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

by D J Salisbury

  Tsai nodded that she’d stay and guard him.

  “Where?” Lorel drew her short sword. She’d wanted to fight a monster for ages. Ever since the toad shamed her, in fact. “Where is it?”

  “In your wagon,” the child whispered. He edged around her and ran to cling to his father.

  The kid giggled.

  “Shut up. That slithering toad is a monster.” She slammed her sword into its sheath.

  Tsai wrinkled her nose and stalked back to their table.

  “Shows how safe our wagon is.” The kid tapped his spoon against his nearly-full bowl. He really oughta let her finish that.

  “Yeah.” She threw herself back into her chair. “And you get to sleep with it. I won’t. I done spent enough time with that thing.”

  “All right.” The kid sighed, but looked up at her through his lashes. Fraying flirt. “But I get the bath water first.”

  “Deal. But don’t take until it’s cold or I’ll drown you in it.”

  “You’ll each have a tub,” Bobhil croaked. “What is in your wagon?”

  “A monster.” Tsai reached under the table and rescued a mug.

  Lorel eased her hand toward the kid’s bowl.

  “A guardian.” The kid smiled at the innkeeper and his son. “Don’t worry about your children. It prefers rats and weasels. Children are too tame.”

  She suspected the kid was lying. She ain’t never seen the toad chewing on nothing. In all honesty, she didn’t know if magical critters ever ate.

  The innkeeper didn’t look happy. “But what is it?”

  “A slithering toad,” she mumbled through a mouthful of the kid’s stew.

  “A Dreshin Viper. Hey, give that back!” He stood and tried to grab his bowl out of her hands. “That’s mine and I’m hungry.”

  She laughed and held the bowl out of reach. “I’m hungrier. Besides, Bobhil cooks a Loom-warping lot better than you.”

  “I’ll remember that. Give.”

  She sighed, handed back the bowl, and reached under the table for a mug.

  Tsai gripped her own bowl like she was scared somebody might steal it.

  A large woman appeared at the kitchen doorway. “What is going on in here?”

  Bobhil shrugged helplessly. “Our guests are fond of your cooking, Margat.”

  “So much that they’d fight over it?”

  The kid pulled his bowl closer to his chest. “She filched my supper.”

  “Best stew I’ve had in lunars.” Lorel poured beer into her dusty mug. “Best beer, too.”

  “There’s a monster in their wagon, Mummy,” the stableboy added.

  Margat threw up her hands. “I’ll bring another bowl of stew.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

  “For me, not for the monster.” Not that anyone was listening.

  “You are the monster,” the kid told her, still protecting his bowl.

  That was the nicest thing he’d said to her in lunars, little twerp. She went back to her beer.

  “Get you outside and stay away from that wagon,” Bobhil whispered to his son. “I apologize for his bad behavior.” He brought a clean mug to the kid and poured fresh wine. “Truly, I thought the child had better manners.”

  The kid grinned up at him. “It may be better this way. If I’d slept inside, the Kyridon might have come looking for me.”

  Bobhil whimpered, but closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “It has a name?”

  “Every guardian should have a name.”

  “Eat or I’ll eat it for you.” If the turtle turd ate any slower, all his food would dry up and blow away.

  The kid made a silly face at her and stuck his spoon into his bowl.

  Margat returned, balancing a tray laden with fresh bread and three more bowls of stew on her plump hip. “This should slow down the lot of you. Now, tell me about this monster. Will it be coming into my inn?”

  “No, ma’am.” The kid hesitated. “At least, I doubt it.”

  “What do you mean, you ‘doubt it’?”

  “Well, it might go into the attic looking for rats. But I don’t think you’ll even notice it.”

  “It eats rats?” Margat nodded approval. “In that case your monster is seven-fold welcome. I detest rats more than I detest dragons.”

  “Woman, be quiet.” Bobhil glanced at the door. “I’ll not have dragon priests banging on my door. Mind you, honored guests, don’t be speaking out against dragons in this town. Those wretched Paduan priests have more power than is decent, and do more damage than the dragons themselves.”

