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

by D J Salisbury

  “She’s always watching for trouble to find me. She enjoys slicing it into salamander jerky.” The kid sighed. “Unfortunately, I tend to keep her busy.”

  Nice of him to notice.

  A gold-trimmed black coach drawn by four gorgeous black horses rattled past them. Had to be a merchant’s turnout. At least, the nobles in Zedista didn’t go for gold decorations all over the place. They had really plain rigs. Just like Jroduin’s.

  He glanced over his shoulder again. “It’s a good thing she has the personality of a nercat.”

  And all these years he’d been calling her a turybird. She didn’t much like being called a big, stupid, vicious bird.

  Jroduin tilted her head. “What’s a nercat?”

  “A small but aggressive wildcat.”

  Hey, he was calling her small now? That speck of Loom lint.

  He shrugged. “Well, it’s small when compared to most creatures in Setoya, only about four feet long, not counting the tail. But the silly creature will occasionally try to take down a bahtdor, and those are fifteen to twenty feet tall.”

  The kid had a really warped idea of small. No wonder he fussed about being kinda short. Well, awful short. He did have some cause to fuss.

  A pair of noblemen cantered by on the most beautiful warhorses she’d ever seen. Not that she’d seen that many warhorses. But these were as tall as the kid’s nags and had fire in their restless eyes. They were almost as pretty as Nightshade had been, and twice as big.

  She’d never be able to afford a horse so grand. Neither could the kid, for all his promises. Would she be able to buy a cull?

  The kid stroked Jroduin’s arm with his free hand. “I heard talk about a Spring Festival.”

  The washed-out linen put her hand over his. “It starts tomorrow. There will be marching bands and magicians entertaining the crowds.” She stopped and gazed into his face. “I heard a rumor you are a magician, yourself.”

  Now, where would she hear that? The kid ain’t put on a show or nothing. Had the frayed linen thread been spying on them?

  “In theory I am, but really I do prestidigitation.” The kid’s nose turned bright red, the way it always did after he told a lie. “I can’t even light a candle.”

  Weaver’s cold toes, that was the truth. He couldn’t never light no candle. He’d blast it to melted wax, but it wouldn’t never light up. He’d exploded seven candles aboard the Wind Song while practicing. What a fraying mess.

  Good thing the kid wasn’t in the room when Captain Miquel asked about them missing candles. The turtle turd’s nose would’ve given him away.

  Jroduin smiled at the kid. “I’m sure you could learn with proper instruction.”

  He gawped at her, all blank-eyed.

  Just her luck the noodle brain would fall for a Nasty. That sort of crap was blood-weaving hard to guard against. And the poor kid surely needed guarding against the scrap of linen. If he didn’t shut his mouth he was gonna start drooling.

  Sound whispered in the alley behind her. A dog snuffling through the garbage?

  All the alleys around here were clean. And she hadn’t seen a dog or a cat in the whole city.

  It sounded a bit like leather hinges. A door opening?

  Lorel yanked her long sword out of its sheath and spun.

  Some weirdo in a fox-faced mask swung a knife right at her gut.

  Hours of training guided her hand. Her blade severed first the arm holding the knife, then the creep’s neck.

  Blood fountained over the road.

  The kid froze and stared at the blood like it was gonna attack him.

  She whirled to face three more foes, still fifteen feet away. One wore a badly-made hawk mask, another a worse-looking jackal. The last guy, the one that hung back a little, wore an expensive-looking wolf mask.

  Four more men swarmed out of the alley, but stayed well out of her reach.

  A turd in a badger mask slugged Jroduin in the face, knocking her back against the stone wall.

  The kid shook himself awake, jumped back, and landed beside Jroduin’s limp body. He pulled out his eating knife.

  Bitter blood in the Warp and the Weave. She gotta get that boy to carry a real blade. Or at least his fork thingies. A three-inch bronze blade ain’t worth spit.

  She had to get to him.

  His attacker rushed in and grabbed his wrist.

  “No!” The kid jabbed his knee into Badger’s groin and threw his weight backward, pulling the man over him and slamming his head into the wall.

