Page 2 of Assassin's Mercy

“Ser Vervaine,” one of the gate-guards called, lifting her hand. “I trust that mage is properly bound?”

Verve paused her horse and peered up at the armored figure. “Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Sacha?”

The guard’s helmet almost hid her smile. Almost. She had a lovely smile. “Of course not,” she replied with exaggerated formality. “I’m simply doing my duty to protect Freehold. Someone has to, given how those moon-blooded maniacs tear through the country like they own it.”

The mage-on-mage fighting had been going on for about a hundred and fifty years, since the Sundering that had fractured Aredia. Mages had once been safely contained behind hematite-filled walls, until they had rebelled, murdering the Aredian queen and casting the country into turmoil. The magic-users, finally free to wield their magic as they saw fit, chose not to help heal the land they had sundered, but rather to war with one another over resources and territory, leaving non-magic folks to band together and defend themselves. Because of Verve and the other Chosen, Freehold was one of the few safe havens for those who couldn’t shoot fireballs out of their asses.

Verve winked at the guard. “Do you ever stop being so diligent, Sacha?” Sacha’s neck flushed pink and Verve couldn’t resist adding, “When are you off-duty next?”

Sacha sighed. “Not until first light.”

“Well, next night you’re free, I’ll buy you a drink and tell you the story,” Verve replied. “But I must check in with Serla Danya now.”

“And I thought I was diligent,” Sacha replied, chuckling.

“Ea’s balls,” the second guard muttered. “Stop making eyes at the mage-hunter, Sacha. Ser Vervaine, thank you as ever for your efforts to keep Freehold safe. We are all indebted to you and all of Atal’s Chosen. But please take your prisoner and move along.”

Verve saluted and led her horse through the ironwood gates. They closed with a familiar groan and she exhaled. She was back where she belonged.

Freehold was a large village that dearly wanted to be called a city. No doubt it would, one day, for every time Verve passed through the streets, she saw new faces, heard new voices. Most folks parted to let her pass, whispering to each other or calling out a friendly greeting. One less mage in the world meant these people were that much safer. Verve squared her shoulders and held her head high, and the tightness in her chest that always accompanied her on a mission began to ease.

You do good things, too, she told herself.

At the edge of Silverwood Province, Freehold was one of the few places regular folks could live without fear of the magic-users’ war. Danya, the Circle priest who’d taken over as town magistrate when the former magistrate had been killed by mages, had installed hematite fittings into the town’s stone walls. Although the ore was rare, Danya had also ensured that every citizen in Freehold had a hematite amulet to wear as additional protection against magic. No one asked where she’d gotten the precious material. Once upon a time, there had been an old hematite mine to the west, over in Stonehaven Province, but mages had destroyed that too.

But life in Freehold was peaceful, thanks to Verve and the other Chosen’s efforts. The Argus Mountains loomed to the north, standing sentinel over the town and its denizens, while the Temple of Atal rested on a small hill at the center of town. Another wall and gate protected the temple. Verve didn’t flirt with any of the guards here, but hurried inside the temple courtyard. While most of Silverwood Province boasted little but saffron-colored prairie grasses, Danya had coaxed a lush oasis to grow in the temple garden, filled with fruit and nut trees.

Usko, one of Danya’s other Chosen foundlings, spotted Verve across the courtyard and raced over, his bare feet slapping against the flagstones. “Back, already?” he said, grabbing at her horse’s reins. He was nineteen summers, five years younger than Verve, but his round face made him seem no more than fourteen. He glanced at her bound prey and laughed. “I knew you would be fast. You just won me twenty silvers.”

Verve lifted a brow. “That’s all?” She clucked her tongue. “Surely, my skills warrant at least thirty.”

“Sure.” He grinned and held out his palm, calloused from years of weapons-training. “Lend it to me, and I’ll share the profits with you next time.”

She playfully slapped his hand and headed for the temple’s interior. “Make your own profits, Usko.”

He gave a dramatic sigh. “Danya says I’m not ready for a mission alone.”

“Danya knows best,” Verve replied by route. She dug around in one of the pouches at her belt and tossed Usko a silver coin. “Take care of the horse and help secure the prisoner, and I’ll give you some more pointers next time we spar.”

Usko caught the coin with practiced grace and grinned again. “Deal. And Verve…welcome back. We missed you.”

* * *

Verve had timed her arrival just right. Within the temple, the evening services were still a few hours away, so she met only a few Circle priests as she slipped through the corridors to Danya’s quarters. The sharp scents of clove and pine incense drifted along with Verve, guiding her toward Danya’s office, where she found the head priest scribbling in a massive ledger, spectacles reflecting the lamplight. The priest’s office was dark, the windows covered by thick curtains, with only a few oil lamps set at strategic places to allow Danya to see what always seemed to Verve like endless stacks of paperwork. Running a town like Freehold required a lot of time and energy.

Indeed, the priest was so engrossed in her work that Verve had to practically shout her greeting before Danya looked up.

“Vervaine, you’re back.” Danya tilted her head, expectant. “I trust you found success on your mission?”

“The mage is dead. The other’s in our holding cells…” Something in Verve’s stomach rolled.

Danya clasped her hands and peered at Verve from over her spectacles. “What’s wrong? Were you injured?”

“No, serla. But the prisoner…” Verve hesitated. “There was something strange about him. He seemed to sense me, and—”

“Sense you?” Danya broke in. “How?”

Verve glanced up to see the priest studying her. “I don’t know,” Verve said, careful to keep her features neutral. “I just felt…like I was being watched.” She shivered at the memory of something crawling up her spine. “You said he wasn’t a mage. But I was dripping in hematite and he still did…something to me.”

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