“It’s the pup,” Marsh explained when Cleon turned toward her, eyebrows raised. “She needs him.”
“We don’t allow dogs in the house,” Cleon retorted, but Fabrice slapped him on the shoulder, scolding him as she did.
“Since when, Cleon Sursees? Last time I visited, there were a full half-dozen under your kitchen table.”
The man turned to meet Fabrice’s eyes and sighed.
“Fine,” he said and gestured toward the door. “Let them in.”
The two men who’d come in after Marsh lifted the locking bar, opening the door wide enough to let Scruff and Hugo through. Two more dogs followed.
“The others will be around back,” Cleon explained. “These two have no manners.”
From the way he said it, he didn’t expect them to grow any either, and he didn’t care. When they reached him, he ruffled each of their heads affectionately and pointed to a door at the end of the hall.
“Mats,” he said, and the dogs went, leaving Scruffknuckle dancing around Aisha with puppy glee and Hugo sitting beside Fabrice, his dark-brown eyes switching between his mistress’s face and the man standing beside her.
They followed him farther into the house, and soon after that Cleon’s wife had the children fed and tucked into their beds. When she returned to the table, Fabrice told her what had happened in the cavern, and they turned to Marsh.
“How did you get to be there?”
It was a long time before Marchant was shown to a spare patch of floor beside the children’s bunk. She woke the next morning to the bleating of the moutons and the sound of dogs at work and headed to the kitchen, leaving the children still sleeping. Tamlin would be mortified, but he needed the sleep, whether he’d admit it or not.
11
Arrival at Ruins Hall
Marchant bumped into Fabrice in the hallway, and the two of them walked in companionable silence to the kitchen. Cleon and his wife Marcelle were already there.
“Sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Oui.”
“What time you heading out?”
Way to make a girl feel welcome, Marchant thought, catching Cleon’s eye. She gestured toward Fabrice.
“Had to see what Fabrice wanted to do with the mules,” she said. “There’ll be a reward from the traders for bringing them back. I’d like to see that she collects.”
It was difficult to keep her eyes fixed on Cleon’s face when she knew Fabrice was giving her a look of surprise. For a minute she thought Cleon wouldn’t catch what she was doing, but then he spoke.
“We’ll need to report what went on in Leon’s Deep,” he said, “and to put in for a few more supplies. You could travel with us.”
He said it casually, as if he was doing her a favor. Marchant knew it wasn’t that, though. Going by the conversation they’d had last night, she got the impression he didn’t show a lot of emotion, and that what Fabrice and Patrik had experienced was affecting him more than he cared to admit. Before she could garner more from his expression, Fabrice tugged on her sleeve.
“You can’t do that,” she said. “It was you and the children who found the mules and fed them.”
“Eveline helped, and she traced their ownership so they could be returned. The reward is yours.”
“But…”
Marchant held up her hand.
“You’ll need it to get established here, and I have wages waiting.”
It wasn’t entirely true. Her wages depended on delivery, and the shadow monsters had put paid to that—not to mention that Kearick would want the cost of his mule repaid. Marsh frowned, trying to work out a way to reason with the man.
“Kaffee,” Marcelle said, bumping a heavy clay mug against her hands. “You’ll need to wake the children so they can eat before you leave.”
From the look she shot her husband, this last was not negotiable, no matter what he thought.
Marsh shook away all thought of what Kearick was going to say or how much longer it was going to take before she’d made enough to pay him back so he would find her a mentor among the seekers. Remembering them reminded her of the tower on Cleon’s sign, and she added the Eiffel Tower to the list of legends she wanted to look for—even if it meant she had to travel to the surface to find its remains.
She drank her kaffee, then went to fetch Tamlin and Aisha. To her surprise, Scruffknuckle growled when she shook Aisha gently awake.
“Put a sock in it, Scruff, or I’ll turn you into a slipper.”
“No!”
Well, that was one way to wake the child, Marsh thought.
