Marsh wasn’t so sure.
You forgetting who’s been playing with shadow the longest?
And you still can’t do what I do, Marsh snapped back and was immediately ashamed of herself. I’m sorry.
Roeglin didn’t sound worried. I deserved that.
He went abruptly silent and Marsh raced forward, heading for the last place her mind knew he’d been. To her surprise, he was still on his feet, but he was busy, fighting three raiders with no sign of Mordan or her new companion.
I told her I could handle it and that she should go save the children.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Marsh demanded, wading in and lashing out at the nearest raider. He turned, bringing the blade around in one fluid movement and she was forced to back-pedal.
Up close he looked a whole lot bigger than he had when she’d been charging in. Looking down at her, he grinned. “Who were you yelling at, short stuff?”
Marsh danced back, blocking his next swing and deflecting the thrust that followed.
“Who you calling short, you great sack of shit?”
He tutted, coming in fast and forcing her to one knee as she brought her shield up to block his next stroke. Shadow or no, that blow jarred its way down her arm. She tried to reach him with her blade but couldn’t find an opening. He shuffled back a step and set his boot against the shield’s lip, pushing against it.
Marsh pushed back, angling the shield up, but she didn’t have the strength to move him. “The Deeps dammit!”
He pushed again, but she was braced enough not to go over.
“You need a hand?” Roeglin asked, and Marsh tried to work out a way of regaining her feet that didn’t involve surrendering her shield.
“Yes,” she admitted, gritting her teeth as her opponent’s blade came down before she could get both feet under her.
“Do I get dinner?”
This time, the blade came in sideways, and she barely blocked it in time. It left her vulnerable, and she barely moved her head in time to avoid being kicked.
“Fine!” Marsh watched as her opponent pivoted away to block Roeglin’s attack. “Sonuvabitch!”
She came to her feet in one fluid movement, her blade leading. This time, her opponent was committed to his attack on Roeglin and couldn’t come around in time. He fell, pulling her sword out of her hand. “Son of the Deeps!”
She pulled another from the shadows and whirled, trying to find the next threat, well aware of Roeglin watching her with an amused expression on his face. “You—”
Gustav’s voice interrupted her. “Is this a private temper tantrum or can anyone join in?”
Well, there was no need for him to sound so...so Deeps-be-damned ADULT!
Roeglin started laughing, releasing his blade to the shadows as he dropped to his knees. He was laughing so hard it sounded like he was crying. Marsh stared at him in consternation, then looked at Gustav. The Protector captain had a slightly bemused look on his face.
He pointed at Roeglin. “If you’ve broken him, you’re going to have to fix him.”
Roeglin doubled over, howling.
Marsh looked at where Zeb and Gerry were standing. They met her gaze and shrugged.
“We didn’t do it,” Zeb told her.
“Yeah,” Gerry added. “Don’t look at us.”
“You still owe us dinner,” Jakob added, and then looked at Roeglin. “And him, too...for driving him crazy.”
Roeglin stopped laughing. “I’m not crazy.”
“Whatever you say, Ro.”
Marsh ignored them, turning slowly as she surveyed the land around them. “Where’s Mordan?”
That was enough to erase the last of the levity from their faces.
Roeglin came over to stand beside her. “Why don’t you check your link?”
Oh. Marsh did exactly that. She found the kat’s mind purring with contentment as a dozen human children snuggled against her.
“You’re all going to need a good scrubbing,” a male voice said, and Mordan turned her head and yawned, displaying her fangs.
He put his hand on one hip and cocked his head, his eyes flaring green. “Don’t you show your fangs to me, young lady!”
Mordan laid back her ears and hissed at him. Several of the children around her gasped and then giggled, several mimicking her and hissing at the man before them. Marsh hurried, weaving her way between the houses. She’d almost reached them when she was tackled to the ground.
