Trading into Darkness

by C. M. Simpson

  Aisha stood up from behind several rows of brightly shining glows, her blue eyes dark with concentration. Shaking her head so her dark curls bounced, the little girl crossed to the workbench and studied what Marsh had done.

  “Monsters won’t like the hot and the bright,” she commented, and with a twist of her hands, turned the dark flame to a living beacon of white and yellow.

  Marsh yelped and skittered back as her eyes began to water and heat licked at her face. Aisha laughed but looked expectantly at Brigitte.

  “What do you think?”

  To give her credit, Brigitte managed to keep a straight face, even if laughter bubbled in her azure gaze and she avoided looking Marsh directly in the eye.

  “I think I’ll have to ask the Master of Shadows what he thinks,” her instructor said. “That’s an interesting idea the two of you have come up with.”

  It was kind of Brigitte to give her credit, Marsh thought, but most of it should go to the child. She, at least, knew what she was doing.

  Marsh might have been cross with Aisha, except the little girl hadn’t meant anything by it. The kid loved playing with new ideas, and Marsh had just handed her one on a plate. Marsh stared at the flaming glow, letting its light draw her in like a campfire would, and then she blinked.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I asked if you thought you could try another one,” Brigitte said in a voice that told Marsh she’d said it more than once.

  Marsh nodded.

  “Sure. I can’t get any worse, right?”

  This time Aisha caught herself before she commented. Marsh saw the child open her mouth to agree and then hastily bite her lower lip. It made her smile. Maybe five-year-olds could be taught diplomacy, or maybe Aisha had a better sense of self-preservation than anyone gave her credit for. Whatever the case, Marsh was glad the girl had decided not to say anything. She wasn’t sure she could handle sympathy right now.

  With a sigh, she stood up and stretched, then walked over to the box of uncharged glows, taking one from the top and returning to her workstation. Setting it down carefully, Marsh lowered herself to her knees, running her hand over the glow from gem-tip to metal setting.

  Right. Let’s do this.

  An hour later, when she was trembling with fatigue, Brigitte laid a hand on her shoulder.

  “Time to stop,” she said. “You’ve done enough for the day.”

  She had?

  Marsh surveyed the gem, relieved to see a soft glow coming from within the stone. At least she’d done something. Roeglin’s voice shattered the illusion.

  “You could almost use it as a night light.”

  Brigitte groaned, and Marsh closed her eyes as Aisha sprang to her defense.

  “It’s a good light,” the child declared, seeing their reactions and coming to stand beside Marsh.

  She put her hand gently on Marsh’s shoulder, patting her like she was a puppy.

  “It’s a night light,” Roeglin argued as he stepped into the room.

  Marsh waited for Aisha to argue that it wasn’t, but the girl shifted uncomfortably beside her. After a moment’s silence, she patted Marsh’s shoulder again, this time reassuringly.

  “It’s a very good night light,” she said, and Marsh sagged.

  Brigitte stepped in.

  “It’s more than enough for today,” she repeated. “Class dismissed.”

  She hesitated, and Marsh hoped she wouldn’t try to be supportive. The Deeps knew she’d had about all the support she could handle. As if sensing this, Brigitte turned her attention to the newly-arrived mage.

  “What can I do for you, Ro? I take it you had a reason to come to see me, other than upsetting my students?”

  Relaxing as Roeglin’s attention shifted, Marsh pushed herself slowly to her feet. She was about to gather her newly created night light when Brigitte spoke.

  “Leave that there, Trainee. I’ll pack up today. You and Aisha need to get ready for dinner.”

  Well, at least she hadn’t told her she needed a break. Marsh turned for the door and looked at Aisha.

  “Bath time,” she said, and the child pouted.

  “Not dirty.”

  “Yeah? I can smell you from here.”

  “Can. Not.”

  Marsh started walking. In truth, all she wanted to do was curl up in a corner and cry. After proving her mastery of shadow this morning, the afternoon had served as a reminder of just how much magic she couldn’t tap into.

