The hoshkat was waiting when she emerged, her kits sitting on either side of her and her eyes glittering in the dark. Marsh stretched a hand toward Mordan, and she swiped her head against it before tilting her head back toward the camp. It was a little embarrassing to see Gustav and Roeglin waiting at the end of the path, but it was better than if they had been waiting for her outside the latrine.
“Thanks for that,” Marsh told the kat. “I needed my privacy.”
“Hurry up,” Lennie called, appearing behind the two men. “You’re not the only one who wants to use the facilities.”
Her face flushing with embarrassment, Marsh hurried back to camp. Everything felt creaky, but there was no pain…not like before. She ran a hand over her stomach and realized no one had taken off the tunic she’d been wearing when she’d fallen. Her armor was gone, but that only made sense. Just how sick had she been, anyway?
“Nice to see you on your feet,” Gustav said, exchanging a quick glance with Roeglin as he gestured toward the fire. “There’s someone there who wants to meet you.”
“The Master of Stone?” Marsh asked, but he shook his head.
“Best you see for yourself. He’d like to speak with the girl too.”
There was only one girl that Marsh could think of who shared enough in common with her that they’d draw the attention of a rock mage.
“Aisha?”
“She’s still asleep, the scamp,” Roeglin said, as he fell in step beside her. “I ought to wring her neck. Her and Lennie both, but Gustav says Lennie’s his to deal with.”
“Why? What did they do?”
Roeglin stopped and looked at her, disbelief written on his face.
“Are you telling me you don’t remember?”
Marsh stopped beside him. Frowning, she vaguely recalled warmth and emerald light and glanced down at her midriff again. Pushing aside the bloodied edges of the tunic revealed unmarked skin beneath.
“Are you saying that wasn’t a dream?” she asked, her voice growing clearer as shock raced through her. “But…but, are they okay?”
Roeglin pursed his lips and turned back toward the fire. Marsh followed him.
“Lennie caught Aisha in time. Brigitte was able to get Lennie to stop before she pushed herself too far, but she was tired enough that she just covered her with a blanket where she sat.”
That explained why Marsh had woken wrapped in the woman’s arms.
“The hoshkat laid down on your other side, and that was that.” He came to a stop at the edge of a circle of low stones that had been arranged to form seats around the fire, gesturing toward a small man tending a pot hung at its edge. “This is Master Dureau. He wishes to speak with you regarding the…”
The man cleared his throat.
“Merci, Roeglin, but I will take it from here. If you would tend our breakfast?”
He held up the spoon and Roeglin shrugged, reaching out to take it from him and leaving Marsh to face the man on her own.
“You are Marchant Leclerc?” the man said, looking her up and down as though he was inspecting a new recruit.
He pivoted slightly, turning until his gaze rested on the small bundle that was Aisha. As he paused, Scruffknuckle raised his head off his paws and growled softly in his throat. The master tutted.
“The pup has attitude,” he murmured, turning back to Marsh. “Tell me, does the child have as much?”
His question brought a short bark of laughter to Marsh’s lips.
“Are you kidding? Where do you think the pup gets it from?” She caught the Master’s look, remembering she was a trainee, and her laughter died. “I apologize, Master, but yes, the child has as much attitude as the pup if not more.”
“And has she always had the abilities she has now?”
Marsh stared at him.
“You mean has she always been able to speak with animals, talk to rocks, and call light to heal?”
He shrugged.
“If that is how you term it…”
It was Marsh’s turn to shrug.
“I do not know. You would have to ask her brother. From what I recall, she has been able to talk to animals for some time, but her ability to speak with stone came as a surprise not long ago. As for the healing…” Marsh sighed. “That is something she only thought to try last night.”
“Are you saying that these children are not yours?”
Marsh felt her cheeks color.
“They are mine now, but I am not their mother if that is what you are asking. They lost her when their caravan was ambushed not long before arriving in Ruins Hall from Kerrenin’s Ledge.”
His eyebrows rose.
“You are from that caravan? But I was led to believe there were no survivors.”
“When did you last hear news from the Hall?”
“It would have been a number of cycles now,” he said. “Tell me, when did you return to the city?”
City? Well, Ruins Hall was one of the bigger townships along the trade route, even if it was nowhere near the size of Kerrenin’s Ledge or the stretch of ancient ruins that surrounded the hill on which the Ledge stood. Marsh decided to let it slide.
“A full cycle of days.”
Marsh tried to remember just how many days had passed. She thought it was around seven since she and the children had made it out of Leon’s Deep with Fabrice and her family, but she couldn’t be sure.
“It could be a little bit more,” she admitted, slightly put off by the intensity of his gray-eyed gaze.
“You can’t be sure?” he wanted to know, and Marsh’s cheeks warmed beneath his stare.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I lost track.”
“Not the best trait for a seeker,” he grumbled. Marsh knew her face was blazing and wondered just how red it looked in the light of the glows. The master ignored her embarrassment but took a seat on one of the stones by the fire, gesturing that she should come and sit beside him.
Marsh obeyed but sat with one stone between them. He noticed the separation, grimaced, and moved closer.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked, and Marsh shook her head.
