Trading into Shadow (The Magic Beneath Paris Book 1)

by C. M. Simpson

  Marsh took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She had to see the training mistress, 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.”

  Again Marsh opened her mouth to explain, and again she was cut off.

  “I do not need an explanation. It is I who will do the explaining.”

  Marsh closed her mouth and sat, her mind a momentary blank. This was not at all how she’d imagined it would be. The mistress waited until she was settled and then raised her hand, moving it in a circular motion. A heartbeat later, Marsh felt a swish of air and then the office door slammed, almost startling her out of her chair.

  “Tell me how you got here.”

  “The guard outside the Shadow Master’s office summoned a moth…” Marsh paused as the training mistress’s face twisted. “Did I do something wrong?”

  The mistress shook her head.

  “No, but it is an old trick—and one often played on new students. Tell me, where did the moth disappear?”

  “In the stairwell at the other end of the corridor.”

  Now Marsh felt stupid. She should have asked the Shadow Master for directions, should… The training mistress interrupted her thoughts.

  “Mmhmm—and how many floors down?”

  At least the mistress wasn’t making fun of her.

  Marsh remembered her hurried run up the stairs.

  “Three, I think.”

  “And how did you solve the problem?”

  Marsh studied the woman in front of her and saw she was asking the question in all seriousness, curiosity rather than mockery coloring her tones.

  “I asked the shadows,” she said, trying to sound confident. She was pleased when her voice came out firm and clear rather than quivering and small.

  There was no need to be afraid; she had done nothing wrong.

  If they chose to reject her now, it wouldn’t matter. She’d already started to figure out how her magic worked, and she could continue to do that even if they sent her away.

  “How?”

  “I asked, then listened to the threads that knew the answer.”

  The training mistress looked surprised but quickly smoothed the expression from her face. Finally, she leaned forward, put her elbows on her desk, and rested her chin on her interlinked fingers.

  “Tell me, what else can you do?”

  Like a dog doing tricks. Marsh scowled, but the mistress’s gaze didn’t waver, so she obeyed.

  “I can see what lies in another part of a cavern.”

  The mistress raised her eyebrows as Marsh continued.

  “And hear conversations too, if I ask nicely enough.”

  The mistress folded her hands together, still resting her chin on them.

  “Go on.”

  Marsh thought about it. She’d already shown she could find things by asking the shadows; get them to reveal distant visions and sound. What else could she do?

  “And I once trapped someone’s fist in a ball of shadow.”

  “Is that everything?”

  Marsh thought about it.

  “I think so.”

  “What about the things you’ve done that don’t involve shadow?”

  It wasn’t a question she’d expected, so Marsh took a moment to gather her thoughts.

  “Like talking to the moutons?”

  “Yes. Have you done anything like that before?”

  Marsh instantly remembered talking to the hoshkat and her mouth went dry. She swallowed and licked her lips.

  “I talked to a hoshkat once.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  So Marsh did, describing the way she had fallen into the hoshkat’s eyes and spoken to her, and then telling how she had left and not come back.

  “But there was a kat on the trail yesterday, was there not?”

  “Oui, but…” Marsh caught a breath. “D’you think it was the same one?”

  “It is the first kat we’ve had along that trail, so it is a possibility.”

  “But why would she have followed me? How would she have followed me?”

  The training mistress shrugged.

  “That will be something for the rock mages to explain,” she said. “They’re the ones who deal with animals and plants. I take it the Shadow Master sent instructions for me to contact them?”

  “Oh, yes. He said Aisha would need instruction from them…and maybe me, too.”

  “Definitely you,” the female mage told her, “and you will need instruction from that scamp Roeglin as well.”

  “But I don’t have mind magic!” Marsh protested.

  “What you do when you seek the words or the presence of people in the shadows is not purely of shadow, and not purely of mind. Of all of our people, he is the most versed in that kind of working.”

  Marsh remembered Roeglin taking the memories from Aisha and her. She recalled him giving them life using a blend of shadow and mist and heard his voice speaking her words, Aisha’s words.

  “If you say so.”

  The mistress’ eyes snapped with suppressed anger and fire, and Marsh found herself momentarily trapped in her obsidian gaze.

  “I do, young lady, and you’ll find that what I say is generally correct.”

  The training mistress blinked, and Marsh felt like she’d tumbled out of a cage. She gripped the edge of the tabletop to steady herself, then remembered the argument she wanted to make.

  “What makes you think I want to become one of your trainees?”

  The mistress stared at her with wide eyes.

