“From now on,” Monsieur Gravine said, “I will be protecting the roads into and out of Ruins Hall. We will need masons and engineers to secure all routes into and out of our lands. Your main task will be to protect them, but first we have a meeting to attend.”
He turned to Marchant.
“The Merchants’ Guild is about to become very unhappy with me. I will need your assistance.”
Just like that, he switched his attention to Roeglin.
“Are you strong enough to draw the memory of what she saw both in the tunnels prior to arriving at Leon’s Deep and what she caught on the shadow threads?”
Roeglin drained his cup and grabbed a handful of cookies, which he stuffed into one of his trouser pockets. Marsh watched him and wondered just how deep the pocket was. He caught her glance and waggled his fingers at her from halfway down his thigh. She rolled her eyes, but he was already giving Monsieur Gravine his answer.
“I will do my best. Which is more important?”
“I need both if you can do it.” Gravine directed the next question to Marsh. “Can you recall these things?”
Marsh nodded.
“I can remember both, and I do not mind the mage drawing them out if it stops what happened to Leon’s Deep.”
Gravine’s face was solemn as he replied.
“That is what it is designed to do. What the result will be when so much greed is riding on the answer is not guaranteed.”
Lennie stepped forward with a grim smile on her face.
“They will comply if the caravan guards refuse to walk the dark for them.” Her smile faded, and her eyes grew hard with determination as she gestured to the men and woman at her back. “We can make that happen, especially if the guards know there is another employer for them to go to.”
Gravine shook his head.
“We cannot guarantee their safety beyond the bounds of Ruins Hall,” he said, and Lennie cocked her head.
“Monsieur, correct me if I am wrong, but our security depends as much on being linked to the other three settlements as it does on having a force stationed here, does it not?”
She watched as he considered that and then ceded the point.
“Yes.”
“So we have to secure our borders, and then reopen the trade routes and secure them.”
“Oui, but—”
“If you speak to the other founders and explain to them that you can only man checkpoints and provide guards to the halfway point, and should they employ the guards stranded in their own settlements, they should be able to do the same.”
“Or you could form a separate entity tasked with guarding the routes and cavern complexes of the Four Settlements…” Marsh suggested, then raised her hands as though in surrender. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You did,” Gravine argued, “and the idea has merit. Once this threat is defeated, we will come to it again. For now, I will take the steps I deem necessary to secure the Ruins Hall complex. I cannot protect the others, but I can do this much. When we are secure, we will assist the others—starting with Ariella’s Grotto.”
He caught her look and sighed.
“As I said, the idea has merit, but we don’t have the time to implement it. At the end of this crisis, we will. An independent body funded by allies would be preferable to four private armies.”
That made sense.
Marsh looked around for Aisha, then took her hand and set the little girl on her feet.
“Hold onto Scruffy,” she said as she passed the child another cookie and pretended she didn’t see Roeglin sneak one to the pup.
Contented crunching followed, and only when it was done did Roeglin get to his feet. He still looked pale and Marchant shifted to his side, tucking her arm through his so he could lean on her without drawing too much attention. As soon as the children had fallen in alongside them, Monsieur Gravine pivoted on his heel and marched toward the door, five of his six guards falling in behind him.
The sixth, Gustav, walked just ahead of Marsh, and Lennie dropped in behind them.
And so it begins, Marsh thought. Even if I’m not exactly sure what “it” might be.
She kept a firm hold of Aisha’s hand as they left the eatery and followed Gravine down the street to a large gray-stone building on the left. Marsh remembered passing it the night before, and how imposing it had looked in comparison to the rest. Then she remembered just wishing they could reach the farm and have the journey over and done.
Well, so much for that, she thought, realizing she’d just promised to head out onto the road as soon as Gravine and his meeting were done.
Except it wasn’t Gravine’s meeting. Fabrice was standing on the footpath outside the hall, Cleon on one side and the clerk from the merchants’ office on the other. Fabrice’s face lit up when she saw Marsh, although her brow creased with puzzlement when she saw who, or rather, what, Marsh was walking with.
