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

by D J Salisbury

  And a lot of tricks went wrong. Honestly, he muffed everything, and only saved the show by resorting to sorcery.

  Lorel watched him as though she feared he’d jump off the wagon and run.

  But the sorcerers didn’t come back and the soldiers didn’t drag him off and the children cheered and the adults threw copper beggars instead of the fresh horse manure he deserved.

  As far as he was concerned, it was a thundering successful performance, burnt fingers, unraveled handkerchiefs, and wiggly blue starfish included.

  Chapter 19.

  His turybird hadn’t been joking about leaving at first light. And his new nercat kitten was as ready as she’d promised she’d be.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t the least bit ready. His eyes were still swollen shut with sleep. And he normally considered himself an early riser.

  But he had an excuse.

  Zharyl had added her trading goods to his. Seven huge bolts of impossibly heavy, brightly plaided wool crowded his already overburdened mattress.

  He hadn’t been able to stretch out once.

  If he’d had any brains, he’d have slept inside the inn with his crew. He could afford a room, after all. Or he could have moved to the lower bunk. Except it was covered with three large suitcases. If that was Zharyl’s idea of packing light, he was glad Lorel had made a fuss about it.

  Besides, it was his bed, lightning blast it. He intended to sleep in it.

  This morning he was paying for his stubbornness.

  He rubbed goo out of his eyes, slunk under the door, and looked around for his crew.

  Zharyl was saying goodbye to her mother. Bess seemed to be hurrying the pair along. Lorel and Tsai’dona sat on their horses, looking bored. Even the horses looked bored. The goodbyes were taking forever.

  No reason for him to sit here on the driver’s bench, in danger of snoring or falling off the wagon. He snuck the diamond out of his pocket and peered into it.

  Jroduin’s face shone in its depths, every detail so clear he might have been in the same room. She was still asleep, her long, pale hair draped across her pillow. She seemed more beautiful than ever. How he missed that girl!

  Bess clambered up one side of the platform, and Zharyl bounced up the other, the flute hidden in a wool bag slung around her neck.

  Blast. He hadn’t noticed them move. He shoved the diamond into his pocket.

  “Scrying the road ahead, pet?”

  Oh, oh.

  Zharyl’s mother waved.

  He tentatively waved back and shook the reins.

  The team ambled down the street.

  “Not from the look on his face.” Zharyl frowned down at him. “He was spying on a girl.”

  Lorel laughed. “So that’s why he stares into the fraying crystal. He’s peeping in on his girlfriend.”

  “It’s so creepy.” Zharyl crossed her arms over her chest. “She deserves her privacy.”

  Zharyl’s mother shook her head and strolled into her house.

  “Hey, it’s not creepy! I never keep looking if she’s doing anything.”

  Tsai’dona snickered. “Mostly he watches her sleep. At least, he peeks during times the highborn normally sleep.”

  “You’re stalking her.” Zharyl’s frown would scare off a bahtdor. “You’re acting like a pervert.”

  “Now wait a minute!” He’d never hurt Jroduin!

  “Shove it, you bloodwoven turd.” Lorel stood up in her stirrups and raised one fist. “The kid ain’t no miswoven pervert.”

  “Don’t you swear at me!” Zharyl shouted.

  Viper covered his aching ears with both hands. Bess did the same, and she wasn’t sitting right next to the nercat.

  “Didn’t your mother teach you better?” Zharyl scooted to the edge of the seat. “I’m sure she washed your mouth out with soap!”

  He knew for a fact the poor woman had. Or had until Lorel claimed she enjoyed the taste.

  “Bitter blood in the Warp and the Weave,” Lorel shouted in Zedisti. “What a fraying priss.”

  “I speak Zedisti,” Zharyl shouted back in that language. “You’re too much of a coward to speak like a decent person!”

  “I ain’t no coward!” Lorel kicked her horse closer to the driver’s platform and raised her fist higher. “You can’t call me that.”

  Zharyl raised the wool bag that contained the flute.

  The magical flute with massive claws on each end. Only the Thunderer knew what it would do to his turybird. “Um, girls?”

