Trading By Stormlight (The Magic Below Paris Book 7)
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Trading By Stormlight
The Magic Below Paris™ Book Seven
C. M. Simpson
Michael Anderle
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2020 C.M. Simpson & Michael Anderle
Cover by Mihaela Voicu http://www.mihaelavoicu.com/
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact support@lmbpn.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy
Las Vegas, NV 89109
First US edition, January 2020
ebook ISBN: 978-1-64202-716-7
Print ISBN: 978-1-64202-717-4
The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2015-2020 by Michael T. Anderle and LMBPN Publishing.
Contents
1. Investigating an Assassin
2. Last-Minute Additions
3. A Fleeting Encounter
4. A Temporary Refuge
5. The Shortcut
6. Time to Move
7. An Unpleasant Surprise
8. Claire’s Crossing
9. One Night Too Many
10. A Minor Detour
11. The Eviction
12. Briar’s Ridge Arrival
13. Revelations
14. The Missing
15. Negotiations
16. Henri and “The Cub”
17. Aisha Unleashed
18. The Lightning Comes
19. Of Sleep and Dreams
20. The Ambush
21. Hyena Havoc
22. Curiosity
23. Return Point
24. Ghost Town
25. Rescue Party
26. Mind-Walking
27. One More Fortress
28. Rescue and Reunion
29. Changing Plans
30. Heading Home
31. Death and Allies
Author Notes - CM Simpson
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
Other Books from C.M. Simpson
Books by Michael Anderle
Trading By Stormlight Team
Thanks to our JIT Readers
Mary Morris
Diane L. Smith
Larry Omans
Dorothy Lloyd
James Caplan
Editor
SkyHunter Editing Team
Dedication
This is for all those who believed in me enough that, eventually, I had the courage to believe in myself.
Thank you.
—C.M. Simpson
To Family, Friends and
Those Who Love
to Read.
May We All Enjoy Grace
to Live the Life We Are
Called.
— Michael
1
Investigating an Assassin
Roeglin woke Marsh with a none-too-gentle shake. “We forgot the assassin!”
“What?”
“The assassin. We forgot the assassin.”
Marsh rubbed her eyes and sat up. “But, Ro. We killed the assassin.”
“All three of them,” Henri added, lifting his head, “or did you forget?”
“It was four,” Marsh snapped grumpily, “and, no, I didn’t.”
“It was only four if you count Idris,” Izmay corrected, coming to Henri’s defense. “There have been three since we left Dimanche.”
Marsh opened her mouth to argue but closed it again. Izmay was right. “Ines only said multiples,” she reminded them. “How many people have more than three or four?”
Izmay shrugged. “Roeglin has a point, though.”
She shoved back the blankets and slapped Henri on the rump. “Get your hairy ass out of the way.”
Brigitte groaned on the other side of the room. “Too much information. Way too much!”
“Quit your bitches and grab your britches,” Izmay told her. “We need to see if Master Envermet can spare us the time to check out the Idris family cottage.”
Her question was answered from the doorway. “Master Envermet most certainly can not.”
They all turned and looked at him. He raised an eyebrow and continued, “However, I can spare Marsh and Izmay if Roeglin and Brigitte go with them, while Henri, Jakob, and the rest of you help me get the resettlers on the road. We’ll eat as we move.”
Marsh rolled out of bed, grabbing her clothes as she went. “Deal,” she told him as she slid into her trousers and pulled on a second shirt.
Her armor came next, then her weaponry, and she turned to put her sleeping roll in her pack. Roeglin stepped back, trying to get out of her way, but he was half in and half out of his pants and tripped. If Henri hadn’t been in the way, he might have hit the floor hard, but he didn’t.
Henri sidestepped, grabbing Roeglin’s arm and slowing his descent. “Not sure you should touch a sword this early in the morning.”
Roeglin untangled himself, got his trousers fastened, and stood up. “Not sure I care what you think this early in the morning.”
Henri reached over and pulled Izmay close, kissing her soundly before getting dressed.
“You’re all talk and no walk.” She laughed and slapped her palm against his chest.
“And you’re all work and no play.”
“But you love me, anyway,” Izmay finished for him, settling her weapons over her hips and grabbing her pack.
By the time she and Marsh had their sleeping rolls stowed and their bags cinched tight, Roeglin and Brigitte were almost ready.
“Do you remember where it is?”
“No, but Mordan says the wolves know, and Bristlebear is waiting.”