“For the Shadows-Forsaken Deep! I’m on your shadow-sucking side, you gormless, Deeps-be-damned sonuva—"
“Shadow Mage Leclerc! That is quite enough.” Gustav snapped out. “Luthando, let her go.”
He paused. “Before she decides to gut you with whatever she pulls out of the dark.”
Marsh found herself abruptly let go and scrambled to her feet, backing away from the warrior who had tackled her. She blushed red, seeking her connection to Mordan. The kat was still surrounded by children, but she had rolled to her feet.
“Yes,” Gustav told her. “You had better go and tell Mordan you’re all right.”
“Thank you, Captain.” Marsh saw him open his mouth to say more and decide against it. “Get going, Leclerc.”
She didn’t wait to be told twice but hurried to where Mordan was waiting. Having heard her being dismissed, the big kat had lain down again, letting the children crowd around her. When Marsh arrived, she saw strangers clearing bodies away.
The raiders were carried out of sight behind a row of stone buildings, but the bodies of those the townsfolk knew were carried gently to the town center. One little girl watched the progress of one and stood up. Mordan stretched out and lifted her gently by the collar of her tunic, setting her between her forepaws.
“I want my momma,” the child whispered, and the kat curled a paw around her and tucked her against her chest. Mordan rested her head on the girl’s head and regarded Marsh with an unhappy stare. The girl buried her face in the kat’s fur and cried.
“Dan! What did you do?” Marsh asked her, hurrying past the man watching the kat and kids.
He settled a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Saved my daughter and my sons,” he said, then added, “Saved me too.”
Marsh looked from the kat to the man and then at the bodies in the square. “How many did you lose?”
He shook his head, looking up at the cavern ceiling and biting his lip. His reply was barely louder than a whisper, but it carried. “Too many.”
9
Battle Losses
There were no showers in this town, but there were some hot springs enclosed by a sturdy building of stone. They rinsed off in tubs before entering the pools and scrubbing themselves clean, Marsh admiring the way the water was siphoned away before it had time to become truly dirty.
When she was clean and once again dressed, she joined Roeglin and Gustav at the edge of the square. Mordan followed, looking thoroughly disgruntled at having her second bath for the day but clean. Marsh laid a hand on her head.
Mordan gave a soft rumble and leaned against her leg, surveying the square. Anxiety tinged her thoughts, and it didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for—one small figure sitting quietly beside one of the shrouded bodies on the ground.
Without asking Marsh’s permission, the hoshkat walked over to the child and lay down beside her. The girl’s tear-filled whisper reached them all. “I want her back, kat.”
Mordan rested her head on the girl’s knee and Marsh swallowed hard.
“You can’t leave her behind, can you?” came in a quiet murmur, and Marsh turned. The man who’d been watching Mordan stood behind her, his eyes glistening with tears as he watched the kat and the child.
“I can ask her,” Marsh replied, but he shook his head.
“No. The caverns need her more than Breia and I.”
Watching the child clinging to Mordan’s fur, Marsh wasn’t so sure. But she didn’t know what she could say, so she stayed silent, watch
ing with the others. They stood silently as the relatives of the fallen came to say their farewells.
By the time each corpse was accompanied by its loved ones, the druids had arrived. The girl’s father had joined her, draping his arm around his child and letting his hand rest on the cat’s well-furred shoulder. Marsh fell in behind them when he lifted his wife from the ground and carried her out of the town to the place the druids had prepared.
Final farewells were said, and then the druids called fire from the shrooms and from the very air. Marsh stepped forward and joined them, adding the glow of calla shrooms and the golden brevilars to the shroud of flame. When she lowered her hands, she was surprised to feel a small hand slip into hers.
“Is ‘kay, Marsh. We here.” Aisha leaned against her side, wriggling under her arm without letting go of her.
Tamlin took hold of her hand on the other side. “I like the gold,” he said.
Marsh squeezed his fingers. “I missed you too, kid.”
