She had meant that to come out a lot stronger than it did, but it was a creaky whisper. She pushed against him until he moved, and he hauled her to her feet.
“Thanks a lot,” she muttered as she turned to face Monsieur Gravine. “I’m—”
“You did well,” he snapped, cutting her off, “although next time you will understand that it is much better to ask permission than forgiveness, at least with me. You are under arrest, pending disciplinary action.”
Marsh stared at him, her mouth open in surprise. The guard laid a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“I haven’t seen him that angry in a long time,” he told her, then added, “You’d better come with me.”
Marsh nodded. It wasn’t like she had much choice. Firstly, because she didn’t think she could make a successful break for it, and she definitely couldn’t slide into the shadows, and secondly, because—
“Trainee Leclerc!”
Judging by the tone of his voice, Roeglin was mad at her.
You bet the Shadows I’m mad at you.
Well, at least she couldn’t make it worse.
“Yes, Roeglin?”
“That is Master Leger, Trainee!” Shadows flew to his hand, snaking together to form a long staff. “Defend yourself.”
The guard’s vocabulary of curses clearly extended well beyond merde. He let go of Marsh’s shoulder, moving to stand off to one side and out of range.
Marsh thought about asking forgiveness but decided it would be a waste of time. She pulled her own staff from the shadows, deciding she might as well get this over and done with, and then see what the founder thought was a suitable punishment for someone who—
Roeglin’s staff caught her a solid blow to the thigh, then danced up to smack her on the hip, and up again to… Marsh recovered in time to block the blow and make a counterstrike to his head. He ducked under it, turning his staff side-on and stepping forward to hit her across the chest and push her off her feet.
Marsh stumbled back, regained her footing, and shifted her grip on her staff to see Roeglin spin his stick, bringing one end up toward her face. She pulled her head back, but not far enough, and the blow landed, setting her ears ringing and making her see stars. She landed on her backside, her staff vanishing from her hands.
“Next time, you will follow orders.”
Uh huh, Marsh thought, Sure I will.
What she said was, “Yes, Master Leger.”
I can see what you’re thinking.
And your point is?
He rolled his eyes, letting the staff dissipate from his hand so he could reach down and help her up.
One day, you’re going to find yourself deeper in the Dark than you know how to handle.
Marsh accepted his help, wincing as the results of the day’s activities made themselves known.
And when that day comes, I’ll be sure to ask you to help me get out of it.
“This way,” he said, “I need to speak to Monsieur Gravine.”
Marsh just bet he did, but Roeglin wasn’t waiting, and she had to concentrate just to keep up. When the founder’s guard fell into step beside her, she didn’t try to move away.
I wish you’d waited, Roeglin grumbled as a second guard fell in alongside them.
Marsh didn’t agree. If she’d waited, they’d be down three farming families instead of two and would have had an incursion they didn’t know about until much later. No, it was better that she’d been on hand to intervene.
“Six,” Roeglin said.
“Sorry?”
“We’d be down six farming families. The founder sent squads out to each farm in this sector and stopped the raiders who had escaped from making a second hit. They didn’t reach the last three farms, but they had a map, and all six were marked. Don’t let it go to your head.”
Why had he gone after her with a staff, then?
Because the appearance of discipline is important, and hopefully you’ll think twice before you cut me out of your plans again.
Right. It was food for thought.
Roeglin didn’t answer that, but he did give a heartfelt sigh as he headed to where Monsieur Gravine was talking to the farmer and his wife. To Marsh’s surprise, Mordan was standing beside the family, three children resting their hands on her brown and gray hide. The founder saw them coming and reached out to shake the farmer’s hand.
“You’ll be able to return as soon as the cavern is secured. In the meantime, my men will help you move your family and animals to the township.”
“The crops…” The farmer waved his hand toward the nearby fields.
“I’ll appoint a steward to help organize protection during the harvest for all the farms.” Monsieur Gravine indicated one of the soldiers standing nearby. “This is Captain Novel, and he will assist you in your move.”