Bristlebear was waiting. He and two of his seconds emerged from the side of the road to greet them with a casual glance and waving tails. The wolves took them to where a high stone wall and deep spike-filled trench surrounded a well-tended garden.
The gates were barred and locked, but Izmay made short work of the lock and chain using a stout rod summoned from the daylight around them.
“It still looks like shadow to me,” she told them, touching the gauze strip covering her eyes.
Marsh wondered what it would be like to need something to dim the light of the sun, but she didn’t ask.
I can show you if you like, Roeglin offered, and she shook her head.
Show me how to get inside instead, she told him, and he followed one of the wolves to a loose stone in the garden border and withdrew a key.
“I didn’t know you could read an animal’s mind, too,” Izmay commented, and he smiled.
“I only have to read Mordan through Marsh’s mind,” he admitted, and Marsh scowled.
“That’s cheating!”
His smile grew wider. “Is not. Is rude!”
Marsh laughed, then realized she might not get to say goodbye to the children.
Roeglin’s smile faded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
Marsh shook her head. “It’s not you. It’s me. I should have remembe
red to ask. Master Envermet can’t be expected to think of everything.”
They were silent for a moment, then Roeglin fitted the key to the front door and unlocked it. “I’ll see what I can do,” he offered, but Marsh shook her head again and walked quickly inside.
“I don’t think they’re talking to us anyway,” she said, “and I don’t want to hold up the convoy.”
“It’s always something,” Brigitte grumbled, unwittingly echoing one of Tamlin’s favorite arguments against Marsh.
She realized and caught her breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”
Marsh gave a short bark of laughter. “But it is, isn’t it?” she asked, adding, “Tamlin’s right.”
The cottage was more a small two-storied house. There was a living room, bedroom, kitchen, office, and bathroom on the bottom floor, and four more bedrooms on the top level. Each room was empty but had been kept as though its occupant might return at any time.
Three of them held austere single beds. The fourth held a bunk bed, for which the bottom bed was slightly wider than the top. In each of the single-bed rooms, a solitary black sash had been laid across the pillow, and in the room with the bunks, the pillow on the top bunk had a sash. Both pillows on the bottom bunk were sash free.
They searched the desks and bookcases for any indication of how many siblings there had been, and whether or not they’d all been boys.
“I’m going to have to send someone out to take a closer look,” Roeglin concluded when they’d returned to the bedroom downstairs. “It looks like there were at least six of them, and maybe a spouse, but I can’t be sure. We don’t have time to search everything.”
“Someone was here, though,” Izmay noted. “There are clothes missing from the wardrobe in that bunk room upstairs, and there’s more missing from down here.”
Looking into the wardrobe, they saw she was right. Several hangers were empty, and a darker patch on the cupboard floor showed where a bag had stood.
“I’ll know more when I’ve looked out in the stable,” Roeglin said and then froze, his eyes staring through the wall as though it wasn’t there.
Marsh watched his eyes turn white and sighed. “Let me guess. It’s time to go.”
“Almost...”
Brigitte left. “Office,” she explained, and Izmay hurried to keep up.
Left alone, Marsh looked at Roeglin. He was watching her, a solemn sadness marring his face. She lifted her chin. “Gotta get it done,” she told him.
He nodded. “I know, but I don’t have to like it.”
Marsh grinned but couldn’t think of anything to say, so she turned to the small desk beneath the window, her grin fading. Roeglin came to stand beside her, watching as she used a slender blade of shadow to open the drawer.
“Where did you learn that?”
“Seekers sometimes have to get into places the Ancients left secured.”
“Have to?” Roeglin didn’t sound convinced.
Marsh flashed him a quick smile. “That’s where they say the best old stuff is found.”
“Like what?”
The question caught her by surprise. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t really have an answer. “I, uh... They didn’t tell me.”
Roeglin didn’t have an answer for that, so he tapped the drawer. “So, what did you find?”
Marsh wiggled the drawer open, holding her breath.
“Nothing,” she told him, her shoulders sagging when she saw the emptiness within.
“But we did.” Brigitte had returned, and she was carrying a leather-bound book.
Marsh and Roeglin crowded around as she opened it.
“See?”
Marsh’s heart sank. The inked portraits inside the book gave her the bad news. “There might be another two?”
Brigitte tried to comfort her. “It could only be one.”
“Yeah, or it could be three,” Izmay added, tapping another picture with her forefinger.
