Alchemy's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 5)

by D J Salisbury

  He hadn’t willed for the illusion to wiggle! Against his will, his fingers jerked open. He dropped the thing.

  Izzy landed on its belly on the driver’s platform, bounced up, and bounded toward the crowd.

  “No, you don’t.” Sandblasted creature. Lorel had warned him it liked to run away, but this was the first time he’d seen it.

  The smallest children screamed.

  Viper tossed the cap at its owner and snatched the leather toy out of the air.

  Tiny suede feet waggled furiously, struggling to get free. Black-pearl eyes pouted at him.

  He was not feeling sorry for an inanimate object. Or an animate object, in this case. Life was getting way too confusing.

  Time to put Izzy away before anything else went wrong. He lifted the wagon door a few inches, intending to toss the toy back inside.

  The wretched serdil cub dashed under the door and leapt off the driver’s bench, thudding onto the cobblestones in a tumbled tangle of legs.

  He reached toward the fugitive. It must not escape into the crowd. What if it hurt one of the children?

  Before he could slide off the driver’s bench, the cub organized its limbs and toddled toward the smallest girl.

  She held out her tiny hand. “Pretty puppy.”

  Viper held his breath. Would it bite her? Would the crowd attack him for bringing a serdil into town?

  The cub sniffed at her little fingers.

  She giggled. “Whiskers tickle.”

  Tickle?

  Izzy twitched, wiggled out of his grasp, and bounced after the wicked cub.

  Blast. If the townsfolk didn’t kill him, Lorel would. “You little monster, come back here!” Which monster, he wasn’t sure. Maybe both of them.

  The cub paused, spun, and started chasing Izzy.

  Children screamed. And, in a mindless mob, sprinted after both of them.

  Izzy bounced around the wagon, moving barely half as fast as it could.

  The cub bumbled over its own feet, rolled like a wiggly rock trying to start an avalanche, and tottered after leather toy.

  Young voices laughed and cheered them both on. A cute girl his age waved at him to join them.

  He waved back and shook his head. He’d just stay up here on the driver’s bench until they wore themselves out.

  Did he have that much energy when he was young? Though most of those kids looked only two or three years younger than he was. The ones who weren’t a year or two older. He felt older than all of them put together.

  Laughing at the chaos, the old gentleman rubbed his bald head. “What is that thing?”

  Other adults nodded, obviously fighting to hide grins.

  They didn’t know? Well, serdil were normally gray, not black with white spots. And they were rarely seen outside of the western mountain ranges. The cub wasn’t much bigger than a Verizi spaniel, and half as scary, with its big blue eyes and fluffy kitten ears. But surely someone here knew about serdil?

  A woman scooted out of Izzy’s path, and had to step back farther to avoid the racing children. “How do you make it move?”

  They were asking about Izzy? Not the cub? Maybe Lorel was right, and it could pass off as a strange-looking puppy. A puppy with a kitten’s head, tail, and fingered paws? These people must be blind.

  “Trade secret,” he mumbled. Definitely some kind of secret; he had no idea what kept it moving. The faulty talismanic spell should have worn off lunars ago. He suspected Kyri had a hand – or tail tip – in keeping the magic alive.

  Lorel shook her head, stepped into the mob, and scooped up the cub. It licked her face enthusiastically.

  Tsai’dona corralled Izzy and cuddled it in her good arm.

  The children whined.

  “Off with you. Let these poor folk rest.” The old man shooed them toward the gate. “If you behave, perhaps you can talk them into another show tomorrow.”

  With slouched shoulders and a lot of laughter, the children wandered away. The grownups tossed bronze beggars at him and meandered into the tavern.

  Still hugging the serdil cub, Lorel scuttled around the courtyard, and picked up the coins.

  Tsai’dona pretended to stand guard. She looked as embarrassed as he felt. Who needed bronze beggars?

  After the last little monster had departed, Viper climbed down from the driver’s bench and bowed to the old man. “Thank you, sir. I hadn’t thought about how to end the performance.” Of course, he hadn’t thought about starting one, either. He’d dig out Frederick’s showmanship books before he tried it again.

  From the smug grin on Lorel’s face, he suspected he’d be trapped into another display soon.

