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

by D J Salisbury

  “Who are they?” He’d been asking that question since he’d arrived in Dureme-Lor. So far, no one had answered him.

  “Paduans.” She spat onto the road. “They come down from the north to trade diamonds for slaves. The arrogant beasts! Children disappear every time the bloodsuckers visit. But the council can’t prove a thing.”

  What was wrong with a slave market? Setoyans bought slaves all the time, and use them for– bahtdor fodder. He didn’t think he should mention that, at the moment.

  Something changed hands, and a weeping girl was dragged away by a pair of Paduans.

  “By the Seven Temples!” Macdeea charged headlong into the market, hobbling as fast as she could.

  One foot thumping the ground, Viper hurtled after her. He would try to defend her, but his only weapons were his crutches. He doubted he’d impress anybody. Unless they laughed themselves to death.

  His heart beat so fast he felt dizzy again. His lungs couldn’t suck in enough air. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t that nervous about confronting the Paduans. Not with all these people watching.

  The foreigners looked up and frowned. The locals yelped, turned pale as old cheese, and ran. In seconds the slave market dissolved, dispersed in a dozen directions. That was too weird. How could one old lady have such an effect?

  Footsteps echoed around them. He looked back at Macdeea’s friends. Those large, foppish men and women suddenly looked fierce and dangerous. They closed in around Macdeea and glared at the spectators.

  Bodyguards! Thunderer, he was dense. But why would Macdeea need bodyguards?

  Two of her followers ran after the girl who had been abandoned by the Paduans. One woman comforted her, and offered her a coin.

  Macdeea halted and gestured at the other frightened girl.

  Another pair of women strolled forward and spoke to the child, gave her a coin, and sent her on her way. She rushed to the other victim, and together they scurried down an alley.

  Nine bodyguards to defend one old woman. Well-paid bodyguards, too, from their clothing. Who was she to need so much protection?

  Macdeea noticed him staring at her cohorts, and shrugged. “Some people object to my objection to slavers.”

  Viper blinked at her and nodded. Was she running a one-woman campaign? Or enforcing a law no one else would bother with? Money rode the bahtdor, even on the Setoyan plains. If the Paduans had enough coin to spend, the locals might look away. Until their own children disappeared.

  The man standing behind him stepped forward and whispered into Macdeea’s ear.

  She turned and studied his bandaged foot. “Alonsii is concerned about your leg. When did you last see a healer?”

  “Yesterday. I’m staying at Healer Karisu’s house.”

  “Ah.” She nodded to herself. “I believe she needs to look at it again.”

  “Why?”

  “I trust Alonsii’s instincts.”

  What did instincts have to do with anything? He turned and studied the man’s face.

  Alonsii shrugged. “A clean injury shouldn’t smell like dead rats.”

  Macdeea snagged Viper’s sleeve and gently tugged him into following her. “Alonsii is studying to be a healer. He knows these things.”

  Viper sighed, but followed the old lady back toward Karisu’s home. Together they hobbled slowly up the streets. Macdeea told him stories about the buildings they passed, but the words refused to stick inside his head.

  The sun stood high overhead when they arrived at the front gate. Macdeea smiled and patted his arm. “I hope to meet you again soon.”

  The gate guard took one look at him and rang a bell three times.

  Servants hustled out of the house and surrounded them. They bowed to Macdeea, to Viper, and to the bodyguards before a manservant scooped Viper off his feet and rushed up the stairs, into the house.

  Karisu met them in the foyer. She placed one hand on his forehead. “Your fever is dangerously high. Take him to the surgery.”

  That woke him up in a hurry. “Not the surgery!” He tried to squirm out of the man’s arms.

  A nurse plucked his crutches out of his hands and carried them away.

  “It’s currently available as an examination room.” Karisu turned and smiled at him, but strain showed in her eyes. “I must look at your foot immediately.”

  He didn’t like the rush. What was different from this morning? Or rather, from yesterday afternoon? She’d only frowned at his foot then.