  “You did come here for help in learning the extent of your abilities, did you not?”

  Marsh nodded.

  “And you did want to learn what else you could do, did you not?”

  “Oui.”

  “And you really want to learn to control what you can do, don’t you?”

  Control? She hadn’t thought of that. What if she trapped more than someone’s fist in a ball of shadow? What if it had been a head? Could the guard have breathed through that? The training mistress was watching her face closely and saw when Marsh caught the implications.

  Marsh swallowed.

  “Oui.”
/>
  There was no doubt in her mind that she wanted control. Too much could go wrong. Too…

  Wait. If she could control the shadows, did that mean she could control the monsters? She was about to pursue that thought when the training mistress spoke.

  “So you’re happy, then?”

  That pulled Marsh from her thoughts.

  “Happy with what?”

  “Happy to become a trainee here.”

  “Trainee?”

  “Rather than an apprentice.” The mistress looked her up and down. “No offense, but you’re a little old for that, and already showing skills beyond the apprenticeship stage despite what you lack. With some effort, you could develop the discipline to be a journeyman in a couple of months.”

  “A couple of months?” Marsh was horrified. “But I can’t! I…we don’t know how long we have before the raiders attack. I have to be ready. I—”

  The mistress cut her protests off with a lift of her hand.

  “Then you’d best work hard, or we won’t be able to send you out where you will be able to do the most good when they come.”

  “What else?” Marsh wanted to know. “I mean, I have the children to care for, and…”

  Again the mistress held up her hand, stopping her in her tracks.

  “You and the children have already solved that problem. Tamlin hired Fabrice, and Fabrice will care for them when they are at the farm, while we will care for them here. We have made arrangements with the farmer’s wife in this domain.”

  “And the Shadow Master’s instructions that I should find out if there are any living relatives?”

  “He will not want you out there until you have gained sufficient control of your abilities, and neither will the Master of Stone.” She paused, watching Marsh’s face as she worked through what she’d said. “I don’t think the cavern founder will want you left untrained. You’re no use to him if you can’t be relied on to call the skills his people need at the moment they need them.”

  As if he was her employer now. Marsh hesitated, then said nothing. Before yesterday, she hadn’t thought of who she’d work for now that the road to Kerrenin’s Ledge was closed—or who would pay her wages even if she did deliver the artifact. The commission was with Kearick, after all, and Marsh would have to return to him with the payment if she was to receive her fee—and that was only if Kearick didn’t decide to fine her for the loss of the rest of her shipment. He wouldn’t care whose fault it was.

  Besides, now that she was able to wield shadow magic and talk to animals, maybe she could find artifacts for herself, no apprenticeship needed—and no Kearick. She could trade direct. The training mistress cleared her throat, bringing Marsh back to the present.

  “Well?” she asked and rolled her eyes at Marsh’s blank look. “Are you willing to sign on as a trainee here at the monastery?”

  “And I could go where I was needed?” Marsh asked. “You wouldn’t keep me from the fight?”

  Because there was a fight coming; she was sure of that.

  The mistress regarded her intently.

  “We wouldn’t do that,” she assured Marsh. “These are our caverns too, and we will do all we can to protect them. We will expect your help in that as well.”

  Marsh felt a piece of tension unknot inside her and let out a slow breath.

  “Then yes, I would like to be a trainee here.”

  The mistress pushed a piece of paper across the desk.

  “Sign this, then,” she said. “It will make our agreement official, and give you some protection from being pulled this way and that by others who might think they can order you where they will.”

  Marsh took the piece of paper and looked at it, turning it around so she could read it. She was relieved when the training mistress did not rush her but let her take her time to go over the script. She was also relieved to find that it bound her only for the length of her training, and asked only that she provide assistance in emergencies thereafter unless she accepted the position of journeyman. She wondered how likely it was that they’d offer her a permanent place among them—and then wondered if she’d take it.

  In the end, she decided that was a question to be answered later. Once she was sure she’d read it correctly and missed nothing in the fine print, Marsh signed the sheet and returned it.

  The mistress signed it and rose from behind her desk.

  “If you’ll follow me,” she instructed, moving to the door and pulling it open, “I’ll show you where your quarters are. I take it you only have what is in your pack?”

  “The rest was lost in the ambush.”

  “We’ll provide you with the tunic and trous of a trainee, and ceremonial robes, should you need them. You are being paid. If you require more, you may speak to the tailors.”

  There were tailors?