  If he didn’t die of humiliation first. Everything had gone wrong. Not a single trick worked the way he wanted it to, not even his illusions. He wasn’t sure he could put himself through such a disaster again. Certainly not for a handful of coins worth less than a farthing each.

  He was a sorcerer, lightning blast it, not a magician.

  Not that anyone could tell from the way he’d been acting. Or from the wagon he’d been driving. He surely appeared to be a charlatan.

  The sorcerer he’d noticed earlier pushed past the friendly bald man. “What sort of game are you playing?”

  Why the anger? His tricks hadn’t been that badly executed. “Amusing the children?”

  “And you did a good job, too.” The bald man tossed a pair of bronze beggars at him and strolled into the inn behind the other adults.

  Still hauling around the wide-eyed cub in one arm, Lorel scooped up the coins and saluted. “We made fifteen farthings, kid.”

  Viper fought against rolling his eyes. “Beggars, not farthings.” Fifteen beggars might buy each of them one good meal.

  The sorcerer crossed his arms. “You’re so desperate you’re prostituting yourself for beggars? You have more talent than that.”

  Prostituting? What was he babbling about?

  Lorel slid the coins into her trousers pocket and gripped her honor sword’s hilt. “Don’t you talk dirty to the kid!”

  Viper rammed his hands onto his hips and stood straighter. Not that it made much difference. The man was over two feet taller than he was. “Why do you care?”

  “You’ve been making ample magical racket to awaken a dead necromancer.” The old man stalked forward and tried to loom over him. “You should display better control.”

  Blast, he must’ve dropped the Masking Veil during the show. Kyri had warned him, but he thought he’d made a habit of the spell.

  He eased the shield over his mind, even if it was too late to appease this critic. Later he’d ask Kyri to nudge him until it was instinctive. But not now. He didn’t want this rude person to notice the serpent.

  “You are a sorcerer, aren’t you?” The old man glared down his disgustingly long nose. “Or at your age, an apprentice sorcerer. Where’s your master? Does he know you’re playing at being a magician? A magician, of all things!”

  “My master was murdered while using a scrying spell.” Thunderer bless poor old Trevor for his patience with an uncivilized Setoyan Outcast.

  The sorcerer gasped and stepped back.

  Viper paced forward. “I’m looking for a wizard to avenge him.” It wasn’t quite accurate, but the quest needed to stay a secret. “Are there any wizards in town?”

  The old man’s face paled and he backed away. “Haven’t seen one in a couple of years.”

  Blast. He’d hoped to trade a wizard’s help for a jar of Hreshith dust.

  “We lost several sorcerers here, too. Dead, and we don’t know why.” The old man banged into the courtyard gate. “Never dreamed it was murder.” He edged past the gate and scuttled down the street.

  Sandblast. He’d counted on finding some guidance here. Were all Noran sorcerers useless cowards?

  Tsai’dona strolled closer, her whitened fingers clinging to Izzy’s middle. “That was strange.”

  Lorel released her sword hilt and stroked her squirming cub’s
head. “Most magic folk ain’t got as much sense as the kid. You should’ve met old Bull Nose. He acted that way all the time.”

  Bull nose? She must mean Frujeur. The creep did have a nose to rival a bahtdor’s snout. “He’s merely an herbalist, not a proper sorcerer.”

  “You a proper sorcerer, kid?” Lorel tilted her head and looked at him askance.

  No, he was only a second-level apprentice who could do some fifth-level tricks. “I’m all you’ve got. Don’t nag at me about it.”

  Tsai’dona snorted. “You make a great magician.”

  What an insult. But she probably didn’t know why. He shook his head and sighed.

  “Come on, dinner smells ready.” Still carrying the wretched cub, Lorel charged into the inn’s tavern.

  “Rancid fat smells like dinner?” Tsai’dona covered her nose and groaned.

  Viper reached up and patted her shoulder. “Tomorrow we’ll look for a place that serves rice.”

  She tucked Izzy under her splinted arm – he really did need to ask about a healer – and together they trudged inside to face twice-cooked beef.

  Praise the Thunderer, the bread was wonderful.

  Chapter 4.

