Illusion's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 1) Read online

  Jorjan hugged her to him. “My carriage is at the foot of the stairs. I’ll take you home.”

  Lorel raised her eyebrows and looked over the inland wall. “I don’t see it.”

  She bet she’d’ve heard his teeth grating if the ocean wasn’t so loud. Good to know that calling him a liar actually pissed him off. He lied so much she’d figured it wouldn’t bother him.

  “My carriage will be in place before we reach the bottom.” Jorjan led Faye past her, paused, and swatted her on the back a few times. Hard. “Enjoy getting wet.”

  Waiting until they were out of sight was the toughest thing she’d done in ages, but she managed. Barely. Once Jorjan’s head dipped below the inland wall, Lorel yanked the sack over her shoulder and wrenched it open.

  The thread snipper had mashed every single loaf right down the middle. Mom was gonna kill her.

  Chapter 10.

  Merciless dawn sunlight glittered on the icy streets and sparkled off the clouds of breath wreathing Viper’s face. Yesterday’s rain had frozen so thoroughly, not a trace of the uneven cobbles showed.

  He slipped and slithered his way into a rhythmic shuffle that resembled speed and helped him dream of warmth. Cold air seeped through several layers of linen and wool under his leather tunic and trousers. Ice numbed his feet through his leather boots and three layers of wool socks. Cold even crept through Trevor’s ‘short’ wool coat.

  The blasted coat continued below his knees, however hard he pretended it was thigh length, and the sleeves dangled far beyond his hands. At least his fingers were warm.

  Ay, Setoya. How he missed the thunder and the warm dew and the roar of the bahtdor. Not to mention the taste of the bahtdor. Trevor was right, stew was getting moldy. Could he find a bahtdor steak in the market today, or even some bahtdor jerky? He was owed a lucky day, now that the ridiculous thunderless rain was gone. If he found jerky he’d make tartacarna, but he’d need flour, no, no, stuff it in a bread loaf with olives and wine and… No, that wouldn’t work, but–

  Fingers seized his shoulder.

  He slammed against the wall and crashed to his knees. Pain shot up his legs and through his rattled skull. What happened? Had he slipped? Viper raised his eyes.

  A dozen faces leered down at him.

  The gang. Jorjan’s gang. The soldier had warned him. He hadn’t paid attention.

  On the plains, carelessness meant death. But what happened in this stone-bound city? Could he be Outcast all over again?

  His stomach writhed like a drowning snake. The oversized coat became a trap, and his fingers couldn’t reach the buttons. Not in time.

  How many enemies did he face? A dozen? No, only seven boys. Eight, if he counted the one with his arm in a sling. But they were all older, all bigger than he was. Than he’d ever be. He had to get away.

  Viper lurched to his feet, but his boots skidded on the ice. He ducked and plunged past the legs of a jackal-grinned boy.

  The pock-faced youth snatched him by the wrist and flung him back against the stone wall.

  His head thudded against the building. Air whooshed out of his lungs.

  The boys laughed.

  Before he caught his breath, Jackal Boy grabbed his shoulders and pushed him deeper into the alley. He fell on his rear and slid backwards across the ice.

  Blast these outlanders. Didn’t they have any pride? Honorable battle was fought one on one.

  He battled to get his feet under him, to stand upright, but his boots slipped on ice. He landed face down on the frozen cobblestones.

  Jackal Boy and a fish-eyed monster reached for his arms.

  He skittered on the ice to avoid their hands, bumped into a building, and used its wall to struggle to his feet. He swung his fist at Pock Face, missed.

  Pock Face didn’t miss. A gentle tap on his chest sent Viper sprawling on the ice again.

  They shoved him down the alley, knocking him from hand to foot like a soft leather ball. The cleats on their boots kept them upright.

  Viper slid across the ice on his back.

  These outlanders couldn’t get away with beating him. He was warrior born. He rolled over, kicked against the wall, and bounced to his feet. His fist met Fish Eyes’s nose before he slipped again and twisted out of range.

  Blood spurted across the ice. Fish Eyes howled like he’d grabbed a live coal.

  One for me. That wasn’t an accident. I meant to flatten his nose.

  He spun, slithered, and swung his fists at the other boys. They jerked away before he touched them, crunching away on cleated boots that dug into the ice.

