AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Well, it hardly matters now,” Danya said. “He’s in our custody. Put him out of your mind.”
“But what was he?” Verve pressed. “If mages have learned a new kind of magic, shouldn’t we investigate? It’s our job to keep normal folks safe.”
Danya removed her spectacles to pinch the bridge of her nose. She was an older woman, well into her fifties, with brown skin and long iron-gray hair woven a crisp braid that fell down her back. “Can you not listen to me, even for a moment? All that matters is the prisoner. They wanted him alive, after all.”
“Who’s they?” Verve asked. “I thought Atal’s Chosen worked only for the people of Freehold.”
“Some questions are best left unasked,” Danya replied. “Don’t press this matter further.”
But Verve couldn’t help herself — which was always her biggest problem. “Why keep this a secret? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Danya snapped. “And I’ll warn you to keep your wits and your silence. Vervaine, you’re my oldest and most skilled Chosen warrior. I took you in as a child, fed you, clothed you, and gave you a better life than you ever could have dreamed. Yet you return my gracious favor with malicious questions.” She gave a labored sigh. “If you will not behave for your own good, think of the example you’re setting for Usko and the others.”
Verve hunched her shoulders, trying to make herself smaller. She was taller than most women and many men, but Danya could make her feel no bigger than a teacup. “I’m sorry, serla. But as you’ve taught me, we can’t take any chances with mages.”
Verve’s deferential use of the formal address always mollified Danya. But as Danya came around the desk and touched Verve’s chin to draw her gaze, Verve fought back the instinct to flinch away from the other woman’s touch.
“No, we cannot take chances with mages,” Danya said. “But the world is changing and I fear our little haven here will suffer.”
“What’s changing, serla?” Verve asked before she could stop herself. Her breath caught. “Is it Legion? Are they coming?”
The Legion of the Pure: a place and a people. A massive city-state built on the ruins of Whitewater City, several weeks’ journey east of Freehold. In the Sundering’s aftermath, many had fled the magic-sowed chaos to Legion, where the god Atal had supposedly returned to keep his supplicants safe from the magic-users. Everyone knew the folks of Legion hated mages, which meant Verve should have considered Legion folks allies. But even the thought of Legion made Verve’s head light, as if she couldn’t suck in enough air.
Danya’s expression did not waver from kind concern. “Don’t fret about Legion,” Danya said. “You’re a good girl, but I can tell you’ve been working too hard lately. My fault, I know. I push you. You’re so skilled, but you are still young.”
Verve bristled. “I’m twenty-four summers.”
“Aye,” Danya said fondly. “But sometimes to me, you are still that little heathen child I found in the orphanage.” She dropped her hand and went to her desk, rifling through various stacks of paper before withdrawing a letter.
“I’ve news of your cousin,” Danya said, returning to Verve’s side. “A Sufani caravan matching the description you gave me was spotted in Starwatch Province, a few months ago.”
Verve’s heart lifted. She reached for the letter, her fingertips just brushing the parchment as a smile broke free across her face. “By the One! Are they still there? May I go—”
The slap across her mouth stung, and she snapped her jaw shut. Danya glared at her, although her voice was soft. “I have indeed failed to rid you of your Sufani ways, Vervaine, if you have not yet learned this lesson: Hide your heart, child, lest evil-doers use it against you. Atal demands nothing less than everything you have, and you cannot serve Him by half-measures.”
Mouth burning, Verve bit back her grimace and lowered her gaze. Stupid—utterly, completely stupid—to mention the Sufani god before her patron — one of Atal’s most devoted servants. Verve knew better.
And yet.
Danya waited a beat before continuing. “I need a little more time, but I’m sure we’ll find your cousin soon, you poor thing. Everyone should have some blood family.”
Verve nodded. Heat pricked her eyes but she refused to let her tears fall lest she receive another blow for such an emotional display.
“In the meantime,” Danya continued, tucking the letter in a pocket of her robe. “I have another job for you.”
“Please, not another capture.” Verve tried to keep her voice light.
Danya arched a thin brow. “The very least you can do for the woman who raised you is follow a simple order.”
Long years of practice helped Verve suppress a groan. “Yes, serla.”
Danya went to her ledger and skimmed her finger down the open page, eyes darting over the text. “Marea Damaris, a mage famous—or infamous, I should say—for manipulating the weather in their locality.”
Verve’s mind leaped on the information. “A particle mage, then?”
“Aye.”
Particle mages were the most common sort of magic-user, able to bend physical elements to their will. A few generations ago, most mages were particle mages and were capable of more or less the same magic: creating fire, purifying water, controlling gusts of wind or blooms of fog, making plants grow, among other talents. But after the Sundering of Aredia, mages’ abilities had become more specialized. Now, most magic-users could only manipulate one sort of particle, and so had their own focuses: fire, water, earth, and so on. Which sounded easier to defeat — until you actually squared off against a mage who’d practically been born breathing fire.
