Trading into Darkness

by C. M. Simpson

  Marsh looked impressed. It wasn’t hard. The amount was more than she could make in a year of running errands for Kearick. Still…

  “Thank you, ma’am. That is…very generous, and while it would be good to have my skills recognized, it means I would have to be working for arseholes like you. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  Marsh! Roeglin’s horrified reaction was enough to crack the deadpan exterior Marsh had been trying to maintain. She ducked her head, but not quite in time to hide the smile that flitted along her lips, even if she did stifle the giggle before she made a sound. Madame Monetti stepped in and slapped her hard enough to set her ears ringing, and then she turned away.

  “Take her,” she commanded. “And give her something to remember me by, while you’re at it.”

  Berens’ backhand was delivered by a gauntleted fist and dropped Marsh to her knees, but he only struck her once before the lady intervened.

  “Not in here! You’ll ruin my rugs or break a treasure. Take her out with the others, and don’t damage her too badly.”

  “Yes, Madame,” Berens replied and hauled Marsh to her feet before dragging her toward the door.

  Marsh went willingly, not that she had much choice. Berens kept a firm grip on her arm as he hauled out of the well-appointed office into the corridor beyond. When the door had closed behind them, he leaned close to her ear.

  “You’d best be grateful. I’d beat the living Dark out of you, except that we have a ways to go to catch up with the others and I don’t feel like carrying your scrawny carcass anywhere.”

  “I would,” muttered one of the guards leaning on the wall. “Only I’d be dragging her.”

  Berens gave a mirthless laugh.

  “Not this time, Merek.” He looked at Marsh. “Although you give me an ounce of trouble and you’re Merek’s until I think you’ve learned your lesson, you understand?”

  Marsh shot a sidelong look at Merek and shivered at the expression on the man’s face. He was the one whose brother she’d killed. Having told him it was his brother’s own fault now seemed like a very bad idea. She nodded.

  “Understood.”

  “Good. Come.”

  Marsh went, following Berens into another corridor and through what felt like half a mountain before walking through a twenty-stall-wide stable with barracks above into a stone-walled courtyard in an alcove off another tunnel. Marsh tried to orient the tunnel in her head but couldn’t. This was another area of the world below that she hadn’t explored.

  Her wrists and forearms were aching from being bound behind her back and she thought about asking to have them released, but one look at Merek, who was walking on her left, warned her that it might not be a good idea. Then again, with him that close, she’d rather her hands were free than bound. She turned to Berens, and he glanced down at her.

  “No,” he told her when she drew a breath, and Marsh wondered how he’d known what she’d been going to ask.

  He led her to one side of the courtyard and stood her next to the wall.

  “Wait here.”

  Marsh waited as he selected two mules and pointed to Merek and the shadow mage known as Warven.

  “You know where to go. Make sure Ardhur knows he is to keep her whole and out of trouble. I’ll be checking in the morning when I bring the rest of the supplies.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Warven said, and Merek grinned.

  “We’ll let him know.”

  Berens frowned.

  “Before anything happens to her, Merek, or you’ll suffer the same fate.”

  Merek scowled.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Good.”

  Berens crossed to Marsh and clipped a lead rope to her belt.

  “Try to keep up,” he said and pulled the gag from where he’d tucked it in his belt.

  Marsh tilted her head back, but he took a firm grip on her hair and fastened the gag in place.

  “You don’t need to get yourself into any more trouble.”

  Like Hell I don’t, Marsh thought, but Roeglin approved.

  You might be alive by the time I get there after all, he commented, sounding inordinately relieved.

  Before Marsh could think of a reply, Berens handed Merek the end of the rope and the soldier kicked his mule into a trot.

  “Merde!”

  It came out as a muffled growl, and Merek laughed.

  Marsh wanted to say a lot more. Better, she wanted her sword.

  Clarinay says to shadow-step, Roeglin’s voice came through fast and urgent, but Marsh got it.