For a moment, the farmer looked like he might have more questions, but then his gaze swept the area around them, taking in the fallen raiders and injured protectors, and he turned toward the captain and Monsieur Gravine.
“Thank you, Founder.”
With Novel at his side, he led his family back to the house, Mordan surprising Marsh by trailing along with them.
The kat spared a brief glance in her direction, her tail lashing briefly as she let the children cluster around her. Marsh didn’t know how to feel, but she understood. When the cubs were safe, Mordan would be back. In the meantime, Monsieur Gravine was waiting.
Marsh’s head spun and she frowned, conjuring a staff to lean on before she fell. Beside her, the guard wrapped his hand around her arm. The firm touch was enough to disrupt her grip on her magic, and the staff vanished just as she went to lean on it. She stumbled, the guard’s grip all that kept her upright, and he cursed.
“By the Deep and Shadow’s Children!”
Marsh hadn’t heard that one, but she liked it, filing it away for later use as the guard pulled her arm over his shoulder. Roeglin observed the interaction, his face a mask of calculated calm.
“Overdid it, did you?” he asked, and Marsh resisted the urge to flip him off. Instead, she answered with all the respect her tired mind could muster.
“Yes, Master Ro…Leger.”
His lips tightened into a thin line but he said nothing, turning away to speak with the cavern’s founder.
“I believe you have arrested my trainee, pending disciplinary action.”
Monsieur Gravine’s face was solemn.
“I have.”
For a second, Roeglin waited for the founder to continue. When it became evident he was not going to, the shadow mage spoke.
“Perhaps we can discuss the form of disciplinary action required.”
Monsieur Gravine glanced at where Marsh leaned on his guard. After a moment’s consideration, he replied.
“I will see you in my office when we return, Master Leger. In the meantime, I’ll leave her in your charge.”
Beside her, Marsh heard the soldier muffle a sigh of relief.
Just how much trouble had she been in, anyway?
A lot.
Not what she needed to hear.
Merde! Marsh thought as crushing fatigue washed over her. Just once, she’d like to make it back to safety under her own steam.
13
From Frying Pan to Fire
Marchant woke to find herself back in the bottom bunk of the room she shared with Izmay. At first, she just lay still, slowly registering the heavy warmth and musky scent of hoshkat and realizing the great beast was stretched out beside her on the bed.
“Mordan,” she murmured, pulling a hand clear of the covers to lay on the great kat’s side.
A soft rumble vibrated the bed, and she realized the kat was purring. The sound was followed by a raspy tongue licking her cheek, and Marsh opened her eyes. After all, she was going to have to open them sometime.
“Finally,” Roeglin said, his voice coming from beside the bed and startling her.
Marsh gasped and turned to face him, and then she yelped as
the bruises from the previous day’s battle made themselves known. Marsh’s mind raced as she tried to remember what had happened. It slowly pieced itself together, and she found there was a lot she wanted to know.
“Has Master Envermet arrived yet?”
She was really asking if the children had arrived safely, and Roeglin picked that fact right out of her head.
“He did, but Tamlin and Aisha have to wait a little longer before you can see them. Their team got the route to the monastery up and running, and we should have shadow-guard reinforcements arriving late today.”
He stopped as though waiting for her to ask him something else, so Marsh asked him the next question preying on her mind.
“Did you get to Madame Monetti?”
“Not yet.” He held up a hand to still Marsh’s protest. “We picked up the trail where several smaller groups had split away from the main raiding party, but they ended at a blank wall.”
“Shadow gates,” Marsh muttered.
Roeglin nodded, licking his lips before he continued, “Yes. By the time we worked that out and dealt with the raiders who’d survived, dusk was falling and the joffra were emerging.” He hesitated. “There are a lot more joffra out there than there should be. No kats, though.”
Not yet, Marsh thought, remembering Mordan’s kits.
