Page 17 of Lich's Mate

The guard returns to the front of the caravan, the woman still clutching her hand in pain. She almost doubles over in her cage.

You could have attacked the lone guard, I think. It would have caught the others unaware.

But really, if I had been more prepared, I could have uprooted this operation much more easily. Simple explosives would have stopped this. After all, it’s not as though I care about the human captives. I could have planted the explosives while nobody was looking, then ran off on my way, with nobody any the wiser.

Or I could have used my shadow tendrils to pick each of those xaphans apart, one by one. I would have made sure their deaths were excruciating, to the point where they’d beg to die instead of endure one more moment of living.

I just wanted to hit Gorran where it hurt.

Next time, I vow to myself. Next time I’m not going to stall.

The carriage resumes its movement into the early morning. I listen in from behind, looking for opportunities to intervene.

But it becomes exceedingly clear to me that for whatever reason, I’m hesitating to attack. I know that there have been chances.

It seems as though the beautiful woman and the curly red-haired one have a preexisting relationship. I know that their conversations won’t give me any insight that might help me with my mission, except that one of them confirms what I already knew.

This caravan was organized—quite ineffectively—by Gorran. I hear vague hints of what might have started this meager operation too, with vague mentions of a fallen xaphan.

Otherwise, as I feel myself growing tired, they reminisce about life, back where they came from. They speak in hushed tones over the grinding of the wheels, talking about everything except for the incident that brought them to this caravan. It lingers in their conversation like a ghost, subtly in the background, making itself known, but never brought to the forefront.

Occasionally, I glimpse the woman, but I force myself to look away. I’m now not sure if this is magic. But I know that I can’t allow myself to be distracted by her.

The caravan stops one more time just outside of the city, and I think I see my opportunity, readying myself to move quickly.

But as I notice seemingly all the other guards coming back at once, I realize that I’m once again outclassed, and I grow still.

They mention some vague nonsense about treating the women better, in order to trick the markets. They say that nobody wants to buy damaged goods—that if they try selling them as they are, it will reflect poorly on the operation.

Far too late for that, I think. You’ve already ruined them.

But as I clench my fists, knowing that I’ve already missed my chance to strike, I commit myself to attacking at the next opportunity.

As they’ve clearly stated, the auction block is not far into the city. And with the sun already rising, it’s not as though I can strike in broad daylight, with the eyes of New Solas well upon me, either.

Am I really going to have to attack well into the bidding? I ask myself. It might be the only chance at this point.

Gorran might have neglected almost every step of this process. But he did at least ensure that his caravan was well-guarded.

And if I’m too obvious, then Gorran will see me coming from a thousand miles away.

After the guards have brought portions of braised meat and fresh water to the prisoners, the suffering woman appeased despite her throbbing hand, the caravan resumes its movement.

And I continue formulating.

I wish I knew New Solas better. Because as I trail as innocuously as possible, trying and failing to pose as a civilian, no ideas are reaching me. I can feel the eyes of civilians upon me, relieved as none of them point me out to the caravan.

Though I want to strike the auction proceedings, my mission doesn’t end with this one caravan.

I want to obliterate Gorran. And I want him to be completely unprepared for me.

I smile at the thought of him lost in confusion, as his operation crumbles beneath him. And I don’t want him to know who’s doing it. Not until the very last second, when I can look him in the eyes.

7

MEERA

This is it.

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