  Shadow-step. The thought had her stifling a desire to laugh as she concentrated on keeping on her feet long enough for her body to blend with the shadows. It was disappointing that her restraints and the rope attached to her belt blended with her, but running became easier… right up until the moment Warven looked back and saw what she was doing.

  “Keep riding,” he said, tapping Merek on the shoulder. “I’ll deal with this.”

  Oh, he would, would he? Marsh wondered exactly what he was going to do. It was hard to keep an eye on him and maintain the concentration needed to keep herself in shadow form, but she managed. Her heart sank when he pulled a staff of shadow from the dark and swung it in her direction.

  She ducked his first swipe but wasn’t fast enough to dodge the second. The blow connected solidly and Marsh stumbled, temporarily losing her focus. For a moment her steps were as heavy as lead, then she fought her way back into the shadows…or tried to.

  Warven struck her again, and Marsh got the impression he’d done this before. This time, before she could regain her concentration, a low growl rumbled out around them, causing the mules to buck and shy. Warven lost his grip on the staff and Mordan roared.

  “No!” Marsh cried, and almost choked. She also fell out of shadow form and tripped over her own feet as she twisted, trying to see where the hoshkat was.

  No, she repeated more quietly down the link they had between them. Let them take me to the others. Let them take me to the cubs. Come for me then.

  She sent the imagery of what she was hunting, what she was hoping to find, and made it clear she thought of the two men as deer leading her to a watering hole where the real game gathered.

  Hide, she ordered. Follow, but let them live—for now.

  With a lingering growl, the kat moved farther away, letting out a frustrated screech so that Marsh knew exactly what she thought of this plan.

  Sorry, Mordan. Human games. Marsh tried to comfort the kat, but the big beast was having none of it, sending the equivalent of an open-pawed swat down the link between them.

  Marsh was still trying to work out how to respond to that when the line at her belt drew tight and she was dragged along the ground.

  “Aagh!” Marsh shouted, trying to catch Merek’s attention—and then she realized she already had it and the soldier was immensely satisfied with hauling her along the trail.

  She tried rolling so that the thicker armor on her shoulders and hips would take the brunt, but the lead kept turning her around so she ended up on her front.

  Merde! Merdemerdemerde!

  Marsh put one foot down and used it to lever her body around and up, her knee complaining at the pressure. It was a relief when it held long enough for her to make it to her feet, not so much of a relief when she found herself limping, the pain too much for her to find the focus to return to shadow form once more.

  It was a poor consolation when Warven refused to let Merek ride any faster.

  15

  Stone-Wrapped

  By Marchant’s calculation, the journey took the better part of two hours. On top of a day of magic and fighting, it was too much, but not too much to keep her from recognizing the place they stopped. She’d only seen it once before through the shadows, but she knew it.

  This was where the raiders had camped the night she had hidden from them with the children. This was the place the people of Leon’s Deep had been held, and she hadn’t even guessed. She’d
left them, too intent on taking Tams and Aisha to safety to think that the others might not be traveling of their own free will. She’d just let them be taken.

  When the mule stopped, Marsh stopped too. She dropped to her knees, leaning forward as she dragged air into her lungs in ragged breaths. This was easier when Warven peeled the gag out of her mouth and held a flask to her lips.

  “I’ll stay with her while you fetch Ardhur,” Warven said as Marsh drank greedily, taking as much as she could before he pulled the flask away. Merek spat.

  “Fine,” he answered, making it sound anything but.

  Marsh listened to him walk away and felt a faint sense of relief. While she might not be exactly where she wanted to be, it was good that she hadn’t been left there with Merek. It was also good that Warven didn’t speak, but left her to her suffering and pain-filled thoughts.

  All too soon Merek returned, and he was not alone.

  “Here she is,” he said, landing a boot in her ribs and tipping her onto her side.

  “Deep’s misbegotten son,” Marsh managed. She grunted as he landed a second kick.

