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A Job Well Done
Verve spent the night back in her tiny room in Atal’s temple and left before first light. The trip to meet Danya’s contact passed in a blur that she blamed on her hangover. Thank the One for the two fleet deer that bore Verve and her prisoner; they made swift (if stomach-jarring) progress away from Freehold and over the Silverwood prairie. Sunlight assaulted Verve today, so she kept her hood up and squinted over the saffron-colored grasses, trying not to think about how much she missed the shady swamps of Greenhill Province — where Lotis lived.
She and her prisoner had left Freehold before dawn, so they arrived at the meeting place as the cicadas sang the world to sleep at dusk. The White River flowed about half a mile away, twisting like a snake through the grasslands. Verve pulled the meridian, bound with iron chains, from his mount and set him down upon the grass. The fleets’ tack came next, and for a little while, she only had to think about caring for the large deer after a day of hard travel. Danya’s contact was to meet them here soon; Verve planned to spend the night to let the fleet rest, then return to Freehold at first light.
As she rubbed the sweat from each fleet deer’s brindled coat, Celidon watched her. The month spent in Danya’s custody had not been kind: he was thinner and grayer than Verve recalled, bruised in shades of purple and yellow where the chains had touched his skin. His eyes were brown, without a trace of the flickering light she’d seen in Sohvi’s, but even in his filthy, battered state, he emanated an aura of calm.
Once the fleets were cared for, Verve turned her attention to supper: nuts, cheese, dried meat, bread. Simple fare, no fire needed, but Clo the quartermaster had packed only enough for one. Frankly, none of it looked appetizing. She studied the food spread on a cloth, then glanced back at the meridian.
“Hungry?” she asked.
He blinked. “Does it matter?”
“That’s why I asked.” She offered him the dried meat, which would be the most filling and the easiest for him to eat with bound hands.
He hesitated, but his stomach snarled and at last he accepted, shoving the food into his mouth, gnawing like a wild animal. Verve turned her attention to the cheese, but watched him from the corner of her eye. My dear friend, Sohvi had called him.
All day, Verve had been expecting to turn around and find Sohvi and Hasina close on her heels, hoping to make a desperate rescue. But there’d been no sign of the other meridian, or anyone else hell-bent on rescuing Celidon. Verve drew her crossbow and surveyed the surrounding prairie again. Other than rippling grasses, there was no sign of pursuit.
Stomach in knots, she turned her gaze more northward, toward Legion’s territory. And like a fool, she hoped.
For a few minutes, Verve saw nothing, and almost started to believe that Danya’s contact wasn’t who she feared. But then something gleamed in the distance and Verve’s fingers tightened over her crossbow. If she squinted, she could make out riders moving closer. Danya’s contact and their escort, no doubt, heading straight from Legion’s turf.
Run, her heart whispered, but Verve ground her teeth against the bile rising in the back of her throat. She was not a child any longer. She was on a sanctioned job for an established priest of Atal; as far as the Legion folks knew, she was an ally. Even so, she ensured her Sufani scarf was safely tucked away in her bodice. Hide your heart, child, lest it betray your life.
The knots in her stomach had tightened, which meant her meal held even less appeal now, so she went back over to the meridian. “Still hungry?” she asked, offering the bread.
But he did not accept this time. “What game are you playing?”
“No game,” she said. “You just look like you need a good meal.”
“And whose fault is that?” he snapped. Fire flickered in his eyes, just for a second. “Are you trying to make yourself feel better about killing my anchor and taking me prisoner? Do you know what Legion will do to me?”
Her breath caught. “It’s not personal—”
“Go fuck yourself,” he broke in. “That is personal. How dare you think to soothe your guilt by sharing this,” he kicked the bread away, “with me? You think a hunk of bread will help you sleep at night?”
The war within her heart waged on. Shame won, burning through her blood, and her reply came out through a clenched jaw. “You don’t understand—”
He laughed aloud, the sound hollow against the fading daylight. “I understand enough. I know you, Vervaine. I looked into your shadowed heart when we first met. I see what you are, perhaps more clearly than you do. A liar, a killer, a monster.” Again, his eyes blazed briefly. “You have suffered, perhaps, but you have dedicated yourself to making others suffer, too. And for that, you deserve whatever grisly fate your precious Atal has in store for you.”
“I’m…sorry,” she stammered.
But he scoffed and rattled the chains around his arms. “No, you’re not. You just don’t like feeling bad about the evil things you’ve done. You’re not sorry, and Karel is still dead, and I’m soon to follow. And nothing ever changes.”
The sun crept closer to the horizon. The riders were closer now, still out of earshot, but they would be here soon. Verve fought for simple speech, but did not question why she wanted to defend herself to her prisoner, of all people.
“Nothing will ever change,” she said. “So we must change ourselves to fit the shape of the world.”
“If you truly believe that,” the meridian said, “then you have already lost whatever battle you think you’re fighting.”
They stared at each other, the meridian and the assassin. Something wet trickled down Verve’s cheeks, but she didn’t move to swipe the tears away.
Celidon’s regard sharpened, but he said nothing. Even chained, sick, and weak, he lifted his chin and met her gaze with defiance. And for the second time in her life, she saw what true courage looked like.
Courage wasn’t a priest cloaked in black and white, teaching children how to kill. Courage, true courage, was being broken, shattered, yet still building a life in a new place. Courage wasn’t Danya; it was Ivet, Dannel, and the other Lotis villagers. It was her mother, father, siblings, and all the Sufani who’d gone to their deaths with their heads held high.
Alem had been right. Verve had a choice. Too bad this one was the last she’d ever make.
