Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4)

by Melinda Kucsera

  Shendra choked back more bile as her brother listened at the door. He was older and wiser than she, so if he said it, it must be true. I’ll get used to it.

  “No.” She pulled out of his grasp, and he frowned. “No, we can’t leave without freeing the girls.”

  “Shendra, we can’t. Not now. There are probably guards all over this place by now. They aren’t allowed on the second floor, but sooner or later, when Lady Essia doesn’t appear to give them orders, they’ll ignore that rule and flood these rooms. If we’re still here, we won’t escape.”

  I can’t get used to it. I won’t.

  She refused to wait for Bredych’s response. The door opened easily at her touch, as did the room next-door. The man atop a young woman flushed with surprise and anger when his sport was interrupted, but her blade across his throat stopped all complaint. The girl beneath him screamed.

  “The Lady’s dead. Yer a slave to her, or him—” Shendra pointed at the dead man, “—no longer. Leave this place.”

  Bredych caught her at the next door. “Wait, if you’re going to do this, at least make the kills clean and quick. Don’t traumatize these poor girls with a blood bath.”

  “If ya think these girls ain’t traumatized—”

  “They are, so don’t add to it!”

  Shendra blinked as she hesitated. Something clicked in her brain as she craned her head to peer back at the previous room where the young woman stared blindly at the blood on her clothing. The way Shendra had.

  She pushed the thought aside and barged into the second room. Seeing the girl’s age, Shendra’s vision narrowed, and it was all she could do to stab the burly man in the heart rather than paint the walls with his blood.

  When she opened the next room, two girls stared back at her, then screamed. “Yer free now. Leave!” shouted Shendra before she set off for the last room. This had been where Lady Essia had played host to her plaything. Bredych beat her there, but when he opened the door, no one was inside.

  “Where’d he go?” asked Shendra.

  “Maybe he fled when he heard all the screaming.” Bredych grabbed her arm when she turned toward the stairwell. “Don’t go downstairs.”

  “Why? There are more girls down there.”

  “And the ones up here can spread the word. Downstairs is a pub. There will be innocent townspeople in it. How will you tell the difference in who you’re killing?”

  With a growl, Shendra retreated to the room at the hall’s end. She’d expected the room empty—same way it was when they’d entered—but when she opened the door, the chathula sat curled up in its bed.

  For a moment, her body reacted, her blade out and ready to kill as it had in the previous rooms, but when the creature opened its eyes at her approach, the rage withered in her and her strength fled, leaving her to sit on the floor.

  “I—I’m sorry. I forgot where I was.”

  The chathula tilted its head and sniffed the air, its whole head bobbing with the movement. “With that much blood on you, I would figure so. The window remains open should you wish to flee.”

  “Come,” barked Bredych, but when she tried to stand, her limbs were flabby and weak. He reached beneath her arm pits and hauled her up. Arm around his shoulders, he hauled her through the window and out into the cold, darkness.

  “Strip.”

  The fresh air stirred an alertness in Shendra, and she shimmied out her clothes while her brother did the same. Bredych laid them flat across the rooftop and rolled them into a small bunch, along with her supply pouch. A few shakes of oil from his waist flask covered the smell of blood. What they were doing went against training, but unordinary circumstances meant they had to be creative.

  He motioned for her to jump down into the alley below. When he landed beside her, she was ready.

  She grabbed the wads of clothing from him and lit one with the finger flint she’d pulled from her pouch. He opened his mouth, then shut it as she tossed the wads onto the rooftop. “Chathula, flee!” she hissed and watched as a shadow dove from the window and darted across the roof before disappearing.

  “That was a fool thing to do,” said Bredych as he followed her alongside the building’s rear.

  As smoke filled the air, it covered their retreat to the nearby inn. Unlike Lady Essia’s, several storage crates sat out back, which they used to climb to the roof. Once safely inside their room, Shendra and Bredych scrubbed the gray grease from their skin. He handed her an herbal concoction that smelled like a mix of sweat and sour lemons, which they splashed on themselves to disguise the odors of smoke and blood that clung to them. Both donned shirts and light breeches, then crawled into the shared straw bed.

