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

by C. M. Simpson

  “Come,” the little girl said, her eyes blazing emerald as she scratched him under his chin.

  He hesitated, but then followed her in. The lead ewe was nowhere near as cooperative. She bleated anxiously, turning her head to look from the ram and the open gate to the cavern around her. Marsh could guess what she was thinking: the journey had been a long one, and they’d barely stopped to graze—and then the hoshkat had come along, so no one had wanted to stop. But now that they had…

  The mouton started to turn, and Marsh saw what they were about to do. Before they could take more than one step in the direction of the open cavern, she gave a short, sharp whistle and the animals turned their gaze toward her. She tried to do with them what she had done to the kat.

  “Please come inside,” she murmured, imagining piles of fodder and buckets of cool, clean water. “Come where you will all be safe.“ Here she thought of the hoshkat lurking in the dark, waiting. “Come where it may not follow. Please come.”

  She moved her eyes from one woolly face to the next, picturing safety and food in the dark hollow between the walls and beyond the gates.

  “Please…”

  The moutons stilled, then turned as one and trotted into the space between the walls. No sooner had they done that than heavy fatigue dropped onto Marsh and she almost fell from the saddle. If it hadn’t been for Roeglin reaching out to catch her, she’d have landed heavily on the cavern’s floor. As it was, only Gustav’s quick lunge to capture Roeglin by the belt stopped the mage from tumbling to the floor with her.

  “Now what?”

  The mercenary sounded more angry than worried, and he slid from his mount to push Marsh firmly into Roeglin’s arms.

  “Don’t drop her until we’re all through safely. After that…”

  “I won’t drop her,” Roeglin assured him, and Marsh felt slightly comforted because it sounded more like the mage was making her a promise than Gustav.

  Which was a good thing, because Gustav was still annoyed.

  “I was going to say you could drop her all you liked.”

  Roeglin gave a snort of amusement, but Marsh didn’t have the energy to do a thing. She wouldn’t be able to do anything if Roeglin did drop her. She couldn’t even find the strength to grab the saddle or his arm, or…anything. Whatever the mouton had done to her, it was pretty thorough.

  Not the mouton, Roeglin said, his voice sounding in her mind and not her ears. You talking to the mouton. Tell me you haven’t done that before?

  Well, duh! Marsh thought before letting sleep take her. If I’d done that before, I’d have had a better grip on the saddle...

  When she woke, she was inside the monastery in a bed of her own, still dressed in her traveling clothes but without her boots. She sat up, and looked around the room, feeling like she’d been run over by a million moutons. Seeing her missing footwear by the side of the bed was little comfort.

  Suppressing a groan, Marchant swung her feet out of bed and reached down to pull her boots back on. She needed to find out what had happened to Tamlin and Aisha—and Fabrice. She needed to know if Gustav had spoken to the shadow mages yet, or if she needed to prepare for a meeting. She needed—

  “You need to rest, Marchant.”

  The voice was unfamiliar. Female, but with a ring of authority that Marsh decided she should pay attention to. Looking toward it, Marsh saw it belonged to a slender woman with a strong-featured face and dark brown eyes. She continued speaking before Marsh could think of anything to say.

  “That was quite a display you put on.”

  She had?

  “To move the moutons into the castle. We wondered how you would manage it, because our fields are very enticing. Thank you for keeping them out of the crops.”

  She really had?

  Some of her puzzlement must have shown because the woman smiled.

  “So, Roeglin is correct? You don’t know what you have done?”

  Marsh shook her head, and her world spun. When it steadied, the woman was crouched before her, one hand on her shoulder.

  “You have stretched a muscle you didn’t know you had, and now your body and mind need to rest.”

  As she spoke, she took the boots from Marsh’s hands and tucked them back under the bed. Her nose wrinkled as she leaned close to Marsh.

  “I’d tell you to take a bath, but I don’t think you could stay awake, and I’d hate for you to drown. Sleep now. There will be food waiting when you wake again.”

  Marsh wanted to do as she was bid, but she had duties. Responsibilities. No matter how tired she was, she had to make sure the children were all right.

  “Tamlin and Aisha…” she began, fatigue slurring her words.

  The woman nodded.

  “They are safe, and a fine pair of rascals, too. We are keeping them busy while you rest. Tomorrow we will send a team to accompany Fabrice and her family out to Tamlin’s farm. They will need help setting it up. Now will you sleep?”

  The children were fine? Even as she thought it would be good to see some proof of the mage’s words, Marsh caught movement just behind the woman’s shoulder. Lifting her head, she saw Tamlin peering around the door, Roeglin’s head and shoulders above him. Aisha had no such sense of subtlety.

  She slid past her brother and their keeper, circling around the female mage to clamber up onto the bed beside Marsh.

  “You bon?” she asked.

  Marsh started to nod but was pushed back when Scruffknuckle forced his way between her and the mage, leapt onto the bed, and put his paws on her shoulders.

  “Scruff, no!” The command was lost in laughter when the persistent beast started licking her face, worming his way onto her lap even as the mage tried to scowl.

