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

by D J Salisbury

  “I’m not so foolish as to leave our treasures out where they can be found.” He trusted the boathouse clan, after all this time, but he didn’t care to tempt trouble into biting him.

  He wedged the board back into its slot and pushed the mat back against the wall. “Now I’m ready.”

  “Hold up.” Lorel belted her swords around her waist and stood – carefully this time. She rearranged the sheaths, sighed, and rested her hands on her swords’ hilts.

  Her face relaxed for the first time since she slammed through his door. “Bless every thread on the Loom. I missed just being able to touch them.”

  Maybe that was why she looked so drawn. Stretching the link between her body and her Dedicated swords must have been excruciating.

  He grabbed his saikeris and slid them into his knapsack. Maybe he couldn’t fight anymore, but he refused to give them up.

  Lorel stuffed everything else into her oversized pack. She lifted the blanket. “This yours?” At his nod, she rolled it up and tied it to the outside of her bag, next to their other blankets. “Anything else? Let’s get outta this crummy town. Can’t you move no faster?”

  No, he couldn’t move faster, but time would show her that. No need to argue with her on her first day back. He’d save it for tomorrow.

  Eyes followed him as he crutched away from the boat.

  The swamp had better confuse Kraken’s ghost. He didn’t want to find out how much damage a specter could do if it really tried.

  Chapter 33.

  Viper hadn’t seen any snakes during their four-day slog through endless, stinky swamps, and he felt deeply blessed by the Thunderer. No snakes, and no lizards. Birds squawked and chittered in the leafy canopy overhead. Bugs scurried and slithered through the mud underfoot.

  Lorel’s footsteps squelched behind him.

  He hobbled along the swampy jungle trail, fighting with every step to keep his crutches from sinking into the muck. His shoulders tensed each time his foot slipped. If Lorel grabbed him by the back of the shirt again, he’d clobber her with his crutch. With both crutches, if he could stay upright that long.

  The walk from Toranan-Yiet to Sedra-Kei had seemed much easier. Or maybe he’d been in so much pain he hadn’t noticed. He’d forgotten how putrid muck oozed over the trails. He’d forgotten how hard it was to find edible food, or a dry place to sleep. He’d certainly forgotten about Lorel nagging at him.

  No way was he going to traipse south through those swamps again. If he ever got out of them.

  His crutches moved from reeking mud to dry stone in a single step. The change startled him, and he paused to look around.

  They’d finally reached Chiisai-Kei.

  “About time.” Lorel stepped around him and marched onward. “Come this way.”

  Fertile fields and green orchards surrounded the delicate bamboo houses of the fishing village. To the west, the ocean boomed against the granite cliff that served as a natural seawall. To the north and east lurked more swamps, but in the distance he saw foothills and gentle mountains.

  Somewhere in the north lay his next destination, hard-to-reach villages famous for rare and exotic goods. Crayl steel, Leiyan turquoise, and Paduan black opals all promised to start his merchanting career.

  Golden pearls were Chiisai-Kei’s fame. Magnificent pearls, from all reports. He’d consider selling his favorite book to own a handful of them. If the hand was as large as Lorel’s, anyway.

  After days of limping through the swamp in the rain, Chiisai-Kei itself was a pearl of incalculable value. His legs ached. His stump burned. And he was tired of Lorel hovering over him like a broody hen trying to hatch a blown-glass egg.

  He needed to find someone interesting to talk to. Before he said something to her they’d both regret.

  The people ahead seemed like a good place to start.

  Both men and women worked on the fishing boats resting atop the seawall cliff. Scarred, hard muscles pulsed under deeply tanned skin. Their long dark hair swayed with the ocean breeze.

  Why wasn’t Lorel panting, like she usually did? These folk were gorgeous. But his turybird didn’t appear to notice them.

  They looked up from scraping barnacles to watch him limp out of the jungle. They glared at Lorel, but their secretive eyes widened when they noticed his crutches.

  Good. Maybe they’d be less wary in their bargaining if they thought he was tough enough, or stupid enough, to hobble through the swamp.

