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Alem shuddered, pressed a fist to his mouth, but managed to control himself. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he murmured, and started back for Lotis.
After a beat, Verve followed. Despite her injuries, her steps should have been light. She’d done good work, and only bled a little. Surely it was Alem’s reaction that was extreme.
But as she trudged back to Lotis, Verve couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d left one monster too many alive.
* * *
Hours after Verve’s battle, the pyre flames shot upward, licking the night sky. Verve stood just within the circle of light cast by the fire and took another swig from the bottle of liquor she’d liberated from the Tipsy Willow’s stores. The mages’ souls were heading to their next lives now that their bodies were well on their way to being ash. Ivet and Alem both had insisted on burning the bodies, including the mage who’d wrecked Hadiya’s barn. Much to Verve’s bewilderment, the other villagers had agreed.
But not all battles were worth fighting. Instead, Verve savored the burn of liquor down her throat, and the pleasant fuzzy feeling in her mind that made the end of a long workday somewhat bearable.
Despite the blazing pyre, most of the Lotis villagers were in a mood to celebrate. Ivet and Dannel’s influence, perhaps, for Sufani often held rowdy celebrations during funerals, when emotions were high.
The folks of Lotis had congregated closer to the Tipsy Willow, where Berel and a few others had set up some tables outside. Dannel strummed a gitar while Berel passed around plates of something that smelled delicious, and the villagers sat together as they ate. A bubble of laughter rose from Berel; several other villagers followed suit. The sound was a little too loud, amplified by relief. The young ones sat amidst the elders, eagerly diving into their plates. Owen cast occasional glances over his shoulder, either at Verve or at the pyre, but remained seated with his fellow villagers. Alem was nowhere to be seen.
The scent of roasted turkey wafted Verve’s way and her stomach rumbled, but the thought of eating anything made her guts turn. She took another drink from the bottle.
Hadiya appeared with a viol and sat beside Dannel, and after a few hushed murmurs, the viol joined the gitar in song. The little girl, Kinneret, squealed with delight and jumped up from her seat, dancing in the spontaneous, joyous way of children. A smile tugged at Verve’s mouth before she could help herself, so she took another pull of liquor.
“You must be hungry,” Ivet said. The older Sufani bore a heaping plate of turkey, mushrooms, and some vegetables Verve couldn’t immediately identify. Ivet offered the plate, but despite Verve’s grumbling stomach, she didn’t move.
Ivet glanced over at the pyre. “Keeping watch, eh? Do you ever stop working?”
Verve tried not to smile at the gentle mockery in the other woman’s voice. “Where I come from, if you stop being careful, you die.”
“Where I come from, you’ll die no matter how careful you are. So you may as well live in the meantime.” Ivet offered the plate again. “Please, eat something. You’ve had a long day. And have you asked Alem to look at those cuts?”
The plate was heavy and warm, and in Verve’s semi-drunken state, she couldn’t find a reason to refuse any longer. She tucked the bottle into an obliging coat pocket and dug into her meal. “Alem’s a mage,” she said between mouthfuls. “And I’m dripping with hematite. His magic won’t do anything for me.”
Ivet chuckled. “Aye, but armor comes off. Or have you taken to eating the stuff like the sentinels do?”
An edge of worry tinted Ivet’s voice, but surely that was just the liquor telling lies to Verve’s ears. No one, even Usko, ever worried about her, not really. Sacha, back at Freehold, sometimes said she missed Verve, but that was just pillow talk.
“I’m reckless, not stupid,” Verve managed to reply after swallowing a bite of mushroom. “Hematite rots your innards and kills your brain. I don’t eat the stuff.”
“Thank the One for that,” Ivet replied, smiling.
“Thank the One,” Verve echoed. The words emerged as a whisper, and she couldn’t help but foolishly glance around to make sure Danya hadn’t overheard her heresy.
For a few minutes, they watched the villagers. Alem had appeared, bearing a tray and several mugs of what Verve assumed was ale. He moved with grace through the others, at once dancing and carrying the loaded tray without spilling a drop. When he set the tray down, he glanced over at Verve and Ivet. Something passed over his face, something Verve’s muddled brain didn’t want to recognize as concern. Ire spiked through her. Did Alem think she was going to hurt Ivet?
And why shouldn’t he? Danya’s voice whispered in her mind. You’re a killer. No doubt he’d never look at Verve without seeing her covered in the blood of those mages. Nor should he. It was better for everyone that met her to keep her true nature in mind.
The turkey suddenly tasted like ash. Verve stared at her plate without seeing it. The fire, once warm and inviting, now burned too hot. Screams echoed in her mind. The scent of smoke and charred bodies threatened to send up what food she’d eaten, and the darkness beyond closed in around her.
A soft touch at her shoulder made her start. Ivet watched her. “Vidahem? Are you all right?”
Verve ducked out of Ivet’s reach. “There a privy around here, or do you lot just go off the side of the dock?”
She slipped away before Ivet could answer.
Outside the bubble of warmth and light, Verve shored up her spirit against the night. She sat with her back against the remains of Hadiya’s barn, her dinner cooling on the ground beside her, a puffer in her trembling hand. Smoke from the burning dried thalo leaves rolled inside thin paper trailed toward the night sky, toward the rising quarter of the moon, Atal. The waning moon was like a lidded eye watching Verve’s every move. She took another draw from the puffer and released the smoke in a stream. A wave of calm lapped over her, dulling the sharper edges of her thoughts. After a moment, she withdrew the bottle she’d taken from the Willow and drank deeply. By now, her brain had turned into something resembling the soggy ground that had probably saved her life earlier.
“Thank the One,” she said aloud, and leaned her head back against the barn.
“There you are.” Alem’s voice broke through her stolen calm.
Verve closed her eyes, hoping to shut out his anger. “Sorry. I’ll pay for the bottle.”