  If there was any other way to get to Shi, he’d gladly take it. Drive the wagon an extra thousand miles? Happily. Ride a blasted horse? He’d think about it.

  Instead he was locked into another ocean voyage. And worse, he’d be lowered down the seawall – and hauled back up – at every stop between here and Shi, each time waiting for the ship to get crushed against the rocky cliff. Just standing here atop the seawall gave him the willies.

  But first he had to find a ship that would take him and his motley crew, even if he didn’t plan to declare everybody.

  There weren’t many choices in Noran. Two ship captains had already turned him down, purely because they didn’t care to transport horses. Or so they said.

  Viper wiped sea spray from his face and hoped the third ship needed the money.

  New clothing, donned for the first time today, might help, too. Now they didn’t look too poor to be hired to bail out the bilge.

  Tsai’dona stood beside him, also studying the ships resting in wooden cradles atop the seawall. She seemed to avoid watching the ocean, too.

  Lorel, the lazybones, lay sprawled in the sand at his feet.

  He nudged her hip with his padded boot. “Get up, pine tree. I don’t see how you can call Noran boring.”

  “I grew up in a port city a lot bigger than this piddly town.” Lorel grinned up at him, her gray eyes slitted and sleepy.

  Viper smiled, but glanced toward the ocean to hide his thoughts. Lorel’s expression and coloring reminded him of the polished mahogany gyrfalcon he’d coveted yesterday. No one would call her beautiful, with her scarred face and raptor nose, but no man could take their eyes off her either. He suspected most men were terrified of her.

  Tsai’dona crossed her arms – the healer had rewrapped her broken arm, but declared the setting of the bone ‘well executed’ – and scowled at the waiting ships. “I can’t believe I let you two talk me into riding a boat over a cliff.”

  “You don’t ride it, they lower it real slow.” Lorel stretched, yawned, flowed to her feet, and towered over him. “I seen seven thousand ships hauled over Zedista’s seawall, and it’s a lot a bigger than this. It’s only fun during an Alignment, anyways.”

  Viper rolled his eyes and shuddered. During an Alignment, the ocean climbed so high up the seawall he’d often feared the city would drown. “Come on. Let’s find the captain.”

  “He’ll be busy yet.” She straightened the hang of her new tunic, tugging here and there until it was immaculate. She brushed sand from her trousers and polished her boot toes on the back of the opposite leg. She twitched her long black braids into order, and touched both of her swords’ hilts.

  Tsai’dona swallowed a snicker, for all she was as neatly attired. She hadn’t been lying on the seawall. She hadn’t even sat down since she put on her new outfit.

  Viper repressed a grin at their unexpected vanity. Fancy clothes were good for impressing trading partners, but otherwise they were purely a nuisance. Setoyan leathers were far more sensible.

  He started down the stairs.

  Lorel snorted, but both girls followed him.

  They walked down to the newly-arrived ship and chose a sunny area a few paces from the loading ramp. There they waited, watching the porters unload the ship.

  And waited.

  Lorel plopped down and laid in the sand.

  Tsai’dona leaned against a nearby ship’s cradle.

  Viper sat down on a wooden brace and pulled a book out of his pocket.

  The girls glanced at each other and grinned. Tsai’dona looked up at the sun, shrugged, and flipped a bronze beggar at Lorel.

  What were they betting on this time? He probably didn’t want to know.

  When the sunset reddened the mountaintops, Lorel stood and stretched. “Enough of this crap.” Avoiding the still-busy porters, she strode up the gangplank, but stopped before she touched the ship. “Asking permission to come aboard.”

  “Permission granted,” called a muffled voice.

  Viper trotted up the ramp, but had to run to keep up with her long strides. “Slow down a little,” he whispered. “You make me look like a cripple.” He dodged out of the way of a porter carrying a huge roll of cloth.

  Lorel grinned and slowed her pace. She nodded to the crewman guarding the hatchway. “We wanna talk to the captain.”

  “Stay there.” The young man strutted out of sight. His rolling walk was infinitely interesting.

  An unreasonably handsome man strode toward them. Dark as rich ale and muscled like a warhorse, he was almost inhumanly beautiful. He was also one of the few men Viper had ever met who was noticeably taller than Lorel.

