Page 72 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Forty-Two

As Mavery stifled a yawn, she regretted suggesting they reconvene so early.

As she failed to suppress a second yawn, she doubted a few more hours would have made much difference.

She rarely got a full night’s sleep before a job, and this one was no exception.

Her mind had been too restless. By the time she’d packed and taken inventory of their supplies, the stars had begun to fade.

Alain had spent last night doing much of the same.

He’d gathered every book that could be of use—a feat he’d achieved in record time, thanks to Mavery’s cataloging system—and then he’d spent the rest of the night with his nose buried in those tomes.

Even now, waiting on the curb outside the train depot, he held one of his research journals inches from his face.

An orb of Ether bobbed overhead; the early morning light was too dim for reading.

His other hand gripped his wizard’s staff, which was barely keeping him upright.

“You brought the rest of the anti-Sensing potion?” he asked without lifting his eyes from the page.

“Right here,” Mavery said, patting the outer pocket of her pack.

A single small vial was all that remained of the last batch; they hadn’t had time to secure more kutauss claws to brew another.

It was enough to subdue her Senses for merely an hour, so she would have to save it for when she was desperate.

“And the anchors?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the res—”

She plucked the journal from his hands. “As I said when you asked me an hour ago—and an hour before that—I checked the list three times. We have everything we could possibly need.”

“Sorry,” he sighed. “It’s been years since my last research trip, and I’ve never had one with such serious consequences for failure.”

“Everything will be fine.” She caressed his cheek, letting the pad of her finger trail along the edge of his beard, where the coarse hair met smooth skin. “But you need to stop fretting and get some rest.”

“With luck, perhaps I can take a nap on the train. Speaking of which, it should be departing soon. Where is—”

Several sets of hooves clacked on the cobblestones.

In unison, Mavery and Alain turned toward the noise.

A stagecoach, led by a four-horse team, slowed to a stop beside the curb.

The vehicle itself was larger than the city carriages, though not by much.

Its sides were painted deep maroon, and it bore no transportation company’s insignia.

Neldren’s face peered at them through the unpaned window.

“This is your idea of ‘fast and cheap’?” Mavery demanded. “A private stagecoach?”

“The route I’ve planned will put us on a direct path to Dyerland; we’ll get there a half-day faster than if we took a train up to Durnatel.

And, believe it or not, our driver drove a hard bargain.

” He extended a hand through the window, gestured to the driver.

“Allow me to introduce you to Vilk’s half-brother’s youngest nephew, an up-and-coming businessman in his own right. ”

The driver was a slip of a thing, with a face bearing more freckles than facial hair. He appeared even younger than Ellice.

“Evrard Gainour, at your service,” he said. He removed his pageboy cap and bowed his head, revealing a heap of mousy curls.

“That’s a Dauphinian name, if I’m not mistaken,” Alain said.

Evrard nodded. “We Gainours were raising horses long before my great-grandda crossed the eastern border.”

“Look at that: a pair of Dauphers!” Neldren said. “If that’s not fate, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Mavery narrowed her eyes at Evrard. “How did you acquire this coach?”

“I didn’t steal it, ma’am, if that’s what you’re asking.

” His tone was polite, though his voice quavered slightly.

“It’s an old mail coach. I bought it at auction late last year with my own savings, spent all winter fixing it up.

I’m hoping to start my own transportation service. You’ll be some of my first customers.”

“See? Perfectly legitimate.” Neldren opened the door. “Now, are you coming, or are you going to stand there all morning?”

Mavery frowned. Traversing the countryside with an inexperienced driver at the helm wasn’t the most reassuring plan, but they didn’t have the luxury of time to devise a better one.

She nodded to Alain, readjusted her pack, and climbed into the coach.

Neldren offered a hand, but she ignored it and made use of the handholds.

She took Alain’s staff and satchel, then gave Alain himself a hand.

“Thank you, my love,” he said softly, and Mavery’s heart skipped a beat. Though he’d used that term of endearment several times between last night and this morning, she was still growing used to it.

The coach had appeared larger from the curb.

With four passengers—one of whom was well north of six feet tall—and their effects, the interior was cramped.

Mavery sat across from Ellice and had to angle her legs to prevent their knees from touching.

Alain sat directly across from Neldren. The latter stared at the former with his arms crossed.

“Ready?” Evrard called from the driver’s seat.

“Ready,” Neldren said stiffly.

