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

  No armor, though, Marsh noted, slightly puzzled.

  “You’re not going back out to fight,” Rehema told her, her tone disapproving. “There are others who can take your place.”

  Marsh dried off and had started getting dressed when there was a disturbance at the edge of the stone.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” Kwame’s voice was firm and Mordan growled in reply, but Kwame was not to be deterred. “Uh-huh. You need a wash.”

  Mordan growled again, and Marsh stopped.

  Kwame was standing to one side of the platform, his knees bent, and his arms spread wide as he faced off with Mordan. The kat could have gone past him at any time, but there were two more mages standing back from Kwame, their eyes lit by green fire and their attention focused solely on the hoshkat.

  Mordan crouched before them, her ears flat against her skull and her tail lashing angrily. Her gray-green fur was matted with blood. Marsh sighed and got undressed, picking up the bag she’d used to wash with.

  “Dan,” she called, and then again, louder. “Dan!”

  The kat whipped her head around, casting a swift look in her direction. Marsh walked back to the pipes. “Come on, girl. You need to set a good example for Perdemor and the pup.”

  Mordan looked around and found what Marsh had seen. Kit and pup were facing a pair of mages of their own, and neither looked happy. Perdemor copied his mother’s stance, but his heart didn’t seem in it, and Scruffknuckle pranced on the spot, his ears cocked forward and his tail waving.

  He looked like he was ready to play, even if his fur was just as dirty as Mordan’s.

  Mordan gave a disgusted rumble and then turned sulkily around, stalking over to Marsh. Marsh looked at the side, catching the eye of the mage standing there. Mordan followed her gaze and hissed.

  Marsh didn’t blame the guy for hesitating. “Best not to keep her waiting,” she told him. “The sooner we get this done, the better.”

  She turned to the kat. “Come on, Dan.”

  The kat flinched as the water hit her back, and Marsh was relieved when the water was warm. She didn’t know how Mordan would have reacted if it hadn’t been.

  They wouldn’t dare, Roeglin assured her. No one wants to deal with a pissed-off hoshkat.

  Marsh agreed, but she didn’t say anything, just focused on scrubbing the kat clean, massaging Mordan’s fur with her fingers as she rubbed the bubbles through it. The kat gave a contented rumble and looked at the kit and pup.

  Her short sharp yowl was a clear command. Scruffy and Perdemor glanced at her and Mordan laid her ears back, repeating the call. The two youngsters looked at her, glanced at the four mages, and slunk over. Neither looked impressed as the water fell around them.

  Marsh sighed. She focused on finishing cleaning Mordan and was preparing to move over to Perdemor when she realized she had company. Nude company, since the two warriors who had greeted her hadn’t seen the point in getting their dry clothes wet.

  Both crouched with their backs to her, scrubbing the kit and pup clean. Scruffknuckle had his eyes closed, and Perdemor looked like he was fighting not to do the same. Marsh wondered how the man had convinced the cub to get near him, let alone close enough to touch. Perdemor didn’t like strangers.

  Dan and I asked him very nicely not to shred the man, Roeglin replied. I was much nicer than Dan.

  The kat huffed out a sigh and stepped out from under the water. It stopped flowing as she did, and everyone watched as she walked over to the edge of the stone platform and stared at the mage controlling the water.

  Before they could work out what she was about to do the kat was shaking the water from her fur, showering everyone in range with a spray of fine droplets. Several of them jumped back, but not before she’d soaked them. Mordan surveyed her handiwork with a satisfied stare before turning her back on them.

  Raising her head and her tail, she walked over to the table holding a new pile of towels, flicking her hind paws as she went. Marsh put her hand on her hip. “When you’re quite done.”

  Mordan extended her forepaws in front of her and stretched, giving everyone behind her the perfect cat’s ass. Marsh just stared at her, her jaw hanging open. Beyond the stone, Gustav and Roeglin mirrored her expression, then the captain put one hand across his forehead and shook his head.

  “Always twice...” he muttered. “Everywhere. Twice.”

  Roeglin just looked at her. The examples you set.