“Didn’t take you long,” Cleon muttered, and Fabrice looked at him askance.
“It’s not what you think,” Roeglin told the farmer as they followed Monsieur Gravine and his escort into the hall proper.
Fabrice and Cleon hurried after them, confused when they registered that Marsh and Roeglin were part of the founder’s entourage. Marsh followed the founder and his guards to the front of the hall and sat to one side at the front as directed, Fabrice and Cleon sitting in the row behind them.
It didn’t take long for the hall to fill, and Marsh snuck a few quick looks to see who else might have come to the meeting. She was looking for one face in particular, but she didn’t see her—Madame Monetti. Marsh made a note that she would have to look the woman up after she had returned from the monastery.
She sighed. It would have been so much better if she could have delivered the package straight into the woman’s hands. Stifling a second sigh, she forced herself to pay attention to the proceedings. Monsieur Gravine’s clerk was speaking.
“As many of you know, the road to Kerrenin’s Ledge is now closed. All that was left of the last caravan were the bodies of its mules. No goods, and not a sign of any of those traveling with it or guarding it. Today we have both good news and bad.”
As openings went, Marsh had to admit that was a good one, guaranteed to get attention.
The clerk gestured for Marsh and the children to stand up and come to the front of the hall. Giving Tamlin and Aisha a quick glance, Marsh stood and stretched her hands toward them. She was relieved when both stood with her and took hold. Together, they went over to the clerk and waited in front of the gathered towns- and farm-folk.
“There were survivors.”
Small sounds of relief and happiness erupted around the hall, but the clerk ignored them and continued, indicating Marsh, the two children, and the dog.
“Marchant Leclerc, and Tamlin and Aisha Danet.” Her hand fluttered over the dog. “The pup they found along the way.”
Whispers of “Krypthund” filled the hall. When Scruffknuckle twisted under Aisha’s hand to face the crowd, keeping his body pressed against her leg, those whispers were joined by others: “bonded,” “loyal,” “druid,” “fey child,” and “rock mage.” Aisha’s grip tightened on hers, and Marsh looked down.
The child’s face was troubled as she returned Marsh’s gaze.
Hang on, kid, Marsh thought. I won’t let them hurt you. You are mine.
In the front row, Roeglin’s eyes flashed white and he stood, moving swiftly in front of the clerk and maneuvering so that he and Aisha and March were side-on to the crowd. The clerk hesitated and then continued with her spiel.
“The bad news is that Leon’s Deep has been cleared of all its residents.” She paused as gasps of shock followed her announcement. When the sounds had died away, she continued. “With the exception of Fabrice Jeter and her children Eveline, Tory, and Curt, who escaped the raid and were escorted to safety by Leclerc.”
A patter of applause rippled through the hall but stopped the instant the clerk raised
her hand.
“The danger is not over,” she added, and silence fell over them. The clerk pretended not to notice and continued. “We have asked shadow mage and mindwalker Roeglin Leger to show you two of Leclerc’s memories to give us a clear idea of the dangers the caverns face. After that, the Ruins Hall founder, Monsieur Gravine, will outline his plans to keep our homes safe.”
She gestured for Roeglin to continue.
“May I?” Roeglin asked, and Marsh nodded.
“Be my guest,” she told him. “I have nothing to hide.”
It must have been the right answer because his lips twitched and he stretched out his hand and set it in the middle of her forehead.
“Show me the first time you heard the raiders,” he said, and Marsh closed her eyes.
A heartbeat later, she felt Roeglin lift his hand away but ignored that in favor of remembering the events of their last night of sleeping rough. It all started with Scruffknuckle’s growl, followed by the raider’s voice.
“I tell you, it sounded like children laughing.”
Marsh held the memory as clearly as she could, not trying to hide anything from her audience, just trying to remember what she’d heard and seen. To her surprise, Roeglin pulled the scene of her searching the shadow threads, making sure to highlight the impression of many people moving away from them.
