Trading into Darkness

by C. M. Simpson

  “We have help coming?” she asked as Mordan crept out from behind her pile of rocks.

  Aisha slid from the big kat’s back.

  “Do they have cookies?”

  Roeglin sighed and bent down to haul Patrik’s unconscious body over his shoulders.

  “Not really, and no,” he said, answering both questions.

  “It’s bad to lie,” Aisha scolded and started walking the way they’d been going when they met the patrol.

  Marsh walked after her, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows at the shadow mage as she passed.

  “You hear that, Master Ro? It’s bad to lie.” She didn’t wait for him to respond, but kept walking, listening for his footsteps as she went. Her mind worked furiously over what the captain had told them: the raiders had gotten away with some of their captives. The younger ones, people’s children…

  It made her sick, and she forced her mind to think back over what she’d seen in the muddled events of their escape. She remembered the shadow-mage shadows she’d seen sliding along the wall when she’d been getting Patrik and the kat free. At the time, she’d thought they’d been going to join the battle, but now she realized they’d been going for the prisoners held closest to the walls—the children that had been separated from their parents, presumably as a means of keeping the grownups under control.

  A lump formed in her throat, and she glanced over her shoulder in the direction the riders had gone. People’s children, their families…and she’d promised Patrik that they’d gotten them all, that his children had gone ahead—

  “Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Roeglin told her, clearly reading her thoughts, and answering them aloud. “You’re the reason we got any of them back at all.”

  Like that was supposed to make her feel any better. She’d just been lucky things had gone so very wrong when she’d gone to confront Madame Monetti.

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” Roeglin snarked, but he didn’t sound very happy about it.

  Marsh waited for him to have another go at her about being stupid and boneheaded, but he surprised her with a short bark of laughter.

  “I wouldn’t dare,” he told her, and shot a look at where Mordan was walking beside Aisha. “I don’t want to get eaten.”

  Marchant’s cheeks colored. That had been a private thought, one borne of frustration that he was both right and very, very wrong.

  “No wrong about it, trainee, and when we get back to the mansion, the founder and I are going to talk to you about consequences.”

  And this day just kept getting better...but he had reminded her that he could speak to the founder.

  “I don’t suppose you could have a little chat to him about helping us so that meeting can happen faster,” she snapped. “The suspense is killing me.”

  Behind her, she heard Roeglin take a breath as though he was going to tell her how boneheaded that idea was as well, but he didn’t.

  Instead, there was silence, then he spoke. “Done.”

  She stopped. “Really?”

  “Really, and thank you; I should have thought of that before.”

  Yes, he should, but she wasn’t going to rub it in.

  “Uh huh.” Marsh sighed. It wasn’t her fault that he was dumb enough to go looking inside her head.

  “And there you go, calling your master dumb again.”

  “That was the first time…” Marsh protested, hoping it was true since she couldn’t remember if she had or hadn’t called him that before.

  He snickered.

  “Keep walking. They’re not far off.”

  “Do they have cookies?” Clearly, Aisha had been listening to a lot more than she appeared to be. Marsh made a note to be very careful what she discussed when the child was around.

  Noted.

  At least Roeglin was paying attention to the important things, as well as stuff he’d be better off keeping his nose out of. There was nothing to say after that. Aisha insisted on walking, even though Mordan stayed right beside her.

  “I walk,” she said when Marsh asked her if she wanted to ride. “Kitty tired.”

  The kitty gave a brief yawn and lashed her tail in what Marsh took to be frustration. She wasn’t the only one worried about the little girl’s well-being, even if it wouldn’t hurt the child to walk.

  “They’re here,” Roeglin called as Mordan grumbled out a warning.

  The big kat wasn’t alarmed, though. She tensed, then sniffed the air and relaxed, padding forward until Marsh picked out the heat and shapes of a group of people moving toward them. This time she didn’t bother tweaking the shadow threads; Tamlin’s shout of recognition was enough.