A myriad of smaller furred forms wound around their legs, two seeking out the man and his daughter. Marsh wondered what they were there for and felt Mordan’s relief when the girl slid out of her father’s arms and wrapped her arms around the smaller kat’s neck.
He looked down at the other one standing forlornly by and then knelt beside her, laying a hand on the kat’s head. Lifting his head, he looked for Mordan. Catching her watching, he managed the saddest of smiles and cast a glance at his daughter.
“Thank you, kat.”
Tears formed in Marsh’s eyes as she watched father and daughter crouched side by side, one arm wrapped around each other, the other draped over a kat.
Shroom kats, Roeglin murmured. They have their uses.
From the way he said it, there weren’t many things he thought they were useful for.
Catching rats is all I can think of. And you need a lot of those. Otherwise, they eat your chickens.
He sounded slightly angry as he said it, and Marsh wondered just how many chickens he’d lost to the smaller kats...and how long ago.
Never you mind.
As the pyre reduced itself to ash and flame subsided to darkness, the girl’s father rose to his feet, taking her hand. Clearing his throat, he drew their attention.
“We haven’t much,” he told them, “but you are welcome to join us in the dining hall for dinner, and there is room in the waystation.”
Marsh glanced at Gustav. From the look on his face, the existence of a waystation in the small community came as a surprise. The expression quickly faded, replaced by the inscrutable one he wore when he was preparing to negotiate.
Marsh fell in step with Roeglin, Aisha walking between them. Mordan slipped out of the shadows, and Marsh reached along their connection.
The shroom kats...
The kat gave a heavy sigh. There were some in the cavern without companions. The cub needed one. Her sire, too. I could not stay.
This last thought carried a pleading note, as though Mordan felt guilty for not remaining behind. Marsh wished she could stroke the kat, but she was out of reach, so Marsh tried to reassure her instead. Your kits need you too.
Regret touched Mordan’s link. They will be almost grown.
Brief images of Perdemor and the kit that had chosen Alois flickered through Marsh’s mind. The kat was right. They had grown.
We will find them, she reassured Mordan. We will.
The kat flicked her tail and pushed her gently back into her own head. The why was clear as soon as Marsh took notice of her surroundings once more.
“Glad to have you back,” Roeglin murmured as if he hadn’t known she was talking to the kat.
“You eavesdropping again?”
He shrugged. “Something like that, but you need to stay with us. This is important.”
As if she’d find it anything but.
When they reached the seats they were shown, Breia’s father stood at the head of the hall, biting his lip. He waved a hand to indicate the food, and when he spoke, his voice was heavy with emotion. “I have no words.”
“You are very welcome.” Sulema’s voice rolled over them, its tones full of comfort and grace. “We are sorry for your loss.”
He looked across the room as she stepped into view. “You didn’t have to come.” But his face showed just how very much he had needed to see her.
“Son, I am only sorry I was not here sooner.”
They met in the middle of the hall, clasping hands in a gesture so intimate, Marsh felt she should look away. Breia reached out and gave Sulema a brief hug. “I am glad you came, grammama.”
The two shroom kats wound themselves around their legs and Sulema looked down, her mouth opening with surprise. “Where did these come from?”
Her son shrugged, but Breia’s face lit with a shy smile. “Kat gived them.”
“Which kat?” Sulema asked and then followed her grandchild’s gaze to Mordan. “Uh-huh.”
“The troublemaking one,” Roeglin whispered.
He hadn’t meant for his words to carry and looked mortified when laughter rippled around the hall. Mordan shot him a disgusted look, but Breia’s father smiled. “Come and eat,” he said, his gesture inviting the entire hall.
When the meal was over, Gustav approached Sulema. “This waystation...” he began and sighed when her eyes flashed white.
She smiled at his exasperation. “The answer to your real question, Captain Moldrane, is that we trade with a small community in another cavern down the tunnel leading from the waystation’s rear. We suspect they once had a way into the Devastation, but that this is no longer the case.”
She looked toward the door. “We also think it was recent and that we know why.”