“She abandoned them!” came Cleon’s indignant exclamation, and Marsh lost the memory.
She pulled the children behind her and placed herself between them and the people gathered in the hall. To her surprise, no one else seemed angry. Well, no one except Fabrice.
“Cleon Jarvay Sursees!” Fabrice snapped, and the big farmer turned to her like he’d been slapped. “You take that back!”
“But…”
“She did not abandon them! If she had gone after them, she would have lost the children, and I would have still been trying to keep Patrik’s legacy when the second force arrived.”
Her words sent a shockwave through the hall, but she ignored it.
“If she had gone chasing after them, I would not be here now—and my Patrik’s sacrifice would have been for nothing. And all my…my children would have been taken. The moutons would have died in their barn, and you would not be getting the warning you need to be ready for what is coming.”
Roeglin, Marsh, and the children were all staring at her when she turned to them.
“Show them, mindwalker. Show them what Marsh has seen is coming for us. Repeat their words for all to hear.”
She lifted her hand and clipped Cleon under the ear with an open-handed slap.
“And I will seek another place to keep my moutons since this one is so set against the girl who is trying to save us.”
Cleon colored a brilliant red and opened his mouth to protest, but Fabrice merely glared at him and pointed to the seat.
“Close your foolish mouth and sit!” she snapped, then turned to Roeglin and waved for him to continue. “Show them, shadow mage.”
Again Roeglin turned to Marsh.
“May I?” he asked, tentatively raising his hand again.
Marsh shot Cleon another wary glance and then nodded.
“Please do.”
This time she kept her eyes open as Roeglin placed his fingertips on her forehead.
“The memory, please.”
It took Marsh a moment, but she found it. She took it from the feeling of unease she’d had at the waystation stables. Roeglin’s eyes burned white, the mingling of shadow and mind magic reflected in their color as they suddenly flared to silver when mist and shadow combined.
When Marsh had gotten a firmer grip on the memory, he lifted his fingers away and Marsh closed her eyes, letting the hall drift away as she remembered running up the stairs to the towers while the children prepared the mules.
It didn’t take her long to find the force moving through the grove of calla shrooms and highlight the differences in their build and clothing as they moved beneath the faint fluorescence of the calla—and then she worked out how to get the shadow threads to deliver sound. Some snickered when they heard the leader speak his first real lines.
“You’re not afraid of the dark, are you, Berens?”
Their mirth rapidly faded to anger as they heard the raiders plan to “take out Ruins Hall” and how they intended to drain the Four Settlements of all their inhabitants. She opened her eyes as Roeglin ended the connection between them, her words to Tamlin falling oddly from his mouth.
“They know someone was watching them. Not that it’s any of your business.”
In front of her, Roeglin was pale as a ghost, his face glistening with sweat. Silence cloaked the hall, and tension filled the air as if lightning were about to strike. Marsh started when heavy footsteps jerked her attention to where Cleon was crossing the floor toward her.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I thought you…might be responsible.”
Marsh shook her head.
“Help the founder protect the caverns and you will be forgiven,” she told him, lunging forward in barely enough time to catch Roeglin as he collapsed.
Aisha gave a shriek of fright and Tamlin wrapped his arms around his sister.
“He’s okay, Aysh. Just a little tired. He only needs to sleep. It’s okay.”
Scruffknuckle wuffed and licked the little girl’s hand, butting against it until she scratched his head. The people in the hall stared. Marsh wanted to shout at them that the show was over, but she couldn’t. She was too busy pulling Roeglin’s arm over her shoulder with the aim of carrying him back to his seat. Cleon surprised her by coming around the mage’s other side and lifting him from the floor.
“Where do you want him?”
“Just where we were sitting,” she managed, and Cleon took him to where she wanted, leaving her to collect the children and lead them back to their seats.
She was grateful when Monsieur Gravine stood and drew the attention from them.
“People of Ruins Hall,” he said. “We need to be ready to defend our caverns.”
