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

  Now that she thought about it, Marsh had to agree. They made it to the path they had followed the night before and broke into a jog.

  Marsh was surprised to find they had spent much of the morning in the assassin’s home...and then she hoped Izmay would remember to bring whatever kaffee he had left. The kat chuffed with amusement as she showed them the path back to their first camp.

  19

  Just Taking a Bath

  Marsh left Henri, Gerry, and Zeb looking at the locked box and scratching their heads. Roeglin put them out of their misery.

  “Leave the lock and just get the place ready for everyone. Aisha will help you when she gets here.”

  “What about Master Envermet?”

  “He’ll understand.”

  Are you sure? Marsh asked, and the look on Henri’s face said the same.

  “Trust me,” Roeglin reassured them, and Henri’s lip curled.

  “Tell you what, mage. He chews my ass, and I’m directing his teeth your way.”

  “Deal.” Roeglin waved as he left. “Where to, Dan?”

  The kat took them downhill, past the towering remains of buildings that stood taller than the highest cavern Marsh could imagine. Some of the metal skeletons rose taller than the watchtower at the Deeps Monastery, and the Ancients’ strange building material clung in patches to their outlines.

  The remains of walls, gardens, and old roadways threaded through the ruins, and the kat took them unerringly along those paths until they came to a gully divided down the center by a stream. Mordan walked parallel to it for a hundred feet and looked back at Marsh.

  They are there.

  Marsh moved forward, stooping at the kat’s flash of warning. Following her, Roeglin did the same, and Jakob followed suit. They dropped to their stomachs beside the kat and crawled forward, surprised to find themselves on a ledge of broken rock.

  There, Mordan reiterated, lifting her head and directing their attention to where the mules were grazing on open ground at the stream’s edge. A herd of deer grazed close by, and the kat’s ears pricked.

  At least wait until we have the mules, Marsh suggested. We’ll never catch them otherwise.

  Mordan huffed a reluctant agreement, then rose and slunk back into the rubble.

  I mean it, Dan!

  The kat did not reply, and Marsh looked at Roeglin.

  “How do you want to do this?”

  He shrugged, and Jakob grinned. “I still have those candy balls.”

  “Candy balls, huh?” Marsh asked, cocking her eyebrow. He rolled his eyes.

  “You really need to get laid,” he told her, fishing in his belt pouch.

  Marsh wondered what had brought that on. He didn’t enlighten her, but withdrew his hand and held out his fist. Frowning, Marsh held her palm beneath it. He dropped a sticky, sweet-smelling ball into it, then offered his fist to Roeglin.

  The mind mage took the proffered shroom and held it up to his nose. Marsh heard his belly rumble.

  “I used to love these as a kid.”

  “You eat that, and the mules will never forgive you,” Jakob told him, sliding back from the edge and walking back to where they could work their way over to the river.

  The deer saw them first, lifting their heads to warily watch them pass. When the trio of humans showed more interest in the nearby herd of mules, the deer resumed grazing, drifting slowly away to put more distance between themselves and the two-legged monsters.

  Marsh ignored them and observed the mules. She saw the one that had been affected by the dust standing knee-deep in the water, its reins still looped over the saddle. She also saw Tamlin’s and Aisha’s mount and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Although she wasn’t fond of the damned beasts, she would have still been sad if anything had happened to hers, and she really didn’t want to have to explain to the children that their mount wasn’t coming back.

  “Have you got another of these?” she asked, hurrying to catch up with Jakob.

  He raised an eyebrow and managed a saucy grin. “I have plenty of balls,” he told her and dug out several more as she gaped at him.

  Marsh was still speechless as he passed them to her. He left her there and approached the first mule.

  “Shut your mouth, Marsh. You’ll swallow a bug.”

  Marsh closed her mouth with a snap and stalked toward the mule in the stream. By now, the mules had caught a whiff of the shroom balls and were lifting their heads from the grass. Several whickered longingly and trotted toward the humans.

  Marsh splashed across the stream and met the first one to come to her. Using soothing words and shroom-ball bribery, she snared its reins and towed it along behind her. Roeglin caught another, and Jakob walked up to his second.