  They lay silent as sleep until the pounding on their door. When Bredych stumbled to the door, Shendra feigned the groggy look of one just awoken. Outside stood Sally, the barmatron, wearing a pair of slippers and a long, wrinkled tunic. “There’s a fire. With the winds what they are, the roof could catch. Everyone’s gonna have t’go outside.”

  “Sounds dangerous. Anything we can do to help?” asked Bredych.

  The innkeeper peered at Shendra before looking Bredych up and down. “Yer hired hands, right? They’ll be needin’ strong men to haul water from the well. Iffen yer girl can pour a drink, she can help give drinks to those on break.”

  Shendra yawned at the insult, then stood from the bed, allowing the blanket to fall to the floor. Her shirt and breeches clung to well-defined muscles that moved like whipcord as she sought their clothing.

  “My apologies, milady. Yer welcome to help the lads—”

  “We’ll be down shortly,” said Bredych as he closed the door. After a heartbeat, he mumbled, “It’s the least we could do after starting this mess.”

  “We didn’t start this.” Shendra shoved his breeches at him. “Lady Essia did. If we were smart, we’d be ridin’ outta here. The job’s done.”

  Mid-dress, Bredych stopped and sighed. “What’s the number one rule of a job?”

  “To serve Justice, always.”

  “And the second?”

  “Don’t get caught. Which is why we should leave.”

  Her brother shook his head. “This is why you’ll be in training a good while longer. If we leave now, we look guilty. We become suspects. If we stay and help, no one looks twice at us. Why would the people who started the fire risk their lives to put it out?”

  “Bad enough to kill someone, but now I gotta clean it up, too?” She smiled, but her brother ignored it. For once, his comedic-self hid as the situation’s seriousness loomed over them. With a shrug, Shendra tugged on sturdier breeches, followed by her boots. “What do we do with our packs?”

  “Leave them. If the fire takes the inn, everything we brought can be replaced. Besides, folks serious about helping won’t care about their belongings. They’ll be rushing to help stop the fire.”

  “’Course…Sellin’ girls as slaves is somethin’ the honest, moral people of this town can ignore. The same moral folks who’ll abandon all to save the town,” she muttered. Her cheekiness stayed with her until their eventual appearance outside the inn.

  Lady Essia’s burned bright enough to give clear visibility across the town center, giving Shendra a glimpse of how many people stood around in bedclothes and blankets, their limbs held rooted in place by fear. Children clung to mothers as their fathers carried buckets of water towards danger. Two stories of angry red threatened nearby buildings with every gust of wind, and two buildings nearby had already succumbed to the flames’ hunger.

  How many people would be homeless before the night was over? How many would be hungry by winter without a home or a job to provide for their family? Shendra whispered, “I didn’t mean this.”

  “Then help,” snapped Bredych as he tugged on her arm.

  At the town’s well, sweaty arms thrust buckets of water towards anyone waiting. Like her brother, Shendra carried the pail where directed, then tossed the water on the flames before running back to the well for mor
e. Her muscles enjoyed the workout, monotonous though it was, until the heat caught up with her.

  Climbing through the rubble to reach flames left her skin and clothing black as coal. The rubble, still hot in most places, left burns across her calves and ankles, and the overwhelming temperatures near the flames left sweat pouring down her face, where the soot stung her eyes and nose.

  After the last dump, she paused at a bench to catch her breath. Someone sat silently beside her, their shoulders wrapped in a torn quilt that reeked of smoke. When Shendra took a longer glance, she recognized her as one of Lady Essia’s women and bolted upright.

  “Don’t go yet. I haven’t had a chance to thank you,” said the young woman.

  Shendra hesitated. This woman could place her in the building before the fire and not in the inn as Bredych would have the bar matron believe.

  “I know what you are. Well, what he is. You’ve the mark, but you’ve also got your hair. Do some Amaskans choose to keep their hair?”