  “Sandblast you! That’s cheating!”

  Pock Face hissed, sounding almost like he was laughing.

  Every time one got behind him, they gave him another shove, knocking him down to the ice. Over and over, like an endless vulture dream, he skidded to the nearest wall and dragged himself up to his feet. And they let him. He didn’t understand it, but every time they waited for him to climb to his feet. Was this just a game to them? With him as the ball?

  Would anybody come if he demeaned himself and yelled for help? Was there anyone around to hear him? He hadn’t seen a single person since the attack started.

  The gang battered him into the alley’s depths, down a twisted slope, into a dark corner hidden between buildings. Even the windows were shuttered. No one would see them. No one would call out to help.

  “That’s far enough.”

  Viper spun to face the voice. He should have guessed that lightning-blasted Jorjan was behind the attack. The sandcrab didn’t have the guts to fight at the front.

  His tormenters backed a few steps away and circled him.

  “What’s going on?” He clenched his fists and tried to banish the nercats clawing inside his gut. “Let me go.”

  “Oh, in good time, my dear.” Jorjan strutted forward, smiling like a snake with a cornered mouse. “You may go when we’ve all had our fun. Now mayn’t he, gentlemen?”

  The boys nodded and snickered. Three of them ambled forward, giggling like rabid hyenas.

  “Wait, Cap’n!” shouted the pop-eyed boy with the bloody face.

  Jorjan ignored Fish Eyes and smiled at Viper.

  The outlander’s expression made his heart stutter. The abuelo snake had shown more humanity than the flat, predatory look on Jorjan’s face.

  “Wait, Cap’n!”

  “What now, Fish?”

  “That whore, he mashed my nose.” Fish pointed a gory finger at Viper. “Gimme his face, will ya, Cap’n? Look what he done to me. Pa’ll shit virgins when he sees me.”

  Jorjan glanced at Fish. “I’ll deal with your father. I always do. You may have his face. But don’t knock him out. I want him to join the fun, after all.”

  Pock Face strolled forward.

  Fish shivered and stepped back. “Maybe Kraken has first dibs?”

  Wasn’t a kraken a mythical sea creature? A huge, slimy thing with eight legs that attacked ships and ate the sailors, if he remembered right. It fit. Somehow he doubted these boys would hesitate to indulge in cannibalism. They all had a hungry look that had nothing to do with food.

  Kraken-Pock Face nodded at Fish before smiling at Viper. “Do you know what I’m gonna do to you, pretty boy?”

  That smile stopped Viper’s breath. Yes, a man-eating monster. The name suited Pock Face. He refused to grant him the other name. Names confer power.

  The younger boys giggled, and even Fish snickered, though he shuffled farther back.

  “First I’m gonna cut off them weird clothes and shred them for rat litter.” Pock Face stalked forward. “When I’m done with you, we’re gonna beat the shit out of you. You’re shaking, pretty boy.”

  He wasn’t shaking. Not with fear. But he wasn’t stupid, either. He glanced at the building beside him. Could he climb it fast enough? Not while wearing the sandblasted oversized coat.

  He couldn’t run. The ice-coated cobblestones had already proven that.

  Could he fight
his way out?

  Pock Face stood head and shoulders taller than he was. Probably weighed twice as much. Fighting fair would get him killed.

  His gaze swept the alley for a weapon. Any kind a weapon. Was that a spear in the corner? No, just an old stick. Better than nothing. He edged toward it.

  Pock Face laughed softly. “Don’t back away from me. Now why are you scared, sweetling?”

  Jorjan pulled a silver coin from his pocket, tossed it spinning into the air. Caught it. “I’ll wager you can’t strip him without drawing blood, Kraken.”

  Kra– Pock Face drew a knife from under his coat and sauntered toward Viper. His cleats gouged sharp gashes in the ice.

  “Hey, Cap’n, it’s cold out here.” Fish rubbed his hands down his coat front. “Can’t we drag him into a cellar? Don’t want my precious to fall off.”

  Precious what? There was nothing precious about Fish. The name was perfect for him. Weak and slimy.

  Jorjan nodded and pointed to a grimy door. “In there. But later.”

  Pock Face crept nearer.

