Trading Close To Light

by C. M. Simpson

“Will you look into it or not?”

  Roeglin stared at him, letting the silence stretch until the council members shifted uncomfortably, and then he spoke.

  “I will look into this, but I need your permission to act in the best interests of the child if the situation requires it.”

  The councilor was aghast.

  “You mean to take her!”

  Roeglin shook his head.

  “No, I mean to make sure she is safe where she is, but if she is not, then I ask your permission to find her a place where she can develop her talents safely, either with the shadow mages or with a family in the Ledge…or do I need to describe what happens when a mage decides to use their powers against those who would do them harm?”

  Shock rippled through the councilors on the stage.

  “She wouldn’t!”

  “Not Ninetta! She is such a sweet child!”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  Roeglin watched them, his lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. When their protests died down, he cut in.

  “I have your permission then?”

  The councilor turned to answer his question, his face a little paler than before. His reply was reluctant at best.

  “Do what you must, but also act in the best interests of the community.”

  “We will.”

  Roeglin glanced at Per and Brodeur.

  “Perhaps we should take representatives from the Kerrenin’s Ledge Protectors,” he suggested, but the councilman shook his head.

  “The captains will be meeting with us to discuss what they need to get the Protectors operational. This task you must do alone.”

  “But in your name,” Roeglin pressed, “and with your authority.”

  “Yes.”

  Roeglin rose, wincing as his injury reminded him of its presence. Marsh quickly slid a hand under his elbow, while Gustav moved to support him from the other side.

  “Weakling,” the emissary muttered, but softly, so the council members couldn’t hear.

  “Go pleasure the shades,” Roeglin muttered back just as quietly. To the council, he said, “By your leave?”

  The councilman nodded and turned to his colleagues.

  “I believe that’s all,” he said, “unless—”

  “I’d like to see the shadow mages on their return.”

  The familiar voice caught Marsh’s attention, and she looked up to recognize the councilor Brodeur had brought to see them. The woman’s tunic was fancier than it had been the night before and it was colored a soft russet-red, but her hair was still in a French plait, and her eyes were just as dark as she took them in.

  “Is there a time?” Roeglin asked, addressing her directly.

  “Any day around midday,” she replied, but did not elaborate on why coming earlier or later might not work as well.

  Nor did Roeglin question her.

  “We will meet you at midday the day after we return,” he said, and Marsh felt the weight on her arm increase even though he showed no sign of pain.

  Gustav must have felt it as well because he said, “With your permission, Councilors,” and then he waited for neither permission nor reply but started for the door.

  The head councilman’s reply had more than a hint of irony and chagrin coloring its depths.

  “Granted.”

  Gustav did not slow down or turn back. Marsh focused on keeping Roeglin upright and moving toward the door, and Roeglin didn’t say a word. He was silent in her head too, and that worried her. Marsh wondered what Greta would say, and was glad the smith couldn’t see them.

  It was well after midday when they stepped out of the council chambers and into the street. Marsh could tell from the way the cavern was lit by more than just glows and shrooms. She knew the light-levels, having lived in the Ledge for most of her life. It was strange how everything came back.

  Gustav didn’t stop when they hit the street, but he did shift his hold on the shadow mage, pulling Roeglin’s arm over his shoulder.

  “I don’t suppose you’d let me carry you,” he said, and Roeglin’s response was swift.

  “No.”

  Even in that one syllable, Marsh heard pain, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. There really wasn’t anything that would fix it. They needed Aisha or Ilias or Lennie, and none of them were available.

  You could try. Roeglin’s mind voice was thready. Dan could help.

  Marsh resisted the temptation to stop but shifted her arm from under his elbow to around his waist. There she found what he’d been hiding from the rest of them, and she did stop.

  “You’re bleeding,” she whispered, and Gustav cursed the Deep.

  “Sit your ass down,” the emissary ordered, taking Roeglin to the edge of the boardwalk and lowering him so that he could sit on the edge.

