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“Most people don’t like to admit that,” Verve replied, drinking again.
Something flashed in Sohvi’s eyes. Not that weird glow, but something else. Anger. But her voice was steady as a river. “Hasina and I are seeking another meridian. A dear friend of mine. His name is Celidon.”
“Get behind me, Celidon.”
Verve’s fingers tightened around the mug’s handle as the memory flared to life. She’d stalked the mage and his strange companion, followed them beneath the ground, across the underground river.
“No one here by that name,” she managed at last, and took another sip.
“So I hear. But you know where he is, Vervaine.”
Verve tried to give a dismissive laugh. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea, ser. I’m not your friend’s keeper.”
“No.” Sohvi’s eyes glowed now, bright enough to sting. “But you are Karel’s killer. I saw you. Cel showed me everything, right before you took him into custody, right before you clapped him in irons and cut off our connection. And now,” she leaned forward, piercing Verve with that star-bright gaze, “you will tell me where Celidon is.”
The mug slipped from Verve’s hand. It hit the floor and shattered, and the tavern went silent again. Verve tried to move, tried to back away, but Sohvi’s gaze held her in place as much as her memories of the encounter in the cavern. Her heart tore at her chest, her hands shook, her breath came short, but she could not run away, nor hide. All she could do was stare at the meridian and fight back the urge to confess all of her sins.
“I… d-don’t know what you mean,” she stammered at last.
Sohvi’s eyes glowed brighter, blinding, searing. Verve couldn’t look away. Was no one going to intervene?
Why should they, when she was in the wrong? Why should anyone help a monster?
Verve was alone, as she’d been for so long. She would always be alone.
She deserved to be alone.
Sohvi’s voice sounded in Verve’s mind, as though the other woman spoke aloud. Where is Celidon?
The words echoed in her brain like a hundred gongs ringing. Verve couldn’t shut them out, couldn’t ignore them, couldn’t hide or run away. Her throat burned with the truth, and eventually, it clawed its way free. She lost.
“Freehold,” she whispered. “He’s in Freehold.”
The glow dimmed. Sohvi leaned back, a satisfied tilt to her chin. She glanced over her shoulder, where Hasina stood, watching the two of them. Verve hadn’t noticed when the warrior had gotten up.
At Sohvi’s look, the warrior nodded, then looked back at Ivet. “I’m sorry, ser, but it appears we’ll not be staying the night after all.”
To Verve’s shock—and relief—the Lotis villagers seemed not to have noticed the… whatever had occurred between her and Sohvi. Ivet did give Verve a mildly curious glance, but seemed otherwise unconcerned. “I’m sorry to hear that, but of course, you must be quite busy.”
The meridian and her warrior left, but Verve hardly noticed. She tried to sweep up the broken ceramic from her mug, but her hands shook and her head was light, and she couldn’t work the broom properly.
Ivet returned, coming around the bar. “Verve? Are you all right?”
No. Verve nodded briskly. “I’m fine, Ivet. Just tired. And clumsy, it seems.”
Ivet gave her a warm look. “Vidahem, you work too hard. Besides, I didn’t pay you to clean. Go rest. We’ll take care of this.” She shooed Verve out from behind the bar and called someone else over to sweep.
Verve didn’t look at anyone as she slipped outside, sucking in the evening air that was still a little too cool for spring. The meridian was gone, but Verve could still see her eyes, burning like stars.
She swiped at her cheeks and stared at the moisture on her fingers. When was the last time she’d wept?
Atal hung on the horizon like a lidded eye. The waning moon reminded her of her mission, so Verve dug her nails into her palm. She had to focus. The pain broke through her stupid self-pity, brought her back to her senses. Even so, her hands trembled as she fished out her tinderbox and another puffer from her pocket.
She lit the puffer, and a few deep draws brought her a sense of calm once more, chasing away the memory of Sohvi’s star-bright eyes, of Celidon’s pleas for his life.
“It was just a job,” Verve said to no one. “It wasn’t personal. It was for the greater good.”
All true. So why did she still weep?