  Hey, all the training Tsai and her’d put him through worked. He did it exactly right.

  Except the stunned goon never let him go.

  Footsteps pounded toward her.

  She whirled again and gutted the jackal. He went down howling.

  Tsai sprinted full out toward them.

  Three thugs dashed out to meet her. How many guys were in this gang? Eight? Nine?

  She spun to defend against the two attacking her. Her swords moved into parry positions almost by themselves.

  The kid finally freed his wrist, but another brute ran at him, this one in a flat-faced cat mask.

  Creepy Cat stopped just out of the kid’s reach. “You’re mine, pretty.”

  “Lightning strike you!” The kid glanced her way, but she had both swords busy against the men facing her.

  Come on, kid. You know what to do. We practiced plenty, Loom lint. Move your butt.

  “You’ll bring a good price, pretty.” The man slunk sideways, farther out of her reach. “Behave and I’ll see you’re treated good.”

  Slowly, fearfully, the kid bowed his head, relaxed his shoulders, lifted one arm over his face. The little knife hung limp in his grip, next to his thigh.

  Weaver drowned in tears. He couldn’t give up.

  She had to finish these two before she could get to him. But these Loom-breakers were better fighters than street thugs oughta be. It was taking forever to carve them up.

  “Good boy.” Creepy Cat bolted forward and grabbed the kid’s raised arm.

  The kid buried his knife upward into the man’s gut.

  Now that was more like it.

  The slaver screamed. He pawed at the blood pouring from his belly. Still screaming, he squeezed the kid’s wrist hard.

  The kid’s eyes near to popped out of his face. He pounded on the man’s arm with his baby knife, but the blade bounced off bone.

  Lorel nearly got distracted by that useless little knife. But when her hawk-faced opponent charged her, she lopped off his arm.

  Old Hawk-face went down without a squeak.

  Creepy Cat’s whole body jerked. His eyes glazed as he sank to his knees. More blood squirted over the kid and Jroduin’s limp body.

  The kid struggled to free himself, but the dead thug held on tighter than a snapping turtle. Finally he put his padded boot against the man’s chest and levered his wrist loose.

  He looked mostly safe for the moment, even if his boot was half off his stump. She needed to concentrate on ending her fight. Tsai might need help.

  Wary of the chopped-off arms littering the street, she circled the last thug, watching, waiting for him to make a mistake. Both of them picked their way around the corpses sprawled on the cobblestones.

  This Wolf was good. And he knew a style of fighting she hadn’t faced before. She was sure learning a lot from him. But it was time to end the game.

  The kid tugged up his boot and backed out of their way until he was standing over Jroduin. Good. She didn’t want nobody to slice him by accident.

  Wolf feinted toward her neck.

  Lorel knocked his sword away. She leapt in to gore him with her short sword.

  But he was too fast. The swordsman lunged aside and attacked.

  She twisted hurriedly to defend herself. And slipped on the bloody paving. And crashed to the ground, flat on her back with her arms – and swords – spread wide.

  Stars and Looms and Shuttles spun past her eyes. Her arms wouldn’t move
. Air wouldn’t suck into her lungs.

  Wolf raised his sword.

  Behind his mask, his eyes were a strange dark blue, and they looked familiar. She’d met this creep before. She almost knew him.

  The kid rushed in, waving his bloody baby knife.

  Wolf backhanded him.

  The kid slammed against the stone wall.

  Lorel caught her breath and yanked her short sword into shield position.

  The weirdo glared down at her, looked up at the street, and shrugged. He saluted her with his sword, backed away several feet, and bolted.

  “What on the Loom?”

  “The City Guards.” Jroduin wiggled until she was able to sit up. She leaned against the stone wall and touched the back of her head. Blood smeared her fingers. Lots more blood was splattered all over her fancy white clothes.

  The kid laughed shakily. “You’re going to have a nasty black eye.” His laughter got louder and shriller, like he couldn’t stop laughing.

  Her body finally started acting right. “Calm down, kid.” She rolled, stood, and limped over to him.

  Tsai’s two opponents were down, but she was gimping worse than the kid normally did. She hobbled closer to him and nodded at Lorel.