  The servant carried him down a long hall, walking one step behind the healer. She glanced back and smiled at him occasionally, but the smile seemed distracted. What was going on?

  The servant laid him on a high bed and stripped off his trousers. Another servant wrapped towels around his hips and whisked off his small clothes.

  “Wait, stop that.”

  Karisu patted his hand. “This is going to hurt, no matter how careful I am. We may as well be prepared.”

  Hurt that much? What did she plan to do?

  A nurse unwrapped the bandages. The stench of a lunar-dead bahtdor overwhelmed the room.

  One of the servants gagged and fled.

  “Send in Menogin and Serinini,” Karisu called after him. She turned to Viper. “When did you last eat?”

  He had to think about it. “Yesterday. Lunch, I think.”

  “Good.” She gestured to someone out of sight.

  A nurse held a large cup under his nose. “Drink this. All of it.”

  Viper sipped at the liquid. Flames spurted through his sinuses. “That’s awful. What is it?”

  “Medicine.” The nurse steadied his hands around the cup. “Drink.”

  Once he got it all down, he was so dizzy he could hardly breathe. “Now what?”

  Karisu lifted one hand, and the remaining servant raised him into a sitting position.

  “Now watch.” The healer pressed on the blackened skin of his bad foot.

  His skin crackled like dried pork rinds. Pus squirted out of the wound. The dead-bahtdor stench increased.

  He closed his eyes. Thunderer, was he in trouble. Was there anything she could do to fix him?

  The servant laid him back onto the bed.

  A nurse tied a damp cloth over Karisu’s mouth and nose. Another laid a minty-smelling cloth over his mouth and nose. Several nurses hovered around, all with damp cloths tied over their faces. Where had they come from?

  Two enormous servants joined the man waiting by the door. Were they in training, like Alonsii?

  Karisu turned to him. “Do you understand what’s happening?”

  No, he didn’t understand anything. He started to shake.

  “Your foot has become gangrenous. I must amputate it immediately.”

  “No! You can’t! I’ll be a cripple forever if you do. I’ll be useless.”

  “You’ll be dead in a few hours if I don’t.” She patted his hand as if he were a small child. “We have no choice.”

  “I’d rather be dead.”

  “Nonsense. What will Lorel do without you?”

  Whatever she always did. Lorel didn’t need him. All she wanted was her sword school. She wanted to be a warrior. A cripple would just be in her way.

  A nurse appeared beside him and lifted the minty cloth off his face. “Open your mouth.”

  “Why?”

  She shoved a thick, wine-soaked cloth into his mouth. “Bite down on this.”

  “Mmmmmph!” No, stop, he wanted to shout. You can’t do this to me.

  One of the men grabbed Viper’s wrists, crossed them over his chest, and held him down. Another laid his weigh across Viper’s pelvis and held down his good knee.

  The third pressed down on his bad leg, pinning it to the table.

  Karisu picked up a knife and hovered over his foot.

  Agony burst up his leg. Bones shifted and popped.

  Darkness flowed over him.

  ˜™

  He woke alone, back in his old bed, with the stench of burned meat in hi
s throat. A bonfire raged through his leg. His bandaged foot was propped up on a pillow. What used to be his foot.

  His left leg ended at the ankle.

  Chapter 26.

  Lorel bashed at the dead tree quite happily. This chore she understood. She could bash with a heavy stick for hours if they wanted her to.

  It was a lot more fun than being bashed on.

  She hoped they taught her how to do a good parry soon. Real soon. And that they let her use it.

  That Toranan-Yiet boy was getting on her nerves. She didn’t much care for folk who wanted to show how little she knew about fighting. Especially when she wasn’t allowed to use any skills she’d learned on the streets. Why call it dirty fighting? Fighting was fighting.

  But she’d be watching the instructor a whole lot better next time he showed them a move.

  Another blister on her finger broke. How many was that? Fourteen? Fifteen? Salt burned where sweat leaked under her skin. Blood pooled in her palm.

  She bashed harder at the dead tree. Who knew you had to keep up with sword work or the callouses disappeared? She’d really thought once she’d earned them, they’d stay put. She’d never make that mistake again.