  He might have tried for a third but Warven pulled him away, calling a junior mage over to attend the mules while he found the pair of them something to drink. Marsh cracked an eyelid to watch them go. As she did so, she noticed the heavy leather boots standing not two feet from her head. By the Deep, she hoped that this guy didn’t feel like sinking the boot in as well.

  She rolled slightly so she could get a look at him and decided Ardhur was descended from giants.

  He was a big man; tall, but also broad. His shoulders and thighs were heavily muscled, and he had a body like a solid block. From this angle, it looked like he had a dark red beard in twin plaits, but it was hard to tell. He might just have been wearing some kind of furry shawl. He lifted his foot and prodded her with the toe of his boot.

  Marsh gasped, expecting pain, but it was no more than a nudge, and she blushed at her panic.

  “Get up,” he said, stepping back to let her work out how to obey.

  Once she got started, it wasn’t as impossible as it had seemed, and she stood in front of him, trying not to sway. By the Deep, she was tired.

  “Merek says you need to be caged in stone.”

  Marsh felt her face pale and the man cocked his head, bending to look down at her.

  “Boy says you’re a shadow mage. Is he right?”

  Marsh thought about lying, but he read it on her face.

  “So you are,” he said, and she hung her head.

  “She shifted to the shadows at the trot.” Warven had returned, and he hadn’t finished. “After a day of fighting and running.”

  Marsh didn’t want to know how he knew that, but she refused to look at either of them. This worked until Ardhur crooked his finger under her chin and lifted her head so he could study her face.

  “I’d ask if what he said was true, but you’d likely lie, wouldn’t you?”

  Marsh shook her head, making the effort to lift her chin and look him in the eye. If she was going to be this far in the shit, she might as well earn every inch of it.

  “It’s true,” she said, and tried to fade into the shadow to prove a point.

  She succeeded a little better than she expected, only to have Warven knock her back to human form with a well-aimed blow from a hastily conjured shadow staff.

  “Then you’re coming with me.”

  Like she had a choice.

  “Not going anywhere else,” Marsh managed, her words slurring with fatigue.

  Ardhur shook his head. “No, you’re not.” He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her to the other side of the pool and into a chamber whose entrance was hidden behind an overlap of rock.

  The chamber wasn’t empty, and Marsh’s spirits lifted at the thought she wouldn’t be alone. They plummeted just as fast, and for the very same reason. How in all the Deeps was she supposed to free all these? It turned out that Ardhur had that covered—and she wasn’t.

  He put her down just inside the doorway on her side, placing the splayed fingertips of one hand on her shoulder and the palm of the other hand on the wall. “Be still.”

  Be still? Marsh was about to turn her head to look up at him when she felt something creeping off the wall and over her side and back. It was like a tide of lukewarm honey was flowing off the stone wall to cover her. She tried to twist around, but Warven knelt quickly beside Ardhur and pinned her legs and hips.

  Whatever was crawling over her flowed just a little faster.

  Marsh felt it cover her hair and ears, then run down across her forehead, and realized it wasn’t sticky. Not honey. Not insects. Where it touched it solidified, cooling, blocking all sound from her ears. It weighed on her legs as Warven took his hands away, and then placed them on top of it, and Marsh felt it flow around her calves. She noticed that it didn’t drip like honey, but shaped itself around her, encasing her from both sides until its edges touched.

  Where it touched her cheeks and solidified, it cooled, and Marsh knew exactly what it was.

  Stone!

  She pushed against it, her breath coming fast with fear, but she couldn’t move an inch. When her whole body was covered, Ardhur lifted his hand from her shoulder, letting the stone fill the space it had occupied.

  “Close your eyes,” he said, and, when she hesitated, brushed his palm over them, a thin veneer of stone following his downward stroke.

  “No!”

  Some of the stone cleared away from her ears.

  “Steady, girl. You can still breathe. You can still breathe, see?”