“That poor woman,” Brigitte commented. “Imagine having two lots of multiples.
“I don’t know. Some people would call that lucky,” Roeglin suggested.
The three women glared at him.
“Only if they didn’t have to carry them,” Izmay snapped back.
“Or give birth to them,” Brigitte added.
Marsh said nothing but continued to look at the book. “They grew up somewhere else,” she said, noting the ruins in the background.
An old castle that looked mostly restored rose above a sturdy stone house built among the remains of another building. Other houses stood on either side of the family home, their windows devoid of life, while a garden flourished in scant detail around the subjects.
“At least we have some idea of what we’re facing,” Roeglin told them.
“But we still don’t know why this one left,” Marsh protested.
“Or why he left without trying to kill you first,” Izmay added.
Marsh gave her a sour look. “Thanks, Iz.”
The shadow guard smiled. “All part of the service.”
“Speaking of which,” Roeglin interrupted, “Master Envermet says it’s time.”
Izmay handed him the portrait book. “You’d better keep this. Chances are they’ll come back, and you’ll need to know what you’re looking for.”
He accepted the book and headed out the door. “Master Envermet’s waiting.”
Brigitte and Izmay followed him, but Marsh hesitated. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave him and the children behind. She—
I need you. Master Envermet’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and Marsh sighed.
I’m coming.
2
Last-Minute Additions
It didn’t take Marsh long to catch up to the others, and they jogged the short distance to the outpost gates. The caravan was already assembled, the sheer size of it making Marsh wonder exactly how many people were left for Roeglin to protect.
Thirty, he told her. Aisha and Tamlin’s people among them. Most of the rest belong to the ex-guards.
They need a new start, too, Marsh reminded him.
I’m not sure they deserve one.
What would you do to protect your family? she challenged, and he fell silent.
“Xavier says we can reach a camp by nightfall if we leave now,” Master Envermet called as they drew nearer. He turned to Roeglin. “I will contact you tonight.”
Roeglin gestured toward the top of the gate. “I’ll be on the wall.”
They’d decided that was the best place to minimize any potential interference from the buildings and rock formations between them.
“Did he say if there were any more towns nearby?” Marsh asked, and the ex-raider answered.
“There’s one—Claudette’s Corner. It’s two days’ march.”
Two days! The time hit Marsh like a hammer, and her heart sank some more. Xavier didn’t notice.
“Briar’s Ridge is a day and a half from there.”
“Briar’s Ridge?”
“The town we caught up to Aysh and Tamlin at,” Master Envermet explained. He glanced at the sun. “We think the Grotto entrance is another three or four days’ walk from there.”
Marsh didn’t remember it taking them that long, but they’d been on mules and had trotted most of the way.
“Don’t look so down, Leclerc. You get to ride the mules back. It should only take you four days. Less if you don’t stop to pick on remnant on the way back.”
This elicited a small laugh from the waiting caravan, and Marsh sighed. She slid a glance toward Roeglin and Henri laughed. “I don’t think she’ll be stopping for anything!”
Another laugh followed, and then Master Envermet raised his hand, his face sobering. “It’s time to go, and I need you to scan what lies ahead.”
Marsh nodded and turned toward Roeglin. He met her halfway, brushing her lips lightly with his own as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Come back safe,” he ordered as I
zmay and Brigitte joined Gerry and Henri in the line.
I truly am sorry, Master Envermet told them, and Marsh shrugged.
Needs must, she replied, trying to hide her disappointment. It was almost impossible with him inside her head, but he didn’t comment on it.
At least the children will have Roeglin nearby while they get used to being with their family again, she thought.
She didn’t add that she wished she could be nearby, too, but she didn’t need to. Master Envermet could see the thought as clearly as he could see her sorrow at leaving Roeglin behind.
Roeglin could see it as well. He briefly tightened his hug, then released her so she could walk to where Master Envermet was waiting with a mule by his side. Marsh slowed when she saw it, thinking she would be leading it but not understanding why, given how hard that would make it for her to focus on scanning the path ahead.
“You’re riding it,” Master Envermet told her and she frowned, feeling embarrassed at being singled out.
Before she could protest, he went on to explain, “I can’t stop you tripping over your own feet and keep us on course, and I need you to—”
“Scan,” Marsh finished for him. Now the mule made sense. She could focus more effectively if she didn’t have to keep part of her mind on where she was going. “I understand.”