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

by C. M. Simpson

  “It’s okay, uncle.”

  Jean glanced at Gustav.

  “Where?” he asked, and Gustav indicated several areas of the pit.

  “There, there, and there. As hot as you can make it,” he said.

  Marsh caught the frown on the boy’s face.

  “Just think of the heat energy in the air around us,” she told him, thinking about how she drew healing energy. “You should be able to feel any you haven’t already called, and…” She thought of the way the boy moved his hands to form the fireball. “Just wind it into what you’ve got.”

  She had no idea if that would be enough…or even if fire magic worked that way, but it seemed to make sense to Jean.

  The boy turned to face the pit, his small face pinched with concentration, his hands moving in the gestures she’d seen them make before. This time the fireball was twice as big as the one he’d tossed through the door, and Marsh caught Gustav pass a nervous hand over the side of his head. She had to sympathize. She wouldn’t want to be caught by one that size either.

  She watched as Jean threw the ball at the first point Gustav had told him needed to be lit. To her surprise, there was nothing clumsy about his aim. The gleaming sphere flew straight and true, landing to explode in a blazing sheet of flame.

  “Stars and fire, boy!” Gustav exclaimed, but Geralt cried out in alarm, and Jean collapsed.

  Fortunately, Gustav was standing right beside the boy and was able to grab him before he could fall into the pit. The soldier lifted Jean into his arms and turned to Marsh.

  “Do you have enough?”

  At first, Marsh was puzzled, but then she realized he was asking if she had enough energy left to make sure the kid was okay. Marsh wondered because she was pretty sure he hadn’t been injured. She shrugged.

  “Sure.”

  It was a simple matter to draw the energy from the earth and direct it into Jean’s still form. She watched as color returned to his cheeks and saw his breathing deepen into sleep, then lowered the hand she’d raised toward him.

  “He’ll be fine,” she said.

  “And you?”

  Now he thought to ask? Marsh rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll be fine too,” she told him.

  “Good,” Izmay snapped, “because I don’t want to be carrying you back.”

  “And I’m not tucking you in,” Henri added.

  “Well aren’t you two just the funniest dark-spawned dirt-eaters in the tunnels,” Marsh said and turned away from the flames, only to discover she wasn’t as fine as she’d thought.

  Her world wavered, the fire growing impossibly bright and blending with the sky. Izmay swore and Henri called on the Deep’s dirty britches, but only Roeglin’s sudden lunge stopped her from falling into the pit.

  “Shag the shadows and shit the shrooms, you’re a mess.”

  Marsh wanted to tell him she was fine, but the world kept spinning. She was just grateful he looped her arm over his shoulders and didn’t copy Gustav’s example with the kid.

  You sure? Because to be honest…

  “Just give me a minute,” she said, and almost fell over.

  “A minute, huh?”

  But before Roeglin could reply, Henri gave a short, sharp sigh of exasperation and lifted her from the ground.

  “Some of us want supper and maybe some sleep before the sun comes up,” he grumbled, turning abruptly away from Roeglin and stomping through the postern and into the waystation.

  Marsh wanted to tell him to put her down, but he wasn’t paying her any attention, and she was too tired to find her voice. It was moments like these when she wished she could do what Roeglin did and just say what she needed inside someone’s head.

  “Where do you want her sleeping?” Henri demanded when Gabe met him halfway across the common room.

  Fortunately, Ursula had the answer, because all her cousin could do was gape like a beached fish.

  “This way,” the woman commanded, “and mind you take her boots off before you put her between the covers.”

  “It’s not like you’re not going to have to do the sheets anyway,” Henri grumbled and came to a sudden halt as Ursula rounded on him.

  “Wrong. You’ll be doing the sheets. First thing in the morning.”

  From the look on Henri’s face, Marsh thought the man might drop her, and she was very relieved when Ursula spoke again.

  “Through here. And if you drop her, you’ll be washing floors to boot.”

