Page 23 of Lich's Mate

“This one’s got a real mouth on her,” the auctioneer warns. “You’d better be careful.”

I nod ambivalently, now coming face-to-face with the woman, whose body is more or less thrown in my direction.

I still don’t know what I plan to do. I know that when we get to the nearest, quietest tavern, this woman and I are having a nice, long talk.

9

MEERA

“What are you going to do to me?”

His emotions are hard to read. He’s silent, leading me by a chain like a common animal, as he walks me through the streets.

I can tell that I’ve pissed him off. And I know that whatever grisly fate awaits me, I’m not making it any easier by annoying him.

A demon.

I’ve been bought by a demon.

I mull the words over in my mind, trying to make sense of them. I don’t know why I hoped that nobody would purchase me—that maybe I’d suffer a more generous fate and be purchased by a xaphan at another auction.

His tattered disguise is a mockery of most people’s intelligence. I can see the hood struggling to contain his horns, his eyes an unnatural color. The only way he would be well-disguised is if somebody weren’t looking directly at him.

And my mind won’t settle itself. As I’m paraded through the streets, looking at every building with apprehension, I remember what it was like to be considered a civilian—to walk freely through the city streets without eyes staring at me from every direction.

I find myself missing it.

“We’re here.”

I turn my attention from my captor toward the modest-looking building in front of me. We’ve seemingly left the quainter, more impoverished districts of the city, reaching a place where somebody might actually notice if I turned up dead.

I look at the door, deep in confusion.

“Where are we?”

He just grunts and pushes the door open, revealing a modest tavern. And to my shock, he discards the leash at the door, dropping it onto the wooden floor.

The leash is still bound around my neck, but I could easily walk away from this tavern now. I wonder if he’d give chase, or if he'd let me go free.

My eyes follow him into the empty bar, uncertain of whether or not to enter the building.

He finds a table in the corner of the bar. When I don’t follow, I think it actually upsets him.

“Well, are you coming in or not?” he asks.

A busy bartender behind the counter tries to remove water spots from a glass. There are instruments left behind on a small stage in the tavern, seemingly discarded quickly and without much care.

I watch him as I approach, expecting him to whip me or reveal this as some kind of joke. But eventually, I just sit across from him on a stool.

As the door of the tavern slams shut, a candle barely illuminates our table. He retrieves a single sheet of parchment from within the pocket of the tattered cloak.

He loudly unfolds it, and as it unfurls and opens up, it covers the entirety of the table.

Glancing at it, it appears to be a map of the surrounding area, but more focused on nearby cities than on mapping out New Solas. It doesn’t look professionally made, but the depictions are detailed and impressive nonetheless.

“Hey, could you get that candle and bring it here?” he asks. “Kinda hard to see in this fucking place.”

But my mind is filled with a million questions, and I hesitate a little too long.

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