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

  Brigitte scooped Aisha into her arms and struggled to her feet, and he reached out to steady her just as Tamlin did the same. When she was again upright with Aisha secured firmly in her grasp, she turned back to Tabia. “Is there somewhere I can put her to bed?”

  “Not tired,” came a sleepy protest from her arms, and Tabia smiled.

  “Just as soon as I’ve taken you to meet our leaders.”

  Marsh thought about standing up, but her legs didn’t want to cooperate. She wished Mordan were with her, and that reminded her. “The kat?” she said, her voice coming out no louder than a whisper.

  It didn’t matter; someone heard and answered. “Is she yours?”

  Marsh looked toward the voice and saw a young man, with the same deep-brown skin as the rest step, from the shelter of the brevilar. “Yes.”

  She didn’t need her connection to the kat to know what she thought of that. The kat’s disgruntled rumble was enough. “Well, as much as she is anyone’s.”

  He smiled. “She’s not very happy with any of us,” he told her, “but I get the idea that she’s also not so happy with you.”

  Marsh started to shake her head but stopped, and Mordan rumbled again. The young man looked from the source of the rumble to Marsh. “And that was the best imitation of ‘dumbass’ I’ve ever heard from a kat.”

  He snickered. “I can see where the children get it from.”

  Marsh sighed. “Yeah. It’s hilarious. You want to let her loose now? Before she decides she’s tired of waiting.”

  There was an affirmative rumble from behind him, and he gave the source a startled look before disappearing back into the brevilars. Marsh resisted the urge to just lie where she was. Getting up was still out of the question, but she figured she could always ask Mordan to help her.

  As if on cue, there was a startled shout, and the big kat came padding out of the shadows dragging her young keeper with her by the scruff of his neck. When she reached Marsh, she spat him out, dropping him in front of her and then putting one large forepaw on his chest.

  He lay there and looked at Marsh. “I don’t think I’m forgiven.”

  Marsh regarded him curiously. “What did you do?”

  His eyes flashed white, and he brushed her mind before hastily withdrawing. Mordan snarled and slapped him with her paw, and Marsh kept her lips pressed firmly together to stop any sound from coming out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Mordan growled at him and then stepped over him to take Marsh by the collar and try to lift her. It made Marsh laugh and she draped her arm over the big kat’s back, using her as a prop to get to her feet.

  By the time she was upright, Henri had come to stand alongside her, and Gustav stood not two feet away. She looked from one to the other and then looked at the captain. “I need a little help.”

  He glanced at Henri, and Marsh leaned on Mordan and carefully shook her head. “No. I already owe him four.”

  “Five,” Henri cut in. “It’s five dinners.”

  And Izmay made a sound of disgust. “Honestly, you boys are terrible.” She crossed to Marsh and pulled her arm across her shoulders.

  “Thanks,” Marsh managed.

  Izmay gave her an evil grin. “Yeah, I figured it was about time I got a meal.” Marsh stared at her, and Izmay burst out laughing. “Your face!”

  Marsh continued to stare, and Izmay sobered. “And yes, I was serious. You still owe me a meal. ”She caught Henri’s expression and sighed. “For two.”

  Marsh leaned on her. “Just don’t let me fall over again.” She glared at Gustav. “Like some other folk.”

  Gustav pretended to be offended but only for a moment. Seeing Marsh was being taken care of, he went to make sure the rest of his charges were all right. Marsh looked around for Roeglin and caught sight of his still-limp form being carried in the direction Tabia was leading them.

  “Well, at least they’re not trying to split us up,” she murmured, and Izmay nodded.

  “There is that.”

  4

  The Assassin

  “How did you escape?” Gustav asked when they were all settled around a large communal fire pit.

  “Shani dreamt of a terrible danger. She was no more specific than that, but we pay her warnings heed. When she says danger comes, it is usually on several feet and has many teeth. This one came on many pairs of feet, carrying weapons like our own. The Grotto proper was cleared before the vanguard arrived...and it’s a good thing, too.”