  “Now who’s talking for trouble?” Margat waved her hand toward the street. “Politics. We’d be better off without them, priests, dragons, or city gossips. Now, what kind of monster is it?”

  The kid started to answer, but choked on a bite of bread.

  Lorel reached across the table and pounded him on the back, knocking away his breath altogether. She kept forgetting he was a puny little thing.

  “I’ve forgotten the question,” he admitted when he was able to breathe again.

  “I’m not surprised,” Margat said dryly.

  “She was asking about the slithering toad,” Tsai said.

  “What a dreadful thing.” Margat gasped in mock fear. “A slithering toad? It must leave a dreadful slime trail.”

  “It’s a Dreshin Viper.” The kid glared at Tsai. “And it’s not slimy. It’s just smooth and warm and – nice.”

  “The kid’s in love,” Lorel whispered behind her hand.

  “Turybird.” The kid scowled at her. “You wouldn’t know love if it hit you over the head.”

  “That would be an odd sort of love.” Margat set her tray on a table. “I’ve heard of Dreshin snakes. Extremely poisonous, they say.”

  Her bowl was empty again. Was he distracted enough she could steal his? She slid her hand to the side.

  “It’s not a snake, and it gets upset if you call it that.” The kid slapped her hand and clutched his bowl even closer to his chest. “It is poisonous, but not that bad. I’ve lived through its venom.”

  Fraying little brat. “Now you know why he’s so weird.” Lorel sneered and leaned back in her chair. “I guess it comes from being half snake himself.”

  The kid hissed at her and pretended to try and bite her.

  Bobhil’s face turned very pale.

  “He’s called Viper,” she told the innkeeper. “That’s his snake half.”

  Bobhil managed a weak smile. He probably didn’t get the joke, though. They were all yakking in Duremen-Lor, but she’d said the kid’s name in Zedisti, like normal.

  The kid rolled his eyes at her.

  No way he was gonna eat that new bowl of stew. And it was still steaming hot. His had gotten cold.

  Mom always said it was a sin to let good food go to waste. She pulled the fresh stew in front of her. “It’s his demon half you need to worry about.” This guy was so fun to tease.

  The innkeeper looked at her like she’d tried to ride one of his miswoven dragons.

  “Since when did I become demon?” The kid put his wrist to his forehead like a penny-dreadful actor. “Didn’t I promise you two kegs of beer?”

  “Oh.” Lorel smirked and pretended to think it over. “I guess you ain’t no demon. It’s the elf half they gotta worry about.”

  The kid sighed and glared at her stew. “That’s your third bowl. Why did you try to steal my dinner?”

  Bobhil stared at the kid, then at Margat, whose round body was curled up with silent laughter. Finally he glared at Lorel, and his face turned red. “You’ve been making sport of me.”

  He spoke gently, but she could tell he was annoyed. “Not of you, honest.” She thumped her hand over her heart. “Just of–”

  “Me.” The kid glared at her and helped himself to another piece of bread. “She always does that.”

  “Have some more wine.” Maybe he’d get drunk enough to do something really silly.

  “Enough, enough.” Margat gasped with la
ughter. She took a moment to catch her breath. “I take it you came to our little city looking for Crayl blades?”

  Tsai shrugged, Lorel nodded, and the kid grinned.

  “Fine. My husband will arrange for a little trade fair to visit our tavern tonight, won’t you dear?” She swaggered back toward her kitchen. “Just think how good it will be for business. The whole town will come out of curiosity.” She chuckled as she walked out the door.

  With his miswoven magician’s wagon and two bodyguards, a golden-haired freak like the kid oughta pull in all sorts of nosy folk. Not to mention a rumor about the monster snake. The kid would get all the attention he wanted this evening.

  Maybe she’d even get to protect him.

  ***

  Viper tossed the wet towel on a chair and glanced out the window of their second-story bedroom. He always felt safer on the upper floors. Few people could climb as well as Setoyans did. “Thunderer’s drums, I am so grateful for that bath. I haven’t felt clean since we left Leiya.”

  And while soaking in the tub, he’d seen his foot for the first time in lunars. Rather, the ghost of his missing foot. That had to be a good omen.