  Suddenly Lorel froze. “You speak Zedisti?” Her gelding shook its head, jangling the bit, and crow-hopped away from the wagon. She gently reined it in.

  The blonde nercat tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Better than you do.”

  Lorel snorted, but the fight had gone out of her eyes. “You speak Zedisti. Hey, kid? We gotta keep on talking Nasty?”

  “You shouldn’t call Nashidran that,” Zharyl said primly.

  Maybe he could keep the nercat from breaking his spine. “If you promise to cut out the swearing, we can use Zedisti.”

  Lorel blinked, tilted her head, and slowly grinned. “I guess I’ll try.” She kneed her horse until it walked beside them. “Can’t be that fr– froggy hard to talk like a prissy townie.”

  Froggy?

  Zharyl sighed ostentatiously.

  He choked down a laugh. Hearing his turybird try not to swear was going to be fun.

  ∞∞∞

  Lorel nodded to Tsai to take point, and reined Hemlock to the rear of the wagon. Her poor gelding hated trailing behind, but she wanted to keep an eye on their little caravan. The kid was too good at getting into trouble the instant she looked away.

  So the priss knew Zedisti. It might make it worth dragging her along. Her accent was fraying – froggy – weird, but sooner or later the kid would get tired of listening to her and start fussing at her chatter.

  It’d taken lunars to get him to stop playing tutor on her. But she’d bet he planned to start nattering at them in Setoyan the instant they crossed through Melad’s east gate. No problem. She’d just ride out of earshot. Guarding the kid was more important than listening to him.

  Thirty feet ahead of her, the wagon rattled through the town’s quiet streets. A couple of blocks of houses opened onto a cute stone bridge that crossed the river. A decent defensive bridge, at that. Five arches too low to let a real ship through would slow down pirates or slaver’s vessels, if any bothered to come this far inland. And overlooking the water, a bunch of really fierce leopard-gargoyles poked out on each side.

  She’d bet little kids sat on them gargoyles during the summer, fishing or watching the water gurgle by.

  Something green dangled over the gargoyle the wagon was just now passing. Somebody’s lost cloak? But it glittered like it was dripping wet. How would a wet cloak get up there?

  The thing hunched up on itself and jumped onto the trunks at the back of the wagon.

  Now it looked like an overgrown green lizard. A nine-foot-long lizard with claws and fangs and spikes running down its back. And it was less than twelve feet away from the kid.

  “Blood in the Weave!” She urged Hemlock closer.

  The miswoven horse backed away so fast it sat down on its haunches.

  The priss leaned around the side of the wagon. “I told you not to– Eek!”

  Squeaking didn’t do the least good, silly priss. Of course, a horse sitting on its rump weren’t no prize, either.

  Lorel yanked her feet out of the stirrups and jumped to the ground. “You better stay put, you limp thread of a horse.”

  “What’s wrong?” The kid’s head popped above the roof of wagon. “Thunderer! What is that thing?”

  “It’s a river ghost,” the priss screeched.

  The kid pushed himself up higher. “It appears to be a salamander. How fascinating.”

  The beastie looked at the kid and hissed.

  The noodle brain swung clear up and sat on the roof. “Bess, would you go inside an
d bring me a notebook and pencil? I want to make a record of the creature.”

  “Don’t do it,” Tsai shouted as she rode back toward them. Her voice sounded choked with laughter. “He can spend hours studying a single leaf, much less a live animal.”

  And the old lady’d watched him do it, too, sing to the Weaver. She’d know how to handle him.

  The kid glanced down at the coachbox. “Please, Bess.”

  Bess’s eyes bobbed above the roofline, got really big, and vanished downward again. “Not today, pet. We really do need to leave town this morning.” She must have shook the reins, ’cuz the team started moving faster.

  “No, wait, slow down.” The kid slapped the roof, but yanked his hand back and pulled a starfish spine out of his palm. “We need to get it back into the water first.”

  But the critter just perched on the top trunk and glared at him. At least it wasn’t attacking. Yet. She better get it off of there.

  But how? Maybe she could jump from the bridge railing to the roof.

