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

  “You can’t leave her behind, can you?” came in a quiet murmur, and Marsh turned. The man who’d been watching Mordan stood behind her, his eyes glistening with tears as he watched the kat and the child.

  “I can ask her,” Marsh replied, but he shook his head.

  “No. The caverns need her more than Breia and I.”

  Watching the child clinging to Mordan’s fur, Marsh wasn’t so sure. But she didn’t know what she could say, so she stayed silent, watching with the others. They stood silently as the relatives of the fallen came to say their farewells.

  By the time each corpse was accompanied by its loved ones, the druids had arrived. The girl’s father had joined her, draping his arm around his child and letting his hand rest on the cat’s well-furred shoulder. Marsh fell in behind them when he lifted his wife from the ground and carried her out of the town to the place the druids had prepared.

  Final farewells were said, and then the druids called fire from the shrooms and from the very air. Marsh stepped forward and joined them, adding the glow of calla shrooms and the golden brevilars to the shroud of flame. When she lowered her hands, she was surprised to feel a small hand slip into hers.

  “Is ‘kay, Marsh. We here.” Aisha leaned against her side, wriggling under her arm without letting go of her.

  Tamlin took hold of her hand on the other side. “I like the gold,” he said.

  Marsh squeezed his fingers. “I missed you too, kid.”

  A myriad of smaller furred forms wound around their legs, two seeking out the man and his daughter. Marsh wondered what they were there for and felt Mordan’s relief when the girl slid out of her father’s arms and wrapped her arms around the smaller kat’s neck.

  He looked down at the other one standing forlornly by and then knelt beside her, laying a hand on the kat’s head. Lifting his head, he looked for Mordan. Catching her watching, he managed the saddest of smiles and cast a glance at his daughter.

  “Thank you, kat.”

  Tears formed in Marsh’s eyes as she watched father and daughter crouched side by side, one arm wrapped around each other, the other draped over a kat.

  Shroom kats, Roeglin murmured. They have their uses.

  From the way he said it, there weren’t many things he thought they were useful for.

  Catching rats is all I can think of. And you need a lot of those. Otherwise, they eat your chickens.

  He sounded slightly angry as he said it, and Marsh wondered just how many chickens he’d lost to the smaller kats...and how long ago.

  Never you mind.

  As the pyre reduced itself to ash and flame subsided to darkness, the girl’s father rose to his feet, taking her hand. Clearing his throat, he drew their attention.

  “We haven’t much,” he told them, “but you are welcome to join us in the dining hall for dinner, and there is room in the waystation.”

  Marsh glanced at Gustav. From the look on his face, the existence of a waystation in the small community came as a surprise. The expression quickly faded, replaced by the inscrutable one he wore when he was preparing to negotiate.

  Marsh fell in step with Roeglin, Aisha walking between them. Mordan slipped out of the shadows, and Marsh reached along their connection.

  The shroom kats...

  The kat gave a heavy sigh. There were some in the cavern without companions. The cub needed one. Her sire, too. I could not stay.

  This last thought carried a pleading note, as though Mordan felt guilty for not remaining behind. Marsh wished she could stroke the kat, but she was out of reach, so Marsh tried to reassure her instead. Your kits need you too.

  Regret touched Mordan’s link. They will be almost grown.

  Brief images of Perdemor and the kit that had chosen Alois flickered through Marsh’s mind. The kat was right. They had grown.

  We will find them, she reassured Mordan. We will.

  The kat flicked her tail and pushed her gently back into her own head. The why was clear as soon as Marsh took notice of her surroundings once more.

  “Glad to have you back,” Roeglin murmured as if he hadn’t known she was talking to the kat.

  “You eavesdropping again?”

  He shrugged. “Something like that, but you need to stay with us. This is important.”

  As if she’d find it anything but.

  When they reached the seats they were shown, Breia’s father stood at the head of the hall, biting his lip. He waved a hand to indicate the food, and when he spoke, his voice was heavy with emotion. “I have no words.”