  The boy raced out of the gloom ahead, and Aisha ran to meet him. Marsh recognized Brigitte’s familiar form as the female journeyman followed him.

  “Cookies!” Aisha cried, catching sight of her, and Roeglin and Marsh echoed Tamlin’s embarrassed groan.

  “No cookies for you,” Brigitte snapped back, but Aisha remained undaunted, flinging her arms around the shadow mage’s waist.

  “I love you, Jurman Brij.”

  Marsh had to smother a smile as the woman knelt and hugged the child back.

  “I love you, too, Apprentice Brat.”

  Aisha giggled and grabbed Brigitte’s hand, turning to offer her free hand to her brother.

  “I crashed a wall,” she told them as Brigitte led them to the edge of the path and proved that there were indeed cookies, and that some of them were Aisha’s.

  Marchant glanced at Roeglin, and he moved up beside her, one hand keeping Patrik steady as the leader of the group stepped forward.

  “Master Leger?” he asked, continuing as he shifted his gaze to Marsh. “Trainee Leclerc?”

  “Oui,” they answered in chorus, and Marsh glanced at Roeglin, directing the man’s attention that way. He indicated Gustav, who had hurried forward to greet them. “Captain Moldrane will escort your charges back to the manse, but the founder respectfully requests that you accompany me in the arrest of Madame Monetti.”

  “Do you have a spare mule?” Roeglin asked, indicating Patrik’s unconscious form.

  Gustav stepped forward, signaling for one of his men to take Patrik from Roeglin’s shoulder.

  “Let me guess—he’s got family with the ones who got away and insisted on trying to tag along with Orelia’s squad.”

  “Oui.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on him.”

  “It’s Patrik, Fabrice’s husband,” Marsh said, and Roeglin turned to stare at her.

  She shrugged.

  “It didn’t come up before.”

  Gustav looked from one to the other of them.

  “Monsieur Gravine wants to see you once you get back.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  Roeglin answered for both of them and Marsh gave a cursory nod, her eyes tracking to where Tamlin, Aisha, and Brigitte were sitting together, talking animatedly. The desire to go over and join them was like a physical ache in her chest, but the sudden weight of Roeglin’s hand on her shoulder shook it away.

  “Let’s go, Trainee.”

  She waved, catching Brigitte’s eye but following Roeglin before either of the children looked her way. Seconds later, she was dragged to a halt as two sets of arms wrapped around her.

  “Bye, Marsh.” Tamlin’s farewell was gruff, and he held his sister’s hand so Marsh could go.

  “Bye,” Aisha echoed as her brother pulled her gently away,

  Marsh managed a shaky smile.

  “Bye,” she said. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

  It was a good thing Tamlin led Aisha back toward Brigitte because Marsh didn’t think she’d have been able to. What surprised her was when Tamlin left Aisha with the journeyman and came racing back across to her.

  “Bri…the journeyman said to give you these,” he told her, pressing two large cookies into her hands.

  He didn’t wait for a reply but raced away, leaving Marsh to stare after him as h
e scooped his sister into his arms and started to move back along the trail, Brigitte by his side. The suddenness of his return and the abruptness of his departure had left her stunned.

  “Trainee,” Roeglin said, but his command was softened by a compassion that matched the sadness forming an unwieldy lump in Marsh’s throat.

  She tried to shake it off as the squad split into two groups, Gustav leading Tamlin and Aisha back toward the Founder’s home and Roeglin following the other teams’ leader to the pillars marking the turnoff to Madame Monetti’s mansion. Marsh fell in beside him, forcing herself to focus on the terrain around them as she handed him one of the cookies.

  She remembered how the shadow mages had come out of the dark behind her and searched for them now. Swallowing the sadness at leaving the children behind again, Marsh drew a long, slow breath and then let it out. She needed to be ready for anything.

  The cookie was gone by the time they crossed the strange expanse of white rock fringed by partial white pillars. Marsh took another breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she requested to see what stood in the shadow. She wanted to see the things that were one with the shadow yet stood apart from them. She wanted to see what life forces beat along the shadow threads.