  Thunderer knew, the swamp followed him even yet. They both reeked of rotting plants and dead fish. He desperately wanted a bath. And clean clothes. And a dry bed. And civilized food. Not necessarily in that order. Real food was high on the list. Food he didn’t need to gather and try to cook while ignoring Lorel’s grumbled whines and impractical orders.

  Rest was high on the list, too. His stump ached, his armpits burned, and his head spun from lack of sleep. But rest could wait.

  First he wanted – no, he craved – to see Chiisai-Kei’s famous pearls firsthand. Illustrations in books simply weren’t good enough. Were the redrawings of drawings he’d created for his little book at all accurate?

  He hobbled past Lorel, toward the nearest boat.

  She sighed gustily, but her footsteps followed him. “Don’t get too close to them guys, Loom lint.”

  Ignoring her seemed like his best defense.

  The boat’s owner glanced at Lorel, straightened, and held his scraping tool like a weapon.

  Viper bowed and spoke in Duremen-Lor, and hoped he’d remembered the greeting properly. “Gentle winds and prosperous seas to you.”

  The boatman’s eyebrows raised. “True sailing and calm seas to you. Why are you here?”

  That was direct enough. “I hope to buy Chiisai-Kei pearls.”

  Whispers swarmed through the fisher folk who’d dared creep closer. Several people backed away.

  This wasn’t going the way he’d envisioned. “Doesn’t anyone want to bargain with me?”

  Giggles erupted from a girl in the scantiest wrap he’d ever seen – and none of these people wore much. “I like to bargain. Whatcha trading?”

  “Copper tashi.” No one smiled, so he added, “Silver renani.”

  “Kinseni?” someone asked.

  He nodded. “Gold kinseni, if you will part with quality pearls.”

  The crowd pulled together and whispered. The girl and a pair of boys darted away, toward the houses farther inland. A pair of men created a table out of barrels and a thick board.

  Viper grinned. Now this was the reception he’d hoped for.

  Lorel sighed and asked in Zedisti, “Couldn’t you’ve waited ’til we found a tavern?”

  Oops. He’d forgotten about her. He hopped around to face her. “Sorry. Do you want me to translate for you?”

  “I understand good, kid.” She glared at the little crowd, the fishing boats, and the seawall cliff that fell away into the ocean. “But I wanna get you somewhere defensible.”

  That might be true, but her tone said: ‘I’m hungry.’ So was he, for that matter. They hadn’t eaten since dawn.

  The older boy loped up to the impromptu table, thunked down a large wooden bowl, and poured the contents of a fist-sized silk bag into it.

  Gorgeous, glowing, flabbergasting pearls flowed into the bowl.

  Viper stifled a gasp. None of the drawings came near the reality of these gems. Bright, lustrous pearls, some as big as quail eggs, and many as small as flax seeds. Each glimmered with its own tiny aura, something he’d never seen in Nashidran pearls.

  They’d sell for sovereigns if he managed to transport them to Zedista.

  “Kid, we gotta move on.”

  “Soon, pine tree.” He switched to Duremen-Lor and grinned at the boy, who appeared to be only a couple of years older than he was. “I’m Viper.”

  “Vi’pair. Call me Maiheni. You like?”

  He liked everything about this guy. His open smile, his laughing eyes, his muscular arms. But he loved those pearls. “
I’m interested. How much for all these?”

  Maiheni leaned closer and whispered, “For you, five kenseni.”

  Which was all the gold he had hidden in his knapsack. He’d need to raid Lorel’s pack if he bought anything else. And she’d scold and grouch at him. Again.

  But Maiheni seemed to be waiting for a counteroffer.

  Viper leaned against the table and fought to hide a grin. “So very much? I’ll give you one gold kenseni and three silver renani.”

  Maiheni frowned. “You insult me. I throw them into the ocean.”

  Blast. He’d misread that situation. Viper pushed back from the table.

  The giggly girl marched up to the table and plunked down her own bowl. “You do that, wrack weed. He doesn’t want your seedy slubs, anyway.” She poured pearls from the bag around her neck. They danced into her bowl like dried corn from an unusually bountiful harvest. Glowing, golden-white, beautifully matched corn. “My pearls are bigger and better than his.”

