Trading by Shroomlight

by C. M. Simpson

  He glanced at Elise, and the woman rolled her eyes. She looked at the ambusher nearest her.

  “Are we permitted to know who you are?” she asked, although from the sarcasm in her voice, she had a fair idea.

  Marsh exchanged a look with Gustav, and realized everyone had stopped to watch. Before anyone could answer, though, there was a slight grating sound, and the rock face melted closed behind them.

  “I couldn’t hold it anymore,” one of the rock mages explained when all eyes turned toward him. He sank to the ground, the other rock mage crouching down beside him. Their kats knocked them onto their backsides, rising onto their hind paws and slamming their forepaws into their shoulders. As they petted the insistent creatures, all eyes turned back to the ambush party’s leaders.

  One glided casually over to Gustav and took hold of the rope at his wrists. Before the captain could respond to that, he’d been released. He stared at them, keeping his mouth firmly closed as he rubbed his skin.

  Marsh stayed as silent as a ghost. If she was very quiet, maybe he’d forget. A quick glance at his face put paid to that idea.

  “Elise.”

  This time, Elise came over, her hand still firmly wrapped around Mina’s. “In a moment, Gustav. First, I believe introductions might be in order.”

  “And apologies,” he muttered, but allowed her to redirect his attention to the two leaders standing before him.

  Marsh wondered if he’d mind if she leaned on him and decided she didn’t want to prove his point. The female leader spoke, drawing his attention. “I am Tabia Nemetwe, leader of this shield.”

  “And I am Kwame Orare, leader of this spear.”

  “We’re heading to Ariella’s Grotto,” Gustav told them. “You stopped us. Why?”

  Marsh wondered when Gustav had tired of diplomacy, but neither of the two leaders took offense.

  Tabia smiled. “We are Ariella’s Grotto.” Her smile faded. “Or rather, what is left of it. What was your business there?”

  “To help it set up defenses against the raiders,” Gustav told her, his face somber.

  “You’re a bit late.” Kwame’s tone was blunt.

  “I am sorry.”

  “We sent for help from the monastery weeks ago,” Tabia added, taking in Roeglin and the shadow guards.

  “We received no word.” Brigitte’s voice was cautious and Marsh realized the young woman had raised her hood, hiding her face in its shadow as she pulled her hands out of sight under her sleeves.

  Aisha and Tamlin followed Marsh’s glance, and Aisha’s eyes went wide. Both children crowded close to their master without having to be told, each facing outward, their faces wary. Kwame picked up on it immediately.

  “Shadow mage,” he ordered, his voice quiet. “Drop your hood.”

  Brigitte hesitated, and the warriors around them turned toward her. Aisha and Tamlin faced them, each taking a quarter, but Brigitte laid her hands on their shoulders. “It’s okay. They won’t hurt me.”

  To which Tamlin’s only response was, “Too darn right, they won’t.”

  Aisha’s echo of “Darn right” was lost in the gasp that echoed around the circle as Brigitte dropped her hood. Her ebon hands were barely visible against the dark cloth of her robes as she revealed her face.

  More than one whisper of “Shadow monster,” whispered out of the throats around them. Hands dropped to sword hilts, and several crossbow bolts took flight.

  Gustav gave a shout of outrage and charged the nearest archer, but Brigitte conjured a shield of shadow before her and the children, and Tamlin did the same behind them. Aisha’s shrill scream of protest cut through the cavern like a knife.

  “Blue!” she shrieked. “They’re blue. Her eyes are blue.”

  Another round of bolts hit the shields and Tamlin lost his temper, slamming his hand forward and propelling a block of shadow into the nearest archer.

  “Blue,” he yelled, doing his best to imitate an older man’s roar. “Dumbasses.”

  “Dumbasses!” Aisha trebled. “BLUE. EYES.”

  Marsh followed Tamlin’s example, summoning a block of shadow and thrusting it forward. She saw it roll forward, and then she hit the floor, wondering how she’d managed to slam it into herself.

  “Dumbass,” Gustav muttered, dropping to one knee beside her. By the time he’d picked her up, the shooting had stopped and Tabia was standing in front of Brigitte, her hand raised in command.

