Serpent's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 3)

by D J Salisbury

Given he knew almost nothing about horses, he could only pray she was right. He worried a little about having a young stallion so near the mares, but he had to assume the girls knew how to handle that situation. He felt rather sorry for the gelding.

  Tsai’dona thumped the side of the wagon. “Now we have a place to store all the stuff you talked about buying.”

  Which was a relief. He felt guilty treating the girls like pack animals, but he had enough trouble shuffling himself around. Now he could go shopping. “Hey, listen! Do you know what Leiya is famous for?”

  Lorel grinned at him like he’d made a joke. “Leiya? Is that where we are?”

  “You’re hopeless. Tonight I’m going to teach you how to read a real map. Listen, Leiya is famous for black pearls.”

  “I hate pearls.” She slumped against the wagon’s front wheel. “And you plan on buying some?”

  “Don’t go sulky on me.” He tugged at her sleeve and tried to lead her back toward the mercantile part of town. “Think of Leiyan pearls on the handle of a lady’s knife.”

  An idea slapped him along the side of his head. Why not invest in Crayl blades? They’d be the perfect disguise for the traveling needed to accomplish the Kyridon’s quest, far better than his little gem business. True steel weapons were hard to come by anywhere except in Crayl. Selling them at a profit would pay for the journey.

  And he’d get to do all the bargaining he wanted, besides. “I’ll become a weapon merchant.”

  “You wanna sell blades.” She jerked out of his reach, grabbed one of the team’s reins, and slouched down the street. The wagon rattled along behind them. “I just wanna use them.”

  Tsai’dona gathered up the reins of the two riding horses and strolled alongside them.

  “Turybird! Listen to me.” He hopped in front of her and glared up at her. “I can sell knives and swords. You two can be my caravan guards. Do you think I can travel with jewels and Crayl blades and not attract robbers?”

  “I ’spose you’re right.” Lorel straightened abruptly. “Crayl blades?”

  Tsai’dona stopped walking and stared at him. The horses plowed into her from behind, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “We’re traveling to Crayl next,” he whispered dramatically. “What else would I buy there?”

  “Hey, kid!” Lorel shook back her braids and laughed with real joy. “Now you’re talking. With Crayl blades we’ll have a real sword business. I thought you was messing around, before.”

  What made her think that? “I’m in this game to make money. Come on, I want those pearls, and we’ll need horse food and wine and notepaper and–”

  “And books. And whatever else you can cram into that rolling mansion.” She chuckled and shook a finger at him. “And beer, too. I saw them keg cradles. What I can’t figure out is what all them hooks by the door is for.”

  Thunderer’s dice, he’d be able to surprise her twice within minutes. He smiled and waggled his eyebrows. “Those are weapons racks, turybird.”

  “Weapons…? Racks for…? I don’t believe it! Like a real sword shop! We’re halfway to being sword merchants already. Let’s move into the shop tonight, kid. Weapons racks!”

  Tsai’dona shook her head. “They don’t look like weapon storage to me.”

  “Who knows what a magician used them for?” He sent her a hard look, begging her to forgo spoiling Lorel’s happiness. “They’re spaced perfectly for swords of various lengths.” And for longer weapons, along the ceiling. He had room for a hundred long blades, easily, and three times as many knives.

  “I seen a magician juggle knives and toy swords.” Lorel swatted Tsai’dona on the back. “I betcha the kid is right.”

  Tsai’dona shrugged and started walking again. The black stallion lipped at her hair, and she gently pushed its nose away. “Too Tall, what’re you going to call this troublemaker?”

  “Nightshade.” His turybird was naming her horse after a poisonous plant?

  Tsai’dona laughed. “Good one. I’m naming my lady Sumach.”

  If he remembered right, the gray-with-red-spots coloration was termed ‘fleabitten.’ Naming it after a plant that caused a rash seemed appropriate.

  “Whatcha naming the team, kid?”

  He had that honor, did he? He thought for a moment. “Periwinkle and Poppy.”

  “Weaver’s chamberpot. Why name them gorgeous horses after flowers?”

  “Periwinkle makes sense, for a blue roan.” Tsai’dona looked like she was trying not to laugh at him. “But poppies are red.”