“Roeglin called you Master Dureau, but that is all I know. I’m sorry, but I haven’t heard of you before.”
His lips quirked into a brief semblance of a smile and then settled into solemnity.
“Amongst the rock mages, I am known as the Master of Beasts, although you will hear others refer to me as Speaker since speaking to the beasts is what I do. You, however, seem to have developed the ability on your own. Why?”
Marsh ducked her head, choosing to stare into the fire rather than meet his eyes as she answered his question. She waved a hand at the hoshkat.
“We came across her when we escaped the ambush. She was hunting, and I didn’t want to kill her. Couldn’t have killed her, but I wasn’t going to let her attack the children either. I was ready for her attack when our eyes met, and she stopped. I don’t know how I did it, or she did it, but we came to an understanding: we wouldn’t die together. She would continue her hunt and go on to feed her kits unharmed, and I would leave her caverns with my kits to find our own people.”
He nodded.
“That makes sense. You found your magic in a time of need. It often happens that way.”
“Now tell him how you found your ability to speak with shadows,” Roeglin prompted, and Marsh sighed.
“Tamlin told me that we all had magic, and that he couldn’t call on the shadows because he was too tired from what he’d already done to hide us. He said I would have to do it or we would have to travel blind. Given we’d just narrowly missed the raiders, I didn’t think we could afford that, so I tried.”
“And you succeeded.”
“Tamlin said everyone had the ability…” Marsh stopped; something in the look on the Master’s face making her uncertain. “Is he wrong?”
The Master gave her a shadowed look.
“Once,” he said, “quite some time ago, now, there was a visitor to thes
e caverns, a traveler who brought the cure for the Madness and helped those of us hiding in the shadows to understand our magic. He said much the same thing, but we found that magic wasn’t as easy for one person as it was for another. The ability to tap into it varies from person to person, much like athletic ability or intellect. Your Tamlin is both right and not. Everyone has magic, but not all of us learn how to use it…and not all of us can use the different kinds.”
Marsh was confused and felt as though a part of her world had grown shaky beneath her feet.
“I don’t understand. How can both ways be right?”
“To wield magic, you need three things: you have to believe you can, you have to want it and really feel that you need it. And then you have to discover how to call the ability within reach. You discovered the magic of the shadows and that of the beasts because you needed it. In the first instance, you also had a great desire to live and a need to protect the children. The same could also be said of the second instance.”
“So, with respect, Master, why did you wish to see me?”
This time he did smile.
“Is it not clear?” he asked, although Marsh knew he was aware it very much was not. “Both you and the child need to learn to control your abilities—and in spite of that, you have both teamed up with some of the powerful creatures that stalk these caverns.”
They had?
A large warm body came alongside her. The hoshkat sat to one side, her kits positioned behind them. The master’s eyes widened as he took in the big cat.
Oh, but that didn’t explain what he meant about Aisha.
“The child mastered a krypthund. Even if she’d spoken with beasts before, that is still a feat.”
Marsh understood that he was referring to Scruffknuckle.
“He was a puppy at the time, and very frightened.”
“And yet, he has chosen to stay.” The master lifted his chin to draw Marsh’s attention to where Scruffknuckle was sitting upright beside his tiny mistress. “He is of an age where he could hunt for himself if he had to. I have to ask myself why he stays.”
Marsh followed his gaze and got an inkling of what he meant. Scruffknuckle was very much on guard, but she knew that the minute Aisha woke, the girl would be in charge—and Scruff didn’t have to listen to the child if he didn’t want to. Studying the pup, Marsh realized he’d put on weight and height.
How long had it really been? One week? Two?
“Do they always grow that fast?” she asked, and the man nodded.
“Krypthunds reach their adult size and weight faster than other beasts, although some argue they remain puppies in their heads for much longer. I’m not so sure. I think it is more that they take on an apprenticeship with the pack, learning the business of being what they were born into, so to speak. Not everyone agrees.”
He paused, staring out into the cavern past the flames.
“Can you feel the life around you?” he asked.
Marsh frowned. “I…don’t understand.”
“I want you to listen to the cavern around you and tell me what beasts walk there.”
Oh, he did, did he?
Marsh took a deep breath and let it out. If she was to do this using the shadows, she would know exactly what he meant, but she didn’t think he wanted her to do it that way. Sense the life in the cavern? She had no idea where to begin, so she followed his gaze into the dark beyond the glows.
Now that she thought about it, she’d be better off trying to sense what the life she knew felt like. Without looking at it, Marsh tried to seek out the hoshkat. Once she knew what the kat looked like, so to speak, she could try to find other types of life in the cavern. Staring into the dark, Marsh tried to ‘see’ the kat without taking her eyes off the shadows and shapes of the shrooms and toadstools at the camp’s edge.
If she wanted to, she could pull on the shadow threads connecting them all.
Connecting…
Oh. She didn’t need to; she was connected to the lives around her. They shared the air of the cavern, touched its shadows, and filled a space inside it. They were all connected. She didn’t need to find their minds or tweak the cavern threads. All she had to do was learn what shared the space around her…
Marsh took another breath, feeling her connection with the air around her, sensing the stillness of the tall callas standing in groves, the vibrant pushiness of the clustered blue buttons, the glistening surety of the golden gleams, and the purple darkness of the lurking shadow wraith.
