Trading by Shroomlight

by C. M. Simpson

  The child had been about to give a savage denial and stopped. “Shadow?”

  Her father opened his mouth to protest and then closed it again, no doubt hearing the same words Marsh did. Let them work, Aasir.

  Marsh caught his shrug but did not ignore the look of concern in his eyes. She only hoped what she was about to do would help.

  It’s no worse than giving her a shroom kat, Roeglin commented. Oh, wait...

  Sulema hushed him before he could continue.

  Marsh took a deep breath and turned back to Breia. “Are you like your gramma? Can you see what I’m thinking?”

  Breia shook her head and Marsh sighed. “Well then, you need to listen very carefully. Put your mamma’s sword in your lap.”

  Aasir drew a sharp breath and slid over. “Let me help you with that. It’s sharp.”

  “I know,” Breia told him, her lip curling in scorn that he thought she wouldn’t. “Momma kept it sharp.”

  Again, his voice caught. “Yes, she did.”

  He laid the blade in Breia’s lap and then moved back to kneel a short way behind her.

  Marsh ignored him and focused on the girl. “Watch,” she instructed and drew a sword from the shadows. “This is the shadow of the one I wear.”

  Breia’s eyes brightened with interest. “How.”

  It was harder than Marsh had thought, but by the time a dozen adults had joined them, the child could draw a credible facsimile of her mother’s weapon from the shadows.

  “Yes!” she cried, turning shining eyes to Marsh. “Did it!”

  Marsh smiled at her and then very gently pushed the tip of the blade away from her chest. “And did your poppa teach your momma how to use her sword?”

  The little girl shook her head, her dark eyes solemn. “No. Momma teached him.”

  Her small face fell. “But she cannot teach me.”

  Marsh crouched in front of her, catching her gaze. “No, but your poppa can. He can teach you everything your momma taught him. She’d have liked that, wouldn’t she?”

  Breia nodded, turning to her father. Aasir slapped his hands against his knees and stood up. He gave Marsh a solemn nod and then turned to his daughter.

  “The first thing your momma taught me was a proper grip.” He drew his blade and stood alongside her, showing her what he meant. “See?”

  She studied what he was doing, then moved her hand to match. “And then?”

  Marsh went to walk quietly away but hadn’t moved more than two paces when one of the villagers stepped in front of her. He was taller than she was and had planted himself firmly in his path. Mordan gave an uneasy growl and Gustav took a step toward her, only to be pulled up short by a hand on his arm.

  Marsh looked up at the man and recognized him as the one who had tackled her the day before. “Yes?”

  She wanted to say a lot more, but none of it seemed wise—or deserved—yet.

  He waved a hand at where Breia was enthusiastically copying her father’s every move. “Can you teach us that?”

  “Those moves?” Marsh frowned. The fighting style was very different from her own. “I don’t...”

  “No. Not the moves. The sword.”

  “What? Wait. You want me to teach you how to call a sword from the shadows?”

  “Yes.”

  Marsh took a good look at him, studying the set to his jaw and the determination in his eyes—and then she let her eyes travel to the other villagers behind him. “You all want to learn how to do that?”

  They all muttered agreement, some nodding and all of them moving forward. Marsh cast a desperate glance toward Gustav. “Captain, I need your help.”

  He gave a bark of laughter. “My help? I can’t call weapons from the shadow. You don’t need my help.”

  Marsh stared at him, but before she could turn away and begin teaching all by herself, Gustav gave an evil chuckle. “Gotcha.”

  Marsh looked at him, and he grinned. “You didn’t think I was going to leave you on your own, did you?”

  Marsh stared. In fact, she had been thinking he was leaving her to dig herself out of the hole she’d leapt into. Gustav read it on her face, and his grin grew wider. “Nope. This is shadow mage work,” he told her, “and I have five shadow mages who are more than capable of teaching that particular trick.”

  “Six,” Tamlin interrupted. “You have six,” he repeated, “unless you forgot Zeb or Gerry or someone else.”

