Her warning had ruined the surprise attack the raiders had planned and they emerged out of the shadows now, pulling blades and staffs as they came. It was better than being skewered by a dozen arrows or darts, but not by much. Once they closed in, her people would be outnumbered, and Marsh already knew the raider mages were battle-hardened. They were certainly harder than the Founder’s makeshift army of guards.
There was only one thing to do.
Marsh raised her hands, pulling the shadows toward herself, and then she pushed her hands forward and the shadows exploded outwards, knocking the raiders back. After that Marsh called the darkness, raining ink-black spears onto them before they could stand and concentrating her fire on the half of the cavern she could see.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could hear Roeglin shouting, but he wasn’t shouting at her, so it didn’t matter. Marsh hammered the ground to her right until nothing moved, and then she turned and wove her way through her allies, making a circular movement with her hand to direct the lightning around the edges of the square.
Roeglin kept shouting and the soldiers surged around her, moving so that they stood behind her. Once she got a clear view of the other side, Marsh saw that some of her own people were still engaged with the enemy, whether because they hadn’t heard Roeglin’s warning or because they couldn’t break away, it didn’t matter. They were still there, and she couldn’t rain the shadows down.
But the shadows were waiting, dark lightning hammering the perimeter, and she wasn’t sure she could consolidate it into a single solid strike. Instead, she walked it forward, taking out anyone who didn’t move out of the way but careful to keep just beyond combatants on her side.
As the shadows lanced down, combatants from both sides fled. The founder’s soldiers parting to let their comrades return, using deadly force to stop any raiders who followed them in an attempt to escape the raining dark.
Instead of pulling it after them, Marsh slowed the lightning, calling on the shadows to be calm, assuring them that she was no longer in any danger. When they had settled and dark spears no longer pounded the ground around them, she looked at Roeglin.
“We need to get inside,” he said, and the soldiers formed up around them, heading for the door at a run.
This time, Marsh felt enervated rather than drained. Shadow soared through her blood and sang through her mind, inviting her to be a part of its perpetual chorus. Marsh stretched a hand toward it, only to have Roeglin snatch her fingers out of the air and press her hand to his chest.
“No one’s ready for you to leave us yet,” he said, and she got the impression he spoke more for himself than any collective of children, soldiers, and traders.
That didn’t change the fact that Madame Monetti was planning on leaving and had to be stopped. Marsh watched as the men charged up to the door, slamming into it and bouncing right off. She tugged at the shadow threads that slid between the door and the wall and discovered what was preventing them from breaking it down.
“We can’t get through,” she shouted, seeing the stone column acting as a drop bar on the other side.
Roeglin saw what she did and shared the image with the captain. Guillemot? It was another new identity she had to learn, but Marsh didn’t care. The man had as good a vocabulary as her instructor when it came to cursing, and neither of them knew what they were going to do to get past.
Marsh did. The shadows had shown her that the hall beyond was empty, and she knew it would only take the two of them to lift the bar; they wouldn’t be alone for very long. She reached out, wrapping her hands around the straps of each of their packs before leaping from the stairs and taking them with her. She might have laughed at their startled shouts if she wasn’t concentrating on where she wanted to go as the shadows closed around them.
The darkness parted seconds later to drop the three of them in the foyer on the other side of the doors, and Marsh let them go. Before Roeglin could gather himself to say anything, Marsh was racing back into the shadow. She didn’t have to remember which halls and corridors to take; she only had to think of one thing.
The teapots. Display cases of teapots, a hoshkat-skin rug, a white marble floor, and a large stone desk made of dark marble…
Marsh landed hard and tripped over the hoshkat rug’s head, sprawling across the floor.
“Merde,” she muttered, her hands and knees stinging from the impact.
Picking herself up from the floor, Marsh pulled a blade from the shadows and called a buckler to her arm. She scanned the room for Madame Monetti and was disappointed to find it empty. Advancing through the space, she noticed that the display cabinets were bare and that wisps of shredded sponge shroom were scattered across the floor. Madame Monetti had packed her teapots?
In the midst of all the mayhem she had caused, the madame had taken the time to make sure the damned teapots were packed?
“Where are they?” she snarled, tangling her hand in the strands of shadow around her. “Where?”
Because where the teapots were, Madame Monetti was sure to be also. What had she called them? Her treasures? Treasures, indeed. If Marsh got hold of any of them, they were going to be glistening shards on the stone.
The shadows had no answers, and Marsh could hear the sound of feet pounding through the corridor beyond the door. Well, Roeglin was getting faster at finding her.
I’m going to fit you with a collar and bell, he snarled. Just as soon as I work out where in all the gods-forsaken Deeps you are.
Marsh might have laughed and pointed out he wasn’t carrying either, but she couldn’t be sure, and she had more important things to do. She had to find Madame Monetti, and the Deeps-forsaken shadows didn’t have a clue. Not a single thread responded to her request to find the teapots, and none of them knew where the madame had gone.
That left the three doors at the end of the room, because Marchant was sure she hadn’t gone through the one leading to the entry. She was dead certain the woman was making her way through the rear of the complex toward whatever escape route she had planned.