  The shadow mage resisted but couldn’t fight them both.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this in the open,” he protested, but his voice was soft.

  “No choice, boy,” Gustav told him, lifting his tunic to one side. “There’s another set of clothes you’ve completely ruined.”

  Roeglin managed a weak chuckle.

  “And I thought it was me you were worried about.”

  “You wish,” Gustav muttered, inspecting the wound and swearing all over again.

  “By the Deep’s dick and fundamentals, you’ve done a good job of it. Greta’s going to have your innards for a waistband.”

  “Marsh,” Roeglin said, “I need—”

  “Fine!” she snapped. “But I don’t know if I can.”

  “Try.”

  Marsh sighed.

  No doubts, right? Well, she’d pretty much ruined that. What had Tamlin said? The rock mages had shown Aisha how to draw the energy from the creatures and plants around her, and that was what she used to heal. She glanced around. No shrooms. No plants at all in the middle of town.

  No kat, either.

  That just left…

  Oh, Deeps, no, Roeglin protested, but Marsh didn’t reply.

  He tried again.

  Don’t you da—

  Marsh shoved him out of her head, smirking as she thought about how much energy she had to spare. Given she already had her hand around his waist, it was a simple matter of wriggling her arm a little lower until she found bare skin before sending the energy into him.

  “What in all the Deeps was that?”

  Marsh remembered that she hadn’t warned Gustav what she was about to do.

  She also realized she might have misjudged the amount of energy she had to spare.

  His “Yuh think?” was not helpful, but at least Roeglin sounded stronger.

  The world spun, and Marsh was glad she was sitting down.

  It left her so much less distance to fall.

  “Well shag me stupid and sing me a chorus,” Gustav said as she collapsed to the sidewalk. “I can’t carry the two of you.”

  Beside her, Roeglin stirred.

  “Won’t need to,” he told the emissary, and then added, “I’ve got enough energy for the pair of us.”

  He didn’t have to sound so sarcastic, Marsh thought. This whole healing thing was new.

  Sure, whatever you say, girl.

  Roeglin slid his arms beneath her and swung her off the sidewalk with a grunt of effort.

  “Hey!” Gustav protested. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

  Roeglin turned, and Marsh assumed he was facing the warrior. She wished she could open her eyes.

  Couldn’t. Too…tired.

  Too stupid! Roeglin snapped, and Marsh wished she had the energy to flip him off.

  It almost made her regret healing him.

  Really?

  No, Marsh thought. Not really, but she wished he’d shut up because all she wanted to do was sleep.

  She’d have laughed at Gustav’s next question if she wasn’t already drifting off.

  “What did you do to her?”

  She wasn’t even sure she heard Roeglin’s reply cor
rectly.

  “It’s what I’m going to do to her when she wakes up, the irresponsible merde-for-brains, dunder-headed shroom beetle.”

  15

  Little Miss Popular

  “I’m going to kick her ass.” Those were not the words Marsh wanted to hear when she resurfaced, nor was the reply.

  “You’ll have to get in line.”

  “You and whose army?” the first voice challenged, and Marsh recognized her cousin’s angry tones.

  “Hey,” she managed, knowing she had to say something.

  It was a battle to open her eyes, but she managed it…and then wished she hadn’t, or that Roeglin and Daniel would just back the Deeps up a few dozen feet. Roeglin gave her a feral grin.

  “Not likely.”

  Daniel shot him a frustrated look.

  “What’s not likely.”

  “Dung for brains here wants us to back the Deeps up.”

  Daniel raised his eyebrows, but Marsh had to give him credit for being a quick learner because those brows just as quickly furrowed and he shifted focus to glare at her.

  “Huh. She does, does she?” He loomed nearer, with Roeglin mirroring his movement.

