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Almost.
Alem glanced out the window again. “I realized what Sohvi was the second Owen described her to me.”
“You don’t like meridians?”
He gave a soft, bitter laugh. “Much the opposite.” At her confused look, he folded his legs and sat back down. She followed, blowing the puffer smoke out of the window as he continued. “Meridians can live much longer than normal folks. The man who saved me when I was a boy — he was a meridian. One of the first ones, so I later learned. His name was Milo. He was…kind. Gentle. He discouraged fighting, even shouting in anger. He always tried to bring peace to anyone in a conflict. When Milo discovered my abilities, he encouraged me to use them for good things: to heal, to comfort, to ease pain.”
Alem leaned his chin on his hand. “Most mages used to be able to do what I can: to manipulate a body’s particles. Most of them used that power to heal. But some…” He took a deep breath. “Some, I’m told, used it for ill-deeds. They could dismantle a body, piece by piece. They could destroy someone from the inside-out, steal their energy, their magic, indeed their very life, with a simple touch. So you can understand why dendric mages like me were hunted down and destroyed. Eventually, so Milo said, the ability grew more rare, until it all but vanished.”
None of that had occurred to Verve, and she couldn’t suppress a shudder at the images his word evoked. “And I thought mages throwing fireballs or turning into giant bears were bad.”
“Hardly the worst evils magic can do.” Alem offered her a crooked smile, which faded quickly. “Growing up, my parents taught me to fear my magic. They were terrified using it would get me killed — or worse. Instead, it got them killed. I hated who I was for a long time after. Milo helped me learn to like myself, even embrace my abilities. But he always cautioned me to use my powers to heal, not to harm.” He sighed heavily. “I wanted so badly to be a meridian like him. Meridians help people; they heal the spirit. They make the world a better place.”
Well, that sounded strange, but interesting in an even stranger way — like how her target Celidon had somehow sensed Verve right before she’d taken him prisoner. “So they are mages?”
“No. Meridians acquire their abilities later in life, usually after years of training and preparation, and a recommendation from another meridian.”
Verve considered this. “‘Acquire their abilities?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”
Alem shook his head. “I don’t know the specifics, but their powers have something to do with,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “the Fae.”
Verve stared at him, then threw back her head and laughed. “The Fae? Those creatures in the children’s tales? I thought you were too old to believe in glimmer stories.”
“Laugh all you want—”
“Oh, I will,” Verve giggled.
“I’ve seen meridians work their own sort of magic,” Alem went on. “But while they’re powerful in their own rights, their connection to the Fae has odd consequences. Like… they can’t touch iron. It burns them or something.”
This gave Verve pause, for Sohvi had mentioned iron rather scornfully. And Celidon had reacted badly at the iron chains she’d bound him with. “You’ve seen iron burn a meridian?”
“Well, no,” Alem admitted. “But Milo spoke of it.”
Weirder and weirder. Verve hummed in thought. “What sort of magic do meridians do again?”
“They have some sort of connection to the Fae realm, and use it to heal wounds—not physical ones, but scars on people’s minds and hearts.”
None of that sounded like either of her encounters with meridians. Verve sniffed at her bottle of Dilt brandy, in case someone had spiked it with something stronger. Much stronger. “You believe all of this fae shit?”
“I saw Milo use these powers a few times when I lived in Pillau. The meridians have a…haven there, called Mirrormoon.”
“Well, they sound perfect for you,” Verve replied. “Why didn’t you join them?”
Alem’s jaw tightened. “They don’t allow mages in their ranks.”
Verve pursed her lips. “Seems foolish. You’re already a powerful healer. What’s the problem?”
He sighed heavily. “Milo never quite explained, not to my satisfaction, anyway. He only said ‘I’m sorry, but I made a promise.’ As best I can figure, mage magic doesn’t mix well with meridian abilities.”
But that was clearly a cold comfort. Verve had an urge to put a hand on his cheek, to pull him close, though what comfort she could offer, she had no clue.
The puffer was done, so she eased a little closer to him and told herself it was the liquor buzzing in her head that made her silently urge Alem to meet her eyes. “I don’t care how old and-or wise this Milo person is,” she said. “If he rejected you, he’s a sodding fool.”
Alem gave her a thin smile. “He wasn’t, but thanks. But maybe you can understand why I wasn’t so eager to meet with Sohvi today.”
The mention of Sohvi brought Verve’s last mission roaring back to life in her mind once more, for all that she’d hoped to obscure the memory with smoke and liquor. She pulled away, drew her legs up to her chest, and hugged her knees. Alem’s quiet admission resonated in her heart and she wanted to reciprocate somehow. But how? And more importantly, why?
If he knows more of what you are, Danya’s voice whispered in her mind, he’ll turn his back on you. Hide your heart, Vervaine, lest it betray your life.
