“Stay where you are!”
“Don’t let him get away!”
She ignored them all, putting everything she had into trying to catch the figure fleeing down the corridor. The man was racing toward the main entrance, the leather soles of his boots slamming against the stone floor. Marsh didn’t bother calling after him. If she’d done what he’d done, she wouldn’t have stopped either.
The last time she’d seen him, she’d been wearing a collar and lead, and he’d walked past her joking with another guard that she hadn’t suspected a thing. Shortly after that, they’d brought Mordanlenoowar in, bound to two poles, but thankfully still alive.
Dan! she called, as the raider-in-disguise reached the door and made it into the night before her—and then she realized she’d forgotten the kat when they’d arrived. A roar came from beyond the gates, and the raider hesitated; it seemed he remembered Mordanlenoowar, as well.
Marsh did not pause. She kept running, closing the distance between them, until he made up his mind and took to his heels, once more. This time, she angled away from the gates leading out to the road to Ruins Hall. The door slammed behind her, and a myriad of boot steps chased her across the road.
“You! Stop!” came the order, but Marsh ignored it.
She was gaining on the man. He put on a burst of speed, and then slid to an abrupt halt, as a guard patrol rounded a corner in the street in front of him. Marsh heard his bitter bark of laughter as he turned.
“Should have known you’d be the death of me.”
Death wasn’t what Marsh had planned for him, not yet, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.
“Give it up,” she said. “You’ve done enough.”
He sneered at her, stalking forward and pulling his sword as he came.
“Little girl, I’ve not done nearly enough.” He came within strike range and lunged. “You’re still alive, for a start.”
Behind her, the boot steps rattled to a stop, but Marsh didn’t look back. She took two hurried steps back, and dodged to one side, pulling her own blade from the dark.
Getting slow.
Marsh didn’t have time for Roeglin’s comments. She’d been so busy staring, she’d let her opponent get too close—and she could kick herself for that, later. Right now, she was going to try and bring him down.
Kill him, Roeglin argued, and watch his sword. I don’t think you can pull shadow poison out of yourself, can you?
It was an interesting question and almost made Marsh miss the next strike.
Pay attention!
As if she needed to hear it!
You’re overdue for a training session.
“Kinda busy right now, Ro. You wanna scold me later?”
“Name’s not Ro, girlie, and I’ve more than a scolding in mind.”
Marsh parried that strike, calling the shadows to her arm in time to catch the next one on her shield. Turning, she pushed the blade aside and brought her own forward in a hard, sweeping blow that caught her opponent across the chest.
“Shadow’s Bitch!”
“Not. Polite,” Marsh snapped back, following that strike with two more, only one of which he blocked.
The second one hit just below the sternum and sank deep. Tired of the battle, and knowing he wouldn’t answer any questions, Marsh directed the shadows in her blade to scatter in shards, turning away from him empty handed as he screamed and dropped.
A gasp of horror from the patrol behind her made her turn, and she was in time to see pieces of shadow free themselves from his chest and stomach.
“Go in peace,” she told them, willing them back to the dark, “and thank you for your protection.”
She waited as the shadow faded, knowing it drifted back to the cavern ceiling and the deeper patches of darkness that dwelt between the buildings. When it was gone, she headed toward the gate, stopping only when one of the sergeants laid his hand on her arm. She looked down at it, and then lifted her gaze to his face.
“You want to remove that,” she said, and it wasn’t a suggestion. From outside the walls, came the screech of an angry kat. “I need to deal with her.”
The man lifted his hand away.
“It’s been stalking the walls since dusk,” he said, and Marsh nodded.
“I know.”
She didn’t bother to explain but hurried toward the walls. When she reached the gatehouse, it didn’t take her long to work out that she was going to need some help.
Hold on, Mordan. I am coming.
“Someone help me with the gates.”
Every single one of the sergeants moved forward, pushing the gates apart, and then slowing them so they didn’t open too wide. Left to walk through the narrow space, Marsh hoped no one followed.
When she’d gone several paces forward, she stopped.
“Mordanlenoowar!” she called, reaching out to find the kat’s life force in the cavern beyond “Come!”
Behind her, she was aware of the soft murmurs of uncertainty that rippled through the men behind her. Their voices were accompanied by the nervous shuffle of feet, and Marsh hoped none of them had thought they’d need a crossbow.
You’re good, Roeglin reassured her, but you might want to hurry.
Okay, then.
“Dan! Where are you, girl?”
Hopefully, the knuckleheads by the gate would understand she was calling the kat. Marsh scanned the calla and vegetation that surrounded them. Her eyes traced their way over a cluster of rocks that she couldn’t see past, and she scanned her surroundings, again.
There really wasn’t anything else the kat could be hiding behind. Marsh started walking toward it, searching the shadows nearby for what might lie in the outcrop’s shadow. One thread connected her to an image of Mordan waiting cautiously in the dark, just out of reach of the torches at the gates.
“Dan?” Marsh asked, approaching slowly, and sending thoughts of concern and calm. “Are you all right?”
Relief washed over her, the kat coming into her mind and rubbing itself along the inside of her head in an unprecedented display of joy and affection.