  Once they started traveling, the kid would have to suck it up and practice with her more. Like every day. She’d teach him all the good stuff, so he’d get really skillful with a sword, even little as he was. Almost everyone here was that little.

  Almost everyone here was better than she was. It didn’t help that she had to swing at knee height when she fought with them. Clercmauri said get used to it, she was just too tall. Farouh said aim a little higher, and chop off their heads.

  The snobby brats all backed off when Farouh was giving the lesson. Her crutches didn’t slow her down a bit. And she let Lorel hit back a little, when the other instructors weren’t watching.

  She was getting to like the old lady.

  Everything else about the school was boring. Rules, rules, rules. More rules than the kid ever tried to lay on her. Even worse than her father’s rules. At least Dad told her why he made up so fraying many rules, even when they didn’t make a scrap of sense.

  Here, rules were rules, and that was the end of it. Sheesh.

  And she was hungry all the time. All the girls were, if their rumbling bellies told the truth. She weren’t near the boys often enough to know about them. It didn’t help that her dorm was below the kitchens. The sweet and spicy smells made her mouth water, but the food they gave her was boring: fishy crap and rice, not even peppers to perk it up.

  But this school was the best. It was where she’d learn the most. If she graduated, it would give her the best reputation. She had to soldier on.

  And she would. Nothing was gonna stop her. Nothing and nobody.

  The wiry old instructor whose name she couldn’t pronounce strolled into the courtyard and waggled his finger at her. “Kuru, Sentakai.”

  Come, Too Tall. She’d learn Duremen-Lor fast at this rate. If all she needed was five or six words. She needed to bribe Tsai’dona into teaching her more words. Tsai’dona was a brat, but she was the only girl who talked to her. What did the others have against her? It wasn’t like she’d flirted with their boyfriends. None of them had friends of any sort, as far as she could tell.

  Old Wiry led her to another courtyard where a bunch of boys waited. He pointed at a circle in the sand and strolled away to talk to the fraying boys. In Duremen-Lor, of course. How was she gonna learn anything if she didn’t understand nothing?

  The old man borrowed a wooden sword and demonstrated a couple of moves. They looked a lot like the simplest parry the kid had tried to teach her.

  A smooth talker named Lai’ishlan broke from the group and strolled close to her circle. “I’m first,” he said in Zedisti.

  Bless his thread on the Loom. “What’s the lesson about?” She raised her wooden sword to a general defense position.

  “Same as always.” Lai’ishlan raised his own toy sword. “We whack on you, and you try to stop us. You see the move he made?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s all you’re allowed to do.”

  That was better than normal. Most days she was only allowed to hold a stick in front of her. She’d gotten really fast at using that stick like a shield.

  He bobbled the tip of his sword and charged at her.

  She trapped his weapon with the base of hers, slid back, and knocked the sword out of his hand. Hey, that was easy.

  Lai’ishlan froze.

  The courtyard became deadly silent.

  It took all her strength, but she didn’t tap him on the throat this time. Old Wiry yelled at her for hours last time she did that. Getting lectured was bad enough, but it was ridiculous when she didn’t understand a word of the scolding.

  Lai’ishlan bowed and walked out of the courtyard. She almost felt sorry for him. For a rich kid, he was sorta nice.

  She bowed at his back. It was the only support she was allowed to offer at the moment.

  Old Wiry pointed at the snarky Toranan-Yiet boy. “Sui’todou.”

  Oh, just ruin a perfectly good day. Couldn’t he save the southerner brat for later? But maybe she could take him down this time. Too bad he hadn’t been first. She could’ve surprised him.

  Sui’todou smiled like Kraken used to and strolled close to her circle.

  That smile was supposed to scare her. It had worked for Kraken, but this snotty brat didn’t have enough crazy in his eyes. She’d take him down this time for sure.

  She raised her toy sword to parry position and held it just like the kid showed her.

  Old Wiry waved both hands and stormed into her circle. He forced her hand higher up the hilt and squeezed her fingers apart. Finally he yanked her whole arm a few inches higher.

