Page 7 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“And now you’ve just provedmypoint. You never know what you want, which is why those decisions always fall on me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, go fuck off with the wizards, be my guest. But we’ll see how long that lasts before you change your mind again.”
“I don’t need your permission to leave.”
“Then leave!”
“Yes,leave, so I can get some godsdamned sleep!” snapped a voice from the darkness.
“This is none of your business,” Neldren snapped back.
“You made it my business the moment you decided to have your lovers’ spat next to my bunk!”
As Neldren and the old man bickered, Mavery seized the opportunity. She shouldered past Neldren, who didn’t move from the doorway but also didn’t prevent her from leaving. No doubt their heated argument had traveled downstairs. She took the back exit to avoid receiving Ellice and Itri’s questions, too—assuming they would even care. From what Mavery had seen tonight, Neldren was molding his newest protégés in his own image.
It was still a few hours until sunrise, so Burnslee was dark andquiet. Only the light of the second moon and the glow from the windows of Seringoth’s Rest illuminated the village; it lacked even a single lamppost.
Mavery turned onto the main road and followed it out of the village. She had no goal in mind, other than to put as much distance between herself and Neldren as possible. Flurries danced in the bitter breeze, and snowmelt soaked through her worn boots. But her coat remained unbuttoned. The residual anger from her argument had left her arcana flaring in her veins; that alone was enough to warm her.
After walking for a few minutes, she came to where the building-lined roads gave way to open fields. The River Merimar was just over the horizon. From there, she could hitch a ride on a boat and make her way…somewhere. So long as she wouldn’t have to cross paths with Neldren again, her destination didn’t matter.
A few paces later, the ash-tinged scent of shadow magic made her stop in her tracks, but she did not turn around.
“Of course you followed me,” she sighed. “Thought you could change my mind?”
The scent faded as Neldren dismissed his shadows.
“No.” His voice lacked even a hint of emotion. “I realized you left with something that belongs to me—to the crew.”
She turned to him with a hard stare. He could control the shadows as though they were an extension of himself, but she had a more varied arsenal of magic at her disposal.
“You’re talking about my cut from the job.”
“It stopped beingyourcut the second you decided to leave.”
“Oh, piss off.”
As she turned away, he reached a hand inside his coat and whipped it out again with a flash of silver. She threw up her left hand, summoning a ward, while her right hand reached for her dagger. She sensed in quick succession a metallic taste, a small explosion, a white-hot pain deep in her gut. She looked down to see a dark red spot blooming on her shirt. She gripped her stomach, and her fingers became slick with blood.
Neldren had stabbed her.
No. She’d summoned her ward before he’d struck; a mere bladecouldn’t pass through her magic that easily. This pain was deeper, more agonizing, than a stab wound.
Neldren hadshother.
Her eyesight blurred. She blinked, and the pistol in his hand came into focus. She could almost forgive him for stabbing her, but shooting her was an even greater betrayal. In her delirium, the only thing she could focus on was the weapon that had made their line of work all but obsolete.
“You…have…a gun?”
Speaking those four short words pushed her pain over the edge. Her legs gave out. Her bad knee screamed in agony as she fell forward, landing on her stomach, but the pain from her gut promptly drowned it out. As she began to fade out of consciousness, she heard Neldren rummage through her pack.
“Bastard.”
She wasn’t certain if she managed to speak the word, or only think it. One thingwasfor certain: if she needed a sign that she was due for a career change, she doubted she’d ever get one clearer than this.
Three
She awoke to the scent of blood and bile mixed with something she couldn’t quite place. Pine, or was it juniper berries? At first, she thought she was in her bunk at the inn, but the room was too bright, the air too clean, the blanket covering her too thick. She was not lying on a rickety bunk, but a single bed with an iron frame. To her left, someone coughed, and the noise echoed through the spacious, high-ceilinged room. She looked to the source of the coughing, but a wood-paneled divider blocked her view.
She was in an infirmary, that much was clear. But why was she here? How had she gotten here? More importantly: how long had she beenhere?