  And she needed to do this. Every mage on the trade route had to be able to charge the glows or they wouldn’t get the road opened anytime soon, and they had to. The Deeps knew what the raiders were doing while they had Ruins Hall isolated. Marsh hurried down the corridor.

  She had to work out what she was doing wrong and fix it. What good was she going to be otherwise? A heavy sadness settled over her, and her eyes prickled with tears of frustration. Why couldn’t she call the light?

  Before she could start chewing over the problem again, Aisha interrupted. The little girl ran to catch up and slipped her hand into Marsh’s.

  “It’s okay,” the child told her. “The shadows won’t talk to me. Only the rocks.”

  Marsh wasn’t sure how that was meant to be comforting, but at least the girl was trying. They walked in silence for a few more moments and then Aisha asked, “Do I really smell?”

  As Marsh opened her mouth to reassure the child, another voice cut in.

  “Of course you do. You stink. You smell worse than a mule when Mordan’s been chasing it.”

  Roeglin’s taunt might have worked, but Aisha had had four older siblings, and her brother Tamlin was merciless. The little girl knew exactly how to deal with the shadow mage’s teasing.

  “Worse than you?” she retorted, and Marsh sputtered, turning in time to catch the look on Roeglin’s face.

  Aisha giggled, and Roeglin’s surprise turned to chagrin.

  “Ha. Ha,” he said. “Very funny.”

  He turned to Marsh.

  “I need to see you,” he told her, and again Aisha leapt to her defense.

  “Nuh-uh. Brigitte said we had to have a bath for dinner.”

  “That’s not going to taste very nice.”

  Marsh rolled her eyes, but Roeglin hadn’t finished. He fixed the pair of them with a stern gaze before focusing on Marsh.

  “After your bath, and after you’ve delivered Aisha to her brother,” he said. “My office.”

  His office. Well.

  Marsh wondered what she’d done wrong but decided not to ask. It was probably something to do with her utter hopelessness at recharging the glows, and she probably wasn’t going to like it. Her heart sank. What if he told her she was grounded until she got her head around it? What if…

  Not all shadow mages can recharge glows, Roeglin told her, pulling her fears from her head and interrupting her thoughts to reassure her, and you’re not grounded.

  “Half a turn,” he said out loud as he turned away. “Don’t be late.”

  “Yes, Master Roeglin.”

  Marsh couldn’t bring herself to use just his title. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to acknowledge his rank; it was just that she didn’t feel comfortable calling him “master.” She could handle calling the heads of the school or the others by the title alone, but not Roeglin. She needed to use his name as well. Maybe it had something to do with the way she’d met him.

  He hadn’t been a master then.

  Okay, he had been a master, but he hadn’t been her master. She could get her head around the title, but not around calling him by it. Stupid, really.

  To her surprise, Roeglin didn’t have anything to say to that. He merely quirked an eyebrow at her, smirking as he headed up the next flight of stairs. Marsh escorted Aisha to the communal baths and got her clean, then led her back to the quarters they now shared and dressed her in a fresh robe before delivering her to her brother.

  “I have to see Master Roeglin, so you’ve got dinner duty,” she said when
Tamlin answered her knock.

  His dark eyes flicked from Marsh to Aisha, and he nodded. Any other time, he might have argued about having to mind his sister when it was Marsh’s turn, but not when Marchant called Roeglin by his title and rank. It was their code for official business, and Tamlin knew not to argue when he heard it. The boy was settling into the role of shadow-mage apprentice as if he’d been born to it.

  “I’ll see you after dinner,” she told him, and again he nodded.

  She’d rescued the two children from the shadow monster ambush that had deprived them of the rest of their family, and she took her duties as a surrogate parent seriously. If she couldn’t find any other family members willing to take them, or if she failed to rescue their parents—something she didn’t want to think about—she’d be all the family they had. And until she got things sorted, she needed to be that family for them, regardless.