  As easily thought as done. Except for one little problem – the roof was curved. She got up there quick, but she slid right off the far side. At least she didn’t get caught on no starfish spines this time.

  “Don’t fall into the river,” the kid yelled.

  She caught herself against the bridge’s far railing. “That ain’t my plan.”

  “Oh, don’t go into the river,” the priss wailed. “The river ghosts will eat you.”

  “Go shove yourself in a chamber pot.” The fraying priss wasn’t worth being nice to.

  At least her mule of a horse had managed to get back on all four feet. And it hadn’t run away. Definitely worth more than a Loom-warping priss.

  The noodle-brained kid stood up on the fraying curved roof and limped toward the monster lizard. “Shoo, you silly beast. Before Lorel adds you to her leather collection and turns you into shoes.”

  She had to laugh. “You ain’t catching me in no green shoes.” Silly kid was too innocent to notice that only whores wore green shoes, in Shi or in Zedista. “It might make a good cloak. That’s what I thought it was, at first.”

  “Salamander skins don’t make good clothing.” Tsai coaxed Sumach a few feet closer.

  The critter barked at her.

  The mare backed away hastily.

  Inside the wagon, Baby Bear whined and pawed at the window.

  Turtle turds. If Baby got out, they’d be all day chasing her down. And her little girl was plenty strong to break through those window shutters, even if she didn’t know it yet. “Stay put, sweetie!”

  The kid rolled his eyes. “You spoil that monster.”

  Tsai laughed, the priss moaned, and Bess shook the reins again.

  This situation was totally harebrained. Somebody better take command. Before the kid fell off the roof, or the critter decided to eat him.

  Lorel drew her long sword and marched toward the green lizard.

  “Don’t kill it,” the silly kid shouted.

  “How’m I gonna turn it into shoe leather if I don’t kill it?”

  Tsai started laughing so hard she near to fell off her horse.

  “It’s not funny!” the priss yelled. “River ghosts are poisonous. They spit poison!”

  That sobered Tsai up some. “I’ve never heard of a salamander spitting venom.”

  The kid stood on the roof and studied the critter. “Do you suppose amphibians are different here than in Dureme-Lor?”

  How was he staying balanced up there, with only one foot and a padded boot that left him limping all the time?

  Bess announced, “We are about to leave the bridge.”

  The overgrown lizard must understand Zedisti. Or it just used its piggy little eyes. It hissed, reared back, and glared at the kid.

  He took half a step back. “Fascinating.”

  Too brave for his own good, sometimes. Time to go protect him. She sheathed her sword and scrambled up the side of the wagon.

  Starfish spines dug into her palms. Weaver’s chamberpot, that hurt. How was she gonna hold a sword with splinters shoving through her hands?

  No problem. She’d kick the monster off.

  She stood up beside the kid, only a little wobbly.

  He reached out and balanced her.

  The miswoven lizard glowered up at her. It hunched its shoulders, grabbed a starfish in each paw, snagged another in its teeth, and jumped. Straight at the kid.

  “No, you don’t!” She shifted in front of him and raised both bloody fists.

  The lizard launched right past her, past the kid, thumped the priss in the head with one back foot, and sailed into the river.

  The priss shrieked and hid her face in her hands.

  Bess calmly shook the reins again.

  Tsai snickered and reined Sumach toward the back of the wagon. “I’ll fetch Hemlock.”

  The kid watched the river, looking the saddest she’d seen him since they left Shi. “I really wanted to study the creature.”

  She’d help him study anything he wanted, if it took his mind off the washed-out linen. The girl was trouble, pure and simple. Even if she did give them mindboggling gifts.

  “Sorry, kid.” She shrugged, and her chainmail clinked. Did the sound remind him of the fancy linen as much as it did her? “That lizard would’ve got grumpy away from the river.”

  “It would’ve died.” He grinned up at her. “I’m still surprised you didn’t stab it. Oh! Look at your hands!”

  “Yeah, them spines slowed me down.” Blood trickled down her palms and off her fingers. “It’s gonna be a mess getting them out.”

