Trading Into Daylight (The Magic Below Paris Book 6)

by C. M. Simpson

  “You taught the girl a few new phrases, though,” Izmay scolded, and Marsh caught a half-murmured “Dark-assed sons-of-the-Deep benighted moron” from where Vi was sitting beside Mordan.

  Izmay turned to Henri. “See? She’s still practicing it.”

  The big man chuckled. “Well, she’d have learned it sometime.”

  “Yes, but she clearly doesn’t need your help.”

  Henri set the mugs down on a side bench, and Izmay put the pot of kaffee and ladle beside it. When everyone had served themselves, Master Envermet began to speak.

  “So, there is at least one more assassin,” he began, “but we will know for sure when we reach their home. You will also note we have added three more members to our family.”

  He indicated the three teens. “This is Vi, Basil, and Jens. They will be joining us for the next leg of the journey, and then we will be taking them back to the Grotto until their family decides where it wants to settle.”

  The children had bristled at his words until he added that last piece. Master Envermet ignored them.

  “And that brings me to what we need to do next. While I would prefer taking them back now, they can help us get into the town where Gustav is being held.” He turned to where the trio was sitting. “Basil, can you tell us what you know about what happens to the prisoners?”

  The kid flashed him a startled look, his face going from red to white to faintly flushed. He looked around at the men and women seated around the circle. “Uh, okay.”

  They waited quietly, letting him gather his thoughts, and sat patiently as he began. “First thing that happens is they get taken to the cells. Those are in what used to be stables, but it’s now just a big hall divided into little rooms. Everyone is separated.”

  He swallowed, his face paling with memory. “Even the children.”

  He cast an involuntary glance at his siblings, and Marsh noticed that Vi had taken Jens’ hands. Basil continued, “Everyone gets tested. It takes about a week, and no one knows what is going to happen next.”

  His voice cracked, and he took a hasty sip of his kaffee. “That’s probably a good thing. After the testing, they move us to the prison quarters. It’s a group of cottages surrounded by a wooden fence on the other side of the Library.”

  From the way he said it, Marsh could hear the capital letter...and the terror the building held. She was tempted to try to get a better look at it through his memories, but he kept speaking.

  “When everyone’s been tested, they put us to work. The non-magical ones, or the ones they think they can control, all work in the fields or kitchens. Anyone they don’t think they can control is kept in the cells.”

  He stopped, his face turning white. “After we’ve had time to settle, they start taking people. Some go to the auctions, but many are taken into the Library. Anyone who goes in there stays. We never see them again.

  “The first ones to go are the ones who are strongest in magic. They’re usually the ones who tried to use it to escape on the journey. They get taken out in ones or twos.”

  “How do they stop them from using their magic while they’re waiting?”

  “I don’t know, but I think it might be something to do with these guys.” He gestured angrily at the house, and Marsh understood.

  From the stockpile she’d seen inside the cabinet, she could easily imagine the Idris family being the main supplier of sedatives for unwilling mages.

  “So he could have two weeks, then,” Henri interrupted, and Basil nodded.

  “Unless they decide he’s particularly interesting,” Roeglin countered, his eyes turning briefly white, and Basil nodded again.

  Vi glared at the mind mage from across the courtyard. Marsh couldn’t blame the girl, given the experience she’d had with mind mages.

  “If he’s tried escaping, he’ll have even less time, whether he has magic or not,” Basil added.

  Master Envermet’s lips thinned. “That decides it,” he said, “because I can’t imagine Gustav going easily.”

  “Especially not if he’s found people to protect,” Roeglin added, and the shadow captain groaned, “but even if they arrived late yesterday or sometime today, we should still have one day, perhaps two.”

  Master Envermet glanced at Basil. “How far are we from the town?”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re at least a full day on foot.”

  “And with mules?”

  “A half-day?” the boy guessed, and Master Envermet nodded his acceptance of the answer.

  He glanced at Aisha. “Can you get Scruffy and Perdemor to bring the mules?”

