Mystic: A Book of Underrealm

by Garrett Robinson

  She had crossed half the distance to the dock when she remembered something—her struggling thought when Bubble told her she must swim: Gem.

  She froze in a panic. The boy could barely tread water.

  But Bubble would tell them all the bowl was too large, and then he and Gem would work out a plan, wouldn’t they?

  What if they did not? What if Gem died below the rivergate, his body sinking like a rock to the bottom?

  Loren looked at the water. She did not know how deep the river was, but she had to try to reach the rivergate bottom, or Gem might perish.

  She took a breath and readied herself to dive, but lost her nerve at the last moment. She gasped again, and this time she plunged into the blackness of the water.

  Struck by a thought, Loren seized the rivergate’s iron grating and used it to pull herself down. That, combined with her swift kicking, propelled her forwards at a reasonable speed.

  Down and down she dove, hoping she kept the right direction and that Bubble did not bring Gem to some other part of the gate. But the river seemed bottomless. With each outstretched hand, she expected to touch its silty bed but found only more water.

  For a moment, she thought of surfacing and trying again. But the thought of Gem drowning propelled her.

  Again, she felt dizzy, her head light, the darkness around her impenetrable.

  Her hand reached for the next rung and found nothing.

  Loren had reached the rivergate bottom.

  She pulled herself underneath. She could not wait for Gem to appear. She must surface or drown.

  As she seized the gate and prepared to launch upwards, Loren felt something strike her leg. A fish? She reached towards it. It struck her again—mayhap a limb. The limb slipped from her grip. She used the gate to pull herself along, reaching again. This time she found it—a wildly flailing arm. She seized it and pulled, trying to drag the person under the gate. Gem or Annis, it made no difference; it was a child’s size, and panicking for certain.

  The figure fought her, but somehow she managed to drag it beneath the rivergate. It took nearly every ounce of strength. Loren used what little she had left to pass underneath the gate herself.

  The spots in her eyes became a milky white film. Everything grew white, a faint glow of tranquility.

  She tried swimming for air, but her limbs could not move.

  Why should they? Floating was so peaceful.

  Each limb drifted of its own accord, bouncing against the rivergate in a beautiful dance.

  White turned to black, and Loren knew no more.

  nineteen

  LOREN AWOKE AND FOUND ONLY pain.

  It burnt in her chest, and it attacked her throat as a fountain spouted forth. She hacked and coughed, but the water flowed of its own accord whether she tried to breathe in or out.

  Why did it keep flowing? She needed to breathe.

  The last drops finally slipped out, and Loren sucked sweet life from the air. It still burnt, but now she did not mind. She rolled onto her stomach, coughing until she thought her heart might stop. Saliva spattered the wood beneath her, followed by bile as she vomited. A sour, bracken taste washed across her tongue as the day’s fish fled her stomach in a rush.

  “Steady on!” cried Gem. “You nearly got my feet.”

  “Be silent, boy!” Xain growled.

  Loren felt strong hands roll her over and pull her into a sitting position. Someone struck her back again and again, pounding her until the vomit halted and she could finally breathe. Loren tried telling them to stop but could only croak. She wanted to push the person away, but her hands flailed uselessly against them. The effort nearly made her faint again, and she collapsed into the person’s arms, feeling her vomit-soaked lips soil their clothes. She found it impossible to care.

  “You are all right. You are alive. Can you sit up?”

  She did not know the answer at first, nor who was speaking. She did not understand the simple words. Slowly, they became clear in her mind. Almost she fell over again, but by placing a hand on the ground to either side she managed to stay upright.

  “I am all right.” Her voice sounded awful, like some vile creature from a horrible tale.

  “Hardly,” said Xain.

  Loren looked up at the wizard and saw the last remnants of light fading from his eyes. Magic. “You saved me?”

  “Something I learned upon the sea. Moving the water from a person’s lungs is not so difficult, once you know how.”

  “I . . .” She dissolved into a fit of coughing. “Thank you.”

  “I am sure I had little to do with it,” he said gruffly. “Death avoids you like a leper.”

