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The Meridian
A few days after the storm, more visitors came to Lotis.
Verve had spent the day scouting the surrounding area, searching for traces of a lightning mage’s presence, and so did not learn of the newcomers until Owen, breathless, found her on her way back early that evening. She’d risked the raft again, for it made travel quicker and easier—assuming she didn’t fall off—and so she poled along beside the marsh bank as Owen reported the news.
“Ivet called one of them a ‘meridian,’” Owen said as he trotted along the bank, parallel to Verve.
Verve frowned. “Never heard of them. Are they a mage?”
“I don’t think so. Well, maybe,” he admitted. “Ivet said something about meridians being able to ‘pull out the truth like a rotten tooth.’ The meridian—she said her name was Sohvi—looks… strange. Her eyes sort of glow, sometimes.”
Glowing eyes. Verve recalled Alem’s story of the old man who’d rescued him as a boy. And her own encounter in the caverns, with the man she’d brought to Danya. Misgiving pricked at the base of her spine. “And the other?”
Owen grinned. “Hasina. Judging from the axes she’s wearing, she’s either a warrior or a really dedicated woodcutter. You’ll love her. Maybe you can spar together. Or she’ll turn out to be evil, and you’ll fight each other.” Owen added. “Either way, I want to watch. I bet I could learn a lot.”
It was easier to lower her guard around the kid. He reminded Verve of Usko in some ways. Too eager to grow up; too young to realize the error. “I hope the former,” she said.
But she was prepared for the latter.
After arriving back at Lotis, she tied up the raft and checked her weapons — just in case. Walking into the Willow with her crossbow loaded would probably not go over well—Owen had said Ivet had offered the newcomers shelter for the night, which meant they were guests—but Verve ensured the rest of her weapons, including her wire bracelet, were hidden but close to hand.
She entered the tavern, where Owen had already returned. Inside, many of the Lotis villagers sat in a semi-circle around the newcomers: two older women. One had thick silver braids draped down her back, while the other sported close-cropped, white hair. As Owen had reported, a pair of sharp axes rested at the short-haired woman’s belt, and Verve frowned at the sight. Why had Alem not confiscated her weapons?
Come to think of it… where was Alem? He wasn’t behind the bar or among the other locals here. Perhaps he was in the storeroom. Still, Verve approached the group on wary steps.
“Ah, there you are,” Ivet called, beckoning her forward. “I’ll apologize now for letting strangers among us—she’s very protective,” she added as an aside to the newcomers, “but you must meet our new friends.”
The woman with the braids glanced over at Verve. Her eyes were brown, surely, but for a moment, they glowed like twin stars. The sight froze Verve in place. Magic. It must be. But what sort of mage had glowing eyes?
The meridian regarded Verve with interest. “You are Vervaine.”
It wasn’t a question. And Verve had not told Ivet—or anyone here—her full name.
She kept her features impassive and gave a shallow bow. “You must be Sohvi.”
The warrior, Hasina, shifted, gaze locked onto Verve. The meridian inclined her head and the glow in her eyes faded, leaving them a predictable dark brown. “You have recently come to Lotis?”
“Yes,” Verve replied.
No one else spoke. All the air in the tavern seemed to have evaporated. Why did Verve feel like she was under investigation?
“From where?” Sohvi asked. Her voice was melodic, but Verve could hear a polished, keen edge. And Hasina stared at her like she’d caught Verve in bed with her lover.
Verve strolled through the tavern as if she owned it, hoping her bravado would ease some of the tension and give her a moment to collect her wits. She went behind the bar—still no sign of Alem—and poured herself a drink before replying. “I get around. You?”
“Our home is in Pillau,” Sohvi said, her gaze sliding to Ivet. “But we have traveled far.”
“I imagine so,” Ivet replied, nodding. “Are the stories true?”
What stories? Verve tensed as she waited for Sohvi’s response.
“Depends on the stories,” Sohvi said, a smile in her voice. She cast a glance at Hasina. “I drag my poor anchor all across Aredia.”
“Yes, poor me, indeed.” Hasina’s grin transformed her face as much as the fondness in her voice. So they were lovers, or something like it. Verve stored the information away. Stranger, though, was the term “anchor” in this context. Was Hasina a sailor or something?
Verve took another draw from her mug, savoring Alem’s jessamin-sweetened ale. She preferred liquor, but something about these two newcomers made her want to keep her head clear a while longer. When she looked up, Sohvi stood on the other side of the bar. Hasina spoke to the others; by the cadence of her voice, she was telling them some story that had them all enchanted.
Sohvi studied Verve. “I know you.”
