Sorcery's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 2)

by D J Salisbury

  Lorel poured a round of beer. She stared at the pitcher, squirmed in her chair, and looked up at the swordsman. “Listen, I gotta tell you. I gotta honor you for the best training session I ever lost. Lemme buy you another beer.”

  The messenger threw back his head and laughed.

  Viper grinned and raised his cup to her.

  She ignored him.

  “Where are you two heading next?” The swordsman nodded to the serving girl as she placed a bowl in front of him. “Bless the Seven Temples.” He picked up the wooden spoon and poked at the clams.

  Lorel glared across the room at the tavern keeper. “Where’s my dinner?”

  The little man bowed and hurried back into the kitchen.

  Lorel hissed at his back. She sighed and took a small sip of beer.

  Viper shook his head. “You’ve already eaten, turybird. Twice.” He tasted the beer. Had he really drunk a whole mugful? It tasted like moldy bread. He pushed his mug toward Lorel and smiled at the messenger. “We’re on our way to Sedra-Kei.”

  “Ah, yes, a most amazing city. Even for Dureme-Lor.” The man chewed a bite of rice, and glanced at Lorel. “I think you will enjoy Sedra-Kei.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “The city has nine or ten sword schools.”

  “Sword schools?” She leaned forward. “Tell me! Are they any good?”

  “Some of them have outstanding reputations, even better than the schools in Toranan-Yiet, where I studied. I’m told that most of them are better than the imperial schools in Na.”

  “Sword schools.” Lorel leaned back against the wall.

  The swordsman saluted her with his spoon and concentrated on his meal.

  Viper leaned on his elbows and watched Lorel think. He hoped she wasn’t plotting revenge – against him or the messenger.

  She didn’t seem notice when her bowl of clams arrived. Her unfocused eyes stared past him, as if she were looking through the dingy wall. “When are we leaving, kid?”

  Wait a minute, they just got here. “Not until I’ve finished my business in Moyara-Dur.” Business he didn’t want to discuss in front of strangers. She must know that.

  Lorel sighed, pulled the bowl toward her, and dug into the clams.

  Chapter 22.

  Lorel pushed aside a leaf bigger than her nearly-forgotten hope chest. Stinky mud squelched under her feet like her brothers’ farts. “When do we get to this Sedra-Kei place? I’m sick of swamps.” More than sick. Her boots were rotting, her clothes smelled rotted, and their supplies tasted rotten.

  The kid shuddered as he limped into the shade under trees with leaves shaped like shovels. His face was so pale he looked like a ghost. What was he scared of now? “Gnats bothering you again?”

  “Not yet.” She brushed a horde of mosquitos away from her face. She wouldn’t never complain when he used that tone on her. “When?”

  He plodded on like he wore cast-bronze boots. No, one bronze boot. His bad foot must be hurting again. She needed to get him to a town where he could rest.

  “Before dark, if I read the map right.” The kid didn’t look back at her. “If we keep moving.”

  “That ain’t too bad.”

  Days and days lost in Moyara-Dur while they tried to sell a few rocks, though the kid did get lots of silver for them. But he bought new rocks, too. Him and his bargaining. He’d drive her to smack him on the back of his head, one of these days.

  She knew they’d need the money once they reached the next town. The kid was right about them looking like beggars. But she regretted the time, and the days spent on the soggy trail.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about the sword schools in Sedra-Kei. Seeing the world could wait until she knew how to use her weapons like a warlord.

  Ahead of her, the kid plodded along the overgrown trail, pushing the brush out of his way with one crutch, clearly too tired to go round it.

  She wished he’d let her carry him. But if she offered again, he’d scream the jungle down around her ears. Or call the gnats back.

  The kid paused and stared into some bushes. His eyes got as big as brass cymbals. “I see it. Pine tree, look over there. That’s the thing that’s been following us.” He pointed at a branch covered with leathery brown leaves.

  A tiny green and red frog peered down at them. Even tinier white flowers studded the base of each leaf. At least, they looked sorta like flowers. But there was nothing big enough to worry an alley cat.