  The little girl shook her head, her blonde hair bouncing. “Mules are scared of them.”

  Master Envermet sighed. “Jakob, Marsh, and Roeglin, I need you to find the mules and bring them back here. Ask Mordan to guide you.”

  “I’ll go, too,” Aisha pleaded, but Master Envermet shook his head.

  “No, I need you here.”

  “Do not,” the child argued.

  “Do, too,” he told her. “I need you to help Vi, Basil, and Jens make bandages in case Gustav is hurt.”

  Aisha studied him carefully to see if he was joking, but Master Envermet turned to Izmay. “Can you supervise?”

  The shadow guard nodded. “I can do that.”

  Master Envermet looked at Brigitte. “They’re also going to need packs and gear. Can you, Gerry, Obasi, and Henri, head back to our last camp and see what you can find?”

  The four of them nodded, drained their cups, and rose.

  “Go with Marsh. I think they pass that way. They’ll come back to you when they have the mules. The rest of us will join you there. There isn’t enough room here.”

  He had a point. The assassin’s hideout, although comfortable, did not have enough space for them. The raiders’ camp did.

  “I suppose that means we’re on cooking duty again?” Henri complained, and Master Envermet smiled.

  “Now that you mention it...”

  Gerry reached over and clipped Henri upside the head. “Merci beaucoup...”

  “It’s not like he wouldn’t have thought of it,” Henri tried, but Zeb walked past him, shaking his head.

  “Meet you out front.”

  Henri glared at Marsh. “You owe me.”

  Marsh shook her head. “Not for this, Henri. This one you dug all by yourself.”

  “I don’t suppose you could ask the kat if she’d mind hunting up a decent deer, could you?”

  Now that Henri suggested it, Marsh realized it was a good idea. Something fresh would be a nice change. “What’s it worth to you?”

  “Just ask the kat,” Master Envermet interrupted, sounding tired, and Marsh decided it was best not to argue.

  “Yes, sir.” She drained her cup and crossed to Aisha and Tamlin. “Be good. Don’t give him a bigger headache than he already has.”

  “Yes, mama,” Tamlin replied before going back to his coffee.

  “I’m going to ration you to nothing if your attitude doesn’t improve,” Marsh told him, and he glared at her over the cup.

  She pretended not to hear his muttered, “You and whose army?” as she slipped her hand through Roeglin’s arm and stepped through the gate.

  “I swear he gets worse every day,” she told the other mage as they emerged from behind the tree.

  “Do not,” Henri argued, and Marsh rolled her eyes.

  “Not you, but if the boot fits...”

  “Ha-ha. Where’s this kat of yours?”

  Mordan appeared at the edge of the bushes and gave a jaw-cracking yawn.

  “She says it’s about time we were ready,” Marsh told him, making it up on the fly.

  The kat gave her a filthy look and turned around. They followed her into the ruins.

  “Are you sure that’s what she said?” Henri asked when he found the kat waiting, and Marsh nodded. Apparently satisfied with that, Henri asked the other question that had been bothering him. “And did you ask her?”

&nbs
p; Ask me what? Mordan wanted to know.

  If you would hunt for us, Marsh told her, sending her feelings of apology for having to do so. The kat was unconcerned.

  It is an honor to hunt for the pride, she replied. There will be sufficient meat.

  We’re camping at the raiders’ cavern, Marsh informed her.

  That thought was met with approval. Good. There is more space there, and it smells better.

  Now that she thought about it, Marsh had to agree. They made it to the path they had followed the night before and broke into a jog.

  Marsh was surprised to find they had spent much of the morning in the assassin’s home...and then she hoped Izmay would remember to bring whatever kaffee he had left. The kat chuffed with amusement as she showed them the path back to their first camp.

  19

  Just Taking a Bath

  Marsh left Henri, Gerry, and Zeb looking at the locked box and scratching their heads. Roeglin put them out of their misery.

  “Leave the lock and just get the place ready for everyone. Aisha will help you when she gets here.”

  “What about Master Envermet?”