  He would? Man, if she wasn’t so out of it, she’d try to find a way to make that happen. The bruises would be worth it.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Henri grumbled, showing he knew her far too well, “or you’ll be taking a very short trip to the horse trough.”

  Marsh thought about rolling her eyes, but she couldn’t find the energy,. As she let her eyes close, she wondered if she really heard Roeglin as she drifted off to sleep.

  “I’ll help you,” he said, and Marsh wasn’t sure if the mage meant with the sheets or with dropping her into a horse trough.

  She fell asleep before she found out.

  7

  Of Fire and Mind

  It was late when Marsh woke the next morning. She felt Mordan’s familiar weight pinning her under the blankets and pushed on the kat to give her some space. Dan gave a low rumble of complaint, stretched, and hopped slowly off the bed.

  Marsh lay there for a moment longer, then swung herself upright.

  “I hope someone got the name of that caravan,” she muttered as her head started a low-level pounding.

  You could always try healing yourself.

  And a merry good morning to you too, Ro.

  You need a wash and a change of clothes before you go anywhere near Ursula or breakfast. And you need to strip your bed or Henri is going to have a fit.

  As tempting as the thought to watch Henri throw a fit was, Marsh decided she’d do as Roeglin suggested. She healed herself first, pulling the energy she needed from the world around her and diminishing her headache to a tolerable level. Mordan was stretched out in front of the fire when she finally made it out to the common room.

  She was surprised to find it empty and went to the kitchen looking for Gabe. He wasn’t there, but Ursula was kneading dough at the counter.

  “Per sent shroom flour,” she said, smiling when she saw Marsh, “and Gustav said to give you a ration bar.”

  She pointed to where the bar sat and added, “He said nothing about you not eating the breakfast roll beside it, though.”

  Marsh noticed the breakfast roll sitting on a plate beside the ration bar.

  “He also said I should send you out to the courtyard for training when I saw you, but nothing about you having to leave that cup of chocolate behind undrunk.”

  Marsh cast the woman a grateful look and propped herself up against the kitchen bench, eating as Ursula finished with the bread.

  “How have things been?” she asked and the woman glanced up from the oven.

  She was just as pretty as Marsh remembered her, her copper hair pulled back out of the way and her eyes as blue as they’d ever been.

  “Well,” she answered, “Gabe worries about the remnant and the wildlife more than he should. I kept telling him he shouldn’t worry, but with the caravans coming less often and the boys arriving…”

  She shrugged.

  “I’m glad the Council finally saw the sense of things.”

  Boots scraped on the back steps, and the kitchen door opened.

  “Thought I told you to report to training,” Gustav said, coming inside.

  Ursula glared at him.

  “How’s Henri coming with my washing?”

  “All done,” Roeglin answered, coming in after the captain.

  His eyes fell on the cup in Marsh’s hand.

  “I don’t suppose…”

  Ursula gestured toward the door.

  “Get out of my kitchen and I’ll bring it when it’s ready. I suppose the rest of your miscrea
nts will…”

  “Yes, please,” Henri called from the door to the common room. Someone cleared their throat behind him, and he added, “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  Ursula rolled her eyes and looked at Marsh.

  “You, too,” she said. “I hear you’ll be moving out in the morning.”

  It was news to her but Marsh went, following in Gustav and Roeglin’s path and leaving Ursula in sole command of her kitchen. As soon as they were settled around one of the longer tables in the commons, Gustav turned to Gabe.

  “Tell us about the caravans,” he said.

  “They’re coming less often. For instance we had one due the week just past, but it hasn’t arrived” Gabe said. “If Master Gage hadn’t come through, the hands would have waited for it, but they said they couldn’t, and I didn’t have the heart to make them. If it wasn’t for the attack last night, I wouldn’t have been too concerned for another day or so. I’d have asked Master Envermet to check, but…”

  “It’s been too long,” Gustav said, addressing his team, “and Gabe would like us to see if we can discover what’s happened to them.”

  Marsh wanted to protest that they’d have no way of telling the station master what had happened and that turning back would mean a long delay for their mission to Dimanche, but Gustav already had that covered.