“And can we meet them?”
Her eyes grew wary. “Perhaps some other time. Their cavern is secure. Ours is not.”
“And if we insisted.”
She regarded him carefully. “Do you really think you have the time?”
He shook his head. “You are right, but if the opportunity should arise...”
Sulema smiled. “I will see what can be arranged.”
“It is all I ask.”
“We will see you in the morning,” she told him and shifted her gaze across them. ”All of you.”
Her words served as both promise and warning and Marsh hoped they would get an undisturbed night’s sleep. Now that the day was over and the danger had passed, fatigue dragged at her limbs.
Her head spun, and she swayed. Tamlin propped against her, steadying her with his body and Aisha tried to do the same from the other side. Brigitte walked past them, glancing at Marsh as she went. “Our room’s this way,” she said, and Marsh dipped her head toward Sulema.
“If I may...”
The Grotto’s leader stepped aside to allow Marsh to pass. “Sleep well, apprentice.”
Apprentice? But Marsh was too tired to comment. She followed Brigitte to their room and didn’t complain when Mordan settled in behind her, and Aisha crept under the covers in front of her. Tamlin frowned and lifted the blanket from Aisha’s bed, draping it over all three of them.
“I’m next door,” he said, then looked at the empty bed. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
He was, but Marsh was barely aware of his return. She managed to lift her eyelids long enough to watch him settle in the bottom bunk opposite and figured it didn’t matter.
It was a relief to see Perdemor and Scruffknuckle jump up beside him. There really wasn’t any more room on hers.
When she woke the next morning, Aisha was still curled up beside her. Mordan, however, was gone. Sliding out of bed and tucking the covers around her charge, Marsh picked up her boots and slipped out the door.
She was vaguely aware of someone stirring behind her, but when no little voice called her back, she figured it was only Brigitte and that it was beyond time the mage mistress was awake.
Dan?
She felt for their link and found it open. Moving forward as she so
ught the kat, Marsh made it to the front door of the waystation barracks, then to the gate of the waystation itself. Mordan didn’t take long to find.
She was standing at the edge of a small training ground, a shroom kat on either side. Marsh hurried over to see what had the three of them so occupied and stopped suddenly short.
Breia’s father stood three feet in front of his daughter, his hand half-extended in a plea.
“You’re too young.”
“Am not. Show me.” The girl tried to lift the sword she held but couldn’t get its tip off the ground.
“You need to grow into it.”
“Do not. Is momma’s. Is mine.”
The man knelt. “Was momma’s.” His voice broke. “Was...”
He bowed his head, his hands on his knees, as a sob shook his huge frame. Breia dropped the sword and flung her arms around him. “Daddy, no cry.”
Marsh wanted to leave before either of them noticed her, but she knew it was too late. Breia’s father had been aware of her the moment she’d stepped clear of the shrooms. He’d just trusted the kats to warn him...and her. He’d trusted her too.
She approached slowly, wondering what she could do to help.
If you can find anything, I would be grateful, Sulema told her, and Marsh resisted the urge to look for her. If the woman didn’t want to be seen, well, she deserved her privacy, too.
She made herself keep moving until she stood a foot away from the pair, and then she knelt. After a moment, Breia disentangled herself from her father’s arms. She scowled at Marsh, then did her best to lift her mother’s sword from the ground.
“Is mine,” she declared, and Marsh nodded.
“Can you lift it?” she asked, and the girl regarded her for a very long moment before she shook her head.
It was hard to ignore the tears glittering in the child’s eyes, but Marsh managed it.
“You need a blade you can lift,” she told her, and the frown returned.
“Dis mine.”
“Yes,” Marsh agreed. “You can wear it, but you can’t wield it.”
“Can too.”
Marsh stood and put a hand on her hip. “Uh-huh.”
She watched until Breia was too tired to keep trying. “You want me to show you how to call its shadow?”
Trading by Shroomlight Page 8
