“More like . . . I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to be somewhere else. And . . . I was a bit out of it, but—she knew my name, and said we weren’t supposed to meet until next year.”
“You know what else?” Veranix said. “She talked to me like she knew me.”
“Well, she did that with all of us,” Verci said.
“No, I mean, she . . . for a moment there, she knew me. Like I was a dear old friend she hadn’t seen in years.”
“She kept saying something about being who she was supposed to be tomorrow,” Jerinne said, looking to Veranix. “Is that possible? Can magic—or whatever she was doing—can that be used to know the future?”
Veranix paused for a moment. “I’m not the best person to ask about mystical theory. I know that what we call ‘magic’ is just a small part of the forces that affect the world.”
“There’s psionics,” Asti said. “And whatever the blazes Crenaxin was doing.”
“Right,” Veranix said. “Maybe she’s something else. Maybe time itself is one of those forces, and she can tap into it like Minox and I can with magic.”
“Maybe it’s simpler than that,” Satrine said. “How faithful are you all?”
“I make my prayers to Saint Senea,” Veranix said.
“Kimber makes sure I go to services from time to time,” Asti said.
Satrine smiled ruefully. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how what we faced was not just evil, but . . . unholy. It needed to be stopped. And as astounding as it sounds, maybe . . . maybe we were the instruments God needed to stop it. So God touched the mind of a troubled, angry girl, a great and terrible brush with something infinite. Just enough so she could ensure that we were there.”
The table was quiet for a moment.
“I would say that’s a lot to swallow,” Verci said. “Except you showed up at my shop at three bells in the night, exactly when I needed you. I don’t have a better explanation for that.”
“Maybe the saints did hear our prayers,” Asti said. “And sent her to us. Not the strangest thing I’ve seen.”
“I just hope—” Satrine stumbled on her words for a moment. “I pray that the brothers are able to help her. That she’ll have some measure of peace when she wakes. If she wakes.”
The servers came over with seven glasses of Fuergan whiskey. Dayne raised his up to them all.
“To all of you,” Dayne said as he got to his feet. “Thank you for . . . for reaffirming my faith. For being the people this city needed in this dark hour. For courage and cleverness and . . . compassion. I was honored to stand with you all.”
They all drank.
“Though,” Veranix said, getting to his feet. “I truly hope nothing like this is ever necessary again.”
“Well said,” Asti said. “We would really like the quiet life of honest businessmen.”
“Try to keep it that way,” Satrine said.
“I should be getting back to campus,” Veranix said. “I might even make it to my theory class.”
“We should get to the shop,” Verci said, tapping Asti’s shoulder. “Someone cleared out our inventory and we need to get building.”
“We’ll be sending you a bill, Thorn,” Asti said.
“I’m good for it,” he said. “But speaking of—”
The proprietor came over, “Oh, no. My husbands just told me all the things that happened by the church. It is us who have a debt to you all, so we offer this feast to you as recompense.”
“Are you sure, sir?” Dayne asked. “We did eat a lot.”
“And you have earned it,” the proprietor said.
“I should get back to my home,” Minox said, getting up. “I have profuse apologies to offer to my mother. And also my brother. I may have broken his wrist at one point.”
“He kind of deserved it,” Satrine said. “I get to go to the stationhouse and write up a lot of reports to my captain over this.”
“I can aid—” Minox started.
“No,” Satrine said. “Formally, you weren’t there, and officially, we’re still mad at each other. We should still maintain that fiction.”
“You fear we’ve not seen the last of the Brotherhood?” Dayne asked.
“Even if we have, there’s an infection they leave behind,” Satrine said. She specifically pointed to Asti. “Stay where I can find you if I need you.”
“Joyfully,” Asti said flatly.
Satrine patted Dayne on the shoulder, embraced Jerinne, and left the shop. Minox walked out behind her, giving only a slight salute. Asti and Verci left without ceremony or sentiment.
Veranix walked over to Dayne’s end of the table.
“We did all right, didn’t we?”
“For two people who have very different . . . philosophies,” Dayne said. “We made an effective team.”
“Listen,” Veranix said. “I’m not sure how much stock I should put in this, but . . . your friend Maresh, he died right in front of me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dayne said.
Veranix shook it off. “Not the first person I’ve seen die. Won’t be the last. But he was talking in the end. He said, ‘Tell Dayne, don’t trust.’”
“Don’t trust what?” Jerinne asked.
“I don’t know,” Veranix said. “He just said that, over and over, until he stopped breathing. I couldn’t tell you what it means, but I thought you should know.”
“Thank you, Veranix,” Dayne said, offering his hand. “Call on me if you ever need.”
“Same to you,” Veranix said, taking it. “Jerinne, feel free as well.”
Jerinne took his hand. “Give Kai my best, all right?”
He paused at that for a moment, chuckled knowingly, and left.
“And us?” Jerinne said. “We are probably in so much trouble with Amaya, with the Grandmaster, with the Order.”
“Indeed,” Dayne said. “All the more reason why we should get home.”
Chapter 26
JERINNE WAS BONE TIRED WHEN they got to the chapterhouse, but she was happy to walk in with Dayne right next to her, the two of them both in their Tarian tunics, shields on their arms, swords at their hips, and covered from head to toe in scrapes, smudges, and scorches.
Today they had been Tarians, and no matter what scourging awaited them when they walked in the door, they had