  The youngest boy dashed up to the table, shouting, “Mine are better than both of theirs!”

  Viper glanced at Maiheni and shrugged. “You were here first.”

  The frown melted into a real grin. “Give me a better price.”

  That took all the fun out of it. “Do you dislike bargaining?”

  Maiheni’s grin widened.

  The crowd whispered and eased closer.

  A bony hand squeezed his shoulder. “We’re leaving now, kid.”

  Who was she kidding? She wouldn’t interrupt a bargaining session, would she? He thumped her fingers with his fist. “Go away. I haven’t even started yet.”

  She clutched his shoulder and dragged him off balance.

  Blast, of course she would.

  He leaned forward onto his crutches. “Wait!” He gestured at the three bowls in front of them. “Five kinseni to split between you if you get them bagged before she drags me off.”

  That was motivation enough. They poured pearls back into the bags faster than a magician eating a flaming flamingo.

  Lorel hesitated. “Five kinseni? Where’d you get that much gold?”

  Viper leaned against the table, dragged his pack strap over his head, and dug deep inside. “I told you, I got a job while you were in school.” He pulled out five gold coins and laid them on the table.

  Maiheni and the girl each grabbed two kinseni, pushed their bags across the table, and ran. The youngest boy pouted, but tossed his bag at Viper and grabbed the last coin before disappearing into the dispersing crowd.

  Viper sighed. He suspected he’d overpaid for those pearls. That would cut into his profits. Some gem merchant he was turning out to be.

  Three fist-sized bags of pearls barely fit inside his pack. He pushed his maps and saikeris aside to make more room.

  “What sorta job?”

  He’d told her several times. She hadn’t listened then, either. “Copying books, turybird.” He yanked the ties on his knapsack closed.

  “For that much gold? I still don’t believe you.” She grabbed the back of his head and pushed him in front of her.

  His pack banged against his chest. He fought to stay balanced on his crutches. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Ain’t nobody gonna pay gold for books.”

  Scholars paid considerably more than she’d ever imagine. “Where else would I get that much money?”

  “Selling booty in the Pleasure District.”

  “What?” He hadn’t even found an area called the Pleasure District. Of course, he’d mostly stopped exploring once he discovered the library.

  “Don’t act all innocent on me, kid.” She grabbed his shoulder and shook him. His mandolin case thudded against his back. “Nobody pays gold for some old book.”

  He had. Several times. Maybe he shouldn’t mention it just now. “What do you think I sold?”

  “The family jewels.”

  “Have you been chewing blue-mantle mushrooms? Setoyans don’t bother with jewels.”

  She paused and looked at him oddly.

  “I didn’t even know opals were worth anything until after I left the plains.” He hopped a step away from her. “Listen, all I wanted was to buy some pearls.”

  “I hate pearls.” Lorel twisted her fingers in his hair and shoved him toward the north end of town. “I never wanna see another pearl in my life, no matter what you say they’re worth.”

  “Turybird, have mercy.” He tried to duck and pull his hair out of her fist, but she just tugged harder. “I never offered to sell anything. You heard me. I didn’t say that. What made you think that?”

  “Right, kid. All you did was stare at them thread-snipping lumps. And flirt at that guy.” She yanked again at his hair.

  Pain tore through his scalp. He shrieked and rose up on his toes. “You turybird! I did not flirt with Maiheni. I was bargaining with him, bahtdor bait.” He swung one crutch and swatted her shin. “Listen to me.”

  She didn’t seem to notice the blow, but she shook her fingers free of his hair and stared down at him.

  He heaved his knapsack higher on his shoulders. “I earned those coins.” He tried to speak calmly. Not easy, when he was mad as an abuelo snake. “We need to spend them on something we can sell later. And pearls weigh less than gold.” He rubbed his sore head and glared up at her. He tried to hide his resentment, but he was sure she’d noticed – and didn’t care.

  Lorel jerked on his arm, but not hard enough to knock him off his crutches. She shoved her fist between his shoulder blades and pushed him down the narrow road, away from the village. Green fields of a root crop he didn’t recognize surrounded them. “I hope you’re telling the truth, kid.”