  When the warriors had lowered their crossbows, looking somewhat shamefaced, she turned to Brigitte. “I am sorry, Shadow Mage.”

  Brigitte laid a hand on her arm, causing several sharply indrawn breaths from the warriors around them. “I am used to it,” she replied and made a grab for Aisha as the little girl glared at one of the crossbowmen. She missed, and the child marched straight toward him.

  “Uh-oh,” Gustav muttered and set Marsh down so fast her legs folded beneath her. His “sorry” was nothing more than an afterthought as he ran for the girl. “Aisha!”

  His cry drew Tamlin’s attention, and he dropped his shield. “Aysh!”

  She had reached the warrior before either of them could get to her and poked him in the leg. “You,” she snarled, when he looked down at her. “Are. A. VERY. Bad man.”

  He stared at her in complete surprise and then gave a startled bark of laughter.

  “Not funny,” she growled, and his laughter turned into a shout of fear as stone rose from the cavern floor to sheath his legs.

  “Aysh! Stop!” Tamlin yelled, reaching her before Gustav could and grabbing her by the shoulders. “Stop it, Aysh. He’s sorry. He really, really is. He made a mistake.”

  He cast a desperate look at Brigitte as the stone continued to climb, but their instructor couldn’t seem to find the words. The look of horror on her face was almost comical to see.

  Gustav came to a sudden halt. “Apprentice Aisha Liliana Danet,” he roared. “Stand. Down.”

  The stone stopped, and everyone held their breaths. Aisha poked out her bottom lip, her blue eyes filled with resentment and tears. “He shotted at Brigitte.”

  Gustav’s face softened although he tried to keep his tone stern. “Yes, he did.”

  She cut in before he could say anymore. “He is a very bad man.”

  “No. No, he’s not,” Gustav told her. “He made a mistake, and he’s very, very sorry.” He fixed the crossbowman with a firm stare. “Aren’t you, soldier?”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir. Sorry.”

  Gustav pointed at Aisha. “Not me. You have to tell her.”

  The man looked down at angry child standing at his feet. From the sudden stoop in his shoulders, he tried to kneel, but the stone prevented him. He settled for looking down at her instead. “I’m very, very sorry. I did not mean to shoot at a friend.”

  He lifted his head, his eyes seeking Brigitte. “I really am. I... It’s just that...” He let his words peter out. “I’m sorry, shadow mage.”

  Aisha looked at Brigitte as her mistress replied, “I understand. With what you must have faced recently, I really do understand. I apologize for my apprentice. It’s been a long day, and she’s very tired.”

  At her words, Aisha whirled and stamped her foot. “Am not tired!”

  Her words brought laughter to the warriors around, and Brigitte crossed over and wrapped her arms around the little girl. Her whisper carried. “Put the stone back,” she ordered, holding Aisha close.

  There was a moment when nothing happened, then the stone subsided back into the cavern floor. The crossbowman stared at her with wide eyes and then he breathed a sigh of relief, laying a hand on the shadow mage’s shoulder. “Thank you...and I am deeply sorry.”

  Brigitte scooped Aisha into her arms and struggled to her feet, and he reached out to steady her just as Tamlin did the same. When she was again upright with Aisha secured firmly in her grasp, she turned back to Tabia. “Is there somewhere I can put her to bed?”

  “Not tired,” came a sleep
y protest from her arms, and Tabia smiled.

  “Just as soon as I’ve taken you to meet our leaders.”

  Marsh thought about standing up, but her legs didn’t want to cooperate. She wished Mordan were with her, and that reminded her. “The kat?” she said, her voice coming out no louder than a whisper.

  It didn’t matter; someone heard and answered. “Is she yours?”

  Marsh looked toward the voice and saw a young man, with the same deep-brown skin as the rest step, from the shelter of the brevilar. “Yes.”

  She didn’t need her connection to the kat to know what she thought of that. The kat’s disgruntled rumble was enough. “Well, as much as she is anyone’s.”

  He smiled. “She’s not very happy with any of us,” he told her, “but I get the idea that she’s also not so happy with you.”