  “He’ll understand.”

  Are you sure? Marsh asked, and the look on Henri’s face said the same.

  “Trust me,” Roeglin reassured them, and Henri’s lip curled.

  “Tell you what, mage. He chews my ass, and I’m directing his teeth your way.”

  “Deal.” Roeglin waved as he left. “Where to, Dan?”

  The kat took them downhill, past the towering remains of buildings that stood taller than the highest cavern Marsh could imagine. Some of the metal skeletons rose taller than the watchtower at the Deeps Monastery, and the Ancients’ strange building material clung in patches to their outlines.

  The remains of walls, gardens, and old roadways threaded through the ruins, and the kat took them unerringly along those paths until they came to a gully divided down the center by a stream. Mordan walked parallel to it for a hundred feet and looked back at Marsh.

  They are there.

  Marsh moved forward, stooping at the kat’s flash of warning. Following her, Roeglin did the same, and Jakob followed suit. They dropped to their stomachs beside the kat and crawled forward, surprised to find themselves on a ledge of broken rock.

  There, Mordan reiterated, lifting her head and directing their attention to where the mules were grazing on open ground at the stream’s edge. A herd of deer grazed close by, and the kat’s ears pricked.

  At least wait until we have the mules, Marsh suggested. We’ll never catch them otherwise.

  Mordan huffed a reluctant agreement, then rose and slunk back into the rubble.

  I mean it, Dan!

  The kat did not reply, and Marsh looked at Roeglin.

  “How do you want to do this?”

  He shrugged, and Jakob grinned. “I still have those candy balls.”

  “Candy balls, huh?” Marsh asked, cocking her eyebrow. He rolled his eyes.

  “You really need to get laid,” he told her, fishing in his belt pouch.

  Marsh wondered what had brought that on. He didn’t enlighten her, but withdrew his hand and held out his fist. Frowning, Marsh held her palm beneath it. He dropped a sticky, sweet-smelling ball into it, then offered his fist to Roeglin.

  The mind mage took the proffered shroom and held it up to his nose. Marsh heard his belly rumble.

  “I used to love these as a kid.”

  “You eat that, and the mules will never forgive you,” Jakob told him, sliding back from the edge and walking back to where they could work their way over to the river.

  The deer saw them first, lifting their heads to warily watch them pass. When the trio of humans showed more interest in the nearby herd of mules, the deer resumed grazing, drifting slowly away to put more distance between themselves and the two-legged monsters.

  Marsh ignored them and observed the mules. She saw the one that had been affected by the dust standing knee-deep in the water, its reins still looped over the saddle. She also saw Tamlin’s and Aisha’s mount and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Although she wasn’t fond of the damned beasts, she would have still been sad if anything had happened to hers, and she really didn’t want to have to explain to the children that their mount wasn’t coming back.

  “Have you got another of these?” she asked, hurrying to catch up with Jakob.

  He raised an eyebrow and managed a saucy grin. “I have plenty of balls,” he told her and dug out several more as she gaped at him.

  Marsh was still speechless as he passed them to her. He left her there and approached the first mule.

  “Shut your mouth, Marsh. You’ll swallow a bug.”

  Marsh closed her mouth with a snap and stalked toward the mule in the stream. By now, the mules had caught a whiff of the shroom balls and were lifting their heads from the grass. Several whickered longingly and trotted toward the humans.

  Marsh splashed across the stream and met the first one to come to her. Using soothing words and shroom-ball bribery, she snared its reins and towed it along behind her. Roeglin caught another, and Jakob walked up to his second.

  Marsh moved along the stream. Her mount had not left the water, but it had lifted its head and was watching her with pricked ears and flared nostrils. She held up a shroom ball, and its nostrils fluttered.

  It took several slow steps toward her, then gave a heavy sigh and stopped in the middle of the deepest part of the stream. When it dropped its muzzle into the water, Marsh groaned, dragging the other mule with her as she approached.

  When she was parallel to it, she clicked her tongue and waved the shroom ball. The mule raised its head and turned it to look at her.