  Marsh moved along the stream. Her mount had not left the water, but it had lifted its head and was watching her with pricked ears and flared nostrils. She held up a shroom ball, and its nostrils fluttered.

  It took several slow steps toward her, then gave a heavy sigh and stopped in the middle of the deepest part of the stream. When it dropped its muzzle into the water, Marsh groaned, dragging the other mule with her as she approached.

  When she was parallel to it, she clicked her tongue and waved the shroom ball. The mule raised its head and turned it to look at her.

  “Come on,” she crooned. “Come and get your candy.”

  An amused snort alerted her to Roeglin’s approach.

  “Let me take this one,” he suggested, indicating the mule in the stream. “It looks like you’re going to have your hands full.”

  “Merci,” Marsh told him, not sounding very grateful. She handed him the reins anyway.

  Eyeing the mule and the way it stood in the stream, she pulled off her boots and set them on the bank. Her pack followed, and her belt with its pouches and weapons.

  “Don’t let anything get me,” she ordered after pulling out a washcloth and tucking it into the waistband of her trousers.

  Master Envermet would probably have her hide for this, but the mule and its gear needed to be cleaned, and seeing as it was already standing in the stream...

  If he doesn’t, have your hide, I’m going to think about it, Roeglin muttered, his words clear in her mind.

  Marsh thought about giving him the finger, but her hands were full, and she didn’t want to risk dropping any shroom balls in the water. As much as the stream would slow her down, Marsh was willing to bet dropping the shroom balls would slow her down more.

  “Recalcitrant, goat-sucking bastard of a beast,” she muttered, and the mule lifted its head. “Yes, you. I am talking to you,” she told it.

  The mule whickered appealingly and stretched its nose toward her. Marsh let is snuffle her closed fists, smiling as it lipped her knuckles.

  “Oh, no,” she told it. “You’re not getting anything that easily.”

  It paused and eyed her, and she held out her left hand so it could see the ball balanced there. It slid its mouth across and nipped the treat, chewing with quiet contentment.

  Now that her hand was empty, Marsh closed it around the reins and pulled the mule toward her. It propped, thought about it, eyed her closed hand, and decided to cooperate. As the tension on the reins eased, Marsh lost her balance and landed heavily.

  The mule started, but Marsh kept a strong grip on the reins, and it stayed where it was. With the hand holding the shroom ball held out of the water and over her head, Marsh used the reins to help her get to her feet.

  Unfortunately, the mule noticed the shroom ball and took a step forward, easing the tension on the reins, and Marsh stumbled back a step before ending up on her ass in the water again. Laughter reached her from the bank.

  “And a pig’s ass to you, too,” she muttered, struggling to stand without putting any weight on the reins or dunking the shroom ball in the stream.

  This time the mule stood patiently, quietly accepting the proffered treat when she was ready.

  “Now just stand there,” she told it, p
ulling the cloth free. “Let me wash you down.”

  The mule flicked its ears and sighed, and Marsh set to work. Soaking the cloth in the water, she washed the mule and the saddle, rinsing as she went.

  She was chilled to the bone and soaked by the time she had finished. Her fingers were numb and cramping as she tugged the mule toward the bank. Roeglin met her as she stumbled onto the grass, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and taking the mule’s reins.

  “You’re a Deeps-be-damned fool,” he grumbled, pulling her tight to his side.

  Marsh nodded, too cold and tired to speak.

  Mule’s clean, she managed.

  “Here, give me that.” Jakob’s voice was rough, with anger or frustration, she couldn’t tell.

  She didn’t ask, either, as he took the mule’s reins and led it away. He returned a few moments later with a dry cloth. “Tell me you’ve got a change of clothes.”

  Marsh nodded, her teeth chattering. She raised a hand to point at her pack, and he stalked away.

  “Get her out of that wet gear!” If he hadn’t sounded so disgusted, Marsh might have been offended.

