“Backward? Bumpkin? Middle of nowhere? Sycomore isn’t just the largest town in the Woods; it’s theonlytown in the Woods. The other Wilderlands have cities and monuments and universities, and the Woods has… trees. That’s why the Guild House looks so rundown—the chapter here doesn’t receive much funding. And I’ve heard that the man who runs Sycomore doesn’t care much about rules or lawbreakers.”
Barclay had never heard something so ridiculous. He didn’t care aboutrules? Dullshire had too many rules, certainly, but not all of them were silly. No wonder Sycomore was chaos.
“Then how do you stop people from doing bad things?” he asked fretfully.
She put a comforting hand on Barclay’s shoulder.
“I don’t know, and I don’t like the way things are done here, same as you. Because you’re not a Lore Keeper and you’ve bonded with a really powerful Beast, people will try to take advantage of you. And we can’t let them.”
Viola had said “we.” He still didn’t want her money, and she might have been the person who got him bonded with a Beast in the first place, but he was grateful for her help. It was nice to know that he wasn’t alone.
“So come on,” Viola said. “Let’s go find someone who can really help you remove your Mark.”
When Viola turned to enter the Guild House, she glanced up and frowned at the tattered Exhibition banner.
“I didn’t realize this was happening so early,” she said. “No wonder it’s so crowded with travelers here. I wonder if…” She shook her head, suddenly fidgety. “No. He wouldn’t be.”
“Is there a problem?” Barclay asked.
She plastered on a smile that looked quite fake and straightened several of her pins and brooches that had gone crooked.
“No, this is good. Removing Marks isn’t common knowledge, so it’s lucky for us that a number of accomplished Lore Masters are in Sycomore right now.”
Then she pushed open the doors and motioned for him to follow her inside.
Based on Viola’s descriptions of the Guild, Barclay had imagined it to look more like an office. Instead, it looked like a pub. The inside, much like the outside, was falling apart. Wobbly barstools were missing legs. The uneven wooden floor was sloshed with beer. The green paint was peeling off the walls like skin after a sunburn.
It was cozy, at least. A brown coat of arms hung over the fireplace mantel, and the walls around it were decorated with plaques of stuffed Beast heads and maps of places Barclay had never heard of before. The thick tree that sprouted up and grew from the room’s center was covered from top to bottom with nailed flyers. Beasts of all sorts perched in the rafters or crawled across the floor, growling and hooting and munching on fallen scraps.
“Like I said before,” Viola told him, “there are six Guild locations around the world, one in each Wilderland. The headquarters is in the Mountains, where the Grand Keeper is. Everywhere else just has a High Keeper who runs the place. The High Keeper here is Kasimir Erhart.”
She pointed to a man on a couch by the fireplace. He had a long, matted gray beard that covered most of his embellished tunic. His head hung back, his mouth open. He was fast asleep. It was no wonder he didn’t care about rules if he’d rather nap all day than do his job.
The young woman beside him didn’t seem to mind that he slept. She wore a long braid of dull blond hair tucked beneath a slouchy oversized coat that reminded him of aDullshire sentry uniform, very soldierlike, with lots of chainmail. Barclay couldn’t see her face, but from here, it looked as though she was staring intently into the flames.
Viola searched around the room, and she pointed at a group of people sitting at a high-top table. “I recognize them! They’ve done work for my father.”
She strutted over to them, leaving Barclay no choice but to follow.
There were three people at the table. The first was a man with brown skin and copper glasses shaped like hexagons. The second, a woman, had red hair knotted with twigs and leaves, and fair skin covered in dirt, as though she’d been unearthed only minutes before, like a fresh mushroom. Last was another woman, also light-skinned, but much smaller and older—so small and old, in fact, that Barclay was shocked to see the five empty mugs of beer in front of her.
“Viola Dumont,” the man said with surprise. “What are you doing in the Woods? I thought you were apprenticed to Cyril Harlow.”
Viola flushed. “I am. I’ve just been traveling alone, for the time being.”
The man said nothing, only raised his eyebrows and swept his gaze over the two of them.
“This is my friend, Barclay Thorne.” She shoved Barclay forward. “Barclay, this is Mandeep.” She nodded at the man. “And this is Floriane. And Athna.” She pointed at the dirt-covered woman and the elderly one. “Barclay needssome advice, if you don’t mind us asking.”
“Not at all.” Floriane gestured to the two open stools. “Please, sit. What is it that you need?”
“I’m trying to remove my Beast Mark,” Barclay explained, taking a seat. “It bonded with me by accident, and I don’t want it.”
“You’re not the first Elsie to want your Mark removed,” Floriane said gently.
“But it’s not possible,” Mandeep cut in.
Floriane shot Mandeep an annoyed look. “I know this might be hard for you to believe, but just becauseyoudon’t know how to do something doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”