“Are you hurt?”
Again Marsh sent thoughts of concern for the kat’s well-being.
The kat stood, stretched and shook itself from nose to tail, shaking out each leg and paw separately. She was fine, but the humans by the gate did not understand that she was a friend, and she would need her pride around her if she was to pass through the human herd safely.
Marsh knelt and wrapped her arms around the kat’s neck, picturing them walking side by side through two ranks of Guards lined up at the gates.
It almost happened that way.
Marsh and Mordan emerged from the shadows, and the men at the gates reached for their swords. Mordan stopped, and looked up at Marsh, sending a thread of uncertainty through their link.
Would the humans trust Marsh enough to not attack?
“I will protect you,” Marsh told the kat, reinforcing her words with the idea that she would cover Mordan with shadows strong enough to stop arrows and swords.
The big animal bunted her head against Marsh’s thigh, and together, they stepped forward once again. Unease swept through the waiting sergeants, and Marsh stopped in front of the gates.
“This,” she declared, “is Mordanlenoowar. I have promised her safe passage in the town, as well as my assistance in retrieving her cubs from the shadow raiders. You will not harm her.”
“Will she harm us?”
“Not unless someone tries to hurt her—and if someone does that, you’d better hope the kat gets to you before I do.”
So saying, Marsh rested her hand between the hoshkat’s shoulder blades and walked forward. As they approached the gates, some of the men and women nearest them tensed, and others shuffled back, but not a single one of them reached for their weapons. Even so, Marsh didn’t relax until they’d made it back to the meeting room at the Guards’ headquarters.
“I’m sorry I took so long,” she said, walk
ing in with Mordan at her side. “I had to fetch a friend.”
The lady in the copper cloak shifted in her seat, leaning forward to get a better look at Mordanlenoowar, and then looked up at Marsh.
“I hear you have proof that Kearick was involved with the raiders,” she said, continuing before Marsh could do more than nod. “I take it you also have proof as to why Asher had to die…”
“He was one of the guards on the slave caravan I was taken by,” Marsh told her, and watched the woman’s eyes widen in surprise, and then it was her turn to continue before the woman could interrupt. “Roeglin can show you that memory as well if you like.”
She watched the woman while she waited and saw it when she decided she had to see the memory, rather than just accept Marsh’s word for it.
“Yes, please.”
Marsh didn’t bother returning to her seat, she just moved to the open space Roeglin had chosen before and waited for the shadow mage to join her. She was glad when Mordanlenoowar settled beside her, sitting so that Marsh could keep her hand on the kat’s head. Together they watched as the sergeants filed back into the room. They were still observing the others as Roeglin arrived beside them.
“Let’s get this done.”
Once again, she chose not to watch the replay of Mikel’s betrayal. This time, she found she wished she could block Roeglin’s voice from her ears, but she couldn’t, and had to endure hearing Mikel’s hateful promise in Roeglin’s tones. When he revealed the memory of Gravine as a guard, the kat had apparently had enough.
No sooner had he repeated the man’s words, than Mordan had brought her paw down on the images of mist and shadow, scattering both with the impact. Laughter spluttered through the audience, and Roeglin sighed.
“Was that satisfactory?” he asked, “Or do I need to play that last memory, again.”
This time, Mordan hissed, drawing more laughter from their audience.
“No,” the copper-haired woman told him, her face and voice serious. “I have seen enough.”
She turned to the captain.
“I’d like to see the documents from Kearick’s office, just as soon as they can be retrieved.”
As she said it, her eyes slid toward Roeglin and Marsh, and then back to Brodeur.
“And I’d like to speak with the shadow mages and their entourage, at their earliest convenience. I will send word with an appointment.”
So saying, she rose to her feet and glided gracefully from the room. As if her departure was a signal, the sergeants also stood, and Captain Brodeur dismissed them, before turning to Gustav.
“You’re free to go,” he said. “We will send for you, tomorrow.”
9
Homecoming
The journey back to the waystation seemed to take longer than before, and Marsh guessed that it was because it was late, and they were walking slower.
“And we’re tired,” Roeglin told her, his voice laced with exhaustion.
“And we haven’t had dinner, yet,” Gustav added. “Do you think your uncle will have saved us some?”
Marsh’s stomach rumbled.
“By the Deeps, I hope so.”
They kept going, too tired to speak, and too tired to do more than glance down the street that led to Kearick’s Emporium. When they arrived at the waystation, Per was waiting for them. He hesitated when he saw the hoshkat, and then walked up and wrapped Marsh in his arms. The kat snarled, and he froze, turning his head to look at the beast.
“Would you like a hug, kat?”
Alarm surged through Marsh as he released her, and knelt in front of Mordan.
Don’t hurt him! she begged, too afraid to move in case she startle the kat into doing something they would both regret. He is pride!
By then, Per had placed a hand on the kat’s neck and looked into her eyes. Marsh watched in amazement as his grey eyes changed to green. After a minute, Mordan bunted him with her forehead, and he straightened, running his hand through her fur as he got to his feet.
“Mordan,” he said, and then caught the look on Marsh’s face, and smiled.