His announcement was met with an outcry of disbelief.
“But we’re not warriors!”
“We have no weapons.”
“I have no idea how to wield a blade.”
“How do we stop a force that size? By asking them nicely to leave?”
Getting Cleon to settle Roeglin against her shoulder, Marsh watched as the town’s founder let the protests ride over him, waiting for the noise to start subsiding before raising his hand for quiet.
“We do have an army,” he announced, his voice quiet, calm, and sure.
He gestured to the caravan guards who had filed in and now stood around the edges of the halls.
“They are trained warriors, many of whom have seen bloodshed—and they have no work while the roads are closed.”
The looks of outrage on the faces of the merchants who were sitting to one side of the dais beside him had Marsh choking down the urge to laugh. They hadn’t seen this coming. Some raised their hands and others tried to voice a protest, but Monsieur Gravine pretended not to notice.
“They have said they are willing to protect the caverns like they protected the caravans. I’d like to hire them, to do just that.”
Murmurs of approval rippled through the townsfolk, and many of the farmers turned to each other, seeking the opinions of their fellows. Within seconds, it was clear how the town- and farm-folk would vote. The merchants were outraged.
“But we need the guards!” one finally managed to protest and was nearly shouted out of his seat.
Another tried to reason with the people gathered before them.
“Who will guard the caravans and take your goods to market?”
Well, there was only one reply to that, and their protests were met with scorn.
“What caravans?”
“Which market?”
“There is no trade while the roads are closed.”
Marsh listened as the questions rapidly degenerated
into mockery and shouted insults, and Gravine chose that moment to step in. Raising his hands, he patted the air in placation. Slowly the uproar died down, and when all was relatively still, the founder spoke again. Turning first to the merchants, he began.
“I think you will agree that trade is the lifeblood of the Four Settlements.”
Several of them nodded emphatically, and Gravine continued.
“You also have to agree that the caravans from Dimanche and Ariella’s Grotto are overdue.” He held up a hand as one started to protest. “I know the Grotto’s shipments are unpredictable, but tell me when you last saw an interval between them as long as this?”
Several of them opened their mouths and closed them again. It was like watching fish trying to breathe on dry land. If it hadn’t been for Roeglin’s weight resting against her shoulder and the smaller burden of Aisha and Scruffknuckle leaning on her legs, Marsh might have laughed. When it became clear that the merchants had no answer for him, the founder went on.
“As long as there are no caravans, these folk…” His gesture took in the gathered guards. “These folk don’t have any way of earning a living. They cannot feed their families, and they cannot take on other employ because you demand they hold themselves in readiness. Well, I want them to be ready too. I want them fighting at my back when the raiders reach this cavern. I want them guarding my town, my friends, my family, and my home—and I am willing to pay them to do so.”
He paused, letting his gaze sweep over the assembled cavern dwellers; letting them think about that before finishing his speech.
“Are you?”
For a moment Marsh was sure she could have heard a pin drop, then the hall erupted into agreement. One of the merchants rolled his eyes and slumped into his chair. Another threw up his hands in disgust. But there were others who were nodding, and one who began to softly applaud. Soon everyone in the hall had joined him.
Marsh saw some of the tension leave the founder’s frame. He let the gathering applaud a little longer before calming them with a gentle motion of his hands.
“I am sending an envoy to the shadow mage monastery,” he announced, and there were several in-drawn breaths. He acknowledged these with a frown and a nod. “I know some of you have been approached by a group of mages who were very persistent in trying to recruit your children. Those mages are not our mages. Those mages belong to the raiders. I want you to continue to tell them no, and I want you to report them immediately. I will send a contingent of the Ruins Hall Protectors out to capture them. We cannot have them roaming our caverns. We will not have them roaming our caverns.”
Magic Below Paris Complete Series Boxed Set (Books 1 - 8): Trading Into Shadow, Trading Into Darkness, Trading Close to Light, Trading By Firelight, Trading by Shroomlight, plus 3 more Page 14