Trading by Shroomlight
Page 4
Idris, or whoever he was, didn’t even look around. He thrust his hand toward the ceiling, and streamers of shadow appeared. They wrapped around him, shielding him from Mordan’s sudden attack and pulling him out of her reach.
Marsh watched him disappear through the roof as she backed away from the floating dust. When he was gone, she let her shield drop and covered her mouth with her hand.
Stay back, Dan. The kat stopped, catching the image of dust in her mind. With a swirl of movement, she pivoted on her own length and left the room. Thanks, kat.
Keeping her hand over her nose and mouth, Marsh hurried to the door, hoping the powder couldn’t affect her through the bare skin of her feet. She reached it just as a heavy-set figure raced around the corner of the small hut she was in.
There was just enough time to clear the door and bring up a shield before they collided. The impact took Marsh off her feet and bounced Gustav back onto his ass.
“Sons of the Deep!”
“Shadow’s Heart!”
A sudden screeching yowl was followed by the hut’s roof collapsing, one very startled hoshkat landing amidst the debris. Marsh started to laugh but ended up coughing, feeling a sudden familiar nausea as dust coated her throat.
She rolled onto her knees, keeping one hand down as she wiped frantically at her face with the other. Mordan bolted past her flowing around the edge of the hut and into the callas and brevilar at the edge of more of the buildings. Marsh saw two smaller forms race from another hut, following the kat into the trees.
“Scruffy!” came as a wail And Aisha appeared at the door, Brigitte in her wake. “Scruffy!”
Tamlin, Zeb, and Gerry came out the door of a third hut, and Marsh tried to take a breath to call out to them. She ended up coughing some more, but this time Gustav grabbed her hand before she could bring it near her face.
“That can’t be good for you.”
Marsh looked down, noting the coating of greenish-brown on her palms.
“It’s not.” Tabia had arrived. Her eyes flashed white, and then she pulled Marsh to her feet. “Come on.”
“Where’s Roeglin?” Marsh managed, her voice creaky with dust.
“Recovering. He’ll be on his feet tomorrow. How’s your head?”
Up until she’d asked, Marsh hadn’t thought about it. Now she realized her head didn’t hurt, and she’d called a shield and blade from the shadows, as well as contacting Mordan.
Mordan! Finding her link to the kat, Marsh checked in on her...and was just as thoroughly thrown out of Mordan’s head.
Busy.
Marsh just bet she was. She’d caught the fleeting impression of a scent and a flash of shadow in the shrooms ahead of them. Scruffknuckle was stalking Marsh’s attacker on the right, and Perdemor was making his careful way across the shroom caps. They didn’t collapse under him.
Mordan was disgusted. Marsh smiled.
That ended up being more of a grimace as her stomach twisted and her knees gave.
“Almost there.” At least Tabia wasn’t asking her if she was okay. It felt as if her stomach was going to claw its way out through her throat. Marsh didn’t bother replying, all too aware of Gustav hovering on the side Tabia wasn’t.
She was aware, too, of the half-dozen people trailing along behind her—Tamlin and Aisha shepherded by Brigitte, Zeb, and Gerry, with Henri and Izmay hurrying to catch up. The healers were waiting, tutting over the amount of dust that had settled over her face and front.
“What are you doing still in these?”
There was the schnick of steel being drawn and two of the healers stepped forward, blades in hand. Marsh backed up, raising her hands. “I can get my clothes off myself, you know.”
It would have sounded more convincing if it hadn’t devolved into a round of coughing.
One gave her a skeptical look. The other raised an eyebrow. “Not for much longer.”
“Just point me somewhere private.”
Marsh was as good as her word, getting the contaminated clothing off in record time as soon as she was away from an audience. She could hear them on the other side of the door, their feet shuffling as they exchanged words in muffled tones.
Someone must have tried to have Aisha and Tamlin go back to bed. Judging from the children’s reactions, that was a short-lived idea. They made Marsh smile, even as the healers stood her in a tub and tipped buckets of water over her head.
“We’re not risking any of that getting in the water supply,” they told her, carefully carrying the resulting wastewater out of the room.
Marsh wanted to ask them where it was going but then decided she wasn’t that interested.
“You need to drink this,” the head healer told her, her dark eyes shadowed with concern.
Marsh looked from her to the steaming brew in her hands and back again. “How about I get dressed first.”
The healer shrugged. “Depends on how much you like being on your feet when you’re needed.”
Marsh took the cup, raising it carefully to her lips. It didn’t smell too bad. It was a little bitter, but wasn’t that always the way with medicine?
The first mouthful was much worse than she expected, and the second was just as bad. She forced down a third and a fourth, then backed up against the wall. It helped steady her.
When she’d downed the fifth, she looked at the healer. “How long?”
The healer frowned, and Marsh tried again. “How long before it takes effect?”
The woman moved forward and held up her hand. At least, Marsh thought it was her hand. “How many fingers?”
There were fingers? Marsh frowned. There were definitely hands, and far too many healers to count. The healer began counting. “Three. Two...”
Marsh was out before she got to one, and the healer caught both her and the cup. “I got you.”