  “You and your bathtub.” Lorel pushed her wet, newly-braided hair back over her shoulder. Little curls were already working their way free. “You’re worse than Faye’s oldest sister when it comes to primping.”

  He glared up at her. “Being clean isn’t primping. I’d like to hang the sandcrab who told you that warriors don’t like to bathe.”

  Tsai’dona snorted and continued to comb out her long dark hair. He wished his was as straight as that. Her hair never got tangled.

  He tugged a comb out of his pocket and eased it through his damp, shoulder-length hair. He needed to get it cut again. There’d be time for that tomorrow.

  “Nobody never said that, kid. Just that a little dirt ain’t gonna hurt nobody. A bath now and then is sorta healthy. But I ain’t gonna fuss about it.”

  “You don’t appreciate the finer things in life. Come on, slow poke.” He stuffed his comb into his inner jacket pocket and limped toward the door. His stump ached, but not enough to stop him. The padded boot fit better every day.

  “Ain’t you taking your crutch?”

  “Not when I’m bargaining.” He didn’t want anyone to think of him as crippled. “Give me a hand down the stairs and I’ll be fine.”

  The noise echoing up the staircase from crowd in the common room thrilled him. A lot of merchants had come to sell their blades. He was looking forward to a series of good bartering sessions.

  He hesitated at the turn on the lowest landing and squeezed Lorel’s supportive arm. “What the–?”

  The common room fell silent.

  Lorel bumped into him and knocked him against the wall. He collapsed onto the step behind him.

  “Don’t stop so sudden, kid.” She hauled him to his feet.

  Still two steps above them, Tsai’dona tried to peek around them.

  He pushed them both up the stairwell, out of sight of the common room. The clamor in the main room returned to a full roar. “Did you see our audience?”

  “Sure.” Tsai’dona frowned at him. “What about them?”

  “Did you look at their faces? Those people are out for our blood, Deathsinger scorch them.” He tried to pace on the stair. One step, turn. One step, turn. The first turn was on his good foot, the second on his padded boot – which didn’t turn. Now one boot pointed backwards. Nothing like making his handicap obvious.

  Lorel grabbed his arm and shook him. “Stop that. You’re making me dizzy. What makes you say they’re out to get us?”

  “The way they looked at us, partly.” He sat on the step at her feet and twisted his boot until it faced forward. “Hungry. Superior. Belligerent. And partly by the swords on that first table. Even from this distance I could see they’re low quality. Apprentice work or rejects. They ought to be melted down for scrap metal. If all the blades out there are like that, we’re in trouble.”

  Tsai’dona sighed. “That’s as usual, for us.”

  “So what do we do?” Lorel sat down on the step below him. Kind of her to sit low enough he didn’t need to cramp his neck so far to look into her face.

  “First, let me do all the talking.” He looked at both girls and tried to stress the importance of his words. “I want you two to play bodyguards. No, I know they won’t hurt me. It’s just for the effect. You both can look impressive when you want to.”

  Lorel grinned toothily. Tsai’dona sighed again.

  “Pretend not to hear them, especially the insults, and there’ll be lots of insults. If they get too rowdy, you might need to show them your sword. But don’t stab anybody.”

  Lorel grinned more widely. “We know a little about guard work, kid. Let us handle it. You work on the bargaining part.”

  He stood and checked his balance. Falling on his face wouldn’t impress anyone. Not the way he wanted, anyway. “Let’s get started.”

  Lorel smoothed the grin off her face. Immediately she looked older, cold and disapproving. Her new scar glowered like a zigzag of red lightning.

  Tsai’dona’s expression became remote. Deadly. He’d forgotten she could look like that.

  The roar of the crowd disappeared the instant they entered the room.

  Viper sauntered into the common room, strolling between the tables, inspecting the blades, and nodding at the people sitting nearby.

  The girls paced behind him, ignoring everything except those hands nearest the blades. One young man picked up a sword and shook it at Lorel.

  She drew her short sword. “You wanna test your skill against me, mouse?”