  “What happened?”

  “They sent the shadow monsters through, first,” the woman said. She was one of four leaders and had been greeted by joyful cries of “Auntie” and “Sulema” by Mina and her parents. They now sat beside her, and she glanced at them often, as though hardly believing they were there.

  She paused now. “Thank you for bringing them.”

  Gustav blushed and indicated the others. “I was not alone.”

  Lemma’s gaze roved over them, coming to rest on where Marsh sat with Izmay on one side and Mordan on the other. “No, you were not. Tell me, how were they injured?”

  Gustav followed her gaze and frowned. “It was a training accident.”

  Lemma’s eyebrows rose. “And just how does one have an accident like this? If we had been raiders, you would all have...”

  Gustav nodded, and Marsh felt herself go two shades of pale. Ice momentarily formed in her gut at the thought. She’d been captured once by the raiders. Mordan, too. And neither of them was going to allow it to happen again.

  Lemma’s gaze sharpened. “Tell me, child.”

  Child? For a moment Marsh felt as rebellious as Aisha could be, and she frowned. One look at Lemma’s face, though, told her the woman did not mean to diminish her with the term. It was just a way of addressing someone junior...like apprentice, but not quite.

  “He was teaching me that I needed to defend myself even when I was using magic for something else. I didn’t think. I just tried something new.”

  “Without practicing it first?”

  Marsh shook her head. If the truth were to be told, she didn’t know what practicing calling lightning in your own head would even look like. She hadn’t even known it was possible until she’d done it. A memory rose—being in Roeglin’s head as he held a shield against another mage’s attacks. “Oh.”

  Lemma watched her face. “Tell me about it later,” she instructed and turned back to Gustav. “Your people will stay with us?”

  Gustav met her gaze. “We came to offer our assistance.” He paused and waved his hand at the other folk around the fire. “And to warn you against the raiders. I am sorry we did not come sooner.”

  Lemma shrugged. “It could not be helped.” Sadness crossed her face. “You truly did not receive our message?”

  Gustav shook his head. “Your messenger did not get through.”

  There was a stifled sob from the edge of the fire, and one of the women turned her face to the chest of the man sitting beside her. He wrapped an arm around her and stared at Gustav, his expression bleak. “They killed him then.”

  Again, Gustav shook his head. “Perhaps not, but they took him if they caught him.”

  “Where?”

  “We don’t know. That task comes next.”

  “Next?”

  “First, we need to secure the caverns.”

  Several amused snorts greeted that, and Lemma reached over and laid her hand on his knee. “You do know what the Grotto is, don’t you?”

  When Gustav didn’t answer straight away, Kwame told him. “It’s a sinkhole.”

  Gustav groaned, and Marsh blinked.

  A sinkhole? She figured that was interesting but couldn’t chase the thought. Fatigue weighted her limbs and dragged at her eyelids. Mordan shifted at her back, grumbling quietly.

  Lemma looked toward the kat. “The shapers will almost be done...and the healers need to see to your injured.”

  Injured? Marsh forced her eyes open, trying to remember which of her
people were hurt. She could heal...

  “Not now, child. Now, you need to rest.”

  Gustav stood up and crossed to her, Mordan lifting her head as he arrived.

  “I’m taking your mistress to bed,” he told the kat, and Henri coughed.

  Izmay elbowed him in the side, and Gustav glared at them both. He didn’t say anything, but lifted Marsh from her seat and looked for Lemma. She made a graceful movement with her hand. “Follow Kwame. He knows the way.”

  From the amusement that followed her words, Marsh wondered just how many times Kwame had needed the healers. Neither Gustav nor Roeglin answered her, and Mordan remained a presence at her side rather than a presence in her head. Marsh let her eyes drift shut.

  She woke much later lying on a blanket-covered couch, fear beating through her and freezing her limbs. Keeping still, Marsh listened, trying to identify the sound that had woken her. Mordan rose silently from beside and stepped carefully onto the floor.