  Poor little kid. Now he was seeing things. Maybe she better find a dry place and make him camp for a while. It wouldn’t kill her to wait another day to find a sword school.

  “It’s a ghost. A woman’s ghost.” He frowned and eased backwards. “Her aura is so strange.”

  Leaves twitched above the kid’s head. A wedge-shaped head slithered between the branches.

  Lorel caught her breath to cry a warning.

  The skinny black snake dropped out of the tree, right onto the kid’s sweaty blond hair. Its nose tapped him on one shoulder before it slid down his back down to the mud. It glanced toward her as it disappeared into the brush.

  No way. That had to be her imagination.

  The kid clutched his shoulder and sank to his knees. “I hate snakes,” he whispered.

  “What happened?” Lorel scrambled to kneel next to him. She eased the mandolin case and his pack off his back. “Did it bite you?” She lifted him onto her lap.

  The kid twitched feebly in her arms.

  “Weaver drowned in tears.” She tried to feel the kid’s forehead, like her mom always did when she got hurt, though she wasn’t sure what good it was supposed to do. “Talk to me.”

  “Don’t let her eat me,” he whispered.

  “Right.” She slung all of their gear on her back and tucked the crutches through her pack’s straps. “Ain’t nothing gonna eat you.”

  Something already ate him. Bit him, anyway. Some bodyguard she was. All because she’d been daydreaming.

  No way she’d let him die.

  She gathered up his sweaty body. His arms and legs were all floppy, worse than the night the scorpion got him. He was so deadly limp it scared her. “I’m gonna get you to a healer. A real healer, this time.” If she could find one. She cradled him in her arms and balanced his head on her shoulder.

  She slogged as fast as she could in the direction the kid had pointed, and prayed the town really was where he thought it was.

  It was getting dark when she finally slogged out of the swamp and into the edges of a town. She wasn’t sure it was the right town, but anyplace that had some sort of healer would do.

  The kid was breathing in tiny, whispery gasps.

  “Help! Please help,” she shouted into the quiet street. “Please, help.”

  A wrinkly old man no bigger than the kid ambled out of a hut and hobbled up to her. “Ndio, wakai fujin?”

  She swore on her swords she’d learn Dureme-Lor, and any other language she ran cross. She couldn’t count on the kid to translate. The little speck of Loom lint was a walking accident.

  “Help, please.” She nodded at the kid, who hung limp in her arms. Was he breathing at all?

  The little man bowed slightly and tottered forward. He touched her elbow. “Ja.” He pulled at her with the tips of his fingers. “Ja.” He walked away, toward the city, but looked back to see if she was following.

  She was, but she was not happy about it. She had to walk three paces behind the old man to keep herself from running over him. Shuttle on the Loom, he was slow. She ain’t never walked so slow in all her life. If that’s what it meant to get old, she wanted to die young.

  She hoped he wasn’t leading them to his little old woman. It’d take them days just to boil the water to make a poultice.

  A gang of yammering children joined them and danced joyful circles around the strangers.

  The old man spoke to the children. Several of them dashed off into the city. The others continued to chatter and dance.

  Children
quickly returned with a handful of people a little older than Lorel. Too bad they were only half as tall as she was. What could such little people do?

  The old man spoke imperiously.

  The newcomers howled with laughter. Two young men formed a chair with their arms and scooped the ancient up.

  “Sing to the Weaver.” Lorel smiled at the young people, even though her face felt lopsided. “Now we’ll make some speed. Thank you, guys, even if you can’t understand me.”

  They led her to a tall stone fence, and along it to a gate. The gate was watched by smiling guards, but when Lorel saw the house within, her eyes grew wide. She felt like someone had socked her in the gut.

  The huge, fancy mansion shined like a white diamond in a garden of glorious flowers. It was even fancier than Faye’s parents’ house, and Faye was old gentry. Nobility, maybe.

  Servants were scrubbing the wide stairs. Slaves?

  “Blood in the Weave.” Lorel hugged the kid to her chest and backed away. She wasn’t handing him over to no slavers. Not even if it killed him.