“I’m not stupid, girl. I asked her permission, first. She likes you, something about you being pride.” He frowned and looked over at Gustav and Roeglin. “Along with these two.”
The kat grumbled softly to herself, and moved to the door, nudging it with her nose.
“And me, apparently,” Per added, “and, since this is my home, I am responsible for the food.”
Mordan’s tail lashed from side to side, and Marsh felt the depth of her hunger. Per, too, it seemed, for he laughed, pushing past her to open the door and lead them back to the building that served as both bar and mess hall.
The fact he could speak with animals stunned her, but the kat needed feeding, and there was no time to learn more. Marsh looked around the room. It was good to see the rest of their friends sitting around a table in the corner, even if they recoiled when they approached.
“What?” Marsh asked, puzzled by their reaction.
Izmay was the first to reply, and she did so while holding one hand in front of her face and waving the other before her.
“No offense,” she said, “but the three of you stink like you’ve been traveling and haven’t had a bath in days.”
Marsh looked at Zeb, and he leaned back from her.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “I didn’t say anything.”
“But you do stink,” Gerry added.
“It’s enough to put a man off his food,” Henri chimed in, Jakob nodding sagely alongside.
Marsh looked at Roeglin and Gustav.
“I think they’re telling us we need a bath,” she said, and Mordan gave a series of sneezes.
Marsh stared at her in disbelief.
“Not you, too!”
The big kat blinked, swishing her tail slowly from side to side, and Gustav sighed.
“Let’s go,” he said. “I’m not saying they’re right, but we’ll never hear the end of it if we don’t.”
“Anything to shut them up,” Roeglin added, managing to sound put upon, as well as tired.
Jakob was quick to pick up what he’d said.
“Anything?”
“No!” came as a chorus from the three of them, but they turned away from the table and followed Per’s finger when he pointed to the back of the dining room.
Marsh had only meant to take a short bath, just enough to wash the dirt off her skin, but the minute she slid into the hot, soapy water that plan went out the window. She might have felt guilty about that, except she heard twin groans of pleasure from the adjoining cubicles, and knew neither Gustav nor Roeglin were in a hurry.
Hurry? By the Deeps, no. I could lie here forever.
Roeglin’s reply made her smile, and Marsh sat still for many long minutes before she could make herself move enough to thoroughly wash her hair and skin, and then she sank back against the side of the tub, slipping low enough for the water to lap around her chin. It might have been an hour or a half-hour before Per woke her; she didn’t know, and she didn’t care. At least the water was still lukewarm.
“Dinner’s getting cold, and Henri’s threatening to eat the table,” Per said. “Much as I’m tempted to let him, the carpenter takes weeks to make a new one, and with the station so busy…”
Marsh laughed.
“Busy? You telling me you’re getting a flood of caravans from Dimanche and the surface?”
Per laughed, but his smile quickly died away.
“No, girl. The caravans have been less over the season, and that’s not because the roads to Ariella’s and Ruins Hall have been cut. I’ve seen fewer surface traders this season than any other, and just when they’d started to come regularly. There’s something else wrong. Are you going to fix that too?”
“Only if you don’t let Gustav and Roeglin drown in their tubs.”
Per got up and moved away.
“I’ll try not to.”
He indicated a gown hanging by the door.
“This was one of your favorites,” he said. “That is, when we could get you to wear a dress.”
Marsh followed the direction of his pointing finger and smiled.
“It’ll do nicely,” she said, eyeing the simple garment of dark-blue wool. “Thank you.”
He nodded and left her to get out of the water and change, pulling a curtain across the cubicle doorway as he did. Marsh was relieved to find a towel sitting on a simple wooden stool beside the tub—and a spiky hairbrush as well. By the time she was ready, the boys were dressed and waiting.
“Took you long enough,” Roeglin managed after one stunned look at her.
Marsh smirked and indicated the dress.
“These things take a long time to get into.”
The look that crossed his face said the wait was worth it, and Gustav sputtered with half-suppressed laughter.
“What?” Marsh demanded, but the emissary waved her away and hooked his hand under Roeglin’s arm, turning the shadow mage around and guiding him back out to where their meals were waiting.
Zeb whistled when he saw them, his eyes stopping when he caught sight of Marsh.
“Why, thank you,” Gustav said, striking a pose with Roeglin and taking the attention off her.
Marsh felt her face flush red and regretted not demanding her usual uniform of trousers and a tunic, but Izmay patted the seat beside her, and she hurried over to join her.
“You don’t have another one of those floating about, do you?” the guard asked.
She looked down at her own fresh uniform.
“It would be nice to get out of this for a bit.”
“Keep it fresh, too,” Gustav said, overhearing her as he joined them. “We’ll buy clothes tomorrow.”
“Before or after the council decides to meet with us?”
Gustav didn’t hesitate.
“First thing. We need to dress to impress.”
“What, our uniforms aren’t enough?”
“Your armor needs repair, and your clothes won’t be laundered in time to be presentable. I’m sure Per can recommend somewhere.”
“I can do one better,” Per said, bringing over a pitcher of beer and refilling their glasses. “I’ll have the tailor come here.”
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