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

by D J Salisbury

  Just what he needed. Teenagers were worse than adults, when it came to magic shows. They always tried to spoil his illusions. But why were they interested now? He hadn’t even started a performance.

  Tsai’dona stood her ground, but the horde swept around her.

  Lorel placed her hand on her short sword’s hilt.

  Bess very sensibly backed away five paces.

  He only backed up two steps, and purely out of caution. Girls were appallingly unpredictable.

  Three of the attackers fell on their knees in front of the blasted cub, cooing and giggling.

  The little monster cooed right back and licked their faces.

  Lorel grinned as if she were the beast’s birth mother. For all he knew, she was. They certainly deserved each other.

  The tallest girl, one with obvious Setoyan ancestry in her wide shoulders and reddish-gold hair, knelt in front of him.

  He wasn’t that short, sandblast it!

  But she wasn’t looking at his face. Or at him at all. She whispered, “That is the most beautiful flute I have ever seen.”

  Blast. Another female. He’d hoped the wielder of this weapon would be male. And short.

  Tsai’dona strolled to his side.

  The girl’s broad hips and shoulders made his bodyguard look even smaller than usual. Neither of them appeared to notice.

  Thick fingers reached toward him, but paused. “Is it fragile? It looks like it’s made of alabaster. The clouds and blue dragons are just amazing. Do you know who made it?” She didn’t hesitate long enough for him to answer. “And those claws on the ends are just so drastic. Really sets it off. May I hold it?”

  He waited until he was sure she’d stopped talking before he handed it to her.

  The three-foot-long flute looked delicate in her large, strong hands. Uncalloused, smooth hands.

  Was she up to a long journey, and a war at the end? Could he stand to travel with someone who talked nonstop? If he was lucky, she wasn’t the one. He’d know as soon as she tried to play it.

  The girl was as city-soft as Lorel was warrior-hard. And she was nearly as tall, well over six feet. Even kneeling, she seemed taller than he was. Where in the wagon could they put another giant?

  Lorel, who was watching them suspiciously, seemed to be thinking the same thing. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the girls drooling over the wicked cub.

  The girl held the flute tenderly and ran her free hand over its surface. “It’s the most incredible instrument I’ve ever seen. May I play it?” She finally looked him in the face. “Oh, you’re Setoyan, aren’t you?”

  No jokes about his height? He might be able to put up with her, after all. He nodded.

  She took that as ‘yes’ to both her questions, stood, and raised the flute to her mouth.

  Lorel stepped back from the kneeling girls.

  Bess and Tsai’dona moved closer.

  Dragon song poured into the town square. Wind song swirled through the air, bright and pure as cloudless sunshine.

  Tsai’dona’s eyes grew round. She glanced at Lorel and nodded.

  The three Meladi girls looked up and plunked flat on their rear ends.

  The cub pulled away from its admirers and tugged on its leash, trying to reach the flutist.

  The girl played a series of scales, a short arpeggio, and a lullaby. Beautiful, note-perfect, passionate music filled the courtyard. People wandered closer to listen.

  Viper traded a look with Lorel. They’d found her, all right.

  Lorel shook her head and shrugged.

  Which was exactly what he thought about it. And she hadn’t even heard the girl speak yet, unless she’d been listening to them instead of the Meladis talking to her.

  The music stopped. The girl hugged the flute to her chest. Tears flowed down her face.

  Tears? Why on Menajr was she crying?

  Bess strolled to the girl’s side and patted her arm. They made a comic picture, the tiny gray-haired old lady trying to comfort the blonde giant, but no one laughed. “Come along, pet. We need to talk.”

  “I need it. I want to buy it.” The girl sniffled, but more tears dribbled down her face. “I don’t have nearly enough money to buy it!”

  Oh, blast. Why did life have to get this complicated? He never meant to hurt her, no matter how annoying she was. “That’s what we’ll talk about.”

  The girl looked alarmed for a moment, but she glanced down at him and frowned. She studied the rest of his crew.

  Only Lorel could be considered intimidating, and his turybird was currently behaving herself.

  The girl glanced at Lorel, studied Tsai’dona, and turned to peer down at Bess and himself. “Which of you is the boss?”