  “Master Envermet’s force is leaving a day early and will arrive tomorrow night. By then, we should have reached the entrance to the Dimanche complex. The caravan should have arrived yesterday. We think it fell afoul of the raiders close to the surface, so we should be close to discovering what happened by the time Envermet gets here. Roeglin will relay the news.”

  He turned to Marsh.

  “I’m sorry. I was hoping you’d have time to see the children.”

  If she were honest, Marsh had been hoping for the same, but she swallowed her disappointment and shrugged.

  “Can’t be helped,” she said, and changed the subject. “Ironsides mentioned you had a seeker come through…”

  Gabe cast a glance at the pack leader and nodded.

  “If he showed you the skinny man with the sallow skin, then yes, that one had the look of a seeker about him. We didn’t like him much, and the boys and I made sure he was never left alone. The way he looked at Ursula…”

  A low, rumbling growl came from where the pack leader lay, and Marsh had the impression that Gabe and the boys weren’t the only ones who’d had their unsavory guest under watch. Gabe gave the wolf a startled look that melted swiftly to surprised gratitude, and Ironsides got up and walked to the door.

  Henri got up to let him out, and Gabe shook his head.

  “He says he was just doing what any good pack leader would, and that we look hungry enough to need more rabbits.”

  “Rabbits, hey?” Henri commented, then raised his voice. “He’d be better off hunting us up something bigger. The kat has quite an appetite.”

  At his words, Mordan shot him a filthy look and rolled to her feet, pawing once at the door in a definite demand. Marsh sputtered with laughter as the kat gave her a clear impression of exactly what she thought, but she waved away Henri’s look of curiosity.

  “It’s not repeatable,” she managed as he sat.

  “When you’ve all quite finished,” Gustav declared, “we have other matters to attend to.”

  He turned to Gabe.

  “Did he say where he was going?”

  The stationmaster nodded.

  “He ended up going after Kearick. When he first got here and discovered Kearick had already left, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. For a while there he was going to head down into the Devastation, but he was torn. His mules were pretty heavily laden, and he had something he wanted Kearick to see. Seemed pretty excited by it too, but he wouldn’t say what it was.

  “I told him Kearick had said something about setting up a new store in Dimanche, and that decided him. He paid up and headed out the next day.”

  His face reddened.

  “It’s a good thing too, or I might have done something I’d have been made to regret. Honestly, it was the way he looked at Ursula that had me worried about keeping Downslopes open without anyone to help us run it. It’s more than just me now.”

  Ursula chose that moment to appear from the kitchen.

  “Silly man,” she said. “I told you it would be all right now, didn’t I?”

  She dumped pots of kaffee and chocolate on the table and Marsh started to get up, only to have Roeglin rest his hand on her knee.

  It’s all under control, he said as Geralt and Jean appeared bringing plates, cups, and cake.

  And it was.

  They ate in silence, then Gustav turned to Marsh.

  “I know Aisha and the mages are coming tomorrow,” he said, “but do you think you can teach the boy your version of healing so he’s got something to start with?”

  He paused.

  “Oh, and you might want to explain to Geralt about what happens when a mage uses their magic too much.”

  “And us,” Ursula added, her statement clearly including Gabe. “If we’re going to have more of them under our roof, I’m going to need to know what to expect…especially since I’ll be the one doing the baking.”

  Marsh felt her skin heat at the woman’s remark and watched as her embarrassment was reflected in Roeglin’s face.

  It was a long afternoon, particularly as Geralt insisted on joining them.

  “You won’t be around after tomorrow,” the boy told her, his voice gruff with emotion, “and I am his brother.

  As the morning wore on each boy showed some ability, although both found the nature magic more tiring than the forms they had discovered for themselves. When Marsh saw they were both at their limits, she turned the tables.

  “Show me how to do fire magic,” she requested when Jean sat back, looking pale but pleased after healing a self-inflicted slice on Izmay’s palm.