  Marsh started to shake her head but stopped, and Mordan rumbled again. The young man looked from the source of the rumble to Marsh. “And that was the best imitation of ‘dumbass’ I’ve ever heard from a kat.”

  He snickered. “I can see where the children get it from.”

  Marsh sighed. “Yeah. It’s hilarious. You want to let her loose now? Before she decides she’s tired of waiting.”

  There was an affirmative rumble from behind him, and he gave the source a startled look before disappearing back into the brevilars. Marsh resisted the urge to just lie where she was. Getting up was still out of the question, but she figured she could always ask Mordan to help her.

  As if on cue, there was a startled shout, and the big kat came padding out of the shadows dragging her young keeper with her by the scruff of his neck. When she reached Marsh, she spat him out, dropping him in front of her and then putting one large forepaw on his chest.

  He lay there and looked at Marsh. “I don’t think I’m forgiven.”

  Marsh regarded him curiously. “What did you do?”

  His eyes flashed white, and he brushed her mind before hastily withdrawing. Mordan snarled and slapped him with her paw, and Marsh kept her lips pressed firmly together to stop any sound from coming out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Mordan growled at him and then stepped over him to take Marsh by the collar and try to lift her. It made Marsh laugh and she draped her arm over the big kat’s back, using her as a prop to get to her feet.

  By the time she was upright, Henri had come to stand alongside her, and Gustav stood not two feet away. She looked from one to the other and then looked at the captain. “I need a little help.”

  He glanced at Henri, and Marsh leaned on Mordan and carefully shook her head. “No. I already owe him four.”

  “Five,” Henri cut in. “It’s five dinners.”

  And Izmay made a sound of disgust. “Honestly, you boys are terrible.” She crossed to Marsh and pulled her arm across her shoulders.

  “Thanks,” Marsh managed.

  Izmay gave her an evil grin. “Yeah, I figured it was about time I got a meal.” Marsh stared at her, and Izmay burst out laughing. “Your face!”

  Marsh continued to stare, and Izmay sobered. “And yes, I was serious. You still owe me a meal. ”She caught Henri’s expression and sighed. “For two.”

  Marsh leaned on her. “Just don’t let me fall over again.” She glared at Gustav. “Like some other folk.”

  Gustav pretended to be offended but only for a moment. Seeing Marsh was being taken care of, he went to make sure the rest of his charges were all right. Marsh looked around for Roeglin and caught sight of his still-limp form being carried in the direction Tabia was leading them.

  “Well, at least they’re not trying to split us up,” she murmured, and Izmay nodded.

  “There is that.”

  4

  The Assassin

  “How did you escape?” Gustav asked when they were all settled around a large communal fire pit.

  “Shani dreamt of a terrible danger. She was no more specific than that, but we pay her warnings heed. When she says danger comes, it is usually on several feet and has many teeth. This one came on many pairs of feet, carrying weapons like our own. The Grotto proper was cleared before the vanguard arrived...and it’s a good thing, too.”

  “What happened?”

  “They sent the shadow monsters through, first,” the woman said. She was one of four leaders and had been greeted by joyful cries of “Auntie” and “Sulema” by Mina and her parents. They now sat beside her, and she glanced at them often, as though hardly believing they were there.

  She paused now. “Thank you for bringing them.”

  Gustav blushed and indicated the others. “I was not alone.”

  Lemma’s gaze roved over them, coming to rest on where Marsh sat with Izmay on one side and Mordan on the other. “No, you were not. Tell me, how were they injured?”

  Gustav followed her gaze and frowned. “It was a training accident.”

  Lemma’s eyebrows rose. “And just how does one have an accident like this? If we had been raiders, you would all have...”

  Gustav nodded, and Marsh felt herself go two shades of pale. Ice momentarily formed in her gut at the thought. She’d been captured once by the raiders. Mordan, too. And neither of them was going to allow it to happen again.

  Lemma’s gaze sharpened. “Tell me, child.”

  Child? For a moment Marsh felt as rebellious as Aisha could be, and she frowned. One look at Lemma’s face, though, told her the woman did not mean to diminish her with the term. It was just a way of addressing someone junior...like apprentice, but not quite.