  “Come on,” she crooned. “Come and get your candy.”

  An amused snort alerted her to Roeglin’s approach.

  “Let me take this one,” he suggested, indicating the mule in the stream. “It looks like you’re going to have your hands full.”

  “Merci,” Marsh told him, not sounding very grateful. She handed him the reins anyway.

  Eyeing the mule and the way it stood in the stream, she pulled off her boots and set them on the bank. Her pack followed, and her belt with its pouches and weapons.

  “Don’t let anything get me,” she ordered after pulling out a washcloth and tucking it into the waistband of her trousers.

  Master Envermet would probably have her hide for this, but the mule and its gear needed to be cleaned, and seeing as it was already standing in the stream...

  If he doesn’t, have your hide, I’m going to think about it, Roeglin muttered, his words clear in her mind.

  Marsh thought about giving him the finger, but her hands were full, and she didn’t want to risk dropping any shroom balls in the water. As much as the stream would slow her down, Marsh was willing to bet dropping the shroom balls would slow her down more.

  “Recalcitrant, goat-sucking bastard of a beast,” she muttered, and the mule lifted its head. “Yes, you. I am talking to you,” she told it.

  The mule whickered appealingly and stretched its nose toward her. Marsh let is snuffle her closed fists, smiling as it lipped her knuckles.

  “Oh, no,” she told it. “You’re not getting anything that easily.”

  It paused and eyed her, and she held out her left hand so it could see the ball balanced there. It slid its mouth across and nipped the treat, chewing with quiet contentment.

  Now that her hand was empty, Marsh closed it around the reins and pulled the mule toward her. It propped, thought about it, eyed her closed hand, and decided to cooperate. As the tension on the reins eased, Marsh lost her balance and landed heavily.

  The mule started, but Marsh kept a strong grip on the reins, and it stayed where it was. With the hand holding the shroom ball held out of the water and over her head, Marsh used the reins to help her get to her feet.

  Unfortunately, the mule noticed the shroom ball and took a step forward, easing the tension on the
reins, and Marsh stumbled back a step before ending up on her ass in the water again. Laughter reached her from the bank.

  “And a pig’s ass to you, too,” she muttered, struggling to stand without putting any weight on the reins or dunking the shroom ball in the stream.

  This time the mule stood patiently, quietly accepting the proffered treat when she was ready.

  “Now just stand there,” she told it, pulling the cloth free. “Let me wash you down.”

  The mule flicked its ears and sighed, and Marsh set to work. Soaking the cloth in the water, she washed the mule and the saddle, rinsing as she went.

  She was chilled to the bone and soaked by the time she had finished. Her fingers were numb and cramping as she tugged the mule toward the bank. Roeglin met her as she stumbled onto the grass, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and taking the mule’s reins.

  “You’re a Deeps-be-damned fool,” he grumbled, pulling her tight to his side.

  Marsh nodded, too cold and tired to speak.

  Mule’s clean, she managed.

  “Here, give me that.” Jakob’s voice was rough, with anger or frustration, she couldn’t tell.

  She didn’t ask, either, as he took the mule’s reins and led it away. He returned a few moments later with a dry cloth. “Tell me you’ve got a change of clothes.”

  Marsh nodded, her teeth chattering. She raised a hand to point at her pack, and he stalked away.

  “Get her out of that wet gear!” If he hadn’t sounded so disgusted, Marsh might have been offended.

  As it was, she was glad of Roeglin’s steadying hand as she stripped out of her wet things. She was also glad he didn’t try to do more than steady her...and that he stood between her and Jakob, even if all the other man did was drop her pack beside them.

  “I’ll be over there,” the man told them gruffly, “admiring the buildings.”

  Marsh was glad he said buildings rather than view. Not that it would have mattered. Her skin ached, and her vision was blurry.

  “Oh, Deeps, no.” Roeglin sounded a lot more upset than he should have been. He shook her. “Tell me, did you stand upstream or downstream of the stupid beast?”

  Huh?