  The people around her laughed and pushed her forward. They hustled her up the path to the bottom of the stairs, where they stopped and waited.

  The servants scuttled off the stairs.

  Lorel shuddered and held the kid closer.

  What were they waiting for? Some lord’s permission to find a healer? The local slaver to give a bid? She’d need to drop the kid to use her sword, Shuttle break their threads. They should’ve stayed in the jungle.

  A beautiful woman stepped onto the porch. The crowd bowed.

  So slim she looked fragile, the woman held herself like a queen in a harvest tale. Her long, straight, black hair spilled in rivers over her shoulders and back, and her dark eyes glowed like coals. She wore soft leather boots and silken scarlet trousers. A matching short-sleeved tunic flowed to mid-calf.

  The woman was gorgeous. She was everything Lorel could never be, even if she wanted that kind of crap. Weaver’s tits, she felt dirty and ugly next to her.

  Come to think of it, she was awful dirty.

  The people around her bowed again to the lady, who promptly bowed back. She asked a question.

  Everyone looked at Lorel.

  “My friend got bit by a snake.” She shifted the kid higher in her arms. His breathing had gone all whistley again.

  “Ah, you speak Zedisti.” The lady bowed once more. “That is good. My servants will take your friend, and I will tend to him immediately.”

  A man trotted forward and reached for the kid.

  “I wanna stay with him.” Lorel glared at the servant, but she surrendered the kid into his strong arms.

  The lady shook her head. “I need to speak with you, and you need to rest and bathe.”

  That was the nicest way anybody ever told her she was sweaty and stinky.

  “My servants will show you to a room where you can sleep. You may stay here until your friend is well.”

  “I ain’t taking no charity.”

  “Of course not. I need someone to help me practice Zedisti.”

  What kind of noodle brain thought talking was fair payment for room and board? And why was she offering them a room? “Who exactly are you?”

  “I am Karisu, a healer. Please walk with me. I need to know a little about your friend if I am to help him.”

  Help him? She’d tell this weird woman anything if it would help the poor kid.

  Some bodyguard she’d been.

  Chapter 23.

  Viper opened his eyes when he heard the door open. Dappled sunlight brightened his bed sheets, but didn’t do much for the darkness inside his head. When would his foggy mind clear up?

  “Afternoon, kid.” Lorel leaned against the doorframe with her back and shoulders hunched, but her head brushed against the ceiling. “Healer says I can visit for a while. How you feeling?”

  “Better. A lot stronger.” Why was she hovering by the door? He couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so tentative. “Come in, will you?”

  Lorel tromped in and sat on the floor. “You gotta stay in bed.”

  “That’s fine with me.” He relaxed back into his pillows. “I’m so tired of being sick.” He’d been trapped in bed for days. Why wouldn’t anyone tell him what was wrong with him? Sure, he was stiff, and his shoulder was sore, but he didn’t remember anything awful happening.

  He didn’t remember much of anything between leaving Moyara-Dur and waking up in this bed.

  “You want me to look for a new book? If you’re bored, or whatever.”

  Yesterday she’d brought him a brightly-colored picture book showing the reproductive habits of poisonous frogs. He was afraid to ask where she’d found it. Staying bored was less embarrassing.

  “Karisu loaned me some of her books. Thanks, though. What have you been up to, besides waiting on me like this?”

  “Touring the city!” Lorel cried dramatically.

  Viper laughed. She sounded like a tentling at her first magician’s show. All over a city?

  “No, really. You should see it. It ain’t nothing like no place we seen. Half the city is like this house. Big stone mansions, wide yards, everything all prim and proper. The rest is wild and crazy and poor. And it’s built above the lake, on stilts. They say the houses are high enough that when Alignment Day comes, the lake water stays out.”

  “Who says?” He grinned up at her. “You don’t speak the language to hear it direct.”

  She tossed her head haughtily. “I speak a little Dureme-Lor.”

  “Since when?”