  Laying a hand on Roeglin’s shoulder so she wouldn’t be left behind, Marchant opened her eyes and scanned the cavern around them. Heat and light met her gaze and the shadows spoke too, showing her what and who lay in wait around them. Men and women had blended with the shadows, standing next to the pillars or crouching beneath the sheltering caps of half-grown callas.

  Marsh frowned. Even two days ago, she couldn’t recall there being callas, and the shrooms didn’t grow that fast, not that she’d ever heard. It was a puzzle for another day, however, as she dragged a dart from the shadows and flung it at the mage standing near the pillar closest the path leading to Monetti’s front door.

  Roeglin had done his usual thing in pulling the images from her mind and mirrored her movement by casting a second dart and taking out the mage next to her target. He must have been doing something else too because the squad leader shouted an alarm.

  “Incoming!”

  Incoming? Well, Marsh guessed he could call it that, because she could sense the shadows trembling. She knew that somewhere a mage was opening a gate and calling in shadow monsters. Even as she thought it, it occurred to her that they could be opening a gate for another reason.

  Madame Monetti might be looking for a way to escape.

  “We need to get to the door!”

  She and Roeglin turned to the path leading to the mansion’s entrance, and Marsh realized they were surrounded.

  “Sorry,” she said, wishing she’d thought to use her powers before.

  “Just do something about it!” Roeglin snarled, stepping away from her as he pulled twin blades from the air.

  Her warning had ruined the surprise attack the raiders had planned and they emerged out of the shadows now, pulling blades and staffs as they came. It was better than being skewered by a dozen arrows or darts, but not by much. Once they closed in, her people would be outnumbered, and Marsh already knew the raider mages were battle-hardened. They were certainly harder than the Founder’s makeshift army of guards.

  There was only one thing to do.

  Marsh raised her hands, pulling the shadows toward herself, and then she pushed her hands forward and the shadows exploded outwards, knocking the raiders back. After that Marsh called the darkness, raining ink-black spears onto them before they could stand and concentrating her fire on the half of the cavern she could see.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could hear Roeglin shouting, but he wasn’t shouting at her, so it didn’t matter. Marsh hammered the ground to her right until nothing moved, and then she turned and wove her way through her allies, making a circular movement with her hand to direct the lightning around the edges of the square.

  Roeglin kept shouting and the soldiers surged around her, moving so that they stood behind her. Once she got a clear view of the other side, Marsh saw that some of her own people were still engaged with the enemy, whether because they hadn’t heard Roeglin’s warning or because they couldn’t break away, it didn’t matter. They were still there, and she couldn’t rain the shadows down.

  But the shadows were waiting, dark lightning hammering the perimeter, and she wasn’t sure she could consolidate it into a single solid strike. Instead, she walked it forward, taking out anyone who didn’t move out of the way but careful to keep just beyond combatants on her side.

  As the shadows lanced down, combatants from both sides fled. The founder’s soldiers parting to let their comrades return, using deadly force to stop any raiders who followed them in an attempt to escape the raining dark.

  Instead of pulling it after them, Marsh slowed the lightning, calling on the shadows to be calm, assuring them that she was no longer in any danger. When they had settled and dark spears no longer pounded the ground around them, she looked at Roeglin.

  “We need to get inside,” he said, and the soldiers formed up around them, heading for the door at a run.

  This time, Marsh felt enervated rather than drained. Shadow soared through her blood and sang through her mind, inviting her to be a part of its perpetual chorus. Marsh stretched a hand toward it, only to have Roeglin snatch her fingers out of the air and press her hand to his chest.

  “No one’s ready for you to leave us yet,” he said, and she got the impression he spoke more for himself than any collective of children, soldiers, and traders.

  That didn’t change the fact that Madame Monetti was planning on leaving and had to be stopped. Marsh watched as the men charged up to the door, slamming into it and bouncing right off. She tugged at the shadow threads that slid between the door and the wall and discovered what was preventing them from breaking it down.