Maybe she’d sent the teapots on ahead. Maybe that was why the shadows couldn’t find them.
I don’t give two shits of a mule’s backside about the Darks-be-damned teapots, but you need to wait for me.
Marsh smirked.
“Catch me if you can, Shadow Boy.”
“I’m going to put you on a leash and hook it to my belt, and not let you out of my Shades-cursed sight ever again.”
His comment drove all light-heartedness from her as she remembered being leashed by Ardhur and Warven.
“Not in all the Deeps with all the armies of the Dark!” she snapped, and swept her hand, palm up, toward the door that was opening behind her.
It slammed shut, and she heard Roeglin cry out in pain as he ran into it. A leash! Would he dare? She’d see about that! In the meantime…
Marsh looked at the three doors, turning them over on the map in her mind. There was the one she’d been taken through when they’d wanted her to join the caravan, but she was pretty sure Madame Monetti wouldn’t be leaving that way. She had to know the fate of the last caravan and its slaves.
Instead, Marsh chose the door opposite it, aware of the door to the corridor opening—cautiously. Roeglin stayed silent, and she hoped he was thinking about the stupidity of his last suggestion.
I’m sorry?
His voice intruded in her head as she set her hand on the handle of the door she’d chosen, and the one at his end of the room continued to slowly open. Marsh was tempted to slam the door in his face again. That thought was followed by footsteps moving hastily into the room and over the rug.
She thought about warning them about the hoshkat rug’s head but was far more interested in getting the door in front of her open. If she hadn’t taken some of her seeker training into her own hands, it might have been a problem. As it was, she was at a loss as to what to use until she remembered she could draw darts from the darkness.
&nbs
p; The one she needed was smaller than the darts she threw, but it was just as easy to select. The shadows seemed to be waiting for her to ask. Calling a long, narrow needle to her hand, Marsh fitted the shadow tool to the lock and worked it carefully back and forth. Before long, the lock gave, and she opened the door.
The room beyond was lit brightly enough to make her eyes water and she winced, adjusting her vision so she could see. It took a minute, but Marsh kept moving, ducking low and sliding to the left as she listened for a crossbow bolt or axe to smash into the wall beside her head. Neither object came, and her eyes adjusted.
Marsh glanced around the room, scanning for danger; for shadow mage or shadow monster, and for Madame Monetti herself. To her surprise, she found none of them. The room was completely and utterly empty save for its furniture.
Marsh stared. The woman hadn’t done anything by halves. The display cabinets in the other room had been white marble and glass-fronted, and worth more than Marsh could imagine earning in her lifetime. The bed dominating the center of this room was several grades higher than that…and the glows!
It might have answered where the glows taken from the trade routes had gone, except these were the wrong color. Marsh stepped closer to the nearest one. It wasn’t purple, but a single clear crystal blazing with pure white light. She stretched a tentative finger toward it, only to freeze as Roeglin hurtled through the door.
“Don’t!”
Keeping her finger poised, Marsh turned her head to look at him. His dark hair was tousled, and his hazel eyes reflected gold in the light. He cast her a pleading look.
“At least wait until we can test it outside. If it explodes in here…”
He waved his hand to indicate the room and the other strange glows, his worry clear. It was the first time Marsh had ever considered the chances of a glow exploding, or setting off a chain reaction of other glows.
“We just don’t know,” he said, pausing to catch his breath. “Guillemot is checking the other room.”
Marsh nodded, and lifted her hand away from the glow, pretending not to hear his sigh of relief. She indicated the room.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t think we have time for sleeping,” he replied, and Marsh realized she’d pointed at the bed. As an answer, it could have been worse, and her face heated with embarrassment.
“The room,” she growled. “What do you think of the room?”
He looked around, taking in the lavish wall hangings, the marble wardrobe and dresser, the mirror made of polished mica, its edge dotted with small blue and purple stones, and the bed. He walked into the middle of the room, and paced his way around it, noting the corner posts that rose almost to the ceiling, the delicate glistening fabric hanging in white and gold curtains, held back by thick gleaming sashes.
When he’d made a complete circuit, he came back to stand beside it.
“I think this would be the perfect place to hide a secret entrance.”
Looking around and taking note of the clutter, Marchant had to agree. The problem was that she had no idea of where to start looking.
21
Madame Found…and Lost
Marsh and Roeglin surveyed the room, letting their eyes travel over the expensive furnishings. Marsh noted that the display cabinet was empty and wondered if Madame Monetti placed as much importance on her garments as she did on her “treasures.” With that in mind, she crossed to the wardrobe.
Apart from satisfying her curiosity about Madame Monetti’s priorities regarding clothes, the hefty chunk of marble would also be the ideal front for a secret door. It was empty, and nothing Marchant did revealed a hidden panel or caused its solid sides to shift. She was beginning to wish she’d brought Aisha so the little girl could ask the rocks to reveal their secrets when Roeglin gave a victorious shout.
“Found it!”
Marsh shook her head. Trust him to find the secret door.
“Not a secret,” he said, closing a divider that had been arranged to obscure a perfectly unconcealed and ordinary door. “Just a privacy screen.”
He paused, his palm resting on the handle.