“No turn Scruffy into slipper!”
“I didn’t mean it…”
“No! Not funny!”
“But…”
The ruckus woke Tamlin, who slipped out of his bunk and hugged his sister until she quieted.
“You hungry?” he asked, and Aisha stopped fighting long enough to nod. “Good. Let’s take Scruffknuckle to the kitchen. He’ll be hungry too.”
Aisha was out of bed in double-quick time, calling for the pup as she followed Tamlin out of the room. She shot Marsh a dark look as she went. Marsh held back the urge to tell them they were welcome and turned to make sure everything was packed instead. When she headed back to the kitchen, she had their gear in hand. She propped it by the kitchen door and joined the others at the table.
Breakfast was a simple affair of a puffy shroom pastry shaped into a crescent and another mug of milky kaffee.
“Boys will have the mules rounded up and saddled soon,” Cleon told her. “We can leave when you’re done.”
As if she was holding everyone up… Marsh wanted to ask him what his problem was but decided she didn’t want to know. It wasn’t like he was going to be an issue for her much longer. Once they hit town and she’d made sure Fabrice was paid, they could go their separate ways. That should make the hawk-faced farmer happy.
“Have they restored the route to Kerrenin’s Ledge?” she asked as they headed out to where the mules were tied.
Marsh noted that the sheep had been moved to a neighboring paddock and the mules had been groomed, their coats gleaming under the glows and their tails hanging smoothly. She headed over to the mule she’d ridden the day before, watching as Cleon moved to talk to the farmhands standing nearby. From the emphatic hand gestures in the direction of the moutons and the barn, she guessed he was giving them their work orders for the day. By the time he was done, she was mounted and waiting to leave, Tamlin and Aisha riding double on the next mule in the line.
“You ready?” Cleon asked Fabrice as he returned to them, and the woman nodded.
She blushed as she shot Marsh an apologetic look and turned her attention to where her children were standing with Marcelle on the farmhouse’s veranda. For a moment her face clouded, then she gathered her reins and turned her mule in Cleon’s wake. The look Marsh caught on her face when she thought she couldn’t be seen from the veranda was heart-wrenching.
Something had to be done about the shadow mages. Something…
Tamlin’s startled gasp pulled her from her thoughts and she looked back to make sure he was all right. The look on his face was full of shock, but Marsh couldn’t work out why because he was looking right at her. The look on Aisha’s face mirrored her brother’s, and Marsh shook her head clear of all thought of the shadow mages and the raiders.
“What?” she asked, and didn’t like the disbelief that drove the shock from Tamlin’s expression.
“You don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?”
“The shadows…” He frowned as though trying to find the words.
In the end, he shrugged and indicated the mules ahead of them.
“We need to keep up.”
That much was true, and she didn’t have time to stop and check the shadows herself right then. Cleon wasn’t waiting, and Fabrice seemed too lost in thought to remember them. Marsh tapped her mule’s sides and made sure to keep close to the end of the line. This tim
e the gleaming lichens that came to life on either side of the trail did not come as a surprise. The journey along the main path back to Ruins Hall seemed nowhere near as long.
Scruffknuckle stayed close to the mule carrying Aisha, looking a bit lost without Hugo. The pup bounced excitedly around the little girl when Tamlin helped her to the ground. Watching them as she dismounted, Marchant caught herself thinking the pair had been traveling on their own for a long time—but she knew that wasn’t true.
She wondered where their parents were and caught herself tweaking the shadow strands around her. It was no surprise when they came up empty. She did the same thing seeking Fabrice’s husband, but none of them vibrated in answer. Curious, Marsh thought of the raiders’ leaders, picturing them in her mind and trying to recall their voices.
Again nothing.
That was odd. Marsh knew the raiders’ leaders were alive, and even knew vaguely where they could be found. Was there a limit to what the shadows could do? Just to be sure, Marchant turned her back on Fabrice and Cleon and asked the shadows to locate them. This time the vibrations rang loud and clear, snapping taut just before Cleon spoke from beside her.