  That meant making sure she checked in with them every day, like their parents would, making sure they were okay and listening to their hopes and fears. She made it part of their daily routine, no matter how busy her day had been, how fraught, or how exhausting. At first, she’d been worried, but they seemed happy enough. The fact that Aisha shared her room helped.

  Marsh wondered how they would do when she had to travel, but pushed that thought aside. It was hard not to look back as she left Tamlin’s quarters, but she managed. She didn’t want to be a clingy parent. Knowing the boy would look after his sister, Marsh hurried to Roeglin’s office.

  The shadow master’s greeting was straight to the point and not exactly a welcome.

  “I noticed you’re having trouble charging the glows.”

  As an opening line, it stopped Marsh cold. She froze two steps into his office.

  “Close the door behind you.”

  When she had, Roeglin gestured toward a chair. Marsh was still searching for the right words as he continued.

  “You’re not in trouble,” he assured her, and she tensed, knowing there was a “but” coming.

  He did not disappoint her.

  “But we are going to have to think of alternatives if you can’t call the light into the glows.”

  Marsh swallowed, clenching her jaw to stop herself from forbidding him from saying what came next. After a quick glance to make sure she was waiting, Roeglin went on.

  “If you can’t manage it, we’ll have to add Aisha to the team.”

  Now she did have something to say.

  “No!”

  Roeglin tilted his head toward her, raising both eyebrows.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Marsh answered it anyway.

  “You are not putting her out where she might be attacked.”

  “I’m not asking. The Master of Shadows is not asking. That decision has already been made. Time is running out, and we do not have the luxury of waiting for you to develop the skill. As your master, I know you won’t be able to do it in time, and maybe not at all, and as the liaison between the shadow mages and Monsieur Gravine, I cannot continue to wait.”

  “But—”

  Roeglin raised a hand, and Marsh stopped. His face softened.

  “I’m sorry, Marsh, but we are out of time. We have a week at most, and we need to reorganize things to allow for Aisha to come with us.”

  “Does that mean you’ll allow Tamlin to go, too?”

  He shrugged, and a wry smile curved his lips.

  “We won’t have much choice,” he admitted. “I can’t see the boy letting his sister go into the caverns without him.”

  “And she’ll be taking the kit and Scruffknuckle,” Marsh added, trying to comfort herself more than anything else.

  Roeglin sighed.

  “She will.” He paused. “Has the other kit shown signs of making an attachment?”

  Marsh shook her head.

  “No, although it’s not short on choices. There are at least four beast-speakers who would love to have its company.”

  “Including the Master of Beasts…”

  “He’s not forcing the issue. He says the choice is for the kat to make.”

  That decision had won the Master of Beasts Marsh’s respect. She had a feeling he could have coerced the kit’s will to his own but had chosen not to, despite the prestige such a companion would bring. As for her own attachment to the kit’s mother, she knew that was temporary. As soon as she had helped the great beast retrieve her missing kits, Mordanlenoowar would be gone.

  She sighed and returned to the subject at hand.

  “I don’t suppose I can change your mind?”

  This time Roeglin’s lips quirked briefly upward, and he opened the top drawer of his desk.

  “Here,” he told her, placing a glow stone on the table and picking up a short-timer. “You charge that by the time the glass runs out, and we won’t need to take her with us.”

  Marsh wanted to give up then and there. She knew she couldn’t charge the stone, knew she didn’t have a hope in all the Deeps, but she wasn’t going to give in so easily. Maybe the idea of Aisha’s impending danger was just the incentive she needed.

  3

  An Unwelcome Assignment

  Marsh’s fears for Aisha’s safety were not enough. By the time the dinner bell had rung, Marsh had not managed more than the faint ‘night light’ effect she’d achieved earlier. When she ignored the bell, Roeglin stood and came around the desk.