  Before Marsh could say anything, the big kat had vanished into the shadows. Marsh thought she caught a flash of movement by the door, and then the kat was gone, her absence an emptiness in both the room and Marsh’s head.

  That did not mean she was alone. There was something else, if not in the room, then very close by. With the kat gone, Marsh rolled sideways.

  She’d meant to go off the edge of the bed but hit the wall instead and stopped. The attack that followed came lightning fast.

  Marsh noticed the flash of a blade and realized the room was growing lighter. She also saw her attacker’s face and momentarily froze. That might have been the end of her if she hadn’t called a shadow shield between them.

  Her attacker gave a frustrated growl, his dagger slicing across the top of her shield as his other hand reached for something at his belt. Marsh wriggled back, moving down the length of the bed as she brought her feet up beneath her.

  As soon as she did, she sprang off the end of the bed. She’d hoped to reach an open piece of floor but found a wall instead. This one wasn’t made of stone.

  Before she could work out what it was, Idris was after her.

  “You died,” she snapped, yanking a blade from the rapidly vanishing shadows, and his face twisted into a snarl.

  He took two steps forward, but his blade remained steady as his other hand came up and opened like he was scattering grain for chickens. Marsh had time to register the greenish-brown dust flying toward her just as Mordan growled.

  Idris, or whoever he was, didn’t even look around. He thrust his hand toward the ceiling, and streamers of shadow appeared. They wrapped around him, shielding him from Mordan’s sudden attack and pulling him out of her reach.

  Marsh watched him disappear through the roof as she backed away from the floating dust. When he was gone, she let her shield drop and covered her mouth with her hand.

  Stay back, Dan. The kat stopped, catching the image of dust in her mind. With a swirl of movement, she pivoted on her own length and left the room. Thanks, kat.

  Keeping her hand over her nose and mouth, Marsh hurried to the door, hoping the powder couldn’t affect her through the bare skin of her feet. She reached it just as a heavy-set figure raced around the corner of the small hut she was in.

  There was just enough time to clear the door and bring up a shield before they collided. The impact took Marsh off her feet and bounced Gustav back onto his ass.

  “Sons of the Deep!”

  “Shadow’s Heart!”

  A sudden screeching yowl was followed by the hut’s roof collapsing, one very startled hoshkat landing amidst the debris. Marsh started to laugh but ended up coughing, feeling a sudden familiar nausea as dust coated her throat.

  She rolled onto her knees, keeping one hand down as she wiped frantically at her face with the other. Mordan bolted past her flowing around the edge of the hut and into the callas and brevilar at the edge of more of the buildings. Marsh saw two smaller forms race from another hut, following the kat into the trees.

  “Scruffy!” came as a wail And Aisha appeared at the door, Brigitte in her wake. “Scruffy!”

  Tamlin, Zeb, and Gerry came out the door of a third hut, and Marsh tried to take a breath to call out to them. She ended up coughing some more, but this time Gustav grabbed her hand before she could bring it near her face.

  “That can’t be good for you.”

  Marsh looked down, noting the coating of greenish-brown on her palms.

  “It’s not.” Tabia had arrived. Her eyes flashed white, and then she pulled Marsh to her feet. “Come on.”

  “Where’s Roeglin?” Marsh managed, her voice creaky with dust.

  “Recovering. He’ll be on his feet tomorrow. How’s your head?”

  Up until she’d asked, Marsh hadn’t thought about it. Now she realized her head didn’t hurt, and she’d called a shield and blade from the shadows, as well as contacting Mordan.

  Mordan! Finding her link to the kat, Marsh checked in on her...and was just as thoroughly thrown out of Mordan’s head.

  Busy.

  Marsh just bet she was. She’d caught the fleeting impression of a scent and a flash of shadow in the shrooms ahead of them. Scruffknuckle was stalking Marsh’s attacker on the right, and Perdemor was making his careful way across the shroom caps. They didn’t collapse under him.

  Mordan was disgusted. Marsh smiled.

  That ended up being more of a grimace as her stomach twisted and her knees gave.