  Marsh breathed a sigh of relief when Perdemor and Scruffknuckle didn’t repeat Mordan’s performance. She rubbed the kat dry and then picked up a fresh towel and dried herself all over again. Not far away, the two other warriors did the same. None of them looked at each other until they were dressed.

  “Merci,” Marsh said, and they both smiled, gazing fondly at where the kit and the pup were playing.

  “It was our honor.”

  Marsh didn’t know what to say to that, so she just nodded and hurried to where Gustav and Roeglin were waiting, all too aware of the color creeping into her cheeks. Rehema was waiting for her as well.

  “Now that that’s done,” she said reprovingly, turning around and leading them to breakfast.

  “This is where I leave you,” she told Marsh once she’d seen Marsh settled at a table.

  Tamlin and Aisha had come to sit on either side as soon as she’d taken her place and Roeglin, looking very put out had taken his seat opposite. Gustav had wandered off, plate in hand, to check on the others, and Marsh followed his progress, relieved to see them all there, and all in one piece.

  “What did he mean by ‘twice?’” she asked and Roeglin almost choked on his food.

  Marsh waited until he’d stopped sputtering, by which time Aisha was standing by his side and anxiously patting him on the back. “Well?”

  Roeglin cleared his throat. “He meant he had to take us everywhere twice. You know, once to do whatever it was we were supposed to be doing and then a second time to apologize.”

  “And by ‘we,’” Tamlin told her, “he means you.”

  “Thanks, kid.”

  7

  Culture Clash

  “How are you feeling?” Roeglin asked when they’d finished eating.

  Marsh froze. The shadow mage had a point. How was she feeling, because she’d done a lot? After a moment’s self-assessment, she nodded. “Okay. A little tired, but okay.”

  Rehema appeared at her side like an unwelcome ghost. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

  Gustav came to a stop at the end of a table. Talk about your ghosts. Master Envermet wasn’t the only one who needed bells.

  Or you’re more tired than you think, Roeglin suggested, and Marsh resisted the urge to stick out her tongue.

  “She can rest after we’ve spoken with the Council.”

  Marsh frowned. This was the first time she’d heard Sulema and her leadership called that.

  You’re still catching up.

  As if she needed to be told. Thanks, Ro.

  You’re very welcome.

  As if she cared. Marsh looked at Gustav, but he was busy staring at Rehema. “She is mine,” he stated as if that solved everything, “and mine to command.”

  Well, that pretty much did solve it.

  Rehema obviously thought so too. “I place her in your care then,” she replied, her tone revealing exactly what she thought of that. She turned and stalked away, clearly unhappy.

  Gustav watched her go, then surveyed the table. His gaze fell on the children and he opened his mouth, but Tamlin was ahead of him. “Yeah, we know. We have lessons with Master Petitfeau.”

  “Yeah, already dere,” Aisha echoed, narrowing her eyes and glaring at Gustav with angry defiance.

  Before she could start anything, Tamlin took hold of her arm and lifted her into his arms. “Come on, Aysh. I’m sure Captain Moldrane will give us some time with our guardian soon.”

  And if that wasn’t an instruction rather than a request, Marsh didn’t know what was.

>   Gustav watched them go, eyebrows raised. He caught Marsh’s look. “What? The boy was right, and Brigitte was waiting.”

  Marsh watched them go, her heart aching. She hoped the shadow mage had something fun planned...or challenging. Either would do.

  “They’re working with some of the local mages today,” Roeglin told her, clearing his plate. Marsh did the same as he continued. “Brigitte thinks Aisha can learn something new.”

  Gustav snorted. “As if that little scamp needs to know anything new,” he said. “She knows more than enough as it is.”

  Marsh thought the captain might have a point, but she didn’t want to say so. Besides...

  “If she’s not learning something new,” she told him, “she’ll be out causing mischief with Scruffknuckle and Perdemor, and we don’t want that, do we?”

  Gustav’s eyes went wide at the thought. “No, we do not.” He changed the subject. “Bring your kaffee...chocolate. The Elders are waiting.”