“When you’re done daydreaming, the traders’ office is this way.”
Marsh opened her eyes and found Cleon staring right into her face. She backed up a step, only to be stopped short by the mule standing behind her. The animal gave a protesting snort as she ran into its side.
“You a shadow mage, girl?”
Marsh pulled her face away from his and shook her head, watching his eyebrows rise in disbelief.
“Could have fooled me.”
Marsh laid both hands on his chest and shoved him away.
“And you need to chew some ditch mint,” she said, pushing past him to reach the traders’ office door. “Hurry up, Tamlin, Aisha.”
Ignoring their startled looks and the mild rebellion that flared across Aisha’s face, Marsh stepped onto the stone footpath where Fabrice was waiting.
“I can’t accept all of the reward,” the woman told her, and Marchant smiled at her.
“Your children need it.”
“And yours don’t?”
Marsh looked at where Tamlin and Aisha were following her up the stairs.
“They’re not my children, and they’ll be fine.”
“And what about you?”
“Our deal was bed and board for passage out of the cavern. We have both completed that part of the trade.”
Before Fabrice could argue with her any further, Marsh pushed open the door and stepped into the traders’ office. In the end, she didn’t quite get everything her way.
“Because you were present at the feeding and retrieval,” the clerk told her, “you are entitled to a portion of the reward.”
“But…”
The clerk held up her hand, forestalling Marsh’s protest as Fabrice covered her mouth with her hand.
“It is the law of the trade,” the clerk explained and tapped another book bound in shroom leather, “and I have your details right here.”
“Then I’d like to transfer my portion.”
“No,” Fabrice said too quickly for Marsh to silence her. “I won’t accept it. Place it on her balance.”
And that had been the end of that. The clerk had made the appropriate annotations and handed Fabrice a receipt. Marsh was glad to see that the woman had gotten the lion’s share of the reward, but not so glad when the clerk continued.
“I will call a guild and town meeting,” she said. “The Ruins Hall leadership and the guards and merchants’ guild need to hear about what happened in Leon’s Deep and on the trail to Kerrenin’s Ledge. We have sent runners to the monastery to fetch a mage to charge the glows, but they are not due to return until later today, and the visiting mage needs authorization to act since recharging the glows is outside his usual duties.”
Marchant couldn’t understand that. Didn’t all shadow mages work the light as well? Wasn’t that part of their philosophy? Balance?
“I will convene the meeting in two hours,” the clerk informed them, unaware of Marsh’s puzzlement. “The matter is of sufficient urgency.”
She turned to Cleon.
“You are free to go about your tasks, but I respectfully ask that you be present. There is no time to call a full conclave of farmholds. You will be their spokesman until such time as a conclave occurs. I suggest it be within the week.”
Judging by her tone of voice, it was not a suggestion so much as an order, and Cleon did not argue.
“Of course, Clerk.”
He turned away, offering his arm to Fabrice.
“Since you will be helping Marcelle, I will be purchasing the supplies. If you could direct me about what we need?”
It was the politest Marchant had seen him, and she wondered what she’d done to deserve his ire. Again the clerk interrupted her thoughts.
“May I help you further?”
Marsh gestured toward where Tamlin and Aisha stood quietly to one side of the office, Scruffknuckle sitting between them.
“The children…” she began, and the clerk frowned.
“What about them?”
“Well, they’re not mine. I only rescued them during the shadow-monster attack.”
“Then they stay with you. In lieu of relations or any other guardian adult, you shall continue in your care of them.”
“But…” Marsh began, and Tamlin cleared his throat.
“You could always ask the shadow mages,” he said, and Aisha wound her hand into his. “If you’re too busy to take us on, that is.”
Marsh wanted to argue that of course, she wasn’t too busy, but she knew better. She would be traveling a lot, and the road wasn’t any sort of place for children, especially if they weren’t with their parents. On the other hand, she was the one who had snatched them away from the shadow monsters, her very actions promising that she’d take care of them, and it didn’t seem fair to abandon them now.