  Marsh followed as the training mistress stepped into the corridor and led the way, descending three flights before stopping on the landing and opening a door.

  “You will be across the hall from Tamlin and next door to Aisha. Apprentice Journeyman Petitfeu will be your main supervisor until we’ve worked out what instruction each of you requires. It will be a busy few days of assessment, then we’ll place you with an instructor and your sleeping quarters will change.”

  “Thank you,” Marsh managed, although she wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say.

  The training mistress accepted it and continued hurrying ahead of her. They traveled the full length of the corridor before turning to the right. Halfway along, the mistress stopped and knocked on one of the doors set in the wall. Marsh heard the scrape of a chair followed by soft footsteps, and then the door opened.

  “Yes? Oh, Mistress Varangarde, I didn’t know it was you. The children are…” She let her words fade and raised her head when she caught sight of Marsh behind the trainer.

  Marsh saw her in the dim light of the glows set in the walls and gasped. She had laid a hand on the training mistress’s shoulder and was pulling her back and behind her even as she started to pull her sword from its sheath. To her surprise, the mistress resisted her grasp, shrugging herself free of Marsh’s grip and turning to push Marsh’s sword back into its scabbard.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, but she wasn’t speaking to Marsh; her apology was addressed to the apprentice journeyman.

  For her part, the girl was watching Marsh without a hint of surprise on her ebony face.

  “I am only colored like them,” the young woman said and stepped a little to the side so Marsh could view her fully. “See?”

  She brushed aside the hair that partially obscured her eyes.

  To Marsh’s surprise, those eyes were a stunning blue, not the craze-filled red of the shadow monsters that had attacked the caravan. She lifted her hand from her sword hilt.

  “I… I’m sorry,” she stammered, her face coloring with embarrassment for what felt like the millionth time that day. “I… It’s just…”

  She sighed.

  “I’m really sorry, okay?”

  To her surprise, the girl gave her a reassuring smile. It was a fleeting thing, soon replaced by sadness.

  “Who did you lose?” she asked. “And how long ago?”

  The look made Marsh pause, and she realized that hers wasn’t the first hostile reaction the girl had faced. It made her ashamed.

  “I was part of a caravan that was attacked a few days ago.” She thought about that. “Almost a week, now.”

  The attack was beginning to feel like it had happened to someone else a whole other world ago.

  The girl’s eyes widened.

  “You’re the one who rescued Tams and Aisha?”

  Marsh nodded and then wondered how the children had reacted, but the apprentice journeyman hurried on, not giving her time to ask.

  “I’m so glad you’ve arrived. We can’t convince her to open the door.”

  We? Marsh looked around but didn’t see anybody.

  “Her brother is trapped in the room with
her.”

  Trapped? Tamlin was trapped?

  “But how?”

  The apprentice journeyman shrugged.

  “I don’t know. The little one took one look at me and bolted into the nearest room. He ran after her, and the door slammed shut.” She turned to the training mistress, distraught. “No one warned them.”

  Mistress Varangarde laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

  “Don’t fret. We’ll sort it out.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry. I will speak to the others.”

  The mistress turned to Marsh.

  “See what you can do to fetch her out.”

  Marsh looked at the journeyman apprentice.

  “Which door is it?”

  “That one.”

  Marsh turned abruptly on one heel and strode to the door, pulling her sword from her scabbard as she did so. Turning it in her hand, she rapped on the door’s hard surface with the pommel.

  “Aysh!” she shouted. “Aysh! You get your tiny tail out here right now. You owe the journeyman an apology!”

  For a long moment, there was silence, so Marsh banged her sword hilt on the door once more.

  “Aysh! Do not make me come in there!”

  That got a response from Tamlin as well as his sister.

  “Like you could!”

  “No come in!”

  “Just open the door!”

  “No! Monsters!”

  “No monsters out here except me.”

  “Are not!”

  “Am too!”

  “Not!”

  “Too!”

  “Kick your tail!”

  “Can’t get me.”

  “Open the door!”

  “No!”

  “Fine!” Marsh turned her back to the door and leaned on it. “No cookies for you!”

  Seconds later, she gave a startled shout as the door opened and she fell into the room. No sooner had her butt hit the floor than a blur of paws and fur bounced onto her chest and began licking her face.

  “Oh! Hey! Get off!” Marsh sputtered, dropping her sword as she tried to defend herself from the pup. “Hey! No cookies for you either!”

  “Scruff!” Aisha’s reprimand got the pup’s attention straight away, and he bounded over to sit before her.