“We’ll get them back,” Roeglin assured her.
“We need to get her first,” Marsh insisted. “She has to be the one in charge of this cavern.”
Roeglin scowled and pushed back his chair.
“I agree, but it’s not going to be you, and there’ll be a guard on your door to make sure.”
There was a sharp tut from the doorway, and Brigitte came in with a man Marsh didn’t recognize.
“I hope you aren’t aggravating my patient,” he said with a reproving glare at the shadow mage.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Roeglin replied. “I was just reassuring her that everything was working according to plan and that nothing required her personal intervention.”
That last was delivered with a meaningful look in Marsh’s direction, and she rolled her eyes. Roeglin gave her another scowl for good measure and stalked toward the door.
“I’ll check in on her later.”
“Much later,” the medic stressed. “She needs to rest.”
“She needs a good kick in the ass,” Roeglin muttered, but he was through the door and away before the medic came back with an answer.
Instead, the man sighed and came over to take Roeglin’s seat.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Like I was run over by a stampeding mule,” she admitted.
“That’s a good analogy. A better one would be more like you were beaten to within an inch of your life.”
Marsh tried to shrug, winced, and lay still.
“I had a fight with a couple of raiders. It happens.”
The medic pursed his lips.
“You’ll need to take that shirt off so I can inspect your bruises.”
Marsh stilled, studying his face.
“They’re on your back,” he added, keeping his expression perfectly solemn, “and I can’t see through cloth.”
“Sorry, Doc.”
Marsh got up and let the medic check her. When he was done, and she was dressed and back in bed, Brigitte brought her something to eat and a cup of chocolate.
“You’re to sleep,” she said. “We’ll be back to check on you before dinner. If you’re up to it then, you can come to the dining hall and see the kids.”
Marsh nodded, looking at Brigitte over the rim of her cup as she drained her chocolate.
“Thank you,” she said, and let the journeyman settle her under her covers.
“I’ll be back to collect you,” Brigitte told her, and her tone of voice suggested Marsh had better be there.
Why wouldn’t I be? Marsh thought, feeling tiredness gnawing the edges of her mind. She closed her eyes, as the woman left the room and pulled the door closed behind her. Beside her, Mordan huffed out a sigh.
“We’ll get your cubs,” Marsh murmured as she drifted into sleep.
She woke later to silence and the sense of something being terribly wrong. Taking a breath and holding it, Marsh listened, but heard nothing, either inside the room or from outside it. Beside her, Mordan lifted her head and hopped down from the bed.
Marsh watched the big kat’s bulk pass over her and slowly sat up.
“What is it, girl?”
The kat gave a soft rippling snarl and turned toward the door. Marsh heard nothing and tweaked at the threads of shadow around her. To her surprise only a few answered, and these showed her that the corridor outside was empty.
So much for Roeglin’s threat of putting a guard on her, she thought, then wondered why the shadow mage thought he’d need to. It took her a moment to remember why, and she drew more pictures from the shadows stretching beneath the door.
There really was no one guarding her door—and she sincerely doubted that Monsieur Gravine was going to send anyone after Madame Monetti, given just how busy he was setting up defenses for the rest of the cavern. She looked at the hoshkat.
“I guess that leaves just you and me,” she said, and the big kat lifted her head toward her with a silent, approving hiss.
“Do you think we have enough time to get away before they send someone to fetch me for dinner?”
Mordan flicked her tail and butted her head against the door.
“Good point,” Marsh told her. “We’ll have no time if I don’t get my arse in gear.”
She dressed as swiftly as the all-pervading stiffness of her injuries would allow and was grateful nothing had cut flesh in the last battle. If that had happened, she wouldn’t be attempting to go anywhere. As it was, she was probably being stupid for attempting to leave.
Well, too bad.