  Marsh wondered why they were called that. Neither Sulema nor Tabia had looked at all old.

  Appearances can be deceiving.

  Before she could ask Roeglin what he meant, Gustav was threading his way between tables to a door in the back wall. Marsh noticed it was on the opposite side to the kitchen entrance and hurried after him, taking a shroom pastry from the serving table as she passed.

  “Where’s Mordan?” she asked, and Roeglin looped his arm through hers.

  “She’s sulking,” he replied. “I got the impression that baths were undignified and she wasn’t talking to you anymore.”

  Marsh tried to pull her arm free but he guided her through the door, bursting into laughter as he hit the other side. Marsh caught the impression of Mordan tearing into a haunch of meat and shoved him—hard.

  “Not nice.”

  Gustav looked back at them and rolled his eyes. “When you’re both quite done.”

  They sobered immediately, clearing their throats and looking at the table. There were empty seats waiting. Gustav took one, and Marsh and Roeglin came to sit beside him. Once they were settled, Sulema got straight to the point.

  First, she turned to Marsh. “Thank you for your aid this morning. We’d have lost three good warriors if you had not.”

  “More,” Kwame corrected. “The lightning prevented more deaths. The three Sulema speaks of would have taxed our best, and they were already taxed from the previous battle.”

  He didn’t say which previous battle and Marsh hoped he wasn’t referring to the assassin’s attempt on her life.

  No, Sulema reassured her. Yours was not the only battle fought in recent times.

  Out loud, the leader addressed them all. “We are grateful for your help so far, and for your offer. That last group brought the last of our people from the Grotto proper. Now we have to see how many of the other settlements still survive.”

  She glanced at Gustav. “Although from what you tell me, they would have been the first to go.”

  He shrugged. “It depends on what was the most vulnerable. Have you always had a standing fighting force?”

  His words made Sulema laugh and brought smiles to the others’ faces.

  “We still do not have such a force. The fighters you’ve seen have come from our recreation teams.”

  “You fight for recreation?”

  Sulema shrugged. “It helped when something truly unpleasant came into the cavern, but no one wanted to be just a fighter.”

  From the way she said it, being a warrior wasn’t a worthy profession. Marsh didn’t understand.

  Gustav was close to outrage. “Just a fighter?”

  “Our livelihoods come from our crops,” Sulema told him, her voice kind, “and farmers should be able to protect themselves, but no one has the luxury to be just a fighter. That doesn’t put food on the table.”

  She’d better not let Henri hear her say that. Roeglin thought.

  Sulema turned to him.

  “Your Henri has already come to understand our point of view.”

  Marsh hoped the healers hadn’t been left too busy from that little encounter, and Sulema smiled. “His Izmay is a most formidable fighter.”

  Gustav looked alarmed. “They’re not hurt?”

  “No,” Kwame told him, and the captain sagged with relief.

  “Although they might sleep until lunchtime,” Tabia added, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Our farmers felt they had a point to prove.”

  Given how abrasive Henri could be, Marsh just bet they had. She closed her eyes, shaking her head, and Roeglin nudged her in the ribs.

  “You can talk.”

  “Back to business.” Gustav turned to Sulema. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Assist us and advise us.” She cast a coquettish look at Marsh. “And share your knowledge with us. That trick with the lightning and the calla glow, those are new to us.”

  Marsh’s face went hot, and she was momentarily lost for words.

  “And then there is the matter of the shadow gates.” Sulema’s face lit with excitement. “That could make trade a lot easier.”

  “And safer,” Tabia added, frowning at her leader.

  Sulema smiled. “Yes, much safer.” She turned back to Gustav. “What do you say?”

  “What’s first on your list?”

  Sulema’s smile grew wider.

  “As I said, the Grotto proper has fallen, but there are other settlements that might not have been reached.”

  “Depending on how they got in.”

  Sulema’s smile faded. “And there’s that. We won’t know the answer to it until we’ve gone around the perimeter.”

  “They could have gated in,” Marsh said, reminding them of the conversation they’d started earlier that morning.