  Could he force the knife into his own throat? What a dishonorable way to die. But it would be worse to live once they were done with him. He’d be no better than a nameless slave if he allowed them to defeat him. Honor would demand he feed himself to the bahtdor.

  He would never give up and let them beat him. He’d fight to the death. Against them all he didn’t have a chance. One on one he’d do some damage.

  Viper narrowed his eyes, pushed at his overlong coat sleeves, and waited for an opening. Thunderer, send a lightning strike, a knife, any kind of help.

  “Stop!” The shout echoed down the frozen alley like a rogue warrior’s battle scream. “Hound, Blizzard, don’t you touch him. Jorjan, you better stop them.”

  Jorjan frowned. “That can’t be– Tomrat, go see who’s out there. Gentlemen, don’t touch our little toy. Not yet.”

  Kra– Pock Face yowled, a coyote wail of frustration, but he stepped back and hid his knife.

  Viper started to breathe again.

  A hunched youngster scuttled forward at Jorjan’s command, but before he reached the corner, two cloaked forms appeared at the top of the alley.

  Tomrat ducked and slithered through a broken door.

  “Look there, what did I tell you.” The tall shadow pointed directly at the gang. “They’re beating up that little kid. Jorjan, you’re nothing but a snipped thread.”

  “Jorjan, I’m so disappointed,” scolded the tiny silhouette. “You leave the poor child alone.”

  “Darling Faye, it’s all right.” Jorjan’s smile now held an amazing amount of charm. How did the outlander go from snake to sweetmeat in a heartbeat? “We’re only having a little fun. No harm done. Why don’t you go on to the market? I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

  “Jorjan, you let that kid go right now or I’ll smear your brains on the signpost,” bellowed the tall shadow.

  “Listen, you– ” Jorjan shouted, but Faye interrupted him.

  “If you don’t set him free right now, Jorjan,” she said firmly, “right now, I won’t be your girl anymore.”

  Jorjan sighed and shrugged dramatically. “Come, gentlemen. We’ll have our party later, Goldie.” He strolled up the alley, bowed to Faye, and continued out of sight.

  The boys followed him like hatchlings after the lead bahtdor cow. Even Fish trailed behind, pinching his bloody nose. Most of them imitated Jorjan and bowed to Faye, but all of them glared at the tall youth – while walking well out reach.

  Viper wrestled his heart into a reasonable drumbeat as he watched them go. He thanked the Thunderer from lungs and liver for the help, but what sinkhole had he fallen into now?

  The warrior pushed back his hood and glared at the departing gang. Brilliant silver eyes glanced at him, startling in the dark face. A soft, beardless face. Not a warrior, then; merely a tall boy.

  But those amazing silver eyes. Angry, impatient eyes.

  Viper shivered. Ice crept into his bones. He forced himself to stand taller.

  He wasn’t afraid.

  Curly black hair crept free of the hood, haloing the boy’s dark, reddish face. His skin was the exact color of Trevor’s mahogany chairs. With that coloring, the boy might be Kerovi. With his height and sharp nose, he could be Setoyan.

  His fath– Agrevod would be proud to claim that one, even if he was tree colored. So tall and strong looking. Not like me at all. What was the Wind Dancer doing, putting him in this mad city and me in the tribe?

  Faye lifted her wide skirts and minced on cleated boots over the icy cobbles until she stood next to him. She was barely taller than he was, but she looked a few years older. At least fifteen. Nearly grown up. Zedisti olive skin, and gorgeous brown hair.

  Delicate, and beautiful.

  Even though most girls were scruffy rodents, this girl made him feel safe. He envied her handsome companion.

  The young warrior stood guard over the alley corner until Jorjan’s gang was out of hearing before marching down the frozen slope to join them. He gouged his cleats deep into the ice with every step. Pale gray eyes inspected Viper critically. “You all right, short stuff?”

  “I’m not that short and I’m just fine, thank you.” Viper glanced down the alley and cleared his throat. “And, um, thanks for stopping them. I was getting nervous.”

  “I don’t think they’d have hurt you, really.” Faye patted his shoulder. “But I know they can get rowdy. I’ll tell Jorjan to leave you alone, don’t you worry.”