  As her head cleared and she looked up to see Gem, Loren slowly remembered what had happened. The darkness of the river. The rushing waters. A flailing, grasping hand.

  Gem stood there, soaked but safe, a curious light in his eyes. Bubble crouched not far away, at the edge of the stone wall rimming the river. But Annis . . .

  “Where is Annis? Did she survive?”

  “She is alive,” said Xain. “Though hardly unharmed.”

  He pointed, and Loren followed his gaze. They were several paces from the city wall. Against it, sitting in shadows cast by nearby torches, Loren saw Annis. The girl seemed slight and shrunken. Her cheeks were wet from the river, made wetter still by the tears that poured from her eyes.

  “Annis! Are you all right?”

  Loren tried to stand, but her limbs betrayed her and she collapsed to the cobblestones. She had to move in a sort of sliding crawl, slithering along the ground like a snake.

  “Do not!” Annis stood and ran to Loren’s side, helping her sit up again. “I am fine, unhurt. Only, what I did . . . you almost . . .” She could not speak more and bent her head to bury her face.

  “This one grew frightened beneath the rivergate.” Bubble had not spoken since Loren awoke, but now he hobbled closer on all fours. “Both children grew mad, screaming at Bubble and Stream in the water. Bubble decided to push them under the gate and chose the smaller child. Stream was supposed to move this one, but he swam away when she struck him in fear.”

  The wurt hung his head, clearly ashamed.

  “I was surrounded by blackness,” said Annis through her tears. “I thought I would drown there, and I could not find anything to save me. Then I felt your arm—though of course I did not know it was yours. I thought it was some thing come to seize me in the darkness. I fought until I felt the gate, and I swam for the top, but you . . .”

  “I am fine.” Loren reached out and dragged Annis into an embrace. The girl’s clothing was clammy against her skin, but Loren did not care.

  “I would have died were it not for you,” said Annis. “I will never forget that.”

  “All quite silly, if you ask me,” said Gem. “I did not think it so bad when Bubble carried me.”

  “Stream has done a great evil,” said Bubble, head still bowed. “Bubble is sorry. Bubble will ensure the masters know what Stream has done. They will punish him.”

  “As well they should,” said Annis, some of her tears turning to anger. “He nearly got me killed!”

  Bubble flinched, shrinking like a wilting flower. Loren put a hand on the wurt’s shoulder and spoke calmly. “What is done is done, Bubble. You must forgive him. He was probably as frightened as Annis when she attacked him. And without you, we would be starving beyond the walls of Wellmont. Please, speak nothing of this to your people, and tell Stream that we are all right.”

  Bubble’s head lifted slightly. “You . . . Bubble does not know the word.”

  “We forgive him,” said Loren. “You have both helped us beyond measure. Do not punish him for that.”

  Bubble blinked twice, slowly, the thin film of his eyelids glistening in the torchlight. “This is a grand thing that you do. A good thing. Bubble thanks you.”

  Loren felt herself blushing, warm against the chill of her wet clothes. “’Tis what anyone would do.”

  Above th
em, Xain looked back and forth warily. “We need to move on, and quickly. If anyone were to see four soaked strangers sitting by the rivergate, it would not take long to work out what has happened.”

  Loren nodded to him and turned back to Bubble. “You have our gratitude, Bubble. If ever you require my help, consider me at your service.”

  “And that is no idle promise,” said Gem. “’Tis a promise from the Nightblade.”

  Bubble blinked. “Bubble does not know this word.”

  “Hush, Gem,” said Loren, casting him an evil eye.

  “Nightblade is her,” he said, pointing at Loren. “And she is the greatest thief in the nine lands, or soon will be. She is cloaked in darkness, and no lock can keep her from coin or treasure.”

  “Gem! Enough!” Loren barked.

  Everyone flinched and looked around for guards. Loren went on in a whisper. “That is enough. Bubble, we must leave. If ever I pass by your lands, I will try to visit you again and bring token of my thanks. Until then, fare well. And do not forget to tell Stream that Annis is all right.”