  As the young woman spoke, her voice hardened and Shendra fought the urge to run. “I don’t know what yer talkin’ about—”

  “Please. You both were sent here to kill my mistress. It’s not the first time someone’s been sent to kill her, or the first time someone’s been successful.”

  Her feet stumbled on solid ground as Shendra backed away. For all that the young woman appeared young, an age and wisdom in her eyes spoke of something else.

  How can she know of the Order’s plans? And what did she mean by it not being the first time Lady Essia has died? I have to find Bredych. We need to leave. Now.

  “If you leave now, does it count as finishing the job?”

  When her fingers went to her belt, no dagger was looped there—it remained upstairs with the rest of their belongings. Rather than give away her frustration, Shendra smiled, a bright smile like she lay resting on a summer’s day at the shore rather than facing the destruction of a town. “When my partner and I heard a woman was breakin’ the law by indulgin’ in slavery, we came to see what we’d find, is all. Plenty of young women like yerself bein’ forced into pleasin’ men and sold across the Harren Sea. That ain’t the way of Sadai. The Thirteen have some strict rules ’bout that sorta thing.”

  “They do. They also have some strict rules about killing people. Or does that only apply to non-Amaskans?”

  Shendra’s stomach tensed in response to the question. “No, murder is against the Thirteen for everyone.”

  Around them, people fought a losing battle against the flames, which had spread to third and fourth buildings. When the young woman spoke again, her voice was level and calm. “My mistress may have been misunderstood, but at least she never lied to us…or herself. She took us off the streets and gave us a job, a way to make a living. I wasn’t starving anymore.”

  The faraway look in the woman’s eyes was one Shendra recognized. The ache in one’s stomach without food, the desperation to soften the pangs with anything—edible or not, and the willingness to do absolutely anything to sleep somewhere soft and warm…

  “She gave us an education in more than just sex. I can read and write and do sums, more than most of this town can do, and she gave me that. What did you give me? My home burned down, my mistress dead and job gone, and everything that I’ve ever owned in a pile of rubble. You didn’t save us. You sentenced us to death.”

  At some point, the young woman left. Shendra never noticed as she stared at the fire in silence. Saving people…it’s all she’d ever wanted to do. While killing people was technically wrong, the Order had shown her a new path to helping people. Serving the Gods by meting out Justice was a holy mission…wasn’t it?

  A spark hit her bare arm, and she flinched. When did the fire move that close? she thought as Bredych trudged over to her.

  “We have to go,” he said, his voice scratchy and hoarse.

  “I thought we were helpin’.”

  “We were, but the wind’s picked up. There’s no stopping the fire now. We need to leave.”

  “No, I thought we were helpin’ them.”

  Bredych frowned. “And we did, Shendra, but unless you want to burn to death, we need to go.”

  She raised her head to take a better glance around her. Fire burned everywhere. Not a building was spared. She coughed in the thick smoke, and her brother pulled her to her feet.

  “The townsfolk are fleeing through the front gate. The fire hasn’t touched it yet. But there’s a breech in the walls where the fire’s been. We should take it while we can.”

  Shendra nodded.

  Once again, her brother was pulling her to safety.

  As they ran, she was fifteen again. Hungry, hurt, and wishing it would all go away.

  The side gate had allowed them to avoid the townsfolk as they fled Tovias, and when they’d arrived at a farm house outside of town, sooty and smelling of smoke, the farmer had set off for the fire, leaving them in the capable hands of his wife.

  Several baths and meals later, Shendra pulled her brother aside and disclosed the conversation she’d had with the young woman…though she’d left out the part about Lady Essia possibly being alive. All that would do was kick a hornet’s nest.

  “Most of Sadai knows Amaskan’s shave their head and bear circular tattoos. I’m not surprised she worked that out. The rest, well, I’m not surprised by that either. If you live with your captor long enough, the only way to survive is to convince yourself they’re good people. Depending upon when she was taken, this girl might have truly believed Lady Essia helped her,” said Bredych as they sat outside the farm house.