  “He was teaching me that I needed to defend myself even when I was using magic for something else. I didn’t think. I just tried something new.”

  “Without practicing it first?”

  Marsh shook her head. If the truth were to be told, she didn’t know what practicing calling lightning in your own head would even look like. She hadn’t even known it was possible until she’d done it. A memory rose—being in Roeglin’s head as he held a shield against another mage’s attacks. “Oh.”

  Lemma watched her face. “Tell me about it later,” she instructed and turned back to Gustav. “Your people will stay with us?”

  Gustav met her gaze. “We came to offer our assistance.” He paused and waved his hand at the other folk around the fire. “And to warn you against the raiders. I am sorry we did not come sooner.”

  Lemma shrugged. “It could not be helped.” Sadness crossed her face. “You truly did not receive our message?”

  Gustav shook his head. “Your messenger did not get through.”

  There was a stifled sob from the edge of the fire, and one of the women turned her face to the chest of the man sitting beside her. He wrapped an arm around her and stared at Gustav, his expression bleak. “They killed him then.”

  Again, Gustav shook his head. “Perhaps not, but they took him if they caught him.”

  “Where?”

  “We don’t know. That task comes next.”

  “Next?”

  “First, we need to secure the caverns.”

  Several amused snorts greeted that, and Lemma reached over and laid her hand on his knee. “You do know what the Grotto is, don’t you?”

  When Gustav didn’t answer straight away, Kwame told him. “It’s a sinkhole.”

  Gustav groaned, and Marsh blinked.

  A sinkhole? She figured that was interesting but couldn’t chase the thought. Fatigue weighted her limbs and dragged at her eyelids. Mordan shifted at her back, grumbling quietly.

  Lemma looked toward the kat. “The shapers will almost be done...and the healers need to see to your injured.”

  Injured? Marsh forced her eyes open, trying to remember which of her people were hurt. She could heal...

  “Not now, child. Now, you need to rest.”

  Gustav stood up and crossed to her, Mordan lifting her head as he arrived.

  “I’m taking your mistress to bed,” he told the kat, and Henri coughed.

  Izmay elbowed him in the
side, and Gustav glared at them both. He didn’t say anything, but lifted Marsh from her seat and looked for Lemma. She made a graceful movement with her hand. “Follow Kwame. He knows the way.”

  From the amusement that followed her words, Marsh wondered just how many times Kwame had needed the healers. Neither Gustav nor Roeglin answered her, and Mordan remained a presence at her side rather than a presence in her head. Marsh let her eyes drift shut.

  She woke much later lying on a blanket-covered couch, fear beating through her and freezing her limbs. Keeping still, Marsh listened, trying to identify the sound that had woken her. Mordan rose silently from beside and stepped carefully onto the floor.

  Before Marsh could say anything, the big kat had vanished into the shadows. Marsh thought she caught a flash of movement by the door, and then the kat was gone, her absence an emptiness in both the room and Marsh’s head.

  That did not mean she was alone. There was something else, if not in the room, then very close by. With the kat gone, Marsh rolled sideways.

  She’d meant to go off the edge of the bed but hit the wall instead and stopped. The attack that followed came lightning fast.

  Marsh noticed the flash of a blade and realized the room was growing lighter. She also saw her attacker’s face and momentarily froze. That might have been the end of her if she hadn’t called a shadow shield between them.

  Her attacker gave a frustrated growl, his dagger slicing across the top of her shield as his other hand reached for something at his belt. Marsh wriggled back, moving down the length of the bed as she brought her feet up beneath her.

  As soon as she did, she sprang off the end of the bed. She’d hoped to reach an open piece of floor but found a wall instead. This one wasn’t made of stone.

  Before she could work out what it was, Idris was after her.

  “You died,” she snapped, yanking a blade from the rapidly vanishing shadows, and his face twisted into a snarl.

  He took two steps forward, but his blade remained steady as his other hand came up and opened like he was scattering grain for chickens. Marsh had time to register the greenish-brown dust flying toward her just as Mordan growled.