  “Ever since I figured out you can’t always translate for me.” She shook her finger under his nose. “Especially when every time I need to get help, you’re sleeping cold as a rock. And I been noticing, rocks don’t talk much. Besides, I talk real good with my hands.”

  He laughed again, but sadness stained his voice. “I haven’t been much help to you.”

  “Weaver drowned in tears. You keep my life interesting. Without you, I’d still be in Zedista fighting with my father.”

  “You see, you’d have had your own private war. Listen, can you sneak in my mandolin? The servants won’t bring it, and won’t tell me why. I want to practice.”

  “Sure thing, kid. I’ll get it quick.” She stood to leave.

  He waved a hand to stop her. “They might not let you back in today. Stay a little longer. Tell me more about the city.”

  “Yeah, it’s a snipping grand place.” She knelt on the floor and glanced toward the wide, low window. “They got seven sword schools in the city proper, and a couple more outside. I wanna go to one of them.”

  Ah-ha. That was why she was so happy. He hated to squelch her joy.

  “Those places will be expensive. You can bet on it. You’ll have to bargain hard if we’re to afford it. You can offer them three gold coins. I gave the rest of our money to the healer.” None of their gem stash, though. He felt guilty about that. Karisu was a real healer, with magic, like the one who put him back together after the gang beat him into mashed mush. Surely he owed her more.

  “Will three gold kinseni be enough?” He’d sell more gems if she needed it.

  “I don’t know, kid. I’ll find out. But–” Lorel’s words died unsaid when someone knocked and the door opened.

  Karisu entered the room, regal, radiant, and obviously concerned about her patient. She bowed to Lorel, but looked at him sternly. “How are you feeling, Viper? Don’t allow yourself to become fatigued.”

  “I’m fine.” Resentment rose unexpectedly. Heat rushed into his face. She wasn’t his mother. She shouldn’t talk to him like that. “I’m not at all tired.”

  “That’s good.” The healer didn’t appear convinced. “Don’t let me interrupt. I need to examine his shoulder for just a minute.”

  “You’re not interrupting.” Viper sighed. She’d do whatever she planned no matter what he said.

  Lorel rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I gotta go practice.”


  What was her problem? She wasn’t trapped in a bed.

  Karisu smiled at her. “Nothing lasts forever.”

  Lorel grunted, but saluted with friendly respect. She shook her head at him and left the room.

  The healer examined his shoulder quickly. “The area around the bite is healing nicely.”

  What bite? No one had mentioned a bite before.

  She took much longer with his aching foot, poking and prodding until he wanted to scream with pain. “This injury is not healing. If gangrene sets in, I will need to amputate. We probably should take it off now.”

  “No. Please, don’t.” Don’t even think about it, he wanted to scream. But yelling at her only brought nurses who dumped foul-tasting potions down his throat. He needed to keep his mind clear. Or as clear as he could. He needed to figure out what had happened to him.

  “As you wish.” She wrapped his foot, stood, and patted him on the head. “Rest well.” The door closed quietly behind her.

  Rest well? All he’d done since he woke up here was sleep. He didn’t even know why he’d landed inside a healing house. What bit him? They’d have to tell him sooner or later.

  He stared out the window, too worried to distract himself by reading.

  Three stories below, Lorel walked into the garden and drew her sword, but she began a series of unbelievably boring lunging exercises. It was a sad day when his turybird’s antics couldn’t entertain him.

  He sighed and closed his eyes. Being sick was altogether too lonely. It made him feel empty, the way he had after Trevor died.

  The corridor outside his room was silent. He reached under his pillow and retrieved a small cloth bag. Thunderer bless Lorel for sneaking it in yesterday, underneath the humiliating book.

  He smoothed the blanket before emptying the pouch onto his lap.

  Viper lay quietly for the rest of the afternoon while his fingers stroked his treasures: the trio of bronze keys, the little book of spells, the tarnished metal disk, and the burgundy velvet seed. And something he didn’t treasure: the long blade of dark stone. Blood glinted in his imagination.

  Silently, he mourned anew the loss of a friend, the teacher he had never truly appreciated.