  Gustav sighed. “No.” He grinned. “Then I have six. You all have a half day to teach these good folk as much as you can.”

  He clapped his hands. “Get to it.”

  Roeglin led the way. He tapped several villagers as he passed, then sauntered past Marsh as he led them to a clear space.

  Troublemaker.

  10

  A Family Affair

  It seemed like forever and no time at all before Gustav and Sulema returned to call them in to eat.

  “Breakfast,” the captain yelled, his voice carrying across the training grounds. “No army marches on an empty stomach.”

  Given they weren’t marching or an army, Marsh didn’t know why he bothered, but she was glad to stop. When she thought about it, she was hungry...and light-headed. All around her, shadow blades dissipated in the shroom light and people thanked the mages instructing them before heading for the dining hall.

  Marsh watched them pass, resisting the urge to sink to her knees. Roeglin came alongside her and wound his arm around her waist. Instead of asking why Marsh leaned against him.

  “Huh. That’s some assumption you’re making,” he muttered, and she looked up at him.

  “It is?”

  “Oh, Deeps below,” Zeb said, walking around them. He shoved Roeglin. “Don’t you ever give up?”

  Roeglin gave him a wide-eyed look, but Marsh interrupted him. “Give up on what?”

  And she smirked as he blushed red from collarbone to hairline. Before he could respond, she pushed clear of him. He released her with a sigh and she looked back.

  Gerry gave her a shove as he went by.

  “A la putain, you Deepless son.”

  He laughed, tutting at her as he went. “That’s quite a temper you have.”

  Roeglin moved to stand beside her. “She hasn’t had breakfast yet.”

  “Like that’s an excuse.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Tamlin snarked as he moved in front of them, looking both of them up and down. “She’s never around long enough for Aysh and me to find out.”

  Roeglin winced. “Ouch, Tams. That’s not very nice.”

  The boy’s glare deepened. “No, it’s not. So, do you want to tell her, or shall I?”

  “Apprentice Danet!” Brigitte snapped, coming alongside them. “I know someone else who doesn’t do very well until he’s had his first kaffee of the morning.”

  Tamlin glared at her as well. “That’s not my fault.” He stabbed a finger in Marsh’s general direction. “You should talk to her about that!”

  “Not right now, I shouldn’t,” Brigitte told him, and Marsh heard a hint of iron creep into her voice, “and neither should you. She needs a moment.”

  “With him,” Tamlin snarled, turning his attention to Roeglin. “It’s always with him.”

  “Apprentice Danet!” This time, Brigitte’s voice was whiplash sharp and the boy flinched.

  Marsh flinched too, but Brigitte ignored her.

  “Time to fetch your sister.” She gave Marsh a sympathetic glance. “I’m sure your guardian will join us at the table.”

  “Which one?” Tamlin muttered, shrugging away from her hand and stomping toward the barracks. “The dinner table? Tomorrow, maybe. Or next week. Or how about the week after that?”

  “I’ll talk to him,” Brigitte said. “You two take your time.”

  Marsh stood there, trying to figure out what had just happened. Sure, Tamlin had been angry with her, but the boy was always angry with her. At least lately. It wasn’t as though she’d chosen...


  She let that thought peter out. Of course, she had. She’d chosen them the minute she’d grabbed them in the ambush...just as she’d chosen to leave them behind the minute she’d been asked to serve the caverns.

  “It won’t always be this way,” Roeglin told her and she ducked her head, not wanting him to see the sudden tears that had sprung to her eyes.

  Marsh curled her hands into fists, tightening the muscles across her shoulders and forcing the sadness down. Releasing her fists, she took a breath, shaking out her arms and straightening her shoulders. “I should go and talk to him.”

  “Nope.”

  Marsh looked over her shoulder at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  He folded his arms and looked at her. “You should give him some time to cool down.”

  She turned to face him. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Now it was Marsh’s turn to cross her arms. “You want to tell me why?”

  Roeglin opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again, blushing all over again.

  Marsh quirked an eyebrow and cocked her head. “Uh-huh.”