Marsh pulled her armor around her, doing her best to check the buckles and straps before settling her sword belt around her hips and lifting her pack from the floor. She hissed in pain and took a moment to let her body’s protests subside. Maybe the doc had something for that…except the only thing he was likely to give her was a stern lecture and orders to go back to bed.
“No time,” she muttered, sliding her arms through the pack’s straps and turning to the door.
Resting her fingers on the handle, she took a moment to ask the shadows to show her the corridor again. This time, she had to wait while two soldiers passed, watching as they took the stairs to the next level.
“Best hurry,” she told the kat and woke the link between them, sending a desire for open gates and the shroom-forested cavern beyond.
Mordan nudged her hand and walked to the door. She knew the way, but she didn’t have hands and wasn’t strong enough to knock the door down by herself. Marsh solved that by turning the handle, feeling the kat’s envy of her fingers and thumbs as they stepped into the corridor.
Marsh stopped long enough to pull the door closed behind them, and then they hurried down the hallway toward the stairwell. On the way, Marsh had to twice duck through doorways and wait for people to pass. At one point, she thought she heard Tamlin and Aisha in animated conversation with Brigitte—something to do with cookies and which ones Marsh liked best.
As a way of distracting the children, Marsh had to admit it was a pretty good option. It was also a great way to make her feel as guilty as sin for what she was about to do. It was bad enough having Roeglin and Monsieur Gravine angry with her without Aisha, Brigitte, and Tamlin being upset, too.
“Come on, Dan, before I change my mind and do the sensible thing.”
The two of them hurried down two flights of stairs, passing through the kitchens amidst the hustle and bustle of what had to be pre-dinner preparations. Marsh hoped no one recognized her. If they did, she was toast, but despite her fears, they reached the stable yard without being called back.
Marsh was just about to turn toward the outer gate she remembered when the hoshk
at surprised her by heading away from it. At first, Marsh wondered why, but the kat moved with swift certainty and she decided not to question her judgment. After taking a cautious path around the stables and a storage shed, Mordan led her to an open drain.
“You have got to be shitting me,” Marsh protested, and the kat gave her a blue-eyed look tinged with scorn. Marsh sighed. “You’re not kidding.”
She glanced back, catching a glimpse of two guards heading toward the gate in the wall and moving a lot quicker than she’d like.
“Drain it is,” she told the kat, and slid carefully into the culvert. “We’re both going to need a bath after this.”
Mordan said nothing, but judging by the way the kat lifted her feet, she wasn’t overly impressed with the route she had chosen either. Marsh refrained from arguing, relieved when they emerged on the other side of the wall. She was even more relieved to discover herself in the middle of a tangle of hanging moss, tall callas, and tightly clustered shrooms grounded by ditch mint and grackle thorn.
At least they wouldn’t be seen. Not yet, anyway. Marsh followed Mordanlenoowar to the edge of the clustered plants and fungi and peered out, searching for heat and light in the shadows nearest the wall. It took her a moment to pinpoint the gate she’d used before, and she realized the cavern founder had learned from her previous outing.
For a long moment, she watched as a team of masons worked to build a small barbican around the gate, and she wondered why they weren’t waiting for the rock wizards to assist them. It was something she’d ask about, later—after she’d returned from her confrontation with Madame Monetti.
“Let’s go, girl,” she said. “You know where we need to be.”
And so did she, she realized. She knew exactly where to go, thanks to the maps Roeglin had shared with her noting the farms’ locations. Taking a moment to bring them to memory, Marsh oriented them in her mind, using what she knew of the cavern and the farms as a guide. The dot at the edge of the map, the one closest to the Leon’s Deep junction, had to be where Madame Monetti had built her mansion.
It was, after all, the only marker where Monsieur Gravine had said the woman lived, and Marsh could reach it if she asked the shadows to show her the way, just like she had when she had gone after the shadow mage at their first campsite on the way to Ruins Hall. One minute she’d had a hundred yards or more to cover, and the next she’d stepped into the shadows, asking them to speed her path, and she’d been beside him.
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