  He stabbed his chest with his thumb. All three of his crew pointed at him. Good to know they called him their leader, even though they rarely acted as if he was.

  She studied him doubtfully, but shrugged. “I don’t think Mother will like you.”

  It wasn’t as though he was asking to marry the sandcrab. “Why not?”

  “She’s mad at Setoyans at the moment.” She shrugged again. “But I can’t make any deals without her.”

  “That’s fair.” He craned his neck to peer into her Setoyan-shaped, Nashidran-pink face. He liked her better while she was kneeling. “How old are you? Who are you?”

  “I’m Zharyl, and I’m fifteen.”

  Fifteen was hardly older than he was, and he’d survived their jaunt to Land’s End and back easily. And she had a lovely aura, bright blue striped with teal. The only problem he saw with her was she was too blasted tall. And talked too much. She’d drive him to jump off the Deathsinger’s cliff.

  Lorel strolled around the girls still sitting in the street and grasped his shoulder. “Come over here, kid.” She led him to the fountain and lifted him up to stand on the narrow, two-foot-high pool wall.

  From here he could look almost directly into her face. At her collar bones, anyway. His neck began to unkink.

  Bess shooed the other Meladi girls away.

  Tsai’dona guided Zharyl over to the fountain. “The falling water should keep this conversation more private.”

  Still hugging the flute, the girl allowed herself to be herded. From the way she was frowning, he guessed the flute was the only reason she’d stayed to talk. That was fine. Between them, they’d convince her to go with them.

  Now, as long as he remembered not to move, he’d be fine. He could see into Zharyl’s eyes. It was a good feeling. Maybe he should travel with a stepstool?

  The cub snuffled at the girl’s long skirts.

  Zharyl grimaced and moved away.

  He liked her better already. But how could he convince her to leave home with a bunch of strangers? He glanced at his motley crew. Very strange strangers, at that.

  Bess smiled at her. “I have a seahorn that is close cousin to your flute.”

  Zharyl gripped the instrument tighter. “I don’t play the seahorn.”

  “But I do. And I miss having a fellow musician to perform with.” She dipped a curtsey, which looked rather odd in her traveling trousers. “I’m Bess, by the way.”

  “Honored to meet you, Mistress Bess.” Zharyl returned the curtsey as if she’d practiced in front of a mirror. Or an audience. With her skill on the flute, she probably had.

  He gestured to his bodyguards. “Tsai’dona and Lorel protect us. I’m called Viper.”

  She ignored the girls, but she stumbled backward at his name.

  Blast. Why hadn’t he picked a normal name? Like Zebulon or Aloysius or Ignatz. “I’m not a wizard. I’m just a sor–” Just someone who couldn’t keep his story straight. “A magician. And not a good one.”

  Zharyl’s frown grew deeper. “So what do you want with me?”

  “We’re – we’re –”

  Lorel snorted. “We’re on a quest.”

  Blast. Scare the child into running, turybird.

  But Zharyl squealed and clasped both hands around t
he flute. “Oh, how exciting! Like a treasure hunt! Will we travel to the end of the world? Will it be dangerous?”

  Bess’s smile grew fixed.

  Tsai’dona shook her head and looked away.

  “We been to the end of the world.” Lorel glanced at him and shrugged. “You wouldn’t’ve liked it none. Now we’re looking for a few special people. Like Bess and Tsai.”

  “I’m special,” Zharyl whispered.

  Finally he was on safe ground. “Very special. The magical flute chose you.”

  Zharyl squealed again.

  Lorel rolled her eyes and caught him before he fell backward into the fountain.

  Tsai’dona snickered.

  Could the flute have made a mistake? Please?

  Bess patted his knee. “She’ll outgrow it, pet.”

  If only he lived that long.

  “May I go with you? A quest! It’s so exciting!” Zharyl bounced on her toes. Feet almost as big as Lorel’s showed beneath her skirt.

  He was about to get a huge footwear bill. And a bigger tailor’s bill. “Do you own any trousers?”