  Bubble nodded slowly. “Bubble will do this. Fare well, Nightblade.”

  He turned, leapt into the water, and vanished with nary a splash.

  Loren turned on Gem. “Just what was all that about? I am cloaked in soaking, filthy clothes, not darkness.”

  “Words of your deeds have already spread throughout Cabrus,” said Gem, shrugging. “Why should they not spread farther?”

  “You are being ridiculous,” Loren growled. “Bubble has seen us do no deeds except nearly drown in a river.”

  “Men have grown famous for less,” said Gem.

  They slipped into the city’s dim torchlight, searching for an inn to dry themselves and sleep. Fortunately, it did not take long to find one, and the innkeeper greeted them joyously with a free dinner when they did. They soon learned that the city had nearly emptied, as all in Wellmont grew fearful of the army at their gates.

  Loren had wondered how they would pay for their room, but Xain produced a coin from a hidden pocket. Loren raised an eyebrow, for she had thought the wizard had spent all of his money on provisions upon leaving Redbrook.

  Xain shrugged. “I learned long ago never to spend your last coin unless at the end of utmost need.”

  And so they seemed to be. The free meal was fortunate, for they had no money with which to buy food. Loren did not know how they would pay for a second night if they stayed in the city. They huddled near the common room’s fire to dry off, for their only other clothing was stowed in their packs, which had gone beneath the rivergate with them. They devoured their fare and traded glances from hooded eyes.

  Annis finally broke the silence. “What will we do tomorrow?”

  “Live in an alley, I suppose,” said Gem. “’Tis not so bad as you might think, though I understand a merchant’s daughter like yourself might disagree.”

  “We will have to find somewhere to work for coin,” said Xain. “At least enough to pay for passage from the city.”

  “How?” said Annis. “Bubble said they let no one in or out.”

  “Not through the river,” said Xain. “But mayhap we can leave by the northern road. No army besieges the city there, so they may let some leave.”

  “We cannot afford to wait long enough to earn coin,” said Loren. “We must go in the morrow, and not any later. We can trade work for passage.”

  “Work?” Xain scowled. “What work can we four offer?”

  “Guard work?” Even as the words left Loren’s lips she heard their absurdity. She had only her dagger and Xain his knife. A wizard he might be, but surely a caravan driver would prefer steel and armor to powerful words.

  Xain snorted. “We will have to work for the coin.”

  “We could always steal it,” Annis said. “I have it on the best authority that we dine with the greatest thief in all the nine lands.”

  Gem smiled. Loren frowned, eyes on her food.

  twenty

  ONCE THEY HAD DRIED THEMSELVES enough they went to bed, laying their clothing all across the room to let the water drain from it. But though the summer night was warm, it did not prove warm enough. They woke to find their things still damp and smelling faintly of mildew.

  “Ugh,” said Gem, curling his nose. “This will only get worse as we travel on, I do not doubt.”

  “If mold is our worst problem in the days to come, I shall count us lucky,” said Xain.

  “Do you know where you mean to look for work today?” Loren said. “You know this city, do you not?”

  “I do but not as well as some others. We might try the inns, but if their guests have fled Wellmont they will not need more mouths to feed. The smiths, no doubt, are busy making weapons and armor. Can you pull a bellows?”

  “I can learn,” said Loren. “Annis, you should remain here today and keep an eye on our clothing. You can take it down to the fire a few pieces at a time to help it dry faster.”

  “I wish you fortune plying honest trade,” said Gem. “As for me, I will gather coin in the manner to which I am accustomed.”

  “Meaning steal it,” said Annis, sniffing slightly.

  “You are yourself a thief, do not forget.” Loren pushed Annis gently on the shoulder. The girl had not quite recovered from her fright the night before, and Loren wanted to nudge her out of it. Those who lived in fear were often unpredictable and hard to count upon in time of need. Annis gave her a wan smile in return.

  They asked the innkeeper, who did not know any smiths looking for hands but recommended they try the craftsman’s quarter in the city’s northwest corner. So as Annis laid out their clothing, they slipped through the front door and into the city streets.

