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“No,” Ivet said, shaking her head. “It’s just… well, to be honest, I feel a bit foolish for not thinking of this sooner.”
“You’ve started now, which is what matters,” Verve replied. “Best not to dwell on past mistakes.”
Sound advice. Too bad she’d never take it. Besides, a lifetime of murder for coin and country was much more than a mistake.
It’s not murder if the targets are evil, Danya had told her, so many times.
But standing in the center of the ramshackle village, among these gentle—if odd—folks, while the little mage kids chased each other in circles… Nothing felt evil. Nothing even felt off. In fact… Wait, was she actually… enjoying this task?
Verve mentally shook away her confusion. She wasn’t here to make friends; she was here for a job. An actual job, not the fantasy she was crafting. Sure, it was pleasant to use her skills and knowledge for something other than killing, but she was still at work. She could see Danya’s scowl, feel the burn of her patron’s palm against her cheek for slacking off.
“I suppose,” Verve ventured, “you’ve not had to worry overmuch about defenses, if Marea Damaris spends time in Lotis. I’d wager even the meanest shiftlings won’t want to cross paths with a mage who can wield lightning.”
Alem’s cheeks darkened, but before he could respond, a shout pierced the late afternoon air. Verve whirled to see a stranger tearing through the village, feet pounding over the boardwalk. Berel followed, her hair wild, her eyes round.
“Get the children inside the Willow,” Ivet said to Alem, then she started forward. “Klaret,” she called. “What’s wrong?”
“Mages,” Klaret replied as she and Berel approached. “‘Bout a quarter mile out. Heading here.”
Berel filled in the details between gasps. “It’s the same ones who tore up Hadiya’s barn!” She looked at Verve. “Now’s your chance to prove your worth, eh?”
Energy flooded Verve’s limbs, but a sense of calm laid over her, as always happened right before a battle. After all, she’d trained most of her life for moments like this. Killing mages came as naturally to her as breathing.
Alem had already ushered the children into the tavern, and had then darted away to find Dannel. Other folks had started appearing, faces creased with curiosity, then apprehension when they realized what was going on. Ivet waved them toward her, but most just milled about in confusion.
We’ll work on that, Verve thought. “Get everyone inside the Willow,” she said to Ivet. To Klaret, she asked, “You saw them using magic? How many and what sort?”
Klaret nodded, then held up two fingers. “Particle mages.” Three fingers. “Shape-changers.”
“I think one of them’s an urslan,” Berel added. “Sodding giant bear. And you saw a lycanthra, didn’t you, love?”
Klaret nodded grimly.
Shit. That’s what I get for wishing for wolves, Verve thought. Well, it’d make for an interesting evening. Verve looked at Alem, who was helping Dannel inside the tavern. “I’m going to need my crossbow.”
He started. “You’re going to fight five mages? By yourself?”
“Yes, which means I need my fucking weapon,” Verve hissed. “We’ve wasted enough time, and I can’t leave you all unguarded. If I hurry, I can convince them to take their fighting somewhere else—”
A storage shed near the edge of town exploded in a shatter of splinters and wood chips. A deep, primal roar echoed through the air, followed by a snarl and the acrid scent of burning fur. The villagers screamed and ducked, until Ivet shoved the final few through the tavern door. Verve swore and clutched her daggers—she didn’t recall drawing them—and made for the sounds of mage fighting. Crossbow or not, she had a job to do.