  As it was, she was glad of Roeglin’s steadying hand as she stripped out of her wet things. She was also glad he didn’t try to do more than steady her...and that he stood between her and Jakob, even if all the other man did was drop her pack beside them.

  “I’ll be over there,” the man told them gruffly, “admiring the buildings.”

  Marsh was glad he said buildings rather than view. Not that it would have mattered. Her skin ached, and her vision was blurry.

  “Oh, Deeps, no.” Roeglin sounded a lot more upset than he should have been. He shook her. “Tell me, did you stand upstream or downstream of the stupid beast?”

  Huh?

  “Upstream or dow— Which way was the water going, and where was the mule?”

  Marsh couldn’t find the water to answer him, but her mind provided the pictures, and he cursed again.

  “Here, sit there,” he told her, dumping her unceremoniously on the ground before unbuckling his belt.

  “What are you doing, shadow mage?” Jakob’s voice rang clearly through the gully.

  So much for admiring the buildings, Marsh thought as the deer started.

  He was worried, Roeglin tried to explain. Marsh just bet he was.

  The world swam, and Marsh felt Mordan’s disgust as the deer bolted. The hunt had just become more complicated, and it was all Marsh’s fault.

  No fair, Dan... Marsh slumped forward.

  “What are you doing?” Jakob’s voice was much closer this time, and Marsh caught a sense of genuine puzzlement in his tone.

  “She got some on her,” Roeglin explained. “I need to go dunk her in the river, and I don’t want to get my clothes wet.”

  “Well, you’re doing a fine job of that,” Jakob snarled, picking up Roeglin’s shirt and trousers as well as Marsh’s sodden clothes. “I’ll just go drape them on a rock. They might be ready for you to wear by the time the others get to camp.”

  Roeglin sighed. “Thanks, Jakob.”

  “Just get her clean.”

  “Hey...” Even to her own ears, the protest sounded feeble.

  Roeglin scooped her up in his arms and held her against his very bare chest. Marsh tried to protest but found she didn’t have the energy. Jakob’s warning reached them from what seemed miles away.

  “And for the Deep’s sake, don’t get any of that shit on yourself. I’m not sure I can pull you both out of the river.”

  River... Like that itty bit of— Marsh gasped as Roeglin reached the middle and dropped her.

  Merde! Sorry, Marsh. Oh, Deeps! A hand snatched her arm and hauled her head above the water. Marsh drew a choking breath as Roeglin apologized. Désolé, désolé...merde, she’ll never have me now...

  Even in her foggy condition, Marsh was pretty sure she hadn’t been meant to hear that last bit. She sputtered with laughter. How could she not, when he was trying so hard?

  Stunned silence filtered through her amusement, and her face turned red. Oh, Deeps. You weren’t meant...

  Roeglin gave a rueful chuckle. “We’re a pair, aren’t we? Deep breath, now.”

  Deep breath? Oh... Marsh was glad she’d done as he’d asked because he shoved her head back under the water and scrubbed her head and neck before pulling her back out. As soon as he had, he shifted them both upstream.

  “Think you can get the rest of yourself clean?”

  Marsh nodded, but nearly fell as a wave of dizziness rolled over her.

  Merde, rattled through her head. Out loud, Roeglin said, “Hold still.”

  She wanted to ask him where the cloth had come from but didn’t. When he was done, he carried her to the bank and passed her to Jakob, who wrapped her in another dry cloth.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” he promised, and Marsh couldn’t help but glance at him. To her disgust, he was fine. Whatever precautions he’d taken to avoid the dust, they’d worked. She couldn’t feel a single sign of them in his head. Of course, she was still affected...

  How badly affected was revealed a moment later when Jakob set her hurriedly down beside a tree. “Stay here.”

  He didn’t wait to see if she was okay but rushed away, returning shortly afterward with Roeglin draped over his shoulders. He was soaked to the skin.

  “Goat-sucking mages...”

  He’d managed to get Marsh dry enough for a shirt, and had turned to Roeglin when a hoot of laughter reached them.

  “Putain à vous, Henri,” Jakob muttered, as Marsh struggled to her feet using the tree for support. He handed her a pair of pants. “They’re nearly dry.”