  Gustav turned to her. “What’s your theory?”

  “I think a mage can open a shadow gate to anywhere they have been, and the space doesn’t have to be in the dark. It can, in fact, be very well lit.”

  “Like the washrooms at Hawk’s Ledge,” Roeglin said, and Marsh remembered the look of horrified outrage she’d received from the woman in the tub.

  Her blush deepened, bringing chuckles from around the table.

  “That was unintentional,” she admitted. “I didn’t realize...”

  “It was a bathing chamber,” Gustav told her, his tone suggesting she should have.

  “But there have been so few travelers.”

  “We reopened the trade routes.”

  Marsh sighed. There was that. She waved her hand. “Whatever. What I’m trying to say is that the mage has to have been there before. They have to have been there, seen what was there for themselves, and...”

  “Had sponges thrown at them before,” Roeglin teased, and Marsh gave an exasperated sigh.

  “Not necessarily.”

  Sulema raised her hand placatingly. “We understand.” She turned to Tabia. “We need to know if there were visitors who showed a particular interest in being in one place over all others. Once we know if there was and what those places were...”

  “We’ll be able to find out where they came through,” Kwame finished for her, moving for the door. “I’ll put the word out. If any of the survivors know...”

  Sulema nodded, ignoring the bleak look that crossed his face. Marsh did the same. By the time this was over, they would all have their ghosts.

  Tabia followed. “I will brief the commanders,” she said and paused. “Do you want multiple impi?”

  “Impi?” Gustav asked. “I thought they were spears and shields?”

  “It’s a term we borrowed from history,” Tabia told him. “We use it for a group of shields and spears combined.”

  “What’s the difference between them? These shields and spears.”

  “Shields are our best melee fighters, while spears are those better with ranged weapons,” Sulema interrupted and nodded to Tabia. “We have lost too many for multiple groups. Find the freshest impi and bring them here. We will brief them
together.”

  She turned to Gustav. “Fetch your team.”

  Taking the order to prepare for what it was, Gustav rose, Marsh and Roeglin moving with him.

  Marsh was glad he knew the way. She’d been out of it when she’d hit her bed, and then not with it when she’d arrived at the medical center—and while she knew where that was located, she had no idea where her team had been quartered. Roeglin and Gustav knew.

  The huts were arranged in small courtyards of six and Zeb and Gerry were practicing in the open space between them, Mordan watching from the sidelines. At first, Marsh thought both mages were using shadow staves, and then Zeb turned his staff into a shield and cast three small balls of black fire with his other hand.

  Gerry gave a startled yelp, spinning his staff as it shrank down to baton size. He sidestepped the first missile and slapped the second one back. Zeb snapped his fingers and the third one dissipated before it hit his sparring partner in the chest. The ball Gerry had deflected struck his shield and was absorbed into its smooth face.

  “Nice,” Roeglin murmured, and both mages pivoted and hurled shadow darts in his direction. “Bastards!”

  But he was laughing as he raised his hand. Marsh watched as both darts shattered into nothing, the ones that followed stopped mid-flight, and then reversed direction. Zeb and Gerry were not so amused, but they conjured shields and the shadow darts broke harmlessly on them.

  “Where is everyone else?” Gustav demanded, and Jakob appeared at one of the doors.

  “Henri and Izmay are in bed,” he answered, and his face flushed a deep red. “Asleep,” he added, hastily. “They’re asleep.”

  Gustav sighed. “What happened?”

  Jakob hung his head, and Gerry eyed him curiously. “Haven’t you spoken with the leaders?” he asked. “Didn’t they tell you?”

  “Yes, but I wanted to hear it from you.”

  Jakob looked at him. “It’s my fault,” he said.

  Gustav shook his head. “Just tell the story.”

  He was moving forward as he spoke and they all met in the middle. “Well?”

  “Henri complimented one of them on their fighting skills and they just shrugged and said they’d rather be in the fields.” He rolled his eyes. “As if the fighting was nothing, but working in the fields was everything.”