Lifting her patient, she carried her to another room where three of her colleagues waited. “You ready?”
They worked through the cavern’s day cycle, ignoring the hoshkat that stalked through the door and then sat quietly beside the bed, watching the green flowing from their hands. At some point, the kat was joined by two children, a dog, a smaller hosh, and a female shadow mage.
They barred the door behind them and were almost done when the locking bar was lifted by tendrils of darkness filtering around the edges.
“Ignore it,” the lead healer instructed. “Kat will take care of any problems.”
As if she understood every word they said, Mordan stood up and paced around to face the door. She watched it swing open with all the intensity of a cat at a mousehole.
“Dan!” Roeglin’s voice was full of relief as he greeted the kat. “How is she?”
He was quickly hushed by his colleague and the children, and the emerald glow around the patient dimmed only momentarily. His mouth formed an “o” of understanding, and he propped himself against the wall on the other side of the door.
The kat did not return to her place, but sat and leaned against his legs. He dropped a hand to her head and scratched absently behind her ears, not saying a word as the healers continued to work. When they were done, the lead healer turned to him and extended her hand.
“I am Chioma,” she said by way of introduction. “Your companion will live.”
Her voice was laced with fatigue, and she went to step past him to reach the door.
He touched her shoulder. “How may we help?”
She waved a hand at where one of her colleagues was covering Marsh with a light blanket. “Watch her.” Her eyes settled on his face, recognition sparking in their depths. “And sit yourself down. One patient is enough. Now, if there is nothing else?”
“No. Thank you.” Roeglin let her move past, staying out of her colleagues’ path as they followed.
Brigitte and the children watched them go, motionless until they had left. Roeglin looked at Brigitte. “What happened?”
Brigitte gestured to the kat. “You’d have to ask her.”
When he didn’t see a chair anywhere in the room, he shrugged and looked out the door. Gustav saved him the trouble, coming in carrying a chair in each hand. He set one down at Marsh’s head and pointed to it. “Sit.”
Roeglin looked sheepish. “You heard, then?”
“I heard.” Gustav set the second chair down and looked at Brigitte.
The shadow mage shook her head. She laid a hand on each of her apprentices’ shoulders. “These two have classes.”
At Aisha’s whine of protest, Gustav cocked his head. “It’s either classes or kitchen duty.”
Tamlin had opened his mouth to argue, but he closed it again and turned to Brigitte. “What did you want us to practice today?”
5
Shadow Monster Strike
“It was Idris,” Marsh insisted, once she was awake and the healers said she was well enough to talk about what had happened.
They hadn’t left her alone for long, coming in as soon as Brigitte and the two apprentices had left. Gustav rose as they entered, but Roeglin leaned his elbow against the edge of the bed and refused to look at them—even if he did watch them from the corner of his eye.
When the healers had handed Marsh a clean set of clothes, he’d left to let her dress in peace, but pivoted to face the door as she came out. “Are you okay?”
“Okay enough to kick your ass if you don’t ease up and give me some space.”
He took a step back as she turned on Mordan. The kat had been walking so close behind her she seemed to have grown a tail. “You too!”
Mordan reached forward and hooked a paw around her ankles, sending her tumbling to the floor.
“A la putain!”
The kat kept walking, putting one large forepaw in the center of Marsh’s back and strolling forward and out of the medical center. Marsh pushed off the floor and brushed herself down, glowering after the kat. Before she could say anything, Gustav walked in.
“You,” he declared, catching sight of Marsh and letting his gaze drift to Roeglin. “Both of you. We need to talk.”
Kwame, Tabia, and Lemma appeared behind him, and the healer in attendance stepped out from one of the adjoining rooms. He firmly disagreed. “Not in here.”
Lemma inclined her head, acknowledging him. “Of course not, Tumelo. We will be in my office if you need to find us.”
Marsh figured that she meant if Tumelo needed to send someone after her, but she didn’t say anything, just followed quietly when Lemma and her leaders left. Gustav waited and fell in beside her. “How do you feel?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”
The look he shot her said he didn’t believe her for a moment, but he didn’t argue, and they reached Lemma’s office without saying another word.
“It was Idris,” she told them when they asked if she’d seen her attacker.
“But he’s dead.” Gustav’s face blanched. “Claudie killed him.”
Claudie had indeed, the twelve-year-old showing no more remorse than any of the raiders hunting her. She’d killed Idris with darts pulled from the shadow. Since that was a trick she’d only ever seen Gustav do, she’d also proven herself to be a quick study.
Shaking memories of the dark-haired, golden-skinned girl from her mind, Marsh concentrated on Gustav. “It was Idris.”
Mordan stretched, yawning loudly, and Marsh turned to her. Her eyes flared green. “What do you mean, no?”
This time, the kat lifted her head and stared into Marsh’s eyes.
The human with the farmer’s face was not the farmer, the kat insisted, showing Marsh the image but overlaying it with the memory of scent. See?
Marsh wrinkled her nose. She did see, but she didn’t understand.
The kat took her through it again. Idris scent. Assassin scent. Her lips curled, and a snarl rippled between them. Not same. Different prey.
Marsh closed her eyes, cutting the link between them. “Dan’s right. They’re not the same. They smell different.”