  Nearly dry was good enough. Marsh managed to get into them without falling over, although she came close. Jakob saved her twice, lashing out to grab her before she completely lost it.

  Henri thought it was hilarious. “Jakob, I didn’t know you swung that way.”

  “Which way, Henri?”

  “Every way,” the other man chortled, and Jakob glared at him.

  “So what if I do?”

  “I’d be asking you how you got the pair of them to cooperate.”

  Jakob was far from amused. “You’re not funny. Do they look like they’re cooperating to you?”

  Henri closed the distance and looked down at Roeglin before studying Marsh. He took hold of her before she slid away from the tree and sat her carefully on a log. “Bridge, take this, would you?”

  Marsh might have been offended, but Henri left her as soon as Brigitte came and sat beside her. Marsh watched as the big man picked Roeglin up and helped Jakob get the mage back into his clothing.

  Behind them, Obasi soothed the mules and saddled the one she’d cleaned.

  “What happened?” Henri demanded.

  Jakob pointed at her. “She decided to wash the Deeps-be-damned mule.”

  Marsh?

  Marsh rolled her eyes. Master Envermet in her head was the last thing she needed.

  Marsh? The question was repeated and accompanied by a mental shake.

  Mule’s clean... Marsh ventured, and he was gone. We’ll come as soon as we can. Do as you’re told.

  Just what was that all about? Marsh’s head swam, and her stomach roiled.

  Gerry’s voice dragged at her attention. “Is the tack dry?”

  “Dry enough to use,” Jakob answered. “Why?”

  “Kat says the remnant are on the move. She got us out before they arrived. Left her kill to distract them.”

  Thanks, Dan...

  The kat hissed at her, the sound scratching the inside of her skull. Marsh got the impression of Mordan trying very hard to concentrate as she followed a large group of remnant. Now, Captain Envermet’s words made sense.

  Fear jolted through her, doing more to clear the effects of the powder than anything so far. Remnant!

  The remnant had left the deer carcass and followed the trail they’d made in the morning. Mordan had warned Aisha, and the little g
irl had relayed the message to Master Envermet.

  A wave of reassurance followed—Master Envermet telling her they were inside and safe. Marsh relaxed until a shadow fell across her. She looked up.

  “You need to get on the mule,” Henri told her, holding out a hand.

  Marsh took it, glad of Brigitte’s support as Henri hauled her to her feet. They helped her to her mule and boosted her into the saddle. The leather still felt slightly damp, but she didn’t mention it.

  No doubt, Henri already knew. The man had been working around mules for as long as she had. For him to be using it meant the situation was urgent...or it very soon would be. She didn’t relish trying to fight in her current condition.

  Brigitte spoke, drawing her attention. “Master Envermet says the wolves are breaking the trail.” A note of disgust crept into the mage’s voice. “Oh... They’re pissing like you wouldn’t believe!”

  “Marking their territory?” Jakob asked, and Brigitte was silent a moment.

  Marsh had a sense of her relaying the question, which was confirmed when the mage replied.

  “Yes.”

  “Funny,” Henri mused. “I didn’t know remnant knew how to track, let alone that they had the sense of smell for it.”

  The man had a point, and Marsh wondered what could be making the once-human monsters behave that way. It was like... The image of a rounded lump attached to a remnant spine flashed across her mind.

  Mordan must have picked it up because Brigitte relayed the answer shortly after.

  “Master Envermet says Mordan sees strange lumps on their backs or the back of their necks. He thinks they’re being controlled by those mind-bug things we cut off the other lot.”

  She shuddered, and Marsh shuddered with her. Why was she feeling so cold?

  Brigitte spoke again. “Master Envermet says we should head toward the township and try to find a secure campsite on the way. The kat and wolves will find us and guide them when it’s safe.”

  “Wish we’d brought one of the kids,” Henri muttered as three wolves trotted out from the ruins above.

  “They’re here to guide us,” Brigitte explained. Marsh threw up over the mule’s neck.