  Tsai’dona moaned. “Temple blessed.”

  Lorel’s chin dangled to her chest.

  Was she drooling? He elbowed her hip. “Shut your mouth,” he whispered.

  Lorel’s jaw slammed shut, but her eyes stayed bigger and brighter than silver shillings.

  “I am Miquel, the captain of the Wind Song.” The magnificent man gazed directly at her. “How may I help you?”

  Lorel stood spellbound.

  So he’d ignore Tsai’dona and himself? This captain wasn’t nearly that pretty. Viper forced a grin and stepped forward. “I’m a weapons merchant. I need passage to Shi for my outfit.”

  Miquel’s gaze shifted downward. “Detail your outfit.”

  His open appraisal made Viper glad they’d put on their new clothing. “Myself and my guards.” He nodded at Lorel and Tsai’dona, who both still stood motionless. “Three horses and a large wagon.”

  Miquel turned back to the girls. “Not much as guards, are they?”

  Tsai’dona frowned.

  Lorel jerked as though she had been struck.

  Viper planted his fists on his hips. “Attack me or mine and you won’t have time to find out how good they are.”

  “That good, eh?” Miquel bowed. “My apologies if I offended you.”

  Lorel nodded stiffly.

  Tsai’dona appeared to be resisting rolling her eyes.

  Viper agreed. The man was too full of himself.

  The captain put his hands in his coat pockets. “Two hundred in Nashidran gold nobles will take you to Shi.”

  Did this guy think they were shipping a dragon? “Five Duremen-Lor gold kinseni, and one Crayl steel knife.”

  Miquel’s eyes widened. “You have Crayl blades?” He smiled, his eyes offering promises that Viper hoped neither girl planned to accept. “I thought you were a novice at the weapons trade.” The smile grew more intimate, aimed at Viper alone. “My miscalculation, and apologies.”

  The seductive smile almost ruined his composure. Heat surged into his face. Maybe the captain was that perfect. He glanced at Lorel.

  Her mouth was hanging open again.

  Viper foug
ht down laughter. “I accept your apology. Do you accept my offer?”

  Miquel glanced down. “No. Twenty nobles and two Crayl blades.”

  Now that was closer to reality. “Seven nobles and two finished knives with Crayl blades.”

  “You bring food for yourselves and your horses, and you care for the beasts.”

  Viper nodded. He’d sneak in food for Kyri along with theirs.

  Miquel smiled again, but the smile was less stunning this time. “Report to me at sunrise on the seventeenth. Good evening, my friends.”

  Viper bowed to the captain. It hadn’t been a fun session, but it was educational. He turned to leave.

  Tsai’dona stepped out of his way.

  Lorel didn’t move.

  He grabbed her elbow and hustled her off the ship. “I will never accuse you of hating men again.”

  “What a man…” Lorel moaned. “I thought Pavimigar was gorgeous, but this one… ”

  Tsai’dona snorted. “He’s a peacock.”

  “You just love sea captains.” Viper squinted up at his tall friend. “You still have a moony look on your face.”

  Lorel kicked a rock and sent it spinning across the road. “Now you know what you’ve looked like ever since we got to this mud hole.”

  The girl was jealous of a town? Viper laughed until tears ran down his face. “I’ll be more careful.” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “I don’t want to look like you.”

  She growled and swatted at him.

  Up the street, up the hill, and, before Lorel’s face regained any dignity, they reached the inn.

  She glanced around the inn’s courtyard and pointed at the wagon. “Hey, kid. You didn’t pay for the toad.”

  He climbed to the driver’s platform, pulled a key out of his pocket, and unlocked the new bronze padlock on the door. “Not out here.” He slid under the door, followed by Tsai’dona, and waited for Lorel to close it tightly.

  His turybird promptly banged her head on the ceiling. “Miswoven wagon. I hate it in here.”

  “It’s warm and dry. Quit whining.” Tsai’dona picked up the threadbare wool coat she’d been mending over the last few days.

  He still didn’t have the heart to tell her to throw it out. They had plenty of money to buy a new one. But she insisted on mending anything that fell apart.