Trading By Stormlight (The Magic Below Paris Book 7)

by C. M. Simpson

  The Devastation stretched to the horizon, giving her an idea of just how large the city had been when it had fallen. The sight of it brought a sense of sadness and desolation, as though the souls of those long gone cried out in despair.

  She shivered, glad when Master Envermet stepped up the pace. She wasn’t so glad to find the gates closed when they reached them.

  “It’s normal,” Evan hastened to explain when she turned to him in askance. “You’ve seen what used to stalk the Devastation. The remnant rarely come out of the ruins, but when they do, the walls give the townspeople a chance.”

  “And the raiders?”

  Evan reddened. “They knew better than to keep us out.”

  “So, they know we’re not raiders?”

  Evan shrugged. “They might not be able to tell in the dark.”

  Master Envermet nodded and approached the gates.

  “Open up!” he ordered and pounded on the gate.

  When he’d given it several hard thumps, he stepped back. There was no one on the walls, but that was because they were little more than a really tall fence made of timber and steel beams salvaged from the nearby ruins.

  “Open up!” he shouted again, and the sound of running footsteps came from beyond the gate.

  “We’re coming! Sorry. Sorry to keep you waiting.” The breathless reply was delivered in a voice that sounded too young to be responsible for the town’s security.

  Master Envermet signaled for the guards to be ready, his eyes briefly flashing white.

  I wish Roeglin was here, Marsh thought, and was surprised when the shadow captain replied.

  So do I.

  Out loud, he said, “Obasi, can you—”

  “Lioma,” Obasi ordered, and the Grotto warrior stepped forward.

  “She is our strongest,” Obasi explained and gestured the female warrior forward. “Tell us what you find.”

  She gave him a single nod and stepped forward, her eyes sheeting white. Extending a hand to Master Envermet, she said, “Come with me?”

  The shadow captain swallowed hard and accepted her hand.

  His eyes turned white as their hands touched, and they turned toward the gate.

  Watch for us, he instructed, and Marsh got the impression she wasn’t the only one to receive the instruction. Henri unslung his crossbow and loaded it, and Izmay stepped to one side, tongues of flame flickering across her gloves.

  Henri laid a hand on her forearm. “Not yet,” he murmured, and Izmay nodded.

  The flames died, but she held her hands slightly away from her side. Marsh took a closer look and realized the woman had merely switched orange flame for flickering wisps of shadow. Well, well; it looked like everyone was learning new tricks.

  The thought made her smile, especially when she remembered their first tentative encounter with fire magic at Downslopes. That had only been a couple of weeks ago, but it seemed like years. She sighed, reaching along her link to reassure herself that Mordan was still there.

  The big kat greeted her with a mental rumble, and Marsh got the impression of warm fur brushing against her fingertips. No sound reached her ears, however, and the kat stayed out of sight with the wolves.

  Imagining how the good folk of Claire’s Corner were going to react sent a brief smile over Marsh’s lips. The two children coming to stand on either side of her made the smile falter, but the feel of Aisha’s hand sliding into hers brought it back.

  So they were talking to her now, were they?

  “Course we talk to you,” Aisha told her, revealing that the link between them was still strong, and even more open than before.

  “That’s rude,” Marsh reminded the little girl, and the child snickered.

  “I know.”

  Tamlin groaned. “I’m sorry, Marsh. She’s...”

  Marsh nudged him with her elbow. “Yeah, I know, but she’s ours, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “Ours, huh?” Tamlin challenged and was shushed by the shadow guards standing nearby. He rolled his eyes. “That’s a strong claim for someone who handed us over the first chance she got.”

  “Really?” Marsh whispered. “You’re going to do this now?”

  “No,” Brigitte snapped, coming to stand on the other side of the boy. “No, he’s not.”

  Tamlin snapped her a resentful glare but didn’t argue. For a moment, Marsh got the impression he didn’t dare.

  Now who’s peeking when they don’t have permission? Master Envermet asked.