  “Since when? All the poppies in Setoya are blue.” Well, not all of them. Just the biggest, showiest poppies.

  The big mare swung her head toward him and whuffled her nostrils as if she approved of his choice.

  He nodded back. “She’s Poppy, and he’s Periwinkle.”

  Lorel sighed. “You’re such a limp thread.” She dropped the reins, scooped him up, tossed him up to the driver’s bench, and grabbed up the reins again. “Go unpack or something.”

  His tailbone smacked against the wooden bench and his crutch thudded against his skull. He winced and rubbed his head. His turybird left way too many bruises on him without ever meaning to.

  But unpacking was a wonderful idea. He had books he hadn’t seen since Sedra-Kei, and he hadn’t read them properly even then. He’d been too busy transcribing books for the library.

  He climbed through the open doorway and propped his crutch in a corner. The room vibrated, but the road noises weren’t as loud inside the wagon as they’d been on the outside. Maybe it really was made of teak.

  He hopped to the bunk beds, where Lorel had left all of their gear. The lower bunk had more headroom than the upper one, at the ends, at least. She needed all the space she could get.

  Therefore the upper bunk was his. His and the Kyridon’s. He tossed the knapsack containing his clothes and the three books he considered too precious to entrust to Lorel (which was silly of him, since she’d wound up carrying his whole pack) up to the top bunk. He’d move his clothing to the narrow chest at the end later.

  He sat on the lower bunk and emptied out Lorel’s knapsack. Her clothes he placed into the chest at the end of her mattress.

  Where would Tsai’dona sleep? Here, with Lorel? Or on the long trunk in front of the door? Or would Lorel prefer to guard the door? Not his problem. The two of them could work it out.

  The coin pouch and the larger bag of gemstones needed a safer hiding place. For the moment, he stored them inside the spotlessly clean potbellied stove.

  Right now he wanted to shelve his books. His forty seven books and thirty nine notebooks. Truly it was a wonder that Lorel was still speaking to him. Or that she hadn’t dumped out her pack long before now.

  Someone chuckled.

  Viper hastily wiggled around to face the main part of the room. No one was there.

  He must have mistaken the sound of the wagon’s wheel going over a rock. Except he hadn’t felt the jolt a rock should have caused. It must have been a little rock, a patch of gravel.

  No one was there. No one would bother him. No one could ever get past Lorel.

  He grabbed a random stack of books and shoved them onto the nearest bookshelf.

  Someone groaned.

  Sweat broke out on his forehead. Viper hopped around until his back was tight against the wall. He tried to brace himself on both legs, but his padded boot chaffed against his sore stump. It wouldn’t hold his weight if he tried to fight. Or to run.

  Lightning blast it, he hated being helpless.

  But he wasn’t really defenseless. He concentrated his magic and created a small dome shield, one barely big enough to cover him.

  Tried to create a shield. He was so exhausted it wouldn’t form properly. Only a wispy, wimpy, wiggly shield appeared around him.

  Someone gasped. Transparent hands clapped together.

  Viper stared hard at those hands and fought to see the aura of the creature behind them.

  For one
instant a sparkly, gold-and-green image appeared, showing an ancient man with long curly hair topped by a slouch hat. It faded away before he caught any more details.

  His heart thundered inside his ears. His gut tried to squirm out of his mouth and wiggle up the stove’s chimney pipe to escape.

  He didn’t need any details. He knew exactly what he faced.

  “Ghost.” His voice was squeaky, but he honestly didn’t care. Not after RedAdder’s ghost tried to eat him. He’d needed all sorts of shields to cast it out. He nearly had to kill himself.

  And right now he wasn’t strong enough to form a simple dome shield. He had to get out of here before this ghost decided to possess him.

  Using the shelves beside him as a crutch, he hopped frantically to the front of the wagon and crawled out onto the driver’s bench. “Let me out! There’s a ghost in here!”

  Lorel looked back at him like he’d lost his mind. “Funny, kid. Real funny. The seller told us all about the magician’s ghost, remember? Now shut up. You’re scaring Tsai.”