  It took Marsh a couple of minutes to understand that he was telling the truth and she could still breathe. She wasn’t being crushed, and the stone both held and supported her body. She couldn’t move, though, and couldn’t do anything to help herself.

  “I’d sleep if I were you,” Warven advised. “There’s nothing else you can do.”

  The thought left her feeling hopeless, but he was right. As much as her mind raced to try and find a solution to her problem, she couldn’t see one. Sure, she could melt into shadow, but the only holes in her prison were the ones for her nose and mouth, and she couldn’t see how she might fit through them. She tried to imagine how to make that work and failed.

  “Please…” she whispered, and felt the warmth of a hand laid lightly over her mouth.

  It rested there just long enough for Marsh to worry that he’d cover her nose as well, and then it was lifted away. Gulping back a sob of panic, she forced herself to take a deep breath. They hadn’t gone to all the trouble of encasing her in stone, just to kill her. She swallowed. Maybe.

  “I’ll let you loose in the morning,” he said, “and this will keep you out of trouble in the meantime. Get some rest, girl. There’s a long day’s travel ahead.”

  Oh, there was, was there?

  Marsh really hoped Roeglin was coming. She hoped he’d be able to follow her in spite of the distance she’d traveled under the rock. Did mental magic have a limit to how far it could reach? Could he work out where she was just by being in her mind? Would he come?

  Sadness welled up inside her, and Marsh panicked by the thought she might cry. If she did, her nose would run…and she had no way to wipe it. Not only were her hands encased in solid rock, but they were still tied behind her back.

  “Merde,” she whispered. “Merde. Merde. Merde.”

  Fingers trailed over her lips and she gasped, trying to pull her face away from them and getting nowhere. Again the stone shifted around her ear, and sound flooded in.

  “I will be here. Now, sleep.”

  Whether Ardhur meant that to be soothing, Marsh couldn’t tell, but she pressed her lips tightly together, unable to nod and not trusting her voice. She was well and truly trapped, and her heart was beating like a moth against a lantern. In spite of her fatigue, it felt like forever before she could convince her body to sleep.

  Marsh woke with a start to find her body
still trapped. Air moved against her mouth and nose and then stilled, but not a smidge of sound made its way through the rock now sealed close over her ears. She tried to open her eyes, but Ardhur knew his work, and the stone held them closed. Panic ran along her arms and legs, and Marsh tried to wriggle free of it, only to find movement impossible.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she became aware she was screaming, then fingers laid themselves over the slit above her mouth. She stilled, breathing hard as the touch made her fear fade. This time the stone above her ears did not thin, and no sound made it through. When her breathing had calmed, the fingers went away.

  She must have made some sound of protest because they returned, resting lightly on the stone, where she could feel their warmth but not their touch. Marsh hated herself for needing them there; hated the fact she couldn’t escape the confines of stone. Couldn’t…

  She drew a deep breath.

  Aisha could talk to stone and blend her body with it, and Tamlin talked of a traveler who claimed everyone could do magic. And then there’d been Lennie with her need to heal. There was no reason Marsh couldn’t do the same.

  Except that she couldn’t. She tried talking to the stone but the hand covered her mouth, and, when she persisted, it pinched off her nostrils. It had been brief, but Marsh had gotten the message: no talking. Her next attempt was made without the use of words, and it failed, too.

  She couldn’t imagine how Aisha could get the stone to do her bidding without talking to it and tried to remember another occasion when she’d seen someone manipulate rock. The Stone Master had, but she’d used her hands—and even she’d spoken as she’d worked. Marsh sighed and tried to wiggle her fingers. Maybe she could convince the rock encasing them to move aside, even just a little bit.

  She tried, but it was like recharging a glow. The effort of trying to will the rock to do her bidding was exhausting. Marsh kept at it until her body trembled with fatigue, then let herself relax. If she wasn’t going to be able to talk to the rocks, then she was going to need to be awake when she was free of it. She had to be rested if she was going to be able to take advantage of the next opportunity.