Marsh was on her feet and reaching for her sword, spinning to face the danger even as she registered that she was unarmed. Without waiting, she stooped to scoop a stone from the ground, only to be knocked from her feet before she could throw it, the hoshkat placing both paws firmly on her torso as she screamed into the cavern dark.
A low growl rumbled out of the dark, and the kat screamed again. Marsh lay under her paws, stunned by the swiftness of her movement and bruised by the fall.
That’s nothing to how you’d be feeling if you’d thrown that rock.
Marsh gave a wheezing chuckle.
Thanks, she thought. Thanks a Shadowed lot, Roeglin.
Shouts of alarm sounded around her as the camp woke, men and women lurching out of their bedrolls in response to the hoshkat’s scream and that bone-chilling rumble.
“How many d’you think are out there?” Gustav asked as Lennie ran to join them, drawing her belt tight as she raced down the path.
They came to a stop near Marsh’s head, but no one tried to move the beasts off her. Maybe Roeglin…
He laughed.
Not a hope in all the Deeps, he told her. I think you’re much safer right where you are.
Marsh groaned as she felt two more sets of paws settle alongside the hoshkat’s and heard the kits challenge the shadows in far less impressive versions of their mother’s call. She might have laughed, except the Deeps-be-cursed things were heavy, and nowhere near as polite about sheathing their claws as their dam.
The guards were quiet as the kats’ screams died to silence, and Marsh held her breath. Everyone stood perfectly still as if they had been frozen in time…
…and then the bone-throbbing growl seeped out of the dark, softer and farther away.
The guards drew weapons, shifting position to face the sound, and Marsh saw more booted feet join them and felt the faint wash of energy as mages called magic to their hands. She pushed against the kat, trying to get her to move, but Mordan merely lifted her paw and put it in the middle of her face.
“Hey…” Her protest was muffled, and Marsh twisted her head, trying to get her face clear.
Being hushed wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but Mordan shifted her foot, and Marsh found she could breathe again. She roared at the darkness, and both guards and mages froze. This time the answering growl was barely audible, and the gathered force breathed a sigh of relief.
They waited for a few more heartbeats, then Marsh felt the gathered energy dissipate as spells were canceled and their power returned to its source. The quiet remained until a dragonfly took flight from the nearest shroom.
The shadow guards and rock mages slowly dispersed as Marsh watched it fly over her head and into the cavern’s heights. She was still lying there when she heard a familiar scrabble of claws, followed by a child’s treble shriek.
“Scruffy!”
The pup didn’t listen, but he didn’t go bounding off into the dark either. Marsh might have been happier about that if the pup hadn’t stopped to wash her face.
“Get off, you furry menace!” Marsh sputtered, batting at the pup’s face with her hands. “Get! Off!”
The same went for the kat.
She really needed her to get off her. It was getting hard to breathe.
Marsh looked up at the great creature, hoping to catch her eyes, but the kat had lifted her head and was staring defiantly into the dark. Marsh rested her head on the rocky floor and tried to work out how to get the monster to shift. This wou
ld have been easy if she’d been able to share her need.
Marsh closed her eyes, thinking of what it was like to communicate with the big beast and wishing she could. She recalled what it was like to fall through her eyes and felt the same brief sensation, landing on her feet in the kat’s domain. The kat turned its attention to her, even though she kept her eyes fixed firmly on the cavern beyond.
Why was she here?
To ask you to get off me. I need to breathe, Marsh told the kat, sharing the difficulty she was having pulling air into her lungs.
Recognition of her difficulty was swiftly followed by the sudden absence of pressure on her chest and a growl that resulted in instant relief from the other two weights bearing down on her as the kits removed their paws. She wasn’t quite ready to find herself rolled beneath the arch of their bodies and then behind them, and her concentration broke as she was pushed closer to the fire.
Coming back to her own mind happened in much the same way as before—with the sensation of having dropped from a small height. This time, though, Marsh landed on her feet. She gasped and sat up, suddenly aware of the fatigue making her limbs heavy and weak. Surely she wasn’t still sick?
No, but you are still recovering from shadow fever, and you have just expended a lot of energy. Not the timing I would have chosen for your first lesson.
Her first lesson? What in the Deep did Roeglin mean?
With Master Dureau.
“I thought I was to have lessons with the Master of Stone?” Marsh took a sharp breath and covered her mouth with her hands. She looked at the Master of Beasts. “No offense.”
“None taken,” the mage replied, “but what made you think you would need tuition from the Master of Stone? Have you ever spoken with the rocks?”
Now that she thought about it…
Marsh shook her head, but fortunately, the master was in the mood to explain. It was pretty much what the Master of Shadows had said.
“They call us rock mages because that is what they call on us to assist with—working with stone—but we encompass so much more.” He gestured to the fungal forest around them. “In other lands, we would be called druids and our stoneworkers would not be welcome among them. Down here, though, where the stone is as much a part of our environment as the shrooms and mosses…”
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 22