  “I am.”

  “Because I’m gonna ask you again tonight. You always tell the truth in your sleep.”

  “And what would you do if I say I fibbed?”

  “Bang you over the head with one of your own books.”

  He wished he could touch his aching head, but both hands were busy with his crutches. “It’s a good thing I’m telling the truth.” They trudged past the outermost field and headed into the forest. “How far from town do you plan to go?”

  “As far as we can walk before dark.”

  Broad-leaved oaks loomed over them. Ferns pushed up through the rich loam. His crutches sank several inches into the soft ground, slowing his progress to a crawl. The turybird would start complaining soon.

  His stomach growled. “We need to go back. I didn’t buy any supplies. We’re almost out of rice.”

  “We ain’t gonna starve, kid. We done foraged before.”

  He’d foraged. She’d gathered firewood. He sighed, thinking of fresh bread and a soft mattress in the village behind them. And a hot bath. Now, if he was lucky, he’d find a cold stream to wash in. Maybe he could talk her into going back to the village in the morning.

  She might agree, if he apologized. The trouble was, he didn’t know what to apologize for.

  “Can’t you walk no faster?” She grabbed at his arm again.

  “I’m walking as fast as I can.” He jerked away and swung one crutch in her direction.

  She sidestepped the blow and glared down at him. “Hurry up.”

  “I can’t run fast enough to please you, turybird.” He hopped one step back and balanced on his good foot with his crutches spread out like skeletal wings for balance. “I won’t even try. Leave me alone.”

  “I can’t none leave you.” She shifted her overloaded knapsack higher on her back. “You couldn’t never take care of yourself. Not crippled up like you are.”

  “I’m not a cripple!” Missing part of himself didn’t make him less of a person. Besides, who’d foraged for greens over the last four days? Who’d fished and cleaned his catch and cooked it? Who’d gathered ferns to sleep on? “I don’t need you. Go away!”

  She snorted and stalked down the road. “Be that way.”

  Relief swept through him. Four days of her nagging was all he could take.

 
; Do this. Don’t do that. Don’t talk to anyone. Walk faster.

  Daily, hourly. Constantly.

  Walk faster.

  And now she walked away from him. That was her call. If she wanted his company, she could come back and walk with him.

  At the top of the hill, she headed deeper into the trees and skulked out of sight. She didn’t look back.

  His throat tightened. Her call, her choice. He couldn’t order her to do anything.

  Viper turned off the trail and staggered into the forest.

  Chapter 34.

  She was nothing but a pack mule, hauling around the kid’s crap. How long ’til he noticed she had his fraying books? She should’ve dumped her bag out on his miswoven head.

  She tramped through the oak forest, not even slowing until the trail slid back into the thread-snipping swamp. Blood in the Weave, that was all she needed. Had the kid stashed any maps in her bag? No, she remembered him packing up this morning, and him hiding all the maps in his pack. Selfish little brat.

  Not fair. The maps were light, and all he could carry was light stuff, crippled like he was. How had he managed this journey on just one foot? She hadn’t been easy on him. She’d pushed him into keeping up with her, though she’d still moved slower than she wanted.

  Water plinked nearby. A frog splashed into a slimy pool. Reeking, rotting plants edged the filthy swamp.

  Where did this trail go, anyway? She should’ve looked at them maps. She’d been trusting the kid too much. Miswoven little brat.

  At least the trail looked dry. Likely it wouldn’t stay that way. But it had to lead somewhere. Anywhere.

  Anywhere was better than going back to that blood-woven village. How dare the kid flirt like a Pleasure Street whore? Ain’t he got no pride?

  Where else was he gonna go, now that she was gone? She had the rice and the cook pots. She had his books and Emil’s rocks.

  She had all their money.

  She couldn’t leave him stranded without a copper penny. She owed him better. She’d have to go back.

  But while she stopped to think everything through, the swamp in front of her and the forest behind her had all got dark. Charging through the forest at dusk was stupid. Wading through the swamp at night was suicidal. The kid told her that enough times.