  “Me, too,” the shadow guard said and caught Marsh’s look. “What? There has to be some compensation for us slicing ourselves open for them to practice healing on.”

  And Marsh realized the other guards had gathered around to listen. At first, she was going to argue, but she had to admit Izmay had a point. Each of the guards had volunteered some kind of cut or abrasion for her to demonstrate or the boys to practice on. For his part, Jean looked surprised and was at first just a little intimidated.

  “I…well…”

  Roeglin and Geralt stepped in, getting the boy to go through the steps of crafting a small ball of fire and sharing them with each mind in the room.

  Unfortunately, Geralt wasn’t quite as skilled as Roeglin and he shared a little too widely, bringing Ursula in from the kitchen.

  “Out!” she commanded, her voice as close to the shout she’d leveled at Mordan as Marsh had yet to hear. “Take your balls of fire and get the Deeps out of my common room, you daft, Dark-for-brains, Deeps-addled, misbegotten…”

  The stream of invective continued as Henri grabbed Jean and carried him through the door fireball and all. Gustav was waiting in the courtyard when they arrived and Ursula slammed the door behind them.

  “The pack brought back a deer. If all we get is bread and drippings for dinner,” he said, leveling a look of disgust at Marsh, “I’m blaming you.”

  Marsh felt her jaw drop open in surprise, but Gustav turned to Jean.

  “Now, boy, if you’d take us through that again but a little more slowly…”

  Ursula had other ideas.

  “It’s lunch time,” she told them, and Marsh realized how hungry they’d become.

  Once they’d eaten, they spent the afternoon with Jean trying to show them how to pull the heat from the air and form it into fireballs, but only Izmay seemed to have the knack for doing it easily.

  “Typical,” Zeb said, his face pale from exertion as he crafted a small, perfectly formed sphere and watched as his fellow guard called a second ball of fire, then a third, which she jug
gled while she waited. Even Henri managed a credible globe, laughing as Zeb cursed him for being able to do so.

  “Showoff,” Marsh muttered, having been forced to stop after not conjuring anything bigger than a pebble.

  “You’re thinking of it wrong,” Geralt informed her, and she opened her mouth to argue, only to be tapped on the forehead. “I can see in here, remember?”

  Marsh rolled her eyes and looked at Roeglin, but the mage just shrugged.

  “At least hear what he has to say,” the man advised. “You can always practice it on the way to Dimanche.”

  “Or when we get there,” Gustav interrupted. “I want her using her magic for other things once we’re on the road.”

  Gustav had discovered an affinity for fire, but grown tired of creating spheres and worked on calling flames to coat his sword in much the same way as most of the other Protectors called shadow.

  “You’ll have to teach this trick to Captain Envermet,” he told Jean, and looked at Geralt. “Make sure he doesn’t forget. It’s just the kind of thing they need to know.”

  The boys had nodded, looking pleased, and Ursula had summoned everyone inside shortly after. That evening, Roeglin made good on his promise to have Gabe and Ursula speak with Per and Daniel. He also pulled Marsh and Geralt into the conversation—Marsh so she could talk to her uncle, and Geralt so he had a chance of learning how it was done.

  “I want you to try to connect with me tomorrow night,” he told the boy, and pale-faced, Geralt had agreed.

  “Tomorrow,” the boy had said, clearly exhausted, and Roeglin had patted his shoulder.

  “You’ll be fine,” he said. “It just takes a bit of practice.”

  There was a swirl of quickly suppressed images showing Roeglin struggling to get his own head around the skill. It was accompanied by such frustration that Marsh wondered how long it had taken the mage to get the hang of it, but she didn’t ask. What Geralt needed now more than anything else was belief. He didn’t need to know just how hard Roeglin had found it.

  And wasn’t that just an interesting fact. She started smirking, ignoring Roeglin’s scowl as she said goodnight to Gabe and Ursula. The morning with its incumbent goodbyes waited, and she was too tired to avoid sleeping the remaining hours away.