  “Almost there.” At least Tabia wasn’t asking her if she was okay. It felt as if her stomach was going to claw its way out through her throat. Marsh didn’t bother replying, all too aware of Gustav hovering on the side Tabia wasn’t.

  She was aware, too, of the half-dozen people trailing along behind her—Tamlin and Aisha shepherded by Brigitte, Zeb, and Gerry, with Henri and Izmay hurrying to catch up. The healers were waiting, tutting over the amount of dust that had settled over her face and front.

  “What are you doing still in these?”

  There was the schnick of steel being drawn and two of the healers stepped forward, blades in hand. Marsh backed up, raising her hands. “I can get my clothes off myself, you know.”

  It would have sounded more convincing if it hadn’t devolved into a round of coughing.

  One gave her a skeptical look. The other raised an eyebrow. “Not for much longer.”

  “Just point me somewhere private.”

  Marsh was as good as her word, getting the contaminated clothing off in record time as soon as she was away from an audience. She could hear them on the other side of the door, their feet shuffling as they exchanged words in muffled tones.

  Someone must have tried to have Aisha and Tamlin go back to bed. Judging from the children’s reactions, that was a short-lived idea. They made Marsh smile, even as the healers stood her in a tub and tipped buckets of water over her head.

  “We’re not risking any of that getting in the water supply,” they told her, carefully carrying the resulting wastewater out of the room.

  Marsh wanted to ask them where it was going but then decided she wasn’t that interested.

  “You need to drink this,” the head healer told her, her dark eyes shadowed with concern.

  Marsh looked from her to the steaming brew in her hands and back again. “How about I get dressed first.”

  The healer shrugged. “Depends on how much you like being on your feet when you’re needed.”

  Marsh took the cup, raising it carefully to her lips. It didn’t smell too bad. It was a little bitter, but wasn’t that always the way with medicine?

  The first mouthful was much worse than she expected, and the second was just as bad. She forced down a third and a fourth, then backed up against the wall. It helped steady her.

  When she’d downed the fifth, she looked at the healer. “How long?”

  The healer frowned, and Marsh tried again. “How long before it takes effect?”

  The woman moved forward and held up her hand. At lea
st, Marsh thought it was her hand. “How many fingers?”

  There were fingers? Marsh frowned. There were definitely hands, and far too many healers to count. The healer began counting. “Three. Two...”

  Marsh was out before she got to one, and the healer caught both her and the cup. “I got you.”

  Lifting her patient, she carried her to another room where three of her colleagues waited. “You ready?”

  They worked through the cavern’s day cycle, ignoring the hoshkat that stalked through the door and then sat quietly beside the bed, watching the green flowing from their hands. At some point, the kat was joined by two children, a dog, a smaller hosh, and a female shadow mage.

  They barred the door behind them and were almost done when the locking bar was lifted by tendrils of darkness filtering around the edges.

  “Ignore it,” the lead healer instructed. “Kat will take care of any problems.”

  As if she understood every word they said, Mordan stood up and paced around to face the door. She watched it swing open with all the intensity of a cat at a mousehole.

  “Dan!” Roeglin’s voice was full of relief as he greeted the kat. “How is she?”

  He was quickly hushed by his colleague and the children, and the emerald glow around the patient dimmed only momentarily. His mouth formed an “o” of understanding, and he propped himself against the wall on the other side of the door.

  The kat did not return to her place, but sat and leaned against his legs. He dropped a hand to her head and scratched absently behind her ears, not saying a word as the healers continued to work. When they were done, the lead healer turned to him and extended her hand.

  “I am Chioma,” she said by way of introduction. “Your companion will live.”

  Her voice was laced with fatigue, and she went to step past him to reach the door.

  He touched her shoulder. “How may we help?”

  She waved a hand at where one of her colleagues was covering Marsh with a light blanket. “Watch her.” Her eyes settled on his face, recognition sparking in their depths. “And sit yourself down. One patient is enough. Now, if there is nothing else?”