  The girl stopped squealing and bouncing. “I can’t wear trousers.” She studied his crew’s sensible traveling clothes and shook her head. “I’d look like a brick wall if I even tried.”

  “You already look like a blonde brick,” Lorel muttered.

  She did not. She was a perfectly normal Setoyan girl. “Bottle the insults, bahtdor bait.”

  Praise the Thunderer, Zharyl didn’t seem to hear his turybird. “Besides, if I tell Mother you want me to wear trousers, she won’t let me go with you.”

  Hmm. Maybe he should mention it himself? No, the flute chose this girl. He had to get used to her… enthusiasm.

  He couldn’t wait to introduce her to Kyri. “We have another member of our quest, a nonhuman.”

  “Somebody magical, like in heroes’ tales? How exciting! I want to have adventures and survive daring deeds with you!”

  Lorel caught him before he backed into the fountain. If that girl kept squealing, he’d be worse than wet. Already a headache was throbbing behind his temples.

  Bess reached up and grabbed Zharyl’s elbow. “Let’s talk with your mother, pet, before you plan any adventures.” She steered the girl out of earshot.

  Lorel scooped him up and lowered him to the ground. “You sure she’s the right one?”

  “Unfortunately. But we’ll get used to her.” He hoped. Otherwise he’d be forced to gag her. Preferably before Lorel broke the child’s jaw.

  Tsai’dona thumped Lorel’s forearm. “She’s no worse than my sisters. Just ignore her. She’ll never notice.”

  Lorel snorted and trudged after Bess and the chatterbox. “I never thought I was lucky to have only brothers.”

  The sandblasted cub trotted at her side, ogling the scenery. At least it was walking, for a change.

  “How about you?” Tsai’dona tapped his shoulder. “Brothers or sisters?”

  “Both. And half-siblings, plus dozens of cousins.” He shrugged and rubbed his temples. “If I’m unlucky, we’ll meet some of them.”

  Tsai’dona raised her eyebrows. “Why unlucky?”

  “I was Outcast. There will be… repercussions when I reenter Setoya.”

  “Reper– Repo–” Lorel swatted at him. “Is that dragon talk? Or you just yattering on like the longwinded worm?”

  Why hadn’t Kyri murdered her while the three of them were trying to rescue him from the dragon? The serpent never let him get away with even mild insults. “You know the word, bahtdor bait. It means penalties. Like the time you barged into the City Guard’s practice yard.”

  Tsai’dona snickered.

  “Why didn’t you say so?” Lorel shook her head and smothered a grin. “You and your big words. Hey, when’d you find out about that?”

  “The practice yard?” He thought for a moment. “I don’t remember. Probably at a meeting of the Society of Sorcerous Sciences. Whoever it was, they described you perfectly.”

  Tsai’dona laughed out loud. “You are unique.”

  “Nope.” Lorel swung her elbow at her friend’s head. “I look like half the girls in Zedista.”

  Tsai’dona snorted.

  Viper laughed. “She’s right. Locals come in two flavors. Tall and dark, or short and olive-skinned. Well, shorter. Taller than you and me.”

  “Bog swallow it. I may not like Zedista after all.”

  Lorel sniggered.

  Half a block away, Bess led a glowing Zharyl – still clinging to the flute – out of a small house and herded her toward them. “This child has a silver tongue. Or far too much experience in talking people into giving in to her.”

  “Our fortuneteller said just last week that I’d take a long journey.” Zharyl rose onto her toes and whirled in a little dance. “Mother knew I’d be leaving soon. I’ll be packed and ready to go early tomorrow morning.”

  The headache he’d almost lost came roaring back.

  Lorel crossed her arms. “We’re leaving at first light. Before dawn.”

  Zharyl’s eyes widened. “Of course. On an adventure, you have to leave before dawn.”

  “Bring bedding, but as few clothes as you can live with.” Tsai’dona put her hands on her hips. “If the wagon breaks down, you have to carry all your stuff.”

  If they broke a wheel in Setoya, they’d end up dead, eaten by turybirds or fed to bahtdor by the tribes. But after traveling to Land’s End and back, the wagon seemed reasonably indestructible.

  And Tsai’dona knew it. Why was she trying to frighten the child?