  Sing to the Weaver. They were both back on duty.

  She wiped her blades on the cleanest part of her, the backs of her legs. No way was she putting them away sticky.

  Tsai pulled a white rag out of her pocket and cleaned her scimitar on it. The Loom lint always was better prepared.

  Jroduin pulled her skirts down over her ankles. Not that anything showed, with all her petticoat and pantaloons and embroidered stockings. Who in their right mind embroidered their socks?

  The guards trotted up to the edge of the blood and halted on the leader’s command. The gray-haired sergeant walked forward slowly, staring at the carnage. He glanced at the kid.

  The little speck of Loom lint was still giggling like a whole gang of schoolboys watching an old lady whose petticoat was trailing in the mud.

  “Slavers,” Jroduin said before the sergeant could speak. “The last one fled toward the park.”

  “Pardon, my lady, but we’ll never catch him now.” He knelt beside her, ignoring the blood that stained his trouser knees. “How badly are you hurt?”

  “My head hurts, but I think it is whole.” Fibbing bit of linen. But an honorable fib. Jroduin looked up at her. “Warriors, how deep are those cuts?”

  Lorel shrugged. “A couple of long scratches. Wrap ’em up and I’ll be fine.” Well, they’d need stitching, but it could wait a bit.

  Tsai nodded. “Same here.”

  Guards trotted forward and tied rags around the most obvious cuts on both of them. That would do until they found somebody to sew them up.

  “And you, my friend?” Jroduin froze and stared all wide-eyed at the kid. “You’re covered with blood!”

  “None of it’s mine.” The kid tried to fight down another fit of giggles, but he kept pushing something away from him at the same time.

  The sergeant stood, walked over, pulled the kid to his feet, and slapped his face.

  The kid gasped, sputtered, and stopped laughing. He looked around the street all buggy-eyed. “What happened?”

  “Normal battle shock.” The sergeant leaned the kid against the wall and marched back to Jroduin. “May we escort you to your accommodations?”

  The slithering toad wouldn’t none like it if the City Guard marched them back to the wagon. But Lorel didn’t have the kid’s golden tongue to talk them out of it.

  “Yes, thank you.” Jroduin staggered to her feet with the sergeant’s aid and limped to where the kid stood in a daze. She took his arm and led him toward the guards. “These people will accompany me.”

  Sing to the Weaver. That would keep the guard – or the nosy linen – from looking too hard at the wagon. Silly kid would probably invite her inside, and the legless lizard’d get all pissy.

  Jroduin nodded at Tsai. “I couldn’t see you, but obviously you acquitted yourself well.”

  Tsai’d done good, for such a little thing. She’d killed two men nearly twice as big as she was.

  But for herself? She’d been too slow. Too slow to notice the attack. Too slow to end it. Them monsters near to carried the kid off.

  Jroduin waved one hand. “Warrior?”

  Ain’t no proper warrior. Just a half-trained hack who got kicked out of sword school. “I hear you.”

  “I was very impressed with your fighting ability.”

  Who was the linen kidding? Not her. “He should’ve killed me.”

  “After you had beaten several others.” Jroduin put an arm around the kid’s shoulders, half supporting him, half leaning on him. “If you would follow me, I’ll show you something more to your interests. Our friend here can be bored instead of you.”

  Something to bore the kid? Not much did. “That’ll be a change. Sure, we’ll go with you, if you ain’t tied to a bed and the kid can walk.”

  The kid shook himself and straightened his back. “You’ll be hard put to bore me.”

  Jroduin outright grinned, a strange look on her. “We’ll work on it.”

  Lorel rolled her eyes, but grinned right back. No point in getting the washed-out linen mad at her.

  The pintsized phaeton with the pretty little grays clattered up. The coachman and the footman both jumped down, ran up to Jroduin, and fussed over her.

  She flicked her fingers at them. “Have no concern. I am uninjured.” She must’ve seen Tsai raise her eyebrows since she added, “Other than a headache.”

  Lorel snorted. The linen put on a good front, anyway. That icy face would have a honking shiner by morning.

  The footman checked Jroduin’s head, pulled a white hankie out of his pocket, and held it to the bloody spot, all without saying a word.