She glanced at the clerk.
“Is there somewhere private we could go to discuss this?”
The clerk gave her a quick shrug and pushed back her seat.
“We have no conference rooms to spare,” she said. “Maybe try the eatery.”
She waved toward the door, indicating vaguely that they should turn left when they walked out and strongly that they should leave. Marsh was about to do so when one more idea struck.
“Have there been other incidents of settlements disappearing?”
“Recently.”
From the way the clerk looked up at her and then back down at her books, the woman wasn’t going to give her any more details. Marsh decided to push her a little.
“And were they visited by shadow mages beforehand?”
“Yes.”
Marsh sighed.
“Local ones?”
The clerk shook her head.
“No.” She looked up at Marsh with a heavy sigh. “Look, we’ll be covering this in the meeting this afternoon. Do you mind?”
Did she mind what? Marsh wasn’t sure what the woman was doing that was so urgent, but she knew the look on her face. If she pushed too much more, she was going to find it difficult when she came back looking for another package to deliver.
“Thank you,” she said. “We’ll see you at the meeting.”
“Make sure you’re there. We need your report of the Kerrenin’s Ledge trail attack and what you found when you arrived at Leon’s Deep.”
The clerk didn’t add that she would be very upset if Marchant didn’t turn up. She didn’t need to. The look on her face was eloquent enough. Tamlin, Aisha, and Scruffknuckle followed Marsh out of the office and into the glow-lit street beyond.
“Where to now, Mum?” Tamlin asked, and Marsh glared at him.
“Call me Marsh,” she said. “Or ‘Auntie,’ or…whatever!”
“Sure thing, Whatever.”
“Scre…Go jump.”
Tamlin snickered, but Aisha shifted her gaze
between them, her expression showing she was horrified.
“Rude!” she said, and Scruff gave a muffled wuff at her side.
Great, Marsh thought. Just what I need—commentary from the peanut gallery. Time to change the subject.
“Where to?” she asked.
Aisha looked at her brother, and Tamlin frowned.
“Do you think the shadow mages knew Mum and Dad were coming?” he asked. “Maybe they were expecting me?”
From the way he said it, he didn’t hold out much hope of it being true, but it was a good idea.
“Why don’t we go check it out?” Marsh told him. “The clerk said there was a visiting mage. Maybe they have offices.”
“Hungry,” Aisha chimed in and patted the puppy sitting beside her. “Scruffy’s hungry.”
Oh, Scruffy is, is he? Marsh gave Aisha a disbelieving look and the little girl giggled. The sound brought a smile to Marsh’s face, and she ruffled the child’s hair.
“You sure you don’t want anything too?” she asked, and Aisha gave her a coquettish look.
“Maybe….”
“Uh huh.”
Marsh took a left turn and headed for the eatery, figuring it had to be the shop under the banner showing a kaffee cup and a crescent-shaped pastry.
12
Ruins Hall Welcome
Despite the early hour, the eatery was busy. Unusually so, Marsh thought as she pushed through the doors. Tamlin and Aisha were two steps behind her. Men and women in traveling leathers gathered around the tables. They were dressed like every caravan guard she had ever seen, and every single one of them looked up when she came in. Marsh ignored them and headed for the counter.
After all, a mouton was free to look at a shadow mage.
She stopped halfway across the room when one of the caravan guards stepped into her path. The woman was a head taller than Marsh, and her platinum hair was tied back in a braid that would keep it out of her face in a fight.
“I know you.”
Marsh took a step back, looking her up and down. Hard brown eyes stared back. There was nothing familiar in the guard’s features.
Magic Below Paris Complete Series Boxed Set (Books 1 - 8): Trading Into Shadow, Trading Into Darkness, Trading Close to Light, Trading By Firelight, Trading by Shroomlight, plus 3 more Page 10