  I thought you were too busy to interfere? Marsh asked, and he chuckled in her mind.

  Outside, he was as serious as the grave. Before she could go any further, the gate in front of them creaked. There was a metallic clank, and it began to open inwards.

  Interesting, Marsh thought but said nothing. Instead, she searched for the lightning, touching it lightly to wake it.

  They believe it’s easier to push it closed than to try to pull it closed in the face of a horde. Master Envermet explained, and Marsh wondered if scanning the townsfolk with Lioma made it possible for his head to be in more than one place.

  It does, he replied.

  Watching the gate open, Marsh wasn’t sure the townsfolk were wrong. The logic made sense. She just hoped they never had to test the theory.

  They already have. In this case, it’s sound. Again, Master Envermet answered her question without being asked, and Marsh wondered if he was trying to compensate for the fact Roeglin wasn’t there and in her head like he usually was.

  Not a hope in all the Deeps was not the answer she wanted to hear. Her question had been private, for the Deeps’ sake!

  “That’s rude,” Aisha whispered, and Marsh squeezed her hand.

  “So’s listening in to my head.”

  “Is not. Roeglin does it all the time,” the little girl retorted, which startled laughter out of those standing nearby.

  “Hush,” Brigitte instructed, “and pay attention.”

  Marsh didn’t need to ask her why. The gates had swung half-open and a small delegation of people waited for them.

  Lower your weapons, but stay alert. They seem friendly, but you can never be sure. Master Envermet’s instruction came a fraction of a moment before he turned and signaled them forward.

  “Let’s get these people under cover,” he ordered, leading the way into the village.

  Marsh, ask Mordan and the wolves to wait until we can block their line of fire. I want no accidents.

  Marsh was about to pass the instruction on when Mordan replied.

  We will wait, but the pack would prefer not to spend the night away from a den, even a human one.

  It made Marsh wonder what the wolves knew that they didn’t. She hoped it was just that they were in unfamiliar territory and needed a secure place to sleep, not anything else. After all, there couldn’t be any more remnant, could there?

  The Deeps knew they’d killed enough.

  She followed the shadow captain into the village, taking in the neat square of cottages backed by slightly larger barns. Nothing stood more than a single story tall, and each structure was made from salvaged rubble and timber.

  Marsh caught the impression of open space between the palisade and the buildings, but it was too dark to be sure.

  Now, Mordan, Master Envermet instructed as soon as he’d reached the small delegation that had come out to greet them. Marsh noted that the impi warriors had positioned themselves between the men and women on the gates and the caravan.

  When Master Envermet gave his instruction, the Grotto warriors moved close enough that shooting past them was an impossibility, which was when Mordan gave a coughing roar and one of the wolves howled.

  Some of the village guards slammed themselves against the gate, trying to push it closed. Others raised their crossbows, trying to get a clear line of fire past Obasi and the other travelers. Ex-prisoners and guards alike moved to stand in the way.

  “Deeps be damned!” Master Envermet cursed, half-turning toward the gate. “
Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! They’re friends!”

  So much for the low-key approach, he snarled as the kat and Bristlebear stalked into the compound, Perdemor and Scruffknuckle on either side. The wolves followed, walking four abreast behind them.

  The kat continued leading the pack forward, and the rest of the caravan parted to form a wall around them. Glancing back at them, Marsh thought it looked like the humans were forming a guard of honor for the wolves and the kats, and she wasn’t sure that was unintentional.

  The smug aura coming from her link with Mordan showed her that the kat had planned her entrance.

  Those here had to know we are held as friends, she explained, coming to a halt beside Marsh while Bristlebear stopped at the shadow captain’s side.

  Master Envermet looked down at the wolf. “I suppose you want me to introduce you now?”

  Bristlebear lifted his head, pricked his ears, and looked expectantly at the woman who had come to greet them. She was staring at him in shock, and the men on either side of her were tense with anticipation.

  The wolf gave a slow sweep of his tail, accompanied by a grumbling whine. Master Envermet sighed and looked back at where Mordan was waiting beside Marsh.

