Trading Close To Light
Page 8
She wondered which of his seekers would try to kill her next.
I don’t know about seekers, Roeglin sounded furious, but I might give it a shot!
Marsh shoved him to one side and decided Kearick’s office might be the best place to start.
Don’t you da— but Marsh shoved him, again, pushing him out of her mind, as she glared at an innocent bedroll stacked on the shelf beside her.
“Sons of the Deep!” Roeglin cursed, lifting his hand to his head.
Gustav gave him a startled look, and sighed, setting the rich, dark, shroom brew on the counter before him.
“What’s she done, this time?”
Roeglin shook his head, indicating the man behind the counter. Introducing himself as Per, Marsh’s uncle was a bit taller than most, but his face carried features Roeglin recognized in Marsh: dark grey eyes, narrow build, skin touched by the color of stone…and hair shaded copper and bronze, pulled back into a braid. He finished serving the other small group of customers clustered at the opposite end of the bar and returned.
“Have you traveled far?” he asked, and Roeglin let Gustav answered, trusting the emissary’s instincts for people.
“We’ve spent a week on the road.”
Per gave him a quick smile and a shrug that said he’d caught the evasiveness in Gustav’s reply, and that it didn’t bother him.
“Well, let me know if there’s anything you need. A meal, perhaps?”
Roeglin gave him a grateful look and pushed back his chair.
“We’ll come back for that. Can you tell me where we can find Kearick’s?”
Per frowned, as though the question troubled him, but he answered, nonetheless.
“Sure. Take a right when you’re facing the street, and then the first left, but…”
Roeglin didn’t wait to hear any more but sprinted for the door.
The others followed him, leaving the station owner momentarily speechless.
“We’ll need rooms!” Gustav threw over his shoulder. “We’ll be back, soon!”
“Wait!” Per called. “You need...”
He fell silent as Gustav hit the door, heading out across the courtyard toward the street. Frowning, Per debated whether or not to send for the Guards, but then his eye fell on the half-empty glasses lined up along the bar, and the pack Gustav had left on the seat behind him, and he decided to take a chance that they’d be coming back, after all.
As Per reached over to put the pack behind the bar, one of the men’s voices drifted back to him.
“Is Marsh in trouble, again?”
Marsh? Per’s heart gave a skip of hope; he only knew of one person others called Marsh—and she’d disappeared in the Depths…where the shadow mages came from. Thinking on it, there had been at least one shadow mage in that group. He recalled the dark uniforms worn by the guards. Maybe more…
“Daniel! Take over the bar!”
His son was busy in the kitchens, and he’d complain, but Per knew the boy would manage. Finding Marsh was all that mattered. Per left his cleaning rag on the counter and hurried for the door. If he was quick enough, he could catch them in the street. Ignoring the strange looks from the merchants at the end of the bar, he left.
“Wait!”
But the strangers did not wait, and Per caught sight of them just as they turned down the road leading to Kearick’s. Per ran after them.
“Wait!”
It did him no good. They didn’t stop until they’d reached the Emporium, and discovered, for themselves, that it was closed. Their leader turned toward him, as he approached.
“How do we get in?”
8
Under Arrest
As Marsh stacked documents on Kearick’s desk, she heard the sound of wood splintering at the front of the shop.
“What now?” she murmured, laying the next lot of papers on the desk and moving to the office door.
“Marsh!”
She recognized that bellow. Marsh released the sword she’d drawn from the shadows, and sighed.
“Here.”
She hadn’t meant to sound so tired and resentful, and she didn’t wait for them to reach her. She turned back to the records box she’d found hidden behind a cabinet in the office, and dragged it across the floor and over to the desk. She was stacking papers back into it when Gustav arrived at the office door.
“You okay, girl?”
“Fine,” Marsh told him and was surprised by a shout of joy.
“I’d recognize those sulky tones, anywhere.”
The sound of the voice made her freeze, and she shot Gustav a look of pure mortification. The emissary returned her look with an expression that said he wasn’t sorry. He shrugged, looking over his shoulder before stepping farther into the office. The move left the doorway clear for the man that came through, and Marsh froze.
Her uncle didn’t stop—and he seemed oblivious to her shock.
“Marchant Marie Leclerc!” he exclaimed, and was on her, engulfing her in a hug, before she could react. “I have missed you!”
His words gave Marsh enough impetus to wrap her arms around him and hug him tight.
“Uncle…”
“You’re okay,” he said. “Thank the Deeps you’re okay. I thought…”
His voice faltered.
“I thought the worst.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not like you could have sent a message.” He drew back, releasing his hug, but sliding his hands to her shoulders and not letting go. “How did you get here, anyway? The road is closed.”
Whenever her uncle mentioned roads, he was only ever speaking of trade routes, and Marsh knew what he was asking.
“It’s not going to be closed for much longer.”
“And Kearick?” he asked, letting go of her and gesturing around the office. “What made him the first thing you had to see when you came to town?”