  “We can’t get through,” she shouted, seeing the stone column acting as a drop bar on the other side.

  Roeglin saw what she did and shared the image with the captain. Guillemot? It was another new identity she had to learn, but Marsh didn’t care. The man had as good a vocabulary as her instructor when it came to cursing, and neither of them knew what they were going to do to get past.

  Marsh did. The shadows had shown her that the hall beyond was empty, and she knew it would only take the two of them to lift the bar; they wouldn’t be alone for very long. She reached out, wrapping her hands around the straps of each of their packs before leaping from the stairs and taking them with her. She might have laughed at their startled shouts if she wasn’t concentrating on where she wanted to go as the shadows closed around them.

  The darkness parted seconds later to drop the three of them in the foyer on the other side of the doors, and Marsh let them go. Before Roeglin could gather himself to say anything, Marsh was racing back into the shadow. She didn’t have to remember which halls and corridors to take; she only had to think of one thing.

  The teapots. Display cases of teapots, a hoshkat-skin rug, a white marble floor, and a large stone desk made of dark marble…

  Marsh landed hard and tripped over the hoshkat rug’s head, sprawling across the floor.

  “Merde,” she muttered, her hands and knees stinging from the impact.

  Picking herself up from the floor, Marsh pulled a blade from the shadows and called a buckler to her arm. She scanned the room for Madame Monetti and was disappointed to find it empty. Advancing through the space, she noticed that the display cabinets were bare and that wisps of shredded sponge shroom were scattered across the floor. Madame Monetti had packed her teapots?

  In the midst of all the mayhem she had caused, the madame had taken the time to make sure the damned teapots were packed?

  “Where are they?” she snarled, tangling her hand in the strands of shadow around her. “Where?”

  Because where the teapots were, Madame Monetti was sure to be also. What had she called them? Her treasures? Treasures, indeed. If Marsh got
hold of any of them, they were going to be glistening shards on the stone.

  The shadows had no answers, and Marsh could hear the sound of feet pounding through the corridor beyond the door. Well, Roeglin was getting faster at finding her.

  I’m going to fit you with a collar and bell, he snarled. Just as soon as I work out where in all the gods-forsaken Deeps you are.

  Marsh might have laughed and pointed out he wasn’t carrying either, but she couldn’t be sure, and she had more important things to do. She had to find Madame Monetti, and the Deeps-forsaken shadows didn’t have a clue. Not a single thread responded to her request to find the teapots, and none of them knew where the madame had gone.

  That left the three doors at the end of the room, because Marchant was sure she hadn’t gone through the one leading to the entry. She was dead certain the woman was making her way through the rear of the complex toward whatever escape route she had planned.

  Maybe she’d sent the teapots on ahead. Maybe that was why the shadows couldn’t find them.

  I don’t give two shits of a mule’s backside about the Darks-be-damned teapots, but you need to wait for me.

  Marsh smirked.

  “Catch me if you can, Shadow Boy.”

  “I’m going to put you on a leash and hook it to my belt, and not let you out of my Shades-cursed sight ever again.”

  His comment drove all light-heartedness from her as she remembered being leashed by Ardhur and Warven.

  “Not in all the Deeps with all the armies of the Dark!” she snapped, and swept her hand, palm up, toward the door that was opening behind her.

  It slammed shut, and she heard Roeglin cry out in pain as he ran into it. A leash! Would he dare? She’d see about that! In the meantime…

  Marsh looked at the three doors, turning them over on the map in her mind. There was the one she’d been taken through when they’d wanted her to join the caravan, but she was pretty sure Madame Monetti wouldn’t be leaving that way. She had to know the fate of the last caravan and its slaves.

  Instead, Marsh chose the door opposite it, aware of the door to the corridor opening—cautiously. Roeglin stayed silent, and she hoped he was thinking about the stupidity of his last suggestion.