“Smell?” Roeglin asked and peered cautiously into her head. Where?
Marsh showed him, opening her eyes so she could watch his face. The look as he screwed up his face was funny as the Deeps. He glanced down at Mordan. “Is this how you tell?”
The cat blinked her eyes at him, the movement a slow, deliberate affirmative. Roeglin turned back to Marsh. “So not Idris.”
“No.”
“Councilor Labat warned you he had siblings,” Gustav cut in. “Do you remember?”
Now that he mentioned it, Marsh did remember.
”I know the family,” Ines Labat had said. “They run to multiples.”
Which only meant that Idris had had siblings. Now Ines’s question about whether Marsh would remember him if she saw him again made perfect sense. Idris had siblings, and they looked exactly like him.
She wondered if there were any girls in the mix...and if they looked the same. What would a feminine Idris look like?
Pretty darned ugly, Roeglin told her, and she didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved that he was back in her head again. She smiled. Yup.
Gustav turned to Lemma. “You’re mind walkers, aren’t you?”
Her eyes sheeted with white, and her reply was audible only in their heads.
Many of us, yes.
Gustav replied out loud. “Good, then you can see what the assassin looked like and pass the image to your people.”
It was as close to an order as Marsh had heard him give since their arrival, and the first order she’d ever heard him give the ruler of a town.
It is done.
Marsh lifted her head, her eyes wide with disbelief. Sulema gave her a gentle smile. I’ve had more years of practice than you’ve had time to live, the woman told her. Be kind to yourself.
Roeglin laughed and laid an arm across Marsh’s shoulders. “Hear that, Marsh? Be kind to yourself.”
Sulema shot Marsh a wink. “And be kind to him, too,” she added out loud, where everyone could hear her. “Men can be a little fragile.”
Gustav snorted, his lips curling partly in amusement and partly in disagreement. “Not all of us.”
“Oh, no,” Tabia cut in and pointed at Gustav. “Him and Kwame here, you can be as unkind to as you like.”
Gustav rocked back in his chair. “Not what I meant,” but he had a slight smile as he said it, one that vanished as he looked at Lemma. “You said they sent the shadow monsters through first.” He frowned. “Did they kill or just destroy?”
“Do they do anything but kill?”
Marsh glanced at Gustav but let the captain do the talking. He avoided the question. “Did they?”
Lemma exchanged glances with her two leaders, and then she sighed. “They destroyed, tearing through buildings and terrorizing their inhabitants into corners but killing no one.”
“No people,” Kwame added. “Animals were another thing.” He turned his head away, swallowing hard and shaking his head. “We lost a lot of familiars that day, and household pets didn’t stand a chance. I don’t know if any of the truffle dogs or pigs survived.”
“The what?” Marsh asked, but Gustav raised his hand, and she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What happened to the people?” he asked.
This time Tabia answered. “We took down the first wave of monsters and got as many of them out as we could. When we came back for the rest, they were gone, but there were no bodies.”
“And no sign of a mass burial either,” Kwame added before Gustav could ask. “We didn’t find any sign of a trail, though. Not for more than a few feet. It was like they’d been taken into the center of town and then vanished.”
“A gate,” Marsh murmured, and the three leaders looked at her.
“Gate?”
> She rolled her eyes, remembering one of the comments made by her escort when she’d been brought in. “You know what I mean. Gates through the shadow, farther than a shadow mage can step.”
Lemma’s gaze sharpened. “Do you know how they work?”
Marsh shook her head. “Not yet.”
“But you have an idea.”
Gustav shifted impatiently beside her and Marsh cast a nervous glance toward him.
“Go ahead,” he told her. “I’m sure we’d all be interested in hearing it.”
His tone left her with no doubt she should have mentioned it earlier.
“I only just started to put it together,” she explained, and Roeglin broke in before she could continue.
“And you didn’t want to say anything until, what...” He stopped dead, his jaw dropping open as he stared at her in disbelief. “You were going to try it yourself? Without telling me?”
“Without telling any of us?” Gustav pressed, catching what Roeglin wasn’t saying. He laid a heavy hand on Marsh’s knee.
Marsh bowed her head, studying her hands as she twisted her fingers together. Roeglin nudged her. “Well?”
She refused to look at him. “I...” She paused, and he nudged her again. “Maybe...”
He punched her in the shoulder—hard.
“Ow!”
Marsh glanced across the table. Tabia, Kwame, and Sulema watched them, eyebrows raised, lips pursed, and slightly impatient.
“Well?” Sulema added her demand to Roeglin and Gustav’s.
“Yes,” Marsh told them. “I was going to try it on my own...without saying anything.” She looked at Gustav, hoping he’d understand. “What if I’d gotten it wrong?”
He stood up so abruptly he knocked his chair over, pivoting away from her and running a hand through his hair then standing stock still and taking a deep breath. When he turned back, his expression was a mixture of anxiety and fury.
“If you’d gotten it wrong,” he answered, picking his chair back up and setting it back on its feet. “If you’d gotten it wrong, we’d never have known what happened to you. We wouldn’t even know where to start looking for you.”