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A Real Mission
Several minutes later, Verve leaned against the corridor outside the supply room while Clo, the Temple’s steward, bustled within. Something crashed; the sound echoed over the temple’s walls, but Verve held her ground.
“Need any help?” she called.
“You know the rules,” Clo replied, grunting. “No one’s allowed in but me. I have a system.”
But Verve sighed dramatically. “I’m not going to swipe, break, or otherwise endanger your precious system.”
“Stay. Out.”
Verve rolled her eyes, but her mind had already wandered back to her conversation with Danya. Surely the priest wasn’t working with Legion, not after they’d caused so much chaos in Aredia. Danya was many things, but a fool wasn’t one of them. And anyone would have to be a fool to get involved with the city-state and its sentinels.
The coil of anxiety in Verve’s stomach tightened. Another clang sounded from within the supply room, and Verve started. Clo swore, quite colorfully, but Verve held her tongue this time. She had a free half-day until she was supposed to set out for Lotis, which meant a visit to her favorite inn and tavern, the Dancing Dove. Too bad Sacha wouldn’t be available, but at least the barkeep would be happy to see her. Well, happy to see her coin.
Clo emerged, a full clutch of hematite bolts in her arms, and Verve pushed off of the wall to accept her new gear. “Thanks,” she said as she gathered the bolts. “This’ll come in handy.”
The steward eyed her. “That scarf’s looking ragged,” she said. “Hasn’t Serla Danya told you to replace it?”
Verve’s hand stole to the dark silk wrapped around her braids, and she tried not to tuck under the hem too obviously. She rarely wore her scarf in Freehold, but she’d been so eager to get back, removing it had slipped her mind. Could Clo see the colorful embroidery on the underside? Would she demand Verve give it up?
Best to play things casual. Verve shrugged. “Later. I want to get underway.”
Clo grunted and turned to leave, but paused when Verve called her name. “You don’t have a boat back there, do you?” Verve asked.
The steward blinked. She was a slight woman, but Verve knew from experience the former mercenary had more weapons hidden on her than most well-to-do frips had in their armories.
Clo wrinkled her nose. “Are you pranking me?”
“Never,” Verve said. “But Serla Danya said I’d need a boat for my next mission, and I have no idea where to get one.”
Freehold was landlocked and several days’ journey from the White River, so a boat wasn’t easily acquired in these parts.
The steward considered. “This is for the job to Lotis? I’d try Cypress Edge. Small town near the Greenhill marshes, so they ought to have what you need. Wait.” She ducked back into the room and emerged a few moments later with a coin purse.
“For the boat.” She tossed the purse to Verve, who fumbled to catch it, and by some miracle of the One god didn’t drop any of the bolts. She wouldn’t dare, not with Clo scowling at her like that. Evidently, Danya’s preference for minimal facial expressions didn’t extend to the staff. Or it did — but only in Danya’s presence.
Verve bowed to the steward. “Thanks. See you around. Atal bless you.”
Clo muttered a response and stalked back to her office, leaving Verve alone — for about thirty seconds. As Verve went to her room to drop off her gear, Usko and two of the other Chosen, Brak and Livia, met her in the corridor.
“You’re not leaving already, are you?” Usko asked, while the other two Chosen peered up at Verve with wide eyes.
Verve dumped the bolts on her bed. Her room was sparse: just a bed, trunk, and desk, all of it utilitarian. Danya didn’t care for frivolities like color or light; most of the Chosen’s rooms didn’t even have a window. But it hardly mattered to Verve. She wasn’t here enough to care that the room was so plain.
“I’m setting out at first light,” she said to Usko. “And no, you can’t come with me.”
He pouted, but the expression was fleeting. “I know that. I wanted to see if you’re free to spar. I’ve really been practicing my dagger-work.”
“He’s really good,” Livia chimed in. She was younger than Usko, barely fifteen. “He almost beat Trainer Aya a couple days ago.”
Verve arched a brow at Usko. “Is that so?”
Usko’s shrug was too deliberate to be casual. “It was pretty close, I suppose.”
“It was really close,” Brak added, eyes wide. He was a recent addition to the Chosen’s ranks: a twig of a lad at thirteen, still all knees and eyeballs. “I can’t wait to start with daggers. Trainer Aya still has me on the stupid practice spear. It’s just a dumb stick.”
“A dumb stick that can wallop your ass if you’re not careful.” Verve pulled back her jacket to show the kids an old scar on her shoulder. “I got that from one of those ‘dumb sticks,’ when I was about your age,” she told Brak. “So don’t underestimate them.”