  How was she supposed to parry with her hand screaming and her shoulder half out of joint? The new position was as awkward as dancing the Mermaid’s Revenge with the poor pint-sized kid and both his crutches, with a wet mop thrown in.

  She wiggled her sword around until Old Wiry shrugged and backed out of her circle.

  The snotty brat moved in. He smiled and mumbled something.

  She gotta learn Duremen-Lor just so she could insult the frayed thread back.

  Sui’todou darted toward her.

  She slanted her sword at his, but the angle was too weird. She missed.

  He didn’t. The flat of his sword smacked against her ribs.

  The flat of his sword! The worst insult one student could give another. Weaver snip his thread, that was downright uncalled for.

  She’d show that Loom-breaker what for. She lifted her sword higher.

  Old Wiry cleared his throat.

  Blood in the Weave. She couldn’t afford another mark against her. They’d kick her out.

  She lowered her sword back to the new position.

  The snotty brat scooted in and poked at her left breast.

  She swirled her toy sword around his in parry, but the blade didn’t catch.

  Pain jolted through her chest. Her left foot staggered backward, but she managed to stop her fall. She’d have a massive bruise on her tit tomorrow. Weaver bless Tsai’dona for warning her and showing her how to tie extra padding around her chest. Who knew boys liked to poke girls in the tits? Nobody’d ever bothered her before. Well, hardly nobody. The miswoven drunks didn’t count. And she’d always dealt with them.

  Snotty Sui’todou scuttled forward and jabbed at her hipbone.

  Her sword whirled down and knocked his blade aside.

  Old Wiry shook his head, snatched Snotty’s wood sword, and smacked her across the butt with the flat of the blade.

  Yeah, she knew, she used the wrong parry. Why wasn’t she allowed to protect herself?

  It didn’t matter. He was teaching her something, even if she didn’t know what. She bowed to him.

  He bowed to her and handed the sword back to Snotty. Who darted around her parry and jabbed her again. And again and again.
<
br />   She never did get the new position right.

  Old Wiry pointed one finger and ordered her out of the courtyard in disgrace.

  All the boys snickered as she trudged out the gate. Sui’todou waved his sword at her, but didn’t bow. Another insult. She’d get him for that someday.

  Maybe it did matter what the lesson was. Maybe she did need to figure it out. But how? She was learning Duremen-Lor as fast as she could. She did everything they told her to, even when the moves felt wrong, even when her body didn’t bend the way they said.

  What more could she do?

  Everything she did was wrong. She’d never learn enough. She’d be demonstration bait forever.

  Or worse, they’d give up on her and kick her out before she learned all the stuff she needed.

  How could she win a fight when she didn’t understand what she was supposed to do?

  Chapter 27.

  He’d lost his foot ten days ago.

  Why say he’d ‘lost’ it? He hadn’t misplaced it. He wasn’t going to find it. Soft words didn’t change anything. Time to be honest with himself. The healer cut it off.

  When the burning pain wasn’t making him want to scream, a dull, endless ache crushed his leg. Crushed his soul. His life felt as cauterized as his ankle. What use was a maimed cripple to anyone?

  It was his own fault. He deserved to have his foot amputated. He’d killed Trevor with the scrying spell.

  Viper wandered the streets of Sedra-Kei with no particular goal. His crutches slipped on the slimy stones paving the rich part of town. Crushed shells bit through his boot sole in the merchant district. The rotting bamboo paths in the poorest districts were so squishy he didn’t even try to follow them.

  He’d been out of bed, more or less, for seven days. Karisu had finally let him out of the house this morning. She’d told him to be careful, but to enjoy himself. To do anything, within reason, he wanted.

  All he really wanted was to die.

  There were no bahtdor here in Dureme-Lor, so he couldn’t do the honorable thing and feed himself to them.

  He hobbled around the outskirts of town, but no dragons appeared. Feeding himself to a dragon ought to be as honorable as using a bahtdor. But he had to find one, first.