  The young man dropped the sword and backed away from the table. Lorel grinned like a hungry nercat and sheathed her sword. She glared at the circle of moon-eyed faces, before following him and Tsai’dona, who had stayed at his side.

  “Have you ever seen eyes so very black?” whispered a thin girl to the woman beside her.

  The older woman looked at him with disdain. “He’s younger than you are. And shorter, too.”

  The tips of his ears burned hotter than a Dedication pyre.

  “But he’s awful cute, Mamma,” the girl said.

  “If I catch his hands on you, I’ll geld him,” the woman said primly. “Don’t encourage him.”

  Viper walked to the next table with as much dignity as he could muster. Don’t rush. Let them think he didn’t hear them. Even if everybody else in the whole room heard every word of it. Women.

  He made a complete tour of the room, and returned to the center. The only decent blades were on three tables in the middle of the room and even those were second rate.

  Time to see what damage he could do. It couldn’t get any worse. The best of the weapons were only marginally worth buying. Did they think he was so naïve he’d pay top prices for inferior blades?

  “These are rather nice.” He glanced at the heavyset man behind the center table. “Maybe you’d tell me about their finer points?” He couldn’t wait to hear what sort of fantasy the carrion crow wove.

  The owner grunted out a laugh. “What do you want to know, boy child? This here is good Crayl steel. See the fine edge on this blade? You ever seen better?”

  Viper smiled blandly. The butter knife he’d used at lunch had a sharper edge.

  “Look here,” said the thin man on the left. “Look at the sheen on this knife. Ain’t it pretty, little one? You ain’t gonna find better.”

  The muscular woman’s expression reminded Viper of a feral cat. “Don’t you like this blade? See how very flexible it is?” She bent it very slightly, and the metal sprang back into shape.

  Lorel yawned.

  Viper smiled as innocently as he could while grinding his teeth. “It’s very pretty. May I look at it more closely?”

  The woman nodded and handed over the sword. The two men exchanged snide glances. The thin man began to finger his purse

  “Yes, very pretty.” Viper sighted d
own the length of the sword. “But it seems to have a little flaw.” He picked up the scabbard and sheathed a few inches of the blade. He gripped the hilt firmly in one hand, the scabbard in the other, and began to bend the sword.

  It flexed an inch, then two, but before it had bowed a full three inches, the blade snapped.

  “Oh, how sad.” Viper dropped the scabbard and broken metal onto the table. “It had a brittle spot. I suppose it wasn’t heated evenly. It did look a bit like apprentice work.”

  The woman stared at him with wide, shocked eyes, and shook her head. She rubbed her hand over her face. She looked back at him and smiled weakly. “You’re quite right. All of these are apprentice blades.”

  “How naughty of them to exchange bags on you, putting their work in place of yours.” Viper shrugged and fought to unclench his teeth. “Perhaps you should send these back and have someone bring the other blades.”

  “Yes, of course. Hanmem, get these out of here and bring some decent blades. Hurry or I’ll skin you with your own rejects.” She turned back to Viper and held out her hand. “My name is Gaila, and I beg a thousand pardons. Would you be so kind as to wait until my apprentice returns?”

  “Certainly.” Viper touched her fingertips and glanced at the next table. “I’ll just take another look at these other blades while I’m waiting.”

  Gaila nodded.

  He turned to the thin man. “Consider the sheen on this knife. The metal seems to have a small problem.” Such a small problem that melting it into sludge might not be enough to cure it.

  “Uh, yeah, I noticed that whilst you was talking to Gaila.” Red crept up the thin face. “But the strangest thing happened. My brother’s apprentices pulled the same trick on me as was pulled on Gaila. I’ll send for some good blades right away.”

  “Of course.” Viper turned to the other man.

  The stocky man smiled blandly. “My apprentices were ruder yet. They had the gall to bring along blades from the reject pile.”

  Viper nodded coolly. “It appears that a lot of people were anxious to waste my time tonight. Perhaps I shouldn’t bother looking at the next lot of blades. Chances are I’ll only see second or third class blades. Yet all of you will expect me to pay top price, as though you’d brought out your very best.”