  “You are very welcome.” Sulema’s voice rolled over them, its tones full of comfort and grace. “We are sorry for your loss.”

  He looked across the room as she stepped into view. “You didn’t have to come.” But his face showed just how very much he had needed to see her.

  “Son, I am only sorry I was not here sooner.”

  They met in the middle of the hall, clasping hands in a gesture so intimate, Marsh felt she should look away. Breia reached out and gave Sulema a brief hug. “I am glad you came, grammama.”

  The two shroom kats wound themselves around their legs and Sulema looked down, her mouth opening with surprise. “Where did these come from?”

  Her son shrugged, but Breia’s face lit with a shy smile. “Kat gived them.”

  “Which kat?” Sulema asked and then followed her grandchild’s gaze to Mordan. “Uh-huh.”

  “The troublemaking one,” Roeglin whispered.

  He hadn’t meant for his words to carry and looked mortified when laughter rippled around the hall. Mordan shot him a disgusted look, but Breia’s father smiled. “Come and eat,” he said, his gesture inviting the entire hall.

  When the meal was over, Gustav approached Sulema. “This waystation...” he began and sighed when her eyes flashed white.

  She smiled at his exasperation. “The answer to your real question, Captain Moldrane, is that we trade with a small community in another cavern down the tunnel leading from the waystation’s rear. We suspect they once had a way into the Devastation, but that this is no longer the case.”

  She looked toward the door. “We also think it was recent and that we know why.”

  “And can we meet them?”

  Her eyes grew wary. “Perhaps some other time. Their cavern is secure. Ours is not.”

  “And if we insisted.”

  She regarded him carefully. “Do you really think you have the time?”

  He shook his head. “You are right, but if the opportunity should arise...”

  Sulema smiled. “I will see what can be arranged.”

  “It is all I ask.”

  “We will see you in the morning,” she told him and shifted her gaze across them. ”All of you.”

  Her words served as both promise and warning and Marsh hoped they would get an undisturbed night’s sleep. Now that the day was over and the danger had passed, fatigue dragged at her limbs.

  Her head spun, and she swayed. Tamlin propped against her, steadying her with his body and Aisha tried to do the same from the other side. Brigitte walked past them, glancing at Marsh as she went. “Our room’s this way,” she said, and Marsh dipped her head toward Sulema.

  “If I may...”

  The Grotto’s leader stepped aside to allow Marsh to pass. “Sleep well, apprentice.”

  Apprentice? But Marsh was too tired to comment. She followed Brigitte to their room and didn’t complain when Mordan settled in behind her, and Aisha crept under the covers in front of her. Tamlin frowned and lifted the blanket from Aisha’s bed, draping it over all three of them.

  “I’m next door,” he said, then looked at the empty bed. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He was, but Marsh was barely aware of his return. She managed to lift her eyelids long enough to watch him settle in the bottom bunk opposite and figured it didn’t matter.

  It was a relief to see Perdemor and Scruffknuckle jump up beside him. There really wasn’t any more room on hers.
>
  When she woke the next morning, Aisha was still curled up beside her. Mordan, however, was gone. Sliding out of bed and tucking the covers around her charge, Marsh picked up her boots and slipped out the door.

  She was vaguely aware of someone stirring behind her, but when no little voice called her back, she figured it was only Brigitte and that it was beyond time the mage mistress was awake.

  Dan?

  She felt for their link and found it open. Moving forward as she sought the kat, Marsh made it to the front door of the waystation barracks, then to the gate of the waystation itself. Mordan didn’t take long to find.

  She was standing at the edge of a small training ground, a shroom kat on either side. Marsh hurried over to see what had the three of them so occupied and stopped suddenly short.

  Breia’s father stood three feet in front of his daughter, his hand half-extended in a plea.

  “You’re too young.”

  “Am not. Show me.” The girl tried to lift the sword she held but couldn’t get its tip off the ground.

  “You need to grow into it.”

  “Do not. Is momma’s. Is mine.”

  The man knelt. “Was momma’s.” His voice broke. “Was...”