  “She blamed me, Bredych. Said I’d taken it all away from her and accused me of murder.”

  Bredych nodded. “Most people will. This calling isn’t for the weak of heart. We help those who need it most. We are the Thirteen’s protectors. As scholars of the Thirteen, we understand the laws better than non-scholars do. Would you rather those young girls be sold to men as slaves?”

  “No, but—”

  “There’s no but, Shendra. Those girls won’t be abandoned. The town will look after them. They will rebuild Tovias, and those girls will have a chance at a real life now. Because of us.”

  Her brother was so convinced. His eyes glowed with the belief that he served Justice, the belief in something greater than himself, and she envied him his ignorance.

  He glanced at the sky where the clouds were clearing. “We should head out soon. The Order will be waiting for our report.”

  They’d be waiting for her answer.

  If it was too late now to back out, perhaps she could change the Order. Maybe they didn’t have to be contract killers. There had to be other ways of serving Justice…

  Their reports were given to the Amaskan Masters separately, each giving a detailed account of what happened, why they thought it happened, and what actions and decisions could’ve been improved upon. It was the latter that left Shendra tongue-tied as she found herself floundering in guilt. While Master Elish asked questions intended to derive the facts from her, he gave no indication of whether or not her guilt was warranted. His face remained an expressionless mask as he took down the accountings.

  After she’d relayed the details of the job, he asked, “Do you wish to be an Amaskan?”

  A simple question—one she’d pondered over the entire journey home—and yet, her stomach churned when he asked it. Finally, she spoke. “I do.”

  “Why?”

  It shouldn’t have been unexpected, yet it was, and she swallowed the bile at the back of her throat. “As Amaskans, we’re imperfect. We work in the service of Justice, but we’re not gods. We don’t know if someone’s guilty. So we research and investigate. We do the best we can to help others, which is all anyone can do. Bredych has this way about ’im like he knows some secret truth. Like everythin’ he does is right.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “No, Master. But I believe the Order is tryin’ to do what’s right the best way they can. I’m
nineteen. I have a lot to learn still ’bout life and Justice. Maybe my doubts come from lack of wisdom.”

  Master Elish tilted his head. “So you admit to having doubts?”

  Shendra didn’t want to answer, but while traveling home, she’d promised herself to be honest. If the gods wanted her to serve, she would serve. If her truth kept her from that, it would be Their decision and not hers. “Everyone should have doubts. If we don’t, we ain’t thinkin’ enough ’bout what we’re doin’.”

  “And your wish to change the Order?”

  Her cheeks grew warm. It was a thought she’d shared with Bredych, one not intended for their Master’s hearing. Of course her brother had shared it. He was loyal to the Order.

  “I still wish it. I wish only to improve us in seekin’ Justice for those who need it.”

  He glanced to his left where the other Masters sat in stony silence. “Some believe nineteen is too young to be an Amaskan. Most trainees do not become journeymen members until later in life. You, yourself, have commented on how emotional this test was for you with how close it has been to your past. Do you feel you are ready to join the Order, Shendra? There is no shame in training further.”

  “I’m ready.”

  Master Elish nodded, his face relaxed, yet smooth and expressionless. “You may wait in the hall.”

  With no indication of how her test had gone from her master or the others, she sat on a stone bench outside, her body too tense to feel the stone beneath her. No one had commented on the magic or the chathula’s existence, nor had they questioned Lady Essia’s use of it. Those conversations would happen behind closed doors without her, and for once, she was glad of the fact.

  Bredych had followed her report with his, which took twice as long as her own. By the time the door knob moved, her stress had shifted to hunger and fatigue. She stood up as her brother, face down, exited the room. Before she could call out to him, Master Elish gestured for her to follow him inside.

  Now that the report had been made, many smiles greeted her as she entered the room. The masters gathered at a long table that sat behind two chairs, the ones she and her master had used during her report. Frowns decorated a face or two, especially once Master Elish turned both chairs to be included in the circle rather than facing each other.