  The tall boy pushed back his turybird-gray cloak and shoved his thumbs into his belt. “How old are you, kid?”

  “Twelve.” Viper jerked his chin up.

  “You don’t look that old. You look a scrawny eight.”

  Fire rushed into his face. He wasn’t that short. Not by Zedisti standards.

  “I’m thirteen, so I’m older.” The boy was almost as tall as a turybird, and twice as bristly. “Faye is fifteen. So there.”

  “So there what?” Viper blinked up at him. Was it a contest? A game? He must look totally witless.

  “Lorel, you stop that.” Faye crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re beginning to sound like Jorjan. Yes, you ought to be shocked. Now be nice.” She held her hand out to Viper. “I’m Faye, and she’s Lorel.”

  “That’s a girl?” He clamped both hands over his mouth. He’d never mistaken a girl for a boy before. How embarrassing.

  Lorel glared down at him. “What you think I am?”

  “A w-w-w-warrior’s son.”

  Lorel smiled. A shy, tentative smile at first, but it rapidly turned into a broad grin. “I like you, kid. You got a tight thread on the Loom. What’s your name?”

  “Viper.” Thunderer protect him, he’d actually found another turybird. Wasn’t living with Trevor trial enough? He felt pinned like one of the old man’s dragonflies by the girl’s sharp, pale eyes.

  “Lorel, don’t glare so.” Faye crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re scaring him. And don’t you sass me, young man. I know male barbarians don’t admit to being scared, but you’re in Zedista now and you don’t have to pretend. At least, not to us. We’re going to the market. Come with us. We’ve got to hurry or all the good merchandise will be gone.”

  “No thank you.” He’d like to walk with Faye, but his best bet was to get far away from the insulting female turybird.

  But Jorjan was out there somewhere, probably nearby. Probably waiting for him. “I take it back. I would be honored to walk with you. But no more jokes about my size.”

  “Fine with me, kid.” Lorel took Faye’s arm, helped her across the ice, and up three long alleys and two streets.

  Viper trailed behind them. He’d been that close to the market? And no one had come to help him?

  Faye had come. He was safe with her.

  The icy market streets glimmered like polished silver. Bread loaves emitted delicious steam, roots seemed bigger, and the meat looked fresher. The awnings glowed i
n the dawn light. Even the vendors were unusually cheerful.

  If all mornings were like this, he might like grow to enjoy the place.

  Faye helped him buy simple cleats for his boots. Had she slipped the vendor extra coins? No, no one would do that for a stranger.

  She promised to teach him how to cook and recited a simple recipe to use on the ingredients from Trevor’s list.

  Even Lorel helped him track down the elements for his forthcoming masterpiece. Far too soon they had everything they’d come for.

  Faye caught him watching the Ladysmith gate. “We go that way, too,” she said gently. “Where do you live?”

  His face burned as if he’d hovered over the cook fire like a greedy toddler reaching for fried grasshopper grubs. “On Thorn Lane.”

  “Hey, that’s great.” Lorel waved one arm northward. “I live just two blocks from there.”

  “It’s perfect.” Faye touched his shoulder with her fingertips. “Let’s go to the market together every day.”

  It wasn’t until he staggered up the swaying staircase that Viper realized he’d forgotten to look for bahtdor jerky. No matter, the three of them could look tomorrow.

  Maybe he’d teach Faye a Setoyan recipe or two. Ay, what a perfect day.

  ˜™

  Lorel shook her head as the tiny boy dashed up the wobbly stairs and into a house so old she was amazed it was still standing. Funny she’d never noticed the place before.

  The kid was even funnier. He reminded her of a doll in the window of the fancy toy store in the Nashidran quarter. Golden skin, a mop of honey-colored hair, and almond-shaped eyes so black they didn’t look real. Only a whisker taller than a doll, too. It was gonna be hard not to tease him about being so little.

  Likeable, though. Friendly. Way too trusting, but so was Faye.

  And she’d gotten to rescue him. She could like him just for that.

  It bothered her he called himself by a wizard’s name, but with his weird looks and sing-song voice, he gotta be foreign. Kid didn’t know no better.

  No way he belonged to any of the gangs. He’d be too little to fight in a rumble, and too noticeable to use as a lookout. City guard would snatch him up right away.