  In the end, the woman gave up and stood, setting her hands on her hips.

  “Now will you get some sleep?”

  Marsh shot Aisha a swift glance and focused on pushing Scruff out of her lap and back onto the floor.

  “Oui,” she said and tucked her feet up off the floor. Aisha got off the bed and returned to where her brother and Roeglin were waiting. Marsh curled back under the covers as the mage headed for the door. She was asleep before the woman reached it.

  There was food when she woke, some kind of sweet pastry and a cup of thick chocolate. Someone had guessed her preference…or not, as it turned out.

  “You need the sweets,” the mage said. “I’m Lucille, an instructor here. Roeglin tells me you have only just discovered your powers.”

  Marsh frowned, glad to be too busy eating to be able to reply. Roeglin needed to keep his tongue still.

  “He only has your best interests at heart.”

  He had a heart? Marsh kept that thought to herself, even as her heart leapt at the idea.

  The mage mistress continued, completely oblivious to what was running through Marsh’s head.

  “You stink, by the way. When you’ve washed and changed, come to the offices. The Shadow Master wishes to meet you.” She turned for the door. “Do not be long.”

  She wrinkled her nose again.

  “But do be thorough.”

  Marsh felt color flood her cheeks and wanted to argue that it wasn’t her fault she stank so much. It had not been her idea to sleep after the day on the road. She’d wanted a good wash and a meal. Her stomach rumbled as she thought about it, and Marsh hoped the meeting with this Shadow Master person involved more food.

  It didn’t.

  “I understand you come to us with several intents,” he began once she was seated in his office, and Marsh’s heart sank.

  It looked like this was going to be a long meeting.

  “Tell me of them.”

  At first, Marsh struggled to remember each one, so she started with the most important.

  “I rescued the boy and his sister. Their parents were bringing them to this cavern so that they could grow up near you, and Tamlin could learn to harness his gifts.”

  “The girl too, no doubt.”

  “I
don’t think they were aware of her abilities.”

  “And you were hoping to dump them into our care?”

  Marsh felt her skin warm and looked down at her hands.

  “At first, but now I am hoping you will allow them to learn what they need. Tamlin has engaged Fabrice to care for them.”

  This brought the slightest quirk to the Shadow Master’s lips.

  “Yes, the boy has explained his arrangement, and the woman agrees. We are satisfied the children’s needs are covered…”

  Marsh heard the “but” before he spoke it.

  “But we must be satisfied that they have no relatives waiting to claim them before we can make their situation among us permanent. You will do that for us.”

  It was an order, not a request. Marsh opened her mouth to protest, but the Shadow Master held up a hand, commanding silence, and she subsided. When he spoke, it was to demand another answer.

  “Your second purpose?”

  “To learn more about my own powers.”

  “Hmmm.”

  His lips compressed into a thin line but he said nothing more on the subject.

  “And the third?”

  Again Marsh felt her face coloring even though she had done nothing wrong and had nothing to be sorry for, neither of which explained how she could feel so guilty and uncertain.

  “I bring a message from Monsieur Gravine of the Ruins Hall cavern complex.”

  “Go on.”

  “I was to deliver it with Gustav.”

  “He has already delivered his version of the message. I wish to hear it from you.”

  So it was like that, was it? Marsh took a deep breath and tried to remember the words exactly as the founder had said them. In the end, she settled for paraphrasing,

  “He wishes the shadow mages’ monastery to be a refuge and home for the families of his soldiers, and for the wounded and sick. He wants his men to know that their loved ones are cared for and safe as they go about protecting the caverns, and you have the only fortress capable of that.”

  She paused, catching the Shadow Master’s upraised eyebrows before continuing.

  “He also wishes for you to continue recruiting and training shadow mages, although I believe he thinks it would be better if you went in the company of his men so that the people of the caverns know that you are to be trusted.”

  “And?” the Shadow Master pressed when she hesitated.

  “And he would like for you to train his men in the art of shadow magic—the ones who have the gift. I believe his idea is for adults to be trained as part of his Protectors while the youngsters come here for a proper apprenticeship.”

  “Are you sure that was his idea?” the Shadow Master pressed, and Marsh’s face became even redder than before.

  “I may have suggested the separation,” she admitted. “Roeglin agreed it might work better if the adults had something more concrete to practice their skills on.”

  The Shadow Master nodded.

  “I agree.”

  “It’s…” Marsh stopped, registering what he’d said. “You do?”

  This time his mouth curved into a small, firm smile.

  “Yes, Marchant Marie Leclerc, I agree to this order of shadow mages assisting Monsieur Gravine, Founder of the Ruins Hall cavern community, in protecting the Four Settlements, starting with this one.” He raised his head, clearly speaking to someone waiting just beyond the door. “Send in Gustav Moldrane. We will finalize a proposal for the founder.”

  He turned to Marchant.

  “I believe you have done your part and are overdue a meal, as well as an interview with the Training Mistress Varangarde. You are dismissed.”

  Marsh stared at him for a moment and realized he meant it—and was acting as though she were already a trainee in his order. For a moment she thought of protesting, but then she thought it would be better if she discussed it with the training mistress. Catching the look on his face, Marsh decided talking to the training mistress would definitely be a much better option.