  “It’s enough,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

  Marsh shrugged it away, stroking her fingers down the crystal’s side once more and trying again to call the light from the room around them. Roeglin grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away from the crystal, his voice sharp with rebuke.

  “You’ve done enough.”

  Marsh stifled the urge to jerk her wrist out of his hand and smack him upside the head. He was right, and she hated it, but she also couldn’t argue with him. She really had done enough—if only to prove that she couldn’t do it.

  Aisha was going to have to go with them. Tamlin, too.

  She let her shoulders slump and bowed her head, and Roeglin let go of her wrist to return to his desk. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a small bag and placed it between them.

  “Have a cookie.”

  His words made Marchant lift her head. She was going to refuse, but he’d opened the bag, and the smell of Brigitte’s baking hit her. Marsh grabbed two. All she wanted to do was sleep, but she wasn’t about to fall asleep in Roeglin’s office. She wanted to make it to her own room, at least.

  The trouble was, she’d pushed the magic just a little too far, and she’d been tired to begin with. Fatigue crawled along her limbs, making her eyes heavy even as she bit into the first cookie in an attempt to restore her fast-fading energy.

  “Who’s looking after Aisha?” Roeglin asked as Marsh lifted the cookie a second time.

  The damn thing was heavier than it looked, but it tasted amazing.

  “Tamlin,” she replied around a spray of crumbs.

  Roeglin ignored the mess, and Marsh focused on taking another bite. The master’s next words made her frown.

  “Good, because you need to sleep.”

  Marsh wanted to argue that she didn’t, but that would have been a blatant lie. She did need to get some rest. Worse, she didn’t think she could stop herself from doing so. Her body was going to do what it wanted, and what she wanted didn’t matter.

  “Brigitte’s going to kill me,” Roeglin muttered, and Marsh managed to lift her head.

  Roeglin caught her look and went on to explain.

  “Because I let you push yourself too far, so you’ll be out of action tomorrow.”

  Roeglin had been doing magic a whole lot longer then she had, but Marsh still didn’t want to hear it.

  “I’ve got—”

  “Nothing,” Roeglin snapped. “Your day’s clear of anything but sleeping and eating—and that includes looking after your kids.”

  Marsh wanted to know exac
tly how he was going to enforce that but realized it was more a question of where she was going to find the energy to defy him. The cookies helped a little bit, but she was going to have to head to her room soon, or she’d disgrace herself by curling up under Roeglin’s desk and falling asleep on the floor.

  Roeglin snorted.

  “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

  He waited, then pushed his chair back.

  “Come on,” he said, standing as Marsh struggled to her feet. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

  Oh, he would, would he?

  “I can tuck myself in,” she snarled, frustration at her failure leaking into her voice.

  Roeglin raised his hands in mock surrender.

  “Not saying you can’t, but you’ve got to get there first, and I don’t want you falling down on the way. Lennie would take several large chunks out of my hide. Brigitte, too, I imagine.”

  As badly as she wanted to smile at the idea of Lennie and Brigitte taking bits out of Roeglin’s hide, Marsh glared at him. She hated to admit it, but the man had a point. Right now, her room seemed several caverns too far away, and she honestly didn’t know if she was going to make it.

  “Fine.”

  She pushed herself to her feet, and Roeglin came around the desk and tucked her arm through his.

  By the time they got to her room, he’d wound his arm around her waist and Marchant was thinking curling up under his desk would have been a lot less embarrassing. She was convinced of it when Tamlin and Aisha came out of the room. The boy raised his brows and turned to his sister.

  “You can sleep in my room tonight.”

  Marsh’s face went bright red.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  Tamlin gave her a pointed look.

  “Uh huh. We’re going to be late for dinner.”

  Tamlin would have turned down the hall if Roeglin hadn’t explained.

  “I’m putting her to bed.”

  The kid arched his eyebrows again.

  “I can see that.”

  Roeglin groaned and hurried to explain.