  He bowed his head, his hands on his knees, as a sob shook his huge frame. Breia dropped the sword and flung her arms around him. “Daddy, no cry.”

  Marsh wanted to leave before either of them noticed her, but she knew it was too late. Breia’s father had been aware of her the moment she’d stepped clear of the shrooms. He’d just trusted the kats to warn him...and her. He’d trusted her too.

  She approached slowly, wondering what she could do to help.

  If you can find anything, I would be grateful, Sulema told her, and Marsh resisted the urge to look for her. If the woman didn’t want to be seen, well, she deserved her privacy, too.

  She made herself keep moving until she stood a foot away from the pair, and then she knelt. After a moment, Breia disentangled herself from her father’s arms. She scowled at Marsh, then did her best to lift her mother’s sword from the ground.

  “Is mine,” she declared, and Marsh nodded.

  “Can you lift it?” she asked, and the girl regarded her for a very long moment before she shook her head.

  It was hard to ignore the tears glittering in the child’s eyes, but Marsh managed it.

  “You need a blade you can lift,” she told her, and the frown returned.

  “Dis mine.”

  “Yes,” Marsh agreed. “You can wear it, but you can’t wield it.”

  “Can too.”

  Marsh stood and put a hand on her hip. “Uh-huh.”

  She watched until Breia was too tired to keep trying. “You want me to show you how to call its shadow?”

  The child had been about to give a savage denial and stopped. “Shadow?”

  Her father opened his mouth to protest and then closed it again, no doubt hearing the same words Marsh did. Let them work, Aasir.

  Marsh caught his shrug but did not ignore the look of concern in his eyes. She only hoped what she was about to do would help.

  It’s no worse than giving her a shroom kat, Roeglin commented. Oh, wait...

  Sulema hushed him before he could continue.

  Marsh took a deep breath and turned back to Breia. “Are you like your gramma? Can you see what I’m thinking?”

  Breia shook her head and Marsh sighed. “Well then, you need to listen very carefully. Put your mamma’s sword in your lap.”

  Aasir drew a sharp breath and slid over. “Let me help you with that. It’s sharp.”

  “I know,” Breia told him, her lip curling in scorn that he thought she wouldn’t. “Momma kept it sharp.”

  Again, his voice caught. “Yes, she did.”

  He laid the blade in Breia’s lap and then moved back to kneel a short way behind her.

  Marsh ignored him and focused on the girl. “Watch,” she instructed and drew a sword from the shadows. “This is the shadow of the one I wear.”

  Breia’s eyes brightened with interest. “How.”

  It was harder than Marsh had thought, but by the time a dozen adults had joined them, the child could draw a credible facsimile of her mother’s weapon from the shadows.

  “Yes!” she cried, turning shining eyes to Marsh. “Did it!”

  Marsh smiled at her and then very gently pushed the tip of the blade away from her chest. “And did your poppa teach your momma how to use her sword?”

  The little girl shook her head, her dark eyes solemn. “No. Momma teached him.”

  Her small face fell. “But she cannot teach me.”

  Marsh crouched in front of her, catching her gaze. “No, but your poppa can. He can teach you everything your momma taught him. She’d have liked that, wouldn’t she?”

  Breia nodded, turning to her father. Aasir slapped his hands against his knees and stood up. He gave Marsh a solemn nod and then turned to his daughter.

  “The first thing your momma taught me was a proper grip.” He drew his blade and stood alongside her, showing her what he meant. “See?”

  She studied what he was doing, then moved her hand to match. “And then?”

  Marsh went to walk quietly away but hadn’t moved more than two paces when one of the villagers stepped in front of her. He was taller than she was and had planted himself firmly in his path. Mordan gave an uneasy growl and Gustav took a step toward her, only to be pulled up short by a hand on his arm.

  Marsh looked up at the man and recognized him as the one who had tackled her the day before. “Yes?”

  She wanted to say a lot more, but none of it seemed wise—or deserved—yet.

  He waved a hand at where Breia was enthusiastically copying her father’s every move. “Can you teach us that?”