  “This was all your idea, wasn’t it?” he demanded, and it was clear he wasn’t asking Marsh.

  The kat perked her ears and tilted her head, wrinkling her lips in a silent snarl. The look on her face suggested that since he knew the answer, he’d better get on with it.

  Master Envermet rolled his eyes and turned back to the woman. “As you can see, we are not raiders.”

  The woman’s eyebrows rose, and her eyes traveled over the faces of the ex-guards and ex-prisoners who had come with them. Next, she made a show of inspecting the warriors of the impi and the shadow guards.

  “Close the gates,” she ordered before returning her attention to Master Envermet. “Yes, although I see some familiar faces among you.”

  She gestured toward Evan. “This one, for instance, first came through as a prisoner, and then as a prisoner escort.”

  She moved her hand to indicate Claude Bisset. “And he was one of the angriest prisoners I have ever seen.” Her face softened. “I hope he forgives me, but my own people had to come first.”

  Regret and shame flitted across the woman’s face, followed by defiance and the grim knowledge that she had done the best she could in a situation with no good options.

  “There is nothing to forgive.” Claude’s voice interrupted her as she opened her mouth to address Master Envermet.

  The farmer’s hand fell on Evan’s shoulder, and he jerked his chin toward the shadow captain. “Those who had deeds to repay have had the price taken from them.”

  The woman’s face lit with quiet hope at his words. “Is that true?” she asked Master Envermet. “The raiders are gone?”

  “We cleared the fortress and the church,” Master Envermet told her, “and took down two raiding parties if that’s what you mean. Whether there are more out there, I do not know.”

  Relief washed over her features, and she sagged a little. “That is good news!” Her face turned serious and she indicated the wolf leader. “And this?”

  Bristlebear cocked his head, and Master Envermet sighed. “This is the leader of the local wolfpack.” He gestured toward Aisha and then the Grotto warriors. “We have druids among us, and the wolves decided to assist us.”

  The woman raised her eyebrows. “They did, did they?”

  If Master Envermet was shocked by her disbelief, he wasn’t offended. “They did. If we had tried to coerce them, none of us would be here now. The pack is too large for that kind of control, and its leadership is strong.”

  Bristlebear gave a sharp yip at his words, and Silvermoth and Mousekiller separated from their pack mates to stand alongside him. The village leader studied the trio intently, not flinching under their equally candid gazes.

  Finally, she gave them a quiet smile. “There is a druid not far from here,” she told them. “I don’t suppose you know him?”

  Bristlebear tilted his head and then padded over to stand in front of her. To give the village leader her due, the woman didn’t flinch. Instead, she extended her hand, palm down, for the wolf to sniff.

  The wolf obliged, whiffling his nose over the back of her hand, and then nudging her palm upwards so he could step closer and sniff her feet, moving his nose up until he sniffed other places. The woman gently pushed his muzzle away.

  “Manners,” she reproved, just as Aisha’s whisper of “That’s rude,” hissed out for all to hear.

  The woman chuckled. “It’s just how wolves get to know a person,” she told the child, then fixed the wolf with a stern frown. “Although there’s such a thing as being too nosy.”

  Bristlebear wagged his tail and dropped his jaw in wolfish amusement.

  “And you know it, don’t you?” the village leader challenged before turning her gaze to Master Envermet and extending her hand. “My name is Claire.”

  She gestured at the walls around them. “Welcome to my corner.”

  Bristlebear yipped a command to Silvermoth and addressed a couple of crooning calls to his pack. At the sound of his voice, the wolfpack split up and moved among the villagers, causing several gasps of alarm.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Claire called. “They’re just getting to know who we are.”

  “And that’s a good thing?” someone called back.

  Claire smiled. “Oui, Smoky. They need to know who to protect. For that, they need your scent.”

  “You want me to let them smell me?” Now Smoky sounded alarmed, and like he didn’t find the situation funny anymore.