  Gem tagged along, saying, “Where there are crafts and trade, there is coin.” The marketplace would surely have purses to lift.

  Loren wore her black cloak again, enjoying the looks it attracted in the early morning light. With a plain-clothed man at her side and an urchin boy at her heels, she probably looked like some lesser noblewoman with a valet and footman.

  But the city’s mood soon dampened her own. Everyone seemed on edge, looking at one another with wariness if not outright fear. A somber reminder that these people were besieged. Mayhap some had lost friends or family. That sobered Loren, and it seemed less amusing to play the little noblewoman.

  In the craftsman’s quarter, they found many smiths hard at work but none in need of assistants. In each they saw strong young men pounding at anvils and pulling hard on bellows. Same at the fletchers, where men sat at benches by the dozens nailing arrowheads and feathering shafts. One fletcher was willing to take on more, but when they asked for a gold weight a day he grew angry.

  “You see these men? I pay them two silver pennies, and they already know what they are doing. You looking to get rich off the war? Become a soldier, and hope you take no arrow in the eye. And that the mayor forgets to pay you not.”

  Gem, on the other hand, did quite well for himself. By midday, he had already gathered several pennies. It bought them lunch, at least, when they rejoined Annis at the inn.

  “The fletcher’s right, you know,” said Loren. “These people work for more than coin. They labor to save their city. We look like grave robbers, asking for enough money to get beyond the walls.”

  “What do you suggest?” Xain said. “’Tis easier to see a plan’s flaws than to conjure your own.”

  Loren said, “I had thought of a plan, in fact, but it is not . . . respectable.”

  Xain’s eyes narrowed. “Tell us. We left the bounds of respectability many rivers behind us.”

  Annis shifted in her seat and looked about nervously. Gem leaned in to listen. Loren drew a breath.

  “They cannot have closed the gates entirely. Still, some wagons must be let through. To bring in and sell supplies at least, else the city starves. And if those wagons enter, some must leave.”

  “Guard work again?” said Xain. “They will take one look at the childre
n and throw us out. And neither you nor I have arms or armor, nor the skill to wield them.”

  “I know something of swordplay.” In truth, Loren had only the one dance with Gregor when she rode with a merchant caravan, so it was an idle boast—but Xain knew it not. “But guard work is not what I plan. Supplies from outside Wellmont will be few and precious. Any merchant who plies his trade will gain a fat purse.”

  Gem’s eyes lit up. “And a fat purse could buy our way out.”

  “Just so,” Loren nodded. “If we could liberate even a single wallet, that might be enough. We could buy our way on a wagon—or at least get supplies and bribe a guard to let us out the gate.”

  “The Nightblade you are indeed.” Gem laughed.

  Loren frowned.

  Xain still looked dour, his nervous twitching increased. “I think you view the task too lightly. It would not do you well to believe all the stories you tell others about yourself. Are you a master thief in truth or only in aspiration? For no merchant will simply leave an idle purse, its strings awaiting a kiss from your dagger. They will be hidden and will have guards.”

  Loren shrugged. “Then ignore the merchants. Seek the craftsmen who come here from their farms and villages. They will have thinner purses, but a scanty purse unguarded is better than one fat under lock and key.”

  Xain looked at her in surprise. “These are not wealthy folk you mean to rob. I had not thought you so ruthless.”

  “Ruthlessness?” said Loren angrily. “No. ’Tis necessity. Do you think I jest when I say another army marches upon this place? I know what I mean to do. I grew up in such a village. Losing the sale of a single cartload will cause no one to starve, only to tighten their belts for a few months. Do we truly wish to invite our doom?”

  The party fell silent. Xain looked away, Annis stared at the table, and Gem gazed upon Loren with awe. She saw a respect in the boy’s eyes that had not there before, something beyond his usual affection. She was not sure whether to be pleased or not.

  Xain picked at his elbow, his eyes drifting to Annis. “I should come. In case you are discovered and more powerful measures are required to aid your flight. Annis, too.”