  Roeglin took a step toward her and she tensed, her hands going to fists. “Uh-uh. Talk to me.”

  “I...” Roeglin began, then shrugged, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Never mind.”

  He went to stalk past her in much the same way as Tamlin had done, but Marsh reached out and snagged his arm as he went past. “Ro.”

  At the sound of his name, he stopped and slowly turned toward her. In the end, he just said, “Boy will be okay. Okay?”

  She didn’t let go and he looked down at her hand, his face growing still. “Apprentice Leclerc.”

  Marsh tightened her grip. “Not right now, I’m not.”

  How much do you want to bet?

  Since I sat you on your ass the last time we met in here. Marsh paused. I’ve got a good idea. How about we take this round into your skull? What do you think about that?

  She shook his arm and slid into his head before he could react.

  What do you have to say about that?

  I’d say you’re taking this not wanting to be an apprentice thing just one step too far.

  And what happens if I toss you out of your own head? she snarled back, getting ready to do just that.

  Oh no, you don’t. Sulema appeared between them. You’re both busted back to apprentice.

  She hurled Marsh back into her own head and gave Roeglin a quick clip under the ear.

  Both of you have lessons you need to learn.

  Marsh hit the ground on both knees, hearing Roeglin gasp as he did the same.

  “Are you okay?” The question came out in stereo.

  “Yes,” was also said as a duet, and Marsh found herself leaning toward him. He mirrored her action, and their foreheads touched. Both of them tensed, then they just stopped, each resting their head against the other’s.

  For a long moment, neither of them moved. Not even when they heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

  Sulema’s voice was an unwelcome interruption. “Do you know why it’s a bad idea for one lover to train another?”

  Lovers? Marsh reluctantly pulled her head away from Roeglin’s and looked up. Sulema towered over them. See what you started?

  Not my fault.

  And the communication was unceremoniously cut between them.

  “Well, if you’re not lovers, you Deeps well should be,” Sulema muttered. She sounded just a little bit put out.

  Marsh wondered what she was missing because the Grotto leader wasn’t the only one who seemed to think that way...although she was the only one honest enough to say so out loud. Not that Roeglin...

  She snuck a glance at him and caught the sidelong look he slid her way. Slowly, they rose to their feet and turned to face Sulema. She regarded them, her eyes unfathomable as she looked back.

  For a fleeting moment, Marsh got the impression that Sulema peered into her soul, and then it was gone. Her hand brushed Roeglin’s, and his fingertips curled around hers. Some of the tension she felt eased, and Marsh slid her palm against his.

  This time, he curled his hand around hers and leaned, trapping their hands between them. Sulema gave them a small smile. “Now do you know why one lover should not train another?”

  Dutifully, they shook their heads, treating the question as academic rather than personal.

  “Because they lose perspective. It becomes less a master-student relationship and more...tangled.” She studied them both. “You’ll need to keep that in mind.”

  Marsh and Roeglin nodded, neither of them voicing the impossibility of finding another teacher.

  “The pair of you realize I can see what you’re thinking, do you not?”

  As they blushed, her expression softened. “I understand you have no one else and not a lot of time here, but you have to take at least a day to learn more control.”

  She looked at Marsh. “Especially you.”

  Marsh hung her head, and this time, the red coloring her cheeks had nothing to do with Roeglin.

  Sulema took pity on her. “Just remember that the attacks you use in the outside world are just as fatal when you use them inside someone’s head and that tossing someone out of their own mind is like...” She paused as though searching for the right words. “It’s like ripping their soul from their body and then not being able to find it again to put it back.”

  Marsh felt her knees go weak and Roeglin let go of her hand long enough to slide an arm around her waist and stop her falling. He pulled her close, and she turned her head into his chest and heard Sulema move away.

  “I think that’s enough for one day,” Sulema told them, and she sounded unhappy rather than satisfied.

  Marsh listened to her move a few steps more and then stop. “Your breakfasts are getting cold, and the children are going to revolt if you don’t join them soon. I’ll tell them you’re just behind me.”