  “Those moves?” Marsh frowned. The fighting style was very different from her own. “I don’t...”

  “No. Not the moves. The sword.”

  “What? Wait. You want me to teach you how to call a sword from the shadows?”

  “Yes.”

  Marsh took a good look at him, studying the set to his jaw and the determination in his eyes—and then she let her eyes travel to the other villagers behind him. “You all want to learn how to do that?”

  They all muttered agreement, some nodding and all of them moving forward. Marsh cast a desperate glance toward Gustav. “Captain, I need your help.”

  He gave a bark of laughter. “My help? I can’t call weapons from the shadow. You don’t need my help.”

  Marsh stared at him, but before she could turn away and begin teaching all by herself, Gustav gave an evil chuckle. “Gotcha.”

  Marsh looked at him, and he grinned. “You didn’t think I was going to leave you on your own, did you?”

  Marsh stared. In fact, she had been thinking he was leaving her to dig herself out of the hole she’d leapt into. Gustav read it on her face, and his grin grew wider. “Nope. This is shadow mage work,” he told her, “and I have five shadow mages who are more than capable of teaching that particular trick.”

  “Six,” Tamlin interrupted. “You have six,” he repeated, “unless you forgot Zeb or Gerry or someone else.”

  Gustav sighed. “No.” He grinned. “Then I have six. You all have a half day to teach these good folk as much as you can.”

  He clapped his hands. “Get to it.”

  Roeglin led the way. He tapped several villagers as he passed, then sauntered past Marsh as he led them to a clear space.

  Troublemaker.

  10

  A Family Affair

  It seemed like forever and no time at all before Gustav and Sulema returned to call them in to eat.

  “Breakfast,” the captain yelled, his voice carrying across the training grounds. “No army marches on an empty stomach.”

  Given they weren’t marching or an army, Marsh didn’t know why he bothered, but she was glad to stop. When she thought about it, she was hungry...and light-headed. All around
her, shadow blades dissipated in the shroom light and people thanked the mages instructing them before heading for the dining hall.

  Marsh watched them pass, resisting the urge to sink to her knees. Roeglin came alongside her and wound his arm around her waist. Instead of asking why Marsh leaned against him.

  “Huh. That’s some assumption you’re making,” he muttered, and she looked up at him.

  “It is?”

  “Oh, Deeps below,” Zeb said, walking around them. He shoved Roeglin. “Don’t you ever give up?”

  Roeglin gave him a wide-eyed look, but Marsh interrupted him. “Give up on what?”

  And she smirked as he blushed red from collarbone to hairline. Before he could respond, she pushed clear of him. He released her with a sigh and she looked back.

  Gerry gave her a shove as he went by.

  “A la putain, you Deepless son.”

  He laughed, tutting at her as he went. “That’s quite a temper you have.”

  Roeglin moved to stand beside her. “She hasn’t had breakfast yet.”

  “Like that’s an excuse.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Tamlin snarked as he moved in front of them, looking both of them up and down. “She’s never around long enough for Aysh and me to find out.”

  Roeglin winced. “Ouch, Tams. That’s not very nice.”

  The boy’s glare deepened. “No, it’s not. So, do you want to tell her, or shall I?”

  “Apprentice Danet!” Brigitte snapped, coming alongside them. “I know someone else who doesn’t do very well until he’s had his first kaffee of the morning.”

  Tamlin glared at her as well. “That’s not my fault.” He stabbed a finger in Marsh’s general direction. “You should talk to her about that!”

  “Not right now, I shouldn’t,” Brigitte told him, and Marsh heard a hint of iron creep into her voice, “and neither should you. She needs a moment.”

  “With him,” Tamlin snarled, turning his attention to Roeglin. “It’s always with him.”

  “Apprentice Danet!” This time, Brigitte’s voice was whiplash sharp and the boy flinched.

  Marsh flinched too, but Brigitte ignored her.

  “Time to fetch your sister.” She gave Marsh a sympathetic glance. “I’m sure your guardian will join us at the table.”