  “Come sit out in the sunshine a while.” Tsai’dona didn’t look frightened to him, though she did appear worried. Possibly about his sanity. “I always get sick when I ride inside a wagon.”

  Lorel tossed the reins up at him. “Here. Drive this cart for a while. Keeping busy will drive off bad dreams. You shouldn’t be sleeping in the middle of the day, anyhow.”

  He hadn’t been asleep. Though if he’d thought of it, a nap might have helped. But then he’d have been easy prey for the specter. How could he ever sleep in there?

  The Kyridon would protect him. Once it got back, he could sleep without worrying about the ghost. Maybe the serpent would teach him how to defend himself.

  He gathered up the reins and shook them gently. The team waggled their ears at him. This couldn’t be too hard. “Hey, pine tree? How do I turn these guys?”

  Lorel sighed loud enough he could hear her over the rattle of the wagon. “Pull on the right rein to go right. Pull on both reins to stop.”

  Finally he’d found a chore he could do. Nobody would ever carry him again. Besides the wagon and horses, anyway. But finally he felt completely independent. This called for a celebration.

  “Where’s the bookstore where you abandoned me? I saw a book I want to buy.”

  Chapter 6.

  The next afternoon found them on a northbound dirt road. Oaks shedding yellow leaves crowded the path. Viper could see a little of the leaden sky, but he still felt trapped in a basket.

  The light skulking through the darkening clouds was terrible for reading.

  He had a wagon filled with supplies and a disappointingly small bag of black pearls. And three new books about magicians’ techniques, written in Zedisti, oddly enough, that he suspected had come out of this very wagon.

  Now he’d find out what magicians really did. Trevor never would talk about them.

  Viper jiggled the team’s reins. As usual, the horses ignored him. He hoped the rain held off until after nightfall. Only this afternoon had he started to feel like he was beginning to dry out after their adventure with the flashflood.

  Lorel reined her stallion in beside the slow-moving wagon. “How long to the next town?”

  “About twenty days.” He lifted the door, leaned inside, and laid the book on the trunk behind the driver’s bench. No way would he risk Lorel getting her hands on his new book.

  “We can move faster than that.”

  “I wasn’t that slow, you know.” Now that they had the wagon, they might travel more swiftly, but not as rapidly as the turybird thought. “Keep in mind that it’ll be lunars before we reach Land’s End.”

  She held her fingers under her chin and waggled them at him.

  What was with the hand signal?

  Tsai’dona snickered.

  Something rude, obviously. Probably warrior talk for ‘you’re not only a limp thread, you’re a sandcrab munching on carrion.’ Though knowing Lorel, it was ruder than that, and she’d never tell him. Maybe he should collect her hand signals and start a new dictionary. Once he got back to civilization, he’d bribe soldiers into interpreting them for him.

  Tsai’dona rode closer. “Have we figured out sleeping arrangements? Sleeping on the bench was comfortable enough, but I object to sleeping in the same room with a snake. It was bad enough while we were camping. At least I could get far away from the thing.”

  Her fleabitten mare shied sideways, away from the team. He didn’t blame the horse. Each of the roans were twice as big as she was.

  Lorel’s stallion snuggled closer to the mare. Neither girl seemed to notice. “I gotta agree with her, kid. Tell the Kyri-thing to sleep outside.”

  Thunderer’s dice, he was not sleeping in the wagon again without the Kyridon to protect him from the ghost. As it was, last night he’d woken everyone up with his vulture dreams. Three times. “It will share my bunk.”

  Tsai’dona sighed. “I’m sleeping outside from now on.”

  “Me, too, kid. You gotta choose.”

  Easy choice. He’d bought tarps they could lay on. If they slept under the wagon, they’d probably stay dry. Not his problem. “The Kyridon will share my bunk.”

  Lorel’s face flushed dark red.

  Tsai’dona shook her head and reined her horse back until she was out of his sight.

  Now he’d offended both of them. Maybe he was being unfair. “Never mind. The Kyridon and I will sleep under the wagon, and you two sleep inside. I don’t want to share with a ghost, anyway.”

  “Ghost?” Tsai’dona squeaked like a cat with its tail-fur caught under an ogre’s boot. “Was it the ghost that woke you up last night?”