  The kid made her get off the roof and sit in the coachbox between Bess and the priss. There wasn’t near enough room, but she tried not to complain.

  He knelt on the platform and jerked spines out of her palms, wiping her hand with a clean hankie after each tug.

  It embarrassed her no end, but she yelped every time he yanked one out. Even when she ground her teeth, little squeaks peeped up her throat. And there were seven thousand splinters in her hands. Well, seven hundred. Way too many, anyhow.

  The kid jerked the last one out just as they reached the east gate. “I’ll fetch some bandages.” But he paused when all the soldiers wandered close.

  Not that he could’ve wiggled between her and the priss. Built like a brick, that one was.

  Old Bess was practically hanging off the end of the coachbox, but she pulled the team to a halt before they ambled past the gate. “Somebody needs to ride inside,” she muttered.

  The priss whined, but raised her chin and offered the soldiers a watery smile.

  The guards ignored her and studied the wagon with strange looks on their faces. Kinda like they were trying not to laugh. The oldest one asked, “You kids have fun this morning?”

  The priss huffed and turned up her nose.

  “Great magic show last night,” the youngest one said.

  The kid blushed bright pink.

  Was it only last night? This morning felt like it had lasted a whole year. But the sun was just now peeking over the city wall.

  Her hands stung, she was stuck with an old lady and a whiny priss, and the kid was treating her like a sickie. Again.

  This was gonna be one long day.

  Chapter 20.

  Now-silent thunderdrums floated overhead and allowed sunshine to sparkle on this morning’s rain. The prairie was covered with tiny diamonds set in clusters of emeralds.

  Snatching a bite now and then, the team plowed through tender, shoulder-tall (on him, anyway) grass that stretched from horizon to horizon. And it was only late spring. By midsummer it would be taller than Lorel and sharper-edged than Crayl blades.

  They’d best be off the plains long before summer.

  Eight days out of Melad, wedged between Bess and Zharyl (who was bigger than both of them put together) had given him a new appreciation of a term he’d read in the Sedra-Kei library: ‘personal space.’ As in, how it felt not to have any.
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  Most days, praise the Thunderer, one of the women rode inside the wagon. But today they’d both come out to enjoy the sunshine.

  At least, he hoped it was why they were out here crowding him. It wasn’t for any of his charms. Since Zharyl wouldn’t let him read while he drove, he spent most days half asleep.

  Zharyl stared ahead, at Lorel and Tsai’dona. “I want to learn how to ride.”

  He’d promise her anything at this point, if it would keep her quiet. “Sure thing.” He yawned and stretched.

  “What a wonderful idea.” Bess sighed. “I’m going to catch a nap.” She lifted the door a few inches – all it would go with Zharyl sitting on the bench – and wiggled underneath.

  “Well? When?”

  “As soon as we leave the plains, I’ll buy you a horse. The tribes don’t keep them.” Until then, he’d teach her how to drive the wagon. That way she’d figure out how boring it was. And leave him alone with his books.

  “I could ride one of the team.”

  “They’re not trained to be ridden.” He wrapped the reins around his wrist so he wouldn’t lose them again. “We’ll ask Lorel to find you a horse at the next town. She’s horse crazy; she can pick out the best in the herd.”

  “She’s not all that fond of horses.” Zharyl sniffed and waggled her fingers in Lorel’s direction. “She doesn’t like your team.”

  “They won’t let her ride them.” He grinned at the pair of huge, blue-roan horses. They were more than his best purchase ever. They were his friends. “You have to ask them especially nicely or they’ll toss you. They’ve dumped Lorel in the grass hundreds of times.”

  “Really?” Zharyl blushed suddenly. “You’re teasing me.”

  “Only a little.” His turybird had given up after a few dozen tumbles. At least, he hoped she’d been that smart. “Kyri says they can’t be ridden, but I rode Poppy once. Come to think of it, that didn’t seem to surprise Kyri at all.”

  “The Kyridon is very wise.” Zharyl gazed into the distance. “It knows you are between the rules. That is why it calls you hatchling. You’re not in the egg nor out of it.”

  When had the nercat kitten become so clever? “You seem to understand more than I do.”