Marsh’s face hardened, and her uncle stilled. It made her realize he’d never seen her with that look, before. She ignored his reaction. If she spent more time at the Ledge, he would probably see it again. It would be best if he got used to it sooner, rather than later.
“Kearick’s working for the raiders,” she said, “and I’m going to stop him.”
She watched as some of the joy went out of his expression, and he studied her face.
“You’re serious,” he said, after a long moment.
“Yeah, she’s serious,” Roeglin growled, “but she still needs her ass kicked.”
He gestured around the office.
“You never think you should ask for permission before you go breaking into the local businesses? I mean, how are you going to explain this to the Guard?”
His words were punctuated by the crunch of footsteps over broken boards, and he sighed and rolled his eyes, waving one hand toward the Emporium proper in a ‘See?’ kind of way. He raised the other hand and held them both at shoulder height as he stepped very carefully out of the doorway and out of sight.
Marsh heard a thump followed by a soft grunt.
“Stay there. The rest of you, come out.”
Marsh scowled. Well, she’d be damned if they weren’t making all kinds of friends, tonight! She watched as Gustav moved through the door, next, lifting his hands away from his sword as he came in line with the door.
“There are two more,” he said.
“Armed?”
“One like me.”
“The other?”
“A civilian. Unarmed. Assisting us in our investigations.”
“Assisting you? We’ll look into that back at headquarters. Next!”
“I’ll go,” Marsh said when her uncle went to move toward the door. “It was my idea, anyway.”
“Your idea?” said the Guard leader, when she appeared at the door, and then he looked at her more closely. “Don’t you work for Kearick?”
Marsh regarded him with a stony expression.
“I used to work for Kearick—and then he s
ent an assassin after me when I didn’t make a delivery after being attacked by shadow monsters on the road. Now, I’m trying to see what his other links to the shadow raiders are.”
As a way of putting the joffra in the hen-house, it worked as though she’d released an entire pack.
“You’re under arrest.”
“Figured.”
Marsh let them take her sword and dagger, noting that they’d already taken the weapons from Gustav and Roeglin. As they used a rope to bind her hands, she wondered what had happened to Henri, Jakob and the rest—and then she noticed that her uncle hadn’t come through the office door, which only made her wonder why.
One of the guards stepped over and looked into the office.
“I thought you said there was a civilian…” he said, and Gustav didn’t try to hide his surprise.
“Did I?”
The man tying Marsh’s hands gave the bindings one final jerk and looked over at him.
“You know you did,” he snarled, but Gustav gave him a confused look.
“Are you sure?”
The guardsman turned to Roeglin.
“You!”
Roeglin jumped.
“Was there anyone else in the office?”
Roeglin frowned, and then shook his head.
“Marsh rifling through documents found in a hidden compartment, Gustav and me telling her she should have asked for permission. No…no, that seems to be about all of us.”
All of them? Marsh frowned. What had happened to everyone else?
Not sure, Roeglin said, but they’re not here, and these guys aren’t looking for them, so they might have got away clean. We’ll catch up with them, later.
The guard leader gave them all an exasperated look and then went to check the office for himself. He returned empty-handed and looking slightly baffled, but made no farther comment.
“Bring them,” he ordered the three other men, who had arrived with him.
Roeglin and Gustav pushed off the wall, and let themselves be manhandled into a line with Marsh at the back.
Personally, I’d be putting you at the front, where I could keep a better eye on you, Roeglin said. Troublemaker.
They ended up hands free but without their weapons in the same meeting room they’d met Captain Brodeur in before. This time he wasn’t impressed.
“What am I supposed to do with you?” he asked. “You broke down a door and rifled through a merchant’s private records—a respected merchant’s private records.”
“Did you secure the records?” Marsh asked. “Because they’re all we’ve got to take us to whoever his contacts were.”
Brodeur sighed.
“No. By the time the Guard got back, the chest you claimed to have pulled from the wall was gone. We have no way of telling who took it, or where they are, now.”
He paused.
“Your companions were found drinking at the Hawks Ledge Bar…and the station master swears they were there all night. You don’t have anything to say about that, do you?”
Marsh shrugged and kicked back so that she was balancing her chair on two legs. Gustav and Roeglin exchanged looks and slouched in their seats. Brodeur surveyed them with a look of disgust, and then he tried a different tack.
“You want to tell me why you think Kearick was working with the shadow raiders?” he asked.
“Okay,” Marsh said, but Roeglin interrupted.
“Why don’t I just pull the memories from your head so he can judge for himself?”
Marsh closed her mouth on what she’d been about to say. She looked over at the guardsman.
“What do you think, Captain? Is memory acceptable?”
From the look on his face, he hadn’t even known it was possible.
“Captain?” Roeglin pushed.
The man blinked.
“You can do that?”
“Yes,” Roeglin replied, and his eyes flashed white, “just as I can see that you’re worried for your sister and her daughter.”
