9

"Not yet," she murmurs. "Their teleportation complicates matters, but they can't fling themselves directly from the portal to here, certainly not if they intend on destroying a town afterward. Shorter ranges are much easier, for teleportation. There should still be some hint of their approach."

The wind is picking up, stronger than it was during the day. You wonder if a storm is coming. It didn't rain during the last omen in Elith, but you have no idea if that makes any kind of difference this time around.

"My teacher found this kind of night exhilarating," Meredith says, so quietly you're not sure you've heard her correctly at first. "The thrill of conflict, of preparing for battle. Not that this has to be a battle, tomorrow, or I hope it doesn't. But they would have adored it. I could never stand the tension."

"Your teacher?" you ask. "You said something about your teacher in Pasema, too. What kind of teacher were they?"

"Magic, originally," Meredith says. Her brow furrows, though you can't tell if it's in reaction to the magic she's casting or the conversation. "A more general sort of mentor, afterward. We traveled together for some time, until I betrayed them."

Her tone is so matter-of-fact that it takes you a moment to realize what she said at first. She lifts a shoulder in half a shrug. "You're not the only one trying to atone for something, you know. That's why it's difficult to tell what I should say to you. I've misjudged things before."

"When all of this started, I wasn't a traitor," Meredith says, with just a shade more heat in her voice.

"That wasn't exactly what I meant," you say, thrown by her interpretation of your phrasing.

"I know," Meredith says. "But I wasn't."

She offers no further conversation, so eventually you bid her a good night and make your way back to the inn.

Next

You discover upon making your way downstairs the next morning that Verity has requested that everyone in your group join her in her office to prepare for the day. Unsurprisingly, Verity didn't mention Evander, and the notion of including him in the sorts of plans you'll need to be making seems unworkable, so you suppose you'll need to speak with him later.

There are more guards on the streets than there were yesterday. You expected to have to give promises and reassurances, but none of them stop to speak to you, occupied by making their way to their posts. Even at the mayor's mansion, Sophia doesn't bother to welcome you, just points backward to Verity's office.

As Alvis hangs back to shut Verity's office door, Min pauses. "Wait," they say. "You're Verity Fairgrieve." Their tone is experimental, and you realize by their delighted expression afterward that they were testing for a lie. "You are! I've heard descriptions of you in my research—mostly in Pasema, few other people saw your real face—and, what, you thought I'd have figured it out if we met before? Jun, you might have mentioned!"

"What were you going to do if you'd said that and she wasn't?" Alvis grumbles, leaning back against the wall.

"Suggested it was an elaborate metaphor," Min says, while Verity looks faintly stunned. "I can get away with it. I'm an artist."

Next