  “Mais oui, Smoky. Don’t be a child.”

  “Easy for you to say,” the man grumbled but softly, as though he had run out of words to say.

  Claire chose not to dignify that with an answer, instead focusing on her guests. Her face became somber. “You bring a lot of change,” she told Master Envermet.

  “It was change that needed to happen,” he replied, without apology.

  Her face softened. “I know.” She gestured toward a long, low building on the other side of the square. “It’s all I have to offer, and I’ll be glad to find another use for it, but if you would care to sleep there?”

  A ripple of tension flowed through the travelers and she paused.

  “I could divide you between the barns,” she offered, “if the place holds too many memories.”

  The travelers stilled and exchanged glances. Finally, Claude stepped forward.

  “No,” he answered. “We will manage.”

  She relaxed and signaled for them to follow her.

  “What’s wrong with the building?” Tamlin wondered, and although he’d spoken quietly, his voice carried.

  “It’s where the raiders used to overnight their prisoners,” Claude answered, his eyes dark. “I have no good memories of that place.”

  9

  One Night Too Many

  The villagers came to meet them, and Mordan soon had a crowd of admirers. Marsh watched the kat trying to sit aloofly in front of the fire and had to smother a smile. While she was sure Mordan would rather be left alone, the village children were fascinated by her.

  It reminded her of the children in Dimanche. Mordan had played the pony with them until Marsh and Roeglin had gone to fetch her. Marsh was sure the kat had left a lasting impression and wondered how many kat-hunting expeditions that mother would need to thwart as her kids grew up.

  The thought made her smile. Watching the hoshkat now, she figured more parents were about to have the same problem. The kat was making an impression, and Perdemor wasn’t helping.

  The kit had become an instant celebrity, even though he wasn’t much smaller than his mother, and Scruffknuckle was winning hearts despite Aisha’s jealousy.

  “Scruffy, you come here!” she ordered as he bounded past with three children in hot pursuit.

  On hearing her voice, the pup bounced over
to her, licked her cheek, and danced away. One of the kids pursuing him ran into the edge of the table she was sitting at and bumped into her.

  “Hey!” she shouted and shoved the little boy away.

  “Sorry!” he replied, changing direction and promptly running into the table once more. This time, he hit it head first and ended up on the ground.

  Aisha’s anger vanished and she dropped down beside him. “You okay?”

  He blinked at her, his dark eyes unfocused. “Um...”

  “You’re not okay!” she exclaimed, her small face creasing with alarm.

  “Marsh! Brigitte! Help!”

  Her cries brought the two women to her side in an instant. “What is it?”

  “Are you all right? What happened?”

  The boy tried to roll out of their way, but Aisha laid her small hands on his chest to keep him still. The movement reminded her that calling for help wasn’t her only option, and she scowled.

  “Hold still,” she ordered, sounding as authoritative as any healer. “I will fix.”

  She waved Marsh and Brigitte away, ignoring their looks of concern.

  “It’s okay. I will fix.”

  “Fix what?” Brigitte asked as the little girl placed a palm on the boy’s forehead.

  He tried to squirm away and she smacked him on the forehead with the palm of her hand, making him wince.

  “I said, ‘hold still.’”

  The boy looked past her, his eyes begging the two adults for help. Marsh bit her lower lip and tried not to smile. Brigitte turned her head to hide her own smile.

  “Ready?” Aisha asked, and the boy shook his head.

  He immediately regretted the movement and groaned.

  Aisha gave a long-suffering sigh. “I told you to hold still,” she scolded. “Now hold still.”

  The boy froze.

  She was so focused on what she was doing that she didn’t realize she had an audience. Several of the druids from Ariella’s Grotto had gathered to watch. They hung back as her eyes blazed green and green light spread from beneath her palms.

  The boy’s eyes grew wide, reflecting the emerald glow spreading from her hands. Marsh wasn’t sure the kid could have moved if he’d wanted to, but she watched his face relax and knew Aisha had done the right thing.