  “We broke a spoke in them mountains,” Lorel muttered, but Viper suspected he was the only person who heard her.

  Zharyl smiled. “Of course. I won’t take anything I don’t really need. Except…”

  The headache pounded between his ears. Agony trampled down his spine. How could he put up with this creature for lunars on end?

  “Can’t I bring a few things to trade?”

  The pain faded. “What?”

  Lorel groaned.

  The serdil cub leaned against her leg and looked up at her with a worried expression. What was he thinking? Serdils didn’t worry about anything.

  Zharyl frowned at his turybird. “Setoyans are famous for trading cloth for opals, and even gold sometimes. I want to bargain with them.”

  Tsai’dona whimpered.

  Lorel hid her face in her hands. “Not another one.”

  Bess glanced between them with a puzzled look on her face. “Another what?”

  Exultation rose up his throat and he laughed aloud. “I live for trading. I love to haggle.”

  “He ain’t joking.” Lorel peeked between her fingers. “You got the soul of a shopkeeper, kid.”

  Zharyl held the flute to her chest. “The only thing I like better than dickering is making music.”

  Bess reached up and patted the girl’s arm. “You and I can practice every night.” She frowned at the face Lorel pulled. “It gets boring sitting around, watching the campfire flicker.”

  “Not that boring.” Lorel leaned her head back and glared at the clouds. “We can’t guard the camp right if you’re making all sorts of noise.”

  Tsai’dona nodded.

  Viper shook his head. “Music will scare off predators, and we don’t want to even pretend to sneak up on the tribes. I know, we’ll get you and Tsai’dona instruments. We’ll have our own band.” When Lorel opened her mouth to complain, he added, “Music to start off the magic shows.”

  Bess grinned. “It is traditional.”

  Lorel snapped her jaw shut.

  Tsai’dona groaned and covered her eyes with one hand. Suddenly, she looked up with half a smile on her lips. “I don’t play anything. Bet she doesn’t, either.”

  Lorel moaned.

  “You can’t get out of it that easily.” He crossed his arms. “She plays dozens of instruments.” Since her family made musical instruments, she’d been forced to learn more than she’d admit
before she learned to walk.

  Of course, it was part of the reason she’d run away from Zedista. If she didn’t go looking for a music shop, he wouldn’t force the issue.

  Wide-eyed, Zharyl turned to him. “Do they argue with you all the time? Don’t they obey you? You are the boss, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I’m the boss.” How could he explain his situation without looking like a fool? “Each of us has knowledge the others don’t. Together, we prosper. If I silence them, they might not offer intelligence I need.”

  Zharyl’s lips worked silently. She frowned. “Mistress Bess? Does he always talk that way?”

  Lorel snortled.

  Tsai’dona cleared her throat and looked away.

  Even the blasted cub laughed at him. Its mouth hung open and its tongue fluttered out, as if it wanted to lick him. Slimy beast.

  “I’m afraid so, pet. If you can’t make sense of him, do ask. One of us will translate.” Bess glanced sideways at him. “Sometimes he’ll even translate for himself.”

  Hey, he’d been perfectly clear. What was the problem?

  “Wait ’til you try’n talk to Kyri.” Lorel rubbed her hands together. “We been working for ages to get the longwinded worm to use real words.”

  Oh, yeah. Kyri. They may not travel with the chatterbox after all. A small-town kid like Zharyl would run in terror from a thirty-foot-long magical serpent.

  Lorel smirked and gestured in the general direction of their inn. “We better go meet with the wiggler now. Just so you know who you’re traveling with.”

  He hated it when her thoughts paralleled his. He never knew if she was thinking more clearly than usual, or if his judgment had slithered into a sinkhole.

  At the moment, it didn’t matter. Lorel grabbed Zharyl’s shoulder and dragged her in the general direction of the wagon.

  The cub did its best to tangle their legs together with its leash. The monster may have the right of this situation.

  “Slow down, turybird.” He jogged to catch up with them. “Let me explain a few things.”

  Lorel took a hard right at the next corner, and suddenly they were in front of the inn. How did she do that? “Not to worry, kid. The toad can do all the explaining.”