  That was it for Marsh. She reached out from under her blankets intending to bang their heads together…or she tried. Problem was, they’d tucked her in tight, trapping her arms under the sheets—which they were leaning on. The attempt had them grinning like a pair of clowns or a pair of hunting cats that had just caught their prey.

  “Oh, yeah. Very funny, boys!”

  “What have they done this time?”

  Gustav’s voice was both a welcome and worrying distraction, and Marsh’s reply was lost when both Roeglin and Daniel answered.

  “She’s awake.”

  Honestly, it was like listening to an unholy chorus.

  Hey!

  Hey, yourself, numbnuts, Marsh thought, scowling at him and trying to get her arms free. It was a relief when Gustav’s face appeared above their heads and he looked down at her, even if Roeglin’s eyes had flared white like he was still reading her mind.

  “You’re supposed to be resting,” Gustav said. “Ilias’s orders.”

  Ilias was here?

  “No,” Roeglin answered. “I talked to him and one of the rock mages helping Aisha and Lennie get a handle on their healing. They both say you need to rest and that you’re an… Let me see, how did they put it? Oh, yeah. An irresponsible, foolhardy, dung-for-brains, Deeps-forsaken idiot who’s lucky to be alive.”

  They had? The idea that the healers thought she was an idiot gave Marsh a moment of dizziness, but she closed her eyes and pushed it away.

  “Thanks for that.”

  When she opened her eyes again, both Daniel and Roeglin were moving for the door, and Marsh wondered what she’d missed. Gustav motioned for them to keep going and came over to sit on the chair beside her bed. Marsh watched him, wondering why he looked so serious.

  “How do you feel?” he asked, and Marsh felt the first twinge of misgiving.

  “Okaaay,” she told him and waited for him to get to what he’d really come to say.

  He stared at her a moment longer, then sighed.

  “How do you really feel?” he asked, and Marsh thought about it.

  She’d woken up feeling a bit run-down, but now that she thought about it, she felt fine.

  “Not too bad,” she said, pushing back the covers. “Not bad enough to stay in bed, anyway.”

  Gustav studied her as she propped herself up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The intensity of his gaze made her glad that whoever had put her to bed had just dumped her in new clothes and all, although she was glad they’d taken off her boots.

  She wiggled her toes against the cool stone floor.

  “See? Fine.”

  Gustav gave her a speculative stare.

  “Are you telling me the healers got it wrong?”

  That gave her pause, but she couldn’t think of a good explanation for why she didn’t feel as wrung out as she usually did after pulling so much magic. What made it stranger was that she’d pulled the energy out of herself to help Roeglin, and she still felt fine.

  “Nooo,” she said, “but I don’t have any answers for you, either.”

  Gustav held her gaze for a moment longer and then stood.

  “Right,” he said. “In that case, I’ll see you downstairs dressed for the road in a half-turn.”

  He took two steps toward the door and then stopped.

  “On second thought, I’ll see you downstairs ready for a fitting inside the next quarter turn, and then back and dressed for the road a quarter turn after that.”

  He didn’t wait for her to reply but walked out the door, closing it behind him.

  Marsh looked at the hourglass sitting on the dresser and flipped it. A quarter turn! By the Deep’s dark trousers!

  And she stank like a mule!

  Rummaging in her closet to find a change of clothes that might be suitable for both road and fitting, Marsh lifted the towel from the back of her chair and raced to the bathroom. It didn’t take her long to get clean and dressed, and she threw her dirty clothes into a waiting basket before hurrying out to the dining room proper.

  The look on Roeglin’s face when she appeared was comical, but Marsh didn’t have any time to enjoy it. The minute she arrived, Dominique looked up from what he was doing and turned in her direction. Gustav was waiting as well.

  “Ah. About time, young lady,” he said, but Dominique didn’t let him get any further.

  “Marchant! Over here. Now, stand still…still…” He turned to the tailors who’d come to stand beside him. “What do you think?”