Captain Brodeur froze, and then a look of complete sadness swept over his face, and he cleared his throat.
“How…How do you know that?”
“Because I am a mind mage, as well as a master of shadows.”
He pulled a ball of darkness from the corners of the room to prove his point, and then let it go.
“What do you think?” he pressed, then added, pointing at Marsh. “Are her memories acceptable?”
The captain hesitated, and then he pursed his lips and nodded.
“Show me.”
Roeglin pushed back his chair and walked to an open space in front of the tables.
“Marsh?”
Marsh followed him into the space and then closed her eyes.
“Go ahead.” She didn’t need to see Mikel searching her room again, or the scorn in his eyes as he explained why Ruins Hall was going to fall and that the monastery was next.
It was bad enough hearing his words repeated in Roeglin’s voice. Marsh listened as the battle in her room was played out, and then as her conversation with Mikel was relived. When he was done, Roeglin squeezed her shoulder.
“You can open your eyes now,” he told her, before returning to his seat.
Marsh returned to her own chair, avoiding the captain’s gaze. He, for his part, remained silent as she returned, and then he stayed quiet for a little longer. When he did speak, it was to ask one question.
“Can you do that again?”
Roeglin sighed and looked over at Marsh.
“I can, but only once more tonight. Why?”
“Because I want to show my sergeants, and…someone else.”
Someone else, hey? And he didn’t want to name them. Marsh was curious, but she managed to keep her tongue.
“Wait here.”
Like they had an option, but Roeglin disagreed.
“We could insist on being released, given the captain knows we’re telling the truth,” he said, and Brodeur gave him a short, bleak smile.
“And I could tell my men I didn’t believe a word you said, and that your magic was a way of deceiving the mind into believing something that wasn’t real.”
“Ouch,” Gustav muttered.
Roeglin stared, dumbfounded, his eyes going momentarily white as he looked into the captain’s mind.
“You really would.”
He looked shocked. Brodeur’s smile broadened, and Roeglin sighed.
“Fine. We’ll wait.”
Marsh wasn’t sure when she’d ever seen him looking so disillusioned.
I thought we could trust him.
Studying Brodeur’s face, Marsh thought they still could, but she decided to push the man, anyway.
“How do we know you won’t do that, anyway?” she asked, and he turned a regretful look toward her.
“I do what I must to ensure our security,” he said, “and I have others who need to see what I have seen.” His face hardened, and he added, “and what you did from the time you entered the Emporium.”
Marsh stilled.
“You’re sure?”
The captain turned away, and his next words did not give her the answer she was looking for.
“You will wait here.”
This time, when he turned to leave, none of them said a word. Gustav slid further down in his chair and closed his eyes. Roeglin leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands, staring at the wall. Marsh watched his eyes sheen white and knew he was exploring the other minds in the headquarters. She wanted to ask him if he had the energy to do that but decided not to disturb him. Closing her own eyes, she followed Gustav’s example and tried to catch some sleep while she could.
The sound of the meeting room door opening woke her from a light sleep sometime later, and she was half out of her seat, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there as she turned to face the newcomers before her eyes were fully opened. Her sudden rush of movement made Captain Brodeur pause at the door.
“We’re sorry to startle you, shadow mage,”
he said, sounding anything but, and Marsh felt her skin heat from throat to hairline.
“Not at all, Captain,” she managed before resuming her seat and looking to Gustav and Roeglin.
The fact they were still sitting and watching her with amusement didn’t make her feel the slightest bit better, and she had to resist the urge to flip them off.
Let’s just say we’re both glad you don’t have a sword and didn’t think to call one, Roeglin said, but his eyes were studying the people slowly filing into the room.
Marsh decided he didn’t need an answer and turned to see who Captain Brodeur had wanted badly enough to see her memories, that he’d risked their trust. The senior members of the Guard were easy enough to pick out; they were the ones wearing the dark blue and grey cloth of the Guard’s uniform, the bronze triple ‘V’ of their rank easy to see on their shoulders and hearts. The two strangers who followed them were of more interest.
The first wore a rich copper cloak over a simply cut tunic and trousers. Her boots were sturdy but expensive, their leather gleaming with care, and her gloves more suited to a falconer than a woman of wealth. Her dark hair was drawn back in a French plait, and her dark eyes seemed to absorb the light from the lanterns on the wall, as they swept over Marsh and her companions.
Marsh tried to meet them, but the woman did not stop. She made her way across the room and drew out a seat opposite the door. The man that followed took two steps into the room, and his gaze rested on Marsh. Before she had time to react, he’d done a quick about-face and left, the sound of his running footsteps almost drowned out by Gustav’s roar of fury, and Roeglin’s shout of alarm.
“Stop him!”
Marsh was moving before the captain or any of his sergeants had time to respond. She’d reached the door before the first of them thought to push back his chair. Shouting erupted behind her in a confusion of orders and conflicting demands.
“Sit down!”
“Come back!”
“After him!”
“Don’t move!”