  A kind euphemism for his noisy nightmares.

  “Ain’t no such thing as ghosts.” But Lorel’s face faded to its normal coloring, and she didn’t frown at him anymore. Her thoughtful expression was even worse. “We can’t none guard you if you’re outside and we’re inside. So you get the wagon. I should’ve known you’d thought that far ahead.”

  He hadn’t, but she didn’t need to know that. He shifted on the driver’s bench and tried to change the subject. “First thing I’ll buy in Crayl will be a thick cushion. I feel like I’m sitting on a rock.”

  Tsai’dona rode closer and peered under the seat. “No springs. You’ll need more than a cushion.”

  Lorel shifted in the saddle as if she wanted a cushion, too.

  He chuckled. “You wouldn’t be so grumpy if you’d spend less time on that horse. I bet you have gruesome saddle sores.”

  Tsai’dona winced and sat straighter in her saddle.

  “I certainly did, the first time I rode. Only time I rode, come to think of it.” And he never wanted to repeat the experience. Lorel could have all the riding horses she wanted. He’d keep the team.

  She glared at him. “This ain’t my first time.”

  “So what? Your rear end is out of practice. Come sit up here for a while.” And maybe take over the reins. His arms were as tired as his tail bone. He had to at least pretend he was in charge while he sat up here, even if the team ignored him.

  “I got a better idea.” She pointed to a grassy meadow beside the narrow road. “Let’s camp here. It’s early, but I’m sorta worried about the quakes.”

  “Earthquakes?” He reined the team to a halt a few paces off the trail. A stream burbled only fifty feet away. His turybird had picked a good campsite.

  She slid down from her stallion and gently rubbed his ears. The tall beast nudged at her playfully. “Just ’cuz we’ve only felt a couple don’t mean there won’t be more. Old Trevor never did teach you sensible stuff.”

  “I haven’t felt any earthquakes.” He looked up into the sky to see if it was nearing Alignment Day, but the heavy clouds defeated him. He couldn’t see a single moon, much less all seven.

  Tsai’dona laughed and skidded down the side of her saddle as though her legs were numb. “That’s because you’ve kept your nose in a book all day. Did you think
we wouldn’t notice?”

  Viper scowled and reached inside the wagon for his crutch. “It’s boring sitting still all day.” He clambered down from the bench, grabbed a brush from the compartment underneath it, and began to groom the legs of the nearest horse. “The team doesn’t need me. They follow the road no matter what I do.” There. He’d said it out loud.

  Both girls ignored him. Maybe they were too busy grooming their horses to have even heard him.

  The Kyridon snaked its head under the door. “Could not the hatchling perform upon the mandolin constructed by the swordling?” It slid its bulk out of the wagon and coiled upon the driver’s bench.

  All four horses ignored the serpent as though it didn’t exist. He’d read that horses attacked snakes. The source must have been mistaken.

  “I thought about it.” He stretched up to stroke the warm tail that hung over the edge of the platform. “But I’m afraid of damaging it, as rainy as it’s been. Maybe I’ll take the risk. If Lorel doesn’t laugh.”

  She continued brushing the stallion’s chest, even though its coat already gleamed like satin. “I promised a long time ago, kid. No matter what I think, I won’t say nothing bad. Unless you ask me what I think.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. Are you finished with Nightshade yet? I can’t reach the top of these furry blue dragons.”

  “Weaver’s chamberpot. Dragons?” Lorel looked up from grooming her horse. “Oh, kid. I swear, you don’t know nothing useful. You gotta get the gear off them horses before you brush them.” She strolled over, unharnessed the team, slid halters over their heads, and groomed each horse carefully. All in less time than he’d taken to brush eight legs.

  It wasn’t fair. She was almost as tall as those behemoths, twenty hands, she’d told him, whatever that meant. A solid six and a half feet, since that was how tall she was, last he’d checked. She could brush every inch of their oversized bodies. She didn’t even need to stretch to reach their backs.

  He was four foot two inches tall. In his boots. He could groom their legs and shoulders, but he couldn’t reach their chins unless they leaned down toward him, no matter how much he stretched. He’d never be able to put a halter on either of them. It wasn’t fair.