“Do you want to do the honors?”
“Oh, no. You found it.”
Nerves crawled through her stomach and Marsh stretched out her hand, as he turned the handle.
“Stop!”
Roeglin was in the middle of pushing the door open when she shouted, and by then it was almost too late. Howls split the air, and the door was yanked out of Roeglin’s hand. Calling back the sword and buckler she’d discarded when she entered the room, Marsh leapt forward to rescue him, and was surprised when the first hands to claw their round the edge of the door were human.
Roeglin didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his fingers around the slender wrist he saw and yanked the woman through to safety. He was too slow to grab the door before it swung fully open, but he dragged Madame Monetti into the room and then turned to pull her across it.
“Run!” he shouted when he saw Marsh advancing with her blade. “Run!”
“You run!” she shouted in return, because there was only one person who could close that gate, and he would be lurking close by, probably in whatever room lay beyond.
She had no choice. If she was to stem the flow of monsters, she had to destroy the man or woman who’d opened the gate for them to pass through. Without the mental connection willing the passage between places, the gate would close, and the monsters would be thwarted. Marsh ducked around the woman and under Roeglin’s reaching hand.
“Sorry, Ro,” she said, sliding through the door, and catching the edge of it with her fingers as she passed.
With a flick of her wrist, she got it traveling back toward the doorframe, but that wasn’t what she was watching. The thing that caught her eye dominated the rear wall of the room, and she was sliding right toward it!
She could only hope she could… Marsh saw the legs of a cabinet sweep past and lashed out with her sword hand, releasing her blade to grab it and stop her slide toward the open maw of the gate before her. Shadows swarmed in the darkness beyond the edges, and red eyes turned in her direction when she gasped in pain.
The cabinet rocked as she jerked to a halt, but Madame Monetti’s love of heavy furniture saved her, and it stayed upright. Marsh heard another unhinged scream break the silence, and someone just beyond the cabinet cursed. She scrambled back, pulling herself to her feet and recalling her sword from the shadows.
Another scream broke the stillness, and the hooting gibberish of a dozen ever-hungry mouths rose from the darkness beyond the gate. Cloth rustled, and Marsh didn’t hesitate. She lifted the sword in a two-handed grip and swung around the edge of the cabinet, putting herself side-on to it and sidestepping far closer to the gate than she ever wanted to be.
Marsh felt something catch the end of her blade, and the mage hiding on the other side of the cabinet cursed again. This time his voice was ragged with pain. Marsh didn’t let that, or the approaching howl of a hunting shadow monster, break her focus. She pulled the blade back toward her, adjusted her aim, and thrust it forward, shifting her hand to the pommel to give herself more leverage as she drove it into the mage’s chest.
He gasped but didn’t have time to scream, and the gate snapped shut beside her. Another unearthly scream broke the air as it did so, and a dark limb tipped in ivory claws thumped heavily onto the tiles beside her. Marsh glanced down at it, watching the ebony flesh start to steam in the light, and then she looked at the now-solid back wall and listened to the absolute silence that had descended on the room.
For a minute she just stood and stared, and then she remembered the dark-haired woman Roeglin had towed into the bedroom beyond and turned toward the door. As she did, she scanned the room, looking for a second mage. The Deeps knew there had been two of them every other time she’d seen a gate opened.
After a cursory search showed that no one was hiding in the large bathtub that stood to one side or in the alcove between the cab
inet and the wall that the first mage had been standing in or behind the door leading to the privy, Marsh stepped back into the bedroom, but she did so slowly, searching for Roeglin and Madame Monetti.
It took her a second to register the clash of blades, the two figures in black raider armor, and the way Roeglin fought to keep himself between Madame Monetti and the dark-clothed intruders. With a shout, Marsh jumped into the fray.
The flash of darkness lashing out at her from beside the doorway came as a surprise, and she felt metal slide across her armor as she turned to face it. She managed to parry the dagger that followed, but only just. Even though she didn’t want to turn away from the two men attacking Roeglin, she couldn’t afford to ignore her ambusher, so she turned, blocking a second strike with her buckler as she brought her sword across her attacker’s gut in a vicious swing.
He choked out a cry even as Marsh used her buckler to block a second strike, pulling her sword back before thrusting it into the man’s chest. When she jerked her blade free, he dropped to the floor and didn’t move. Seeing he was down for good, Marsh turned and took in the situation across the room.
Roeglin was still holding his own, and still successfully blocking their path to Madame Monetti. As long as the woman stayed behind him, she’d be safe, but the lady clearly had her doubts about Roeglin’s abilities. As Marsh moved to help the shadow mage, Madame Monetti made a break for the door leading to her office. Her movement pulled Roeglin’s attention away from his opponent for just a heartbeat, but it was enough.
He dropped his guard enough that the raider swept his blade across Roeglin’s shoulder, slicing through the armor and flesh, and making the shadow mage’s dagger fall. As it dropped from his hand, dissipating into darkness, the other raider broke from the melee and went after Madame Monetti.
Marsh didn’t need to be told what to do. She darted after Madame Monetti, trying to reach the raider before he could reach her. It was going to be a close-run thing.
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 45