  Marsh listened as they debated the functionality of pleats and a sword belt, the lines of the tunic, the cut of the trousers. She opened her mouth to say they didn’t need her any longer and heard Gustav clear his throat.

  The Protector captain caught her eye and shook his head, and Marsh sighed.

  The fitting continued, with Marsh changing several times before the tailors were through. She watched the light through the dining room’s windows turn from an early morning silver to something brighter and stifled another sigh. It seemed to take forever before the tailors were done with their measuring and pinning, but at last Dominique let her go.

  “Right. Be back in two days for the final fitting,” he ordered and turned back to the table he’d been working at when she’d arrived.

  This time, Marsh caught the motion as Gustav opened his mouth to argue and then closed it again. For some reason, the emissary didn’t want to upset the tailor, which was as entertaining as the Deeps even if Marsh couldn’t work out why.

  He was going to leave before Dominique was ready, Roeglin told her. It was spectacular, and Dom told him how much more expensive it would be if he tried.

  Marsh shot another glance toward the tailor and couldn’t imagine him behaving anywhere near as scarily as Roeglin suggested.

  Next time, try moving when he wants to adjust a seam.

  Marsh thought about it, remembered the tailor’s reaction when she’d shuffled her feet to maintain her balance, and decided against it.

  I’m not suicidal, she thought.

  Exactly.

  He broke contact as Gustav spoke.

  “A quarter turn, Leclerc.”

  “Merde.”

  Marsh headed for the stairs at a jog, breaking into a run the minute she was out of sight. She didn’t care that the echo of her footsteps would give her away; she just didn’t want to be late. Behind her, she heard Roeglin’s voice raised in puzzlement.

  “Is she well enough to do that?”

  And Gustav’s dry response.

  “Clearly.”

  Followed by the kitchen door banging open and Daniel’s very clear threat. “She hurts herself again, and the pair of you will know about it.”

  Who would have guessed her youngest cousin could sound that fierce?

  Marsh didn’t let the ex
change slow her down, though. All she’d been planning on doing was grabbing her gloves and pack, but the sight of a small pile of clothes laid out on the end of her bed brought her to an abrupt halt.

  They were new, the colors of the cloth too bright and the fabric too clean for them to be otherwise. She was clearly meant to be wearing them when she returned.

  “Well, merde in the Dark,” she muttered, shutting the door behind her and hurrying across the room. “Does the man want me ready in a quarter turn or not?”

  It was almost like Roeglin had been waiting for her to think it.

  How much do you want to annoy Master Calais?

  “So much for a bit of privacy…”

  Ooh, touchy…

  Marsh grabbed hold of her temper and started to change. She was halfway through when she wondered where Mordan was. The big kat hadn’t been there to greet her when she’d woken, and she hadn’t been waiting downstairs. In fact, Dan had been startlingly absent. Marsh made a note to find the kat as soon as she was dressed.

  She glanced at the hourglass and hurried. The kat probably hadn’t gone that far. She didn’t when they were in town.

  Stepping into the corridor, Marsh looked up and down it. The open door halfway along looked like the most likely place, but she couldn’t work out whose room it was. She didn’t remember anyone being in there.

  Dan? she thought, reaching for her link to the kat as she reached the door. You in there?

  A soft mew confirmed the kat’s presence and Marsh slipped inside.

  “What are you doing here?” Piet’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

  Marsh gestured toward Mordan, who was lying alongside the bed, Piet’s hand resting on her head.

  “Looking for the kat.”

  “Oh. She’s been keeping me company. Pa says I set one foot outside this room and he’ll stitch me to the sheets.”

  The thought of the tailor doing exactly that made Marsh smile.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Like someone hit me on the head with a very big fist?”

  Marsh looked out into the hall, then pulled the door closed behind her, and Piet eyed her warily. Mordan lifted her head, nuzzled Piet’s hand, and slowly sat up.

  “Easy, girl,” Marsh told her, remembering what Tamlin had said about Aisha drawing the energy from the creatures around her.