  The kid shivered. It was hard to tell, with his eyeballs being all black, but he looked kinda cross-eyed. He was gonna have a pair of shiners, given the way his face was swelling.

  Lorel checked the street and the alley beside them. No reinforcements from the slavers yet. She mentally smacked herself. No slavers were so dumb they’d take on a squad of Nasty soldiers.

  Jroduin wrapped her arm tighter around the kid and turned to the footman. “Bring me the carriage robe.”

  The footman rushed to the phaeton and back again so fast his fancy jacket near to blew off. He tried to wrap the lynx-fur robe around Jroduin.

  She took it away from him and wrapped it around the kid. “Sergeant, if you would help my guests into my carriage, we’ll be on our way.”

  Where did the washed-out linen think the four of them was gonna fit? The phaeton was only a two-seater with a standing board at the back and a driver’s seat. There wasn’t even a proper roof to sit on, just a flimsy top.

  Jroduin must’ve realized it at the same time. Her face got all long.

  Weaver’s cold toes, nobles couldn’t never think things though. “You and the kid get inside. I’ve always wanted to drive one of these things, if your men will stand at the back.”

  The two men looked at the blood coating her and Tsai (most of it wasn’t theirs, but that didn’t matter. She really did want to drive them pretty little horses), and nodded at their boss.

  “Excellent.” Jroduin guided the kid closer to the phaeton and waited while two soldiers lifted him in. The wimps. The kid weighed so little she could lift him with one hand.

  The footman helped Jroduin up to the seat and returned to his post at the back.

  The washed-out linen wrapped her arm around the kid like she never planned to let go.

  Two soldiers marched up to Tsai. “May we help you up to the coachbox?” one asked.

  Bitter blood. They’d all been calling it the wrong name for years. She couldn’t wait to correct the kid. But she’d put it off until it was just the three of them. She didn’t want to embarrass him. Too much.

  Tsai nodded. The soldiers helped her up to the driver’s be
nch. No, to coachbox. She had to get it right from now on.

  The coachman marched over to Lorel and glared up at her. Poor short little guy only came to her armpits. “They have delicate mouths.”

  “I’ll be careful.” Like she’d ever abuse a horse. But he didn’t know her. No point in getting offended. “Where we going?”

  “I’ll call out directions.”

  What, he thought she couldn’t remember? “Just tell me, all right? You can yell if I go wrong.”

  He spewed out a long stream of lefts and rights.

  “Sounds good.” Easier than getting around the oldest parts of Zedista. “Climb aboard.”

  The coachman gawped for a minute, shrugged, and stalked to the back of the phaeton.

  Lorel hopped up to the driver’s seat (well, stretched her hip bones a little) and picked up the reins.

  Tsai grinned and winked at her, but kept her face forward where their passengers couldn’t see. “Your backside is completely covered with blood,” she whispered. “I never thought I’d see you with more action on your back than on your front.”

  Hey, her front was all bloody, too. These clothes were trashed into gory tatters. Kid would have a fit when he noticed. All their clothes were ruined, unless he figured out how to magic the blood out of his suit. His brand-new suit. She couldn’t wait to see his face.

  “Sergeant, thank you for your assistance,” Jroduin said. “You need not accompany us now.” She paused and nodded at him. “I won’t forget.”

  The soldiers all saluted the washed-out linen. Too weird. Nasty soldiers never showed good manners.

  “Warrior, we are ready to depart.”

  Slow down, she hadn’t found the brake lever yet. Oh, there it was, way down low. What was it doing down there? She released the fraying thing and jiggled the reins.

  The team strutted forward in perfect rhythm.

  What a gorgeous little team. Lots more responsive than the kid’s cranky old nags.

  It was a long drive. Plenty of twists and turns in the road. But the coachman never got to call out, not even once.

  She still hadn’t gotten over the beauty of the team when they reached their destination.

  That was a home? It looked like the biggest hotel in Toranan-Yiet. No, even bigger. It had thirty marble steps out front that were fifty feet wide. It had more windows than seven Zedisti tenements. The walls were built out of grim-gray granite.