  Something troubled the Shadow Master, but she doubted he was the sharing kind. She discovered she’d made a mistake as she reached the door.

  “You forgot to ask me to help you contact the rock mages. The girl, Aisha, will need them, and so, I think, will you.” He paused, catching the look of puzzlement on Marsh’s face. “What is it?”

  “Rock mages,” she said. “I know Aisha speaks to rocks, but I…”

  “Ah.” His face softened with understanding. “Rock mages deal with more than rocks. They are in touch with the natural elements of the caverns: the rock, the fungi and plants, and the creatures. In other parts of the world, they would be referred to as ‘druids.’”

  He paused, watching Marsh’s face as she absorbed the information before he continued.

  “Please ask the mistress to send a request to their Master of Stone—and have her inform the Master that we need to speak in the name of the Guardians.”

  “Yes…yes, Shadow Master.”

  He did not reply, but the doors opened before she could reach them and Gustav strode through. His eyes rested on her for a moment, and he paused.

  “You told him what the founder asked?” Marsh realized the Shadow Master had not been as honest with her as she thought.

  What a surprise!

  She didn’t stop to challenge him, though. He had, after all, agreed to what the founder wanted, and even agreed to contact the rock mages on their behalf. If he hadn’t wanted to see the caverns safe, he’d have sent her away without adding that in…or agreeing to anything at all.

  She caught the Shadow Master’s eye. “I told him what I remembered of the founder’s request. You should go over it with him to make sure I didn’t forget anything.”

  18

  Shadow Magic and Cookies

  There were two shadow mages waiting in the hall when Marchant left the Shadow Master’s office. One brushed by her, going into the office as she stepped into the hall and pulling the door closed behind him. Marsh looked at the other and he pointed down the corridor.

  If ever an order could be conveyed by a gesture, this was it.

  “Follow the dark flame,” he said, and a tongue of dark blue and purple fire sprang from his fingers, folding in on itself and then unfolding into a dark-winged moth.

  “Go,” he added, gesturing again when Marsh hesitated.

  Marsh followed the flicker of his fingers and saw the moth fluttering away from her.

  “You’ll get lost if you don’t.”

  Marsh resisted the urge to stamp her foot and insist he tell her the way; it would have been rude. Besides, there was something appealing about chasing the flutter-winged creature through unfamiliar corridors. She pivoted after it, not looking back—and not letting her smile escape until the mage was well behind her.

  The moth fluttered on, and Marsh concentrated on following it. The happy curl on her lips faded as she found the task more difficult the farther she got. After the third turn, she caught herself reaching into the shadows to find the threads connecting her to the moth. They twitched unevenly under her hands, but she found that by concentrating on them and asking them to show her the moth, she could make the elusive creature glow.

  An intense halo of purple and blue surrounded its form and Marsh trotted after it, trying to stay aware of her surroundings as she kept the moth surrounded by light. It got easier the farther she went—and she was glad because the little creature sped up until Marsh pushed her trot into a jog and chased it into a stairwell.

  Halfway down the steps, the damn thing vanished.

  “Well, merde!”

  Marsh let her feet carry her to the next level and then she made herself stop.

  This wasn’t funny! The Shadow Master had ordered her to see the instructor. The instructor would be waiting. Why in all the Deeps would the mage have played such a mean trick? When she saw him again…

  Marsh took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She had to see the training m
istress, and she wasn’t going to let a mean-spirited prank stop her. After she’d seen the mistress, she was going to find a way to deter the man from ever playing such a trick again. The idea of having him carried out the nearest window by a cloud of fluttering shadow-moths crossed her mind, and Marsh smiled.

  Later… Later she was going to find a way to make that happen. Now, though…

  She took a second breath and let it out slowly, looking around the stairwell. If she was Roeglin, she’d probably just try to contact the woman with her mind, but she wasn’t—and as far as she knew, she didn’t have the magic of the mind. The thought snagged, and Marsh gave a snort of derision.

  Then again, she hadn’t had the gift of being able to speak to the shadows either until a couple of days ago. For all she knew, she could talk to someone mind to mind.

  “That is a trick for another day,” she told herself, pushing the idea away. “Right now, what would I do if I needed to find…”

  She sighed. The answer was obvious when she thought about it.

  “Well, of course I would, wouldn’t I?”

  This time the shadows gave her no answers—or rather, they gave her too many. Just how many ‘training mistresses’ were there, anyway? Oh…

  “Training Mistress Varangarde.”

  This time when the shadows answered, there was only a narrow band of threads for her to follow. She took a firm hold and let them guide her back up three flights of stairs and along the narrow corridor to a door set into the outer corner of the next turn. Resisting the urge to push the door open, Marsh raised her hand to knock instead.

  “Entré.” The command came before her knuckles touched the wood.

  Marsh turned the handle and pushed the door open. She opened her mouth to explain why she had come, but the training mistress didn’t give her a chance.

  “Come and sit,” she commanded. “You are late.”