  And with that she was gone, walking quietly away.

  Marsh leaned into Roeglin’s chest, listening to the sound of the community leader’s footsteps fade. He kept his arms curled around her back and rested his chin on her head. Marsh let the warmth of him seep through the numbness that had settled over her.

  “I nearly killed you.”

  “Again,” he agreed, and she slapped her palm against his chest, glad he couldn’t see her tears.

  “No fair,” she told him, and he gave a shaky laugh.

  “It’s true, though.”

  She slapped him once more but didn’t pull away.

  “You know we can’t stand here forever,” he murmured, pressing his lips against her hair.

  She lifted her head and he drew back, studying her face before brushing her lips with his own. Marsh kissed him briefly in return and then turned in his arms. “We need to get moving.”

  They walked slowly out of the training grounds, Roeglin keeping his arm around her, although whether that was because he wanted to or because she was still unsteady after Sulema’s revelation, she couldn’t be sure. And she didn’t want to think about it either.

  All she wanted to do was to lie down and sleep—and for the day to be different when she woke.

  A shrill squeal of happiness jerked her from her thoughts as they walked through the town square.

  “Dey’re here! Dey’re here! Dey’re here!”

  “Seriously?” Marsh groaned, straightening up.

  Roeglin took his hand off her waist but captured her palm instead. They were still holding hands when they entered the room and neither of them missed Aisha’s excited whisper.

  “They’re doing it. See? I told you.”

  Marsh’s face heated but she tightened her grip. It was funny, but she swore she could hear Roeglin smiling. Someone wolf-whistled, and someone else laughed. When they reached the servery, someone shouted.

  “You know you can’t hold hands and your plates, right?”

  Marsh glanced up at Roeglin, and he met her eyes.

  W
anna prove them wrong?

  Well, we are shadow mages.

  They were both smiling as they manipulated jugs of hot kaffee and chocolate over cups, then called tendrils of shadow to coil beneath their plates. With their cups in one hand, they floated their plates in front of the bemused servers to the table where Tamlin and Aisha waited.

  Brigitte just raised an eyebrow, but Tamlin glowered.

  Marsh felt something tug at the shadows holding her plate and didn’t need Roeglin’s sudden Uh-oh to warn her that she wasn’t alone. They both lunged for the table, setting their cups down while keeping firm control of the shadows holding their plates. Neither of them relinquished their grip on the other.

  “Don’t. Make. Me. Come. Over. There,” Marsh said through gritted teeth as she curled her now free hand around the edge of her plate. When she had a firm grip on it, she released the shadow, bearing the weight of her food herself.

  Roeglin managed the same, moving to sit on the same side of the table as Tamlin, while Marsh took her place beside Aisha and Brigitte. There was light applause from the other side of the room, but Tamlin abruptly stood and stalked over to refill his cup.

  “He’s still upset,” Brigitte whispered, and Tamlin leaned against the wall beside the drinks table, defiantly sipping his kaffee.

  “I don’t think he needs any more kaffee,” Roeglin muttered.

  Tamlin’s frown got deeper and he drained the cup, turning to refill it. Brigitte’s eyebrows hit her hairline.

  “Whatever you did, Roeglin, you need to fix it.”

  Marsh finished another mouthful and cleared her throat. “I don’t think this is Roeglin’s fault.”

  Brigitte looked from Roeglin to Tamlin and back, then she ducked her head. “Are you two...”

  They both sat straighter, making negative gestures with their hands.

  “Then why...”

  “Because he thinks I spend too much time with Roeglin and not enough with him and Aysh,” Marsh explained, and Aisha crossed her arms.

  “Dat’s dumb.”

  Unfortunately, her tiny voice carried, and Tamlin almost choked on his kaffee. Aisha looked from him to Marsh and then to Roeglin, and then she slipped from her seat and ducked under the table before Marsh could grab her. Roeglin reached for her, too, but the little girl evaded him and marched across the dining hall.