indicating that I should continue. “You said we need a chaperone to give us permission. Are there specifics on the chaperone? Does the chaperone need to produce a letter of some kind?”
They’re truly going to debate this? My glare deepens.
Lark speaks up. “Magpie’s my chaperone!”
The round-faced shorter woman points at the bossy tall one in brown. “She’s my chaperone.”
“Very well, then,” the tall one says, smoothing a hand down the front of her soaked bodice. She lifts her chin as if she’s the queen herself and gives me a steady look. “I’m the only one who needs a chaperone, then. May we speak privately, you and I?”
I should say no. I should absolutely say no. Something in her manner tells me that she thinks she has the upper hand, and though I’m curious, I also sense a very bad idea in the works. I hesitate, and then think of the spectacle she made of herself earlier in the guild hall. “No.”