Evrard cracked the reins. The stagecoach pulled away from the curb and took off toward the city’s southern gate.

“So, you’re the reason Mave decided to stay in Leyport,” Neldren said, peering at Alain.

Alain started. “Er, yes, I suppose I am.”

“You know, I had my suspicions last night, especially when you left the pub hand in hand, but I didn’t want to assume—”

“Why does it matter?” Mavery snapped. “Didn’t you tell me you’d moved on?”

“I have.” His eyes flicked at Ellice, who’d been throwing him a warning look the entire time.

Her pink cheeks and clenched jaw suggested she was struggling to hold her tongue.

Neldren’s gaze settled on Mavery again. “It matters because I thought you’d do me the courtesy of telling me I’d be partnering up with your current lover. ”

“Well, sorry for leaving out that detail.” After parting ways in the Garden District, she’d assumed they would go about this as adults. Evidently, he still had a few bones to pick from the carcass of their former relationship.

“It’s funny,” Neldren said. “When I told her to ‘go fuck off with the wizards,’ I didn’t think she’d take that literally.”

Alain scoffed. “Were those your parting words as you left her in the infirmary with a bullet in her stomach?”

“Gods, are you really going to bring that up?”

“Yes, I really am.”

Neldren rolled his eyes. “I already apologized!”

Mavery touched Alain’s shoulder as she muttered in his ear, “As much as I appreciate it, I’d also appreciate not letting things come to blows while we’re confined to this carriage for the next couple of days.”

Neldren barked a laugh. “If it comes to that, you can bet on a short fight—especially if that’s all he brought along.” He pointed at Alain’s staff. “Aren’t those staffs supposed to have magical gems?”

“Staves,” Alain mumbled.

“Come again?”

“The plural is staves. And this one did, until about a year ago.”

At the crown of Alain’s staff, branches entwined like spindly fingers that normally would have clutched an Ether-sensitive gem. He gazed at it forlornly, then looked to Mavery. He didn’t need to say a word for her to know the missing gem had been one of the many things he’d sacrificed for Conor.

“So, it’s just a useless stick.”

“Nel…” Mavery groaned.

He held up his hands. “I’m only saying, with him being a wizard and all, I’d expected him to bring along some powerful artifacts.”

“Artifacts alone wouldn’t help us,” Alain said. “A gem would only amplify my own arcana, which I already have in abundance, rest assured.”

Neldren cocked an eyebrow as he eyed Alain from head to toe, as though skeptical that someone of Alain’s stature could hold an abundance of anything.

“Oh, just whip out your cocks and measure them already, why don’t you?” Ellice said.

“Mother help me if I have to rely on him and his arcana to save my arse.”

Alain set his jaw as he flashed Neldren an icy glare. “With any luck, it won’t come to that.”

“For fuck’s sake, we’re not even out of the city yet!” Ellice said, throwing up her hands. “Why don’t we all attempt to tolerate one another’s company in silence?”

“Now, there’s an excellent idea,” Neldren said. He shot Alain one final glare, and his expression softened as he turned his attention to Ellice.

“That, at least, we can agree on,” Alain said beneath his breath.

He opened his pack, pulled out one of his books, and resumed his reading.

From her own pack, Mavery retrieved a book—a detective novel she’d picked up ages ago but had set aside to prioritize the spell presentation.

With a sigh, she leaned her head against the window frame and began to read.

The rest of the day progressed in near silence. Alain and Mavery kept to their books while Neldren and Ellice played cards. It made for a painfully dull day of travel, but at least there were no more arguments.

Around dusk, they stopped in a thoroughfare town along the Royal Turnpike.

But finding a place to rest and change horses proved easier said than done.

The first inn they came across refused to rent rooms to an unwed couple, and their rates were too exorbitant to justify individual rooms. The next one turned them down on the basis of having a Nilandoren among them.

In the end, they were forced to settle on what had to be the town’s most ramshackle inn, but it had cheap rooms and a less discriminating innkeeper.

They finished checking in as the final dregs of dinner were being served.

Alain opted to take his bowl of gristly stew and heel of day-old bread up to his room, claiming he’d come across a potentially useful incantation he wanted to memorize.

The other four—Neldren had invited Evrard to join them—gathered around one of the long tables in the dining room.

As Neldren and Ellice taught the young driver the finer points of Tribute, Mavery was reminded of a similar evening at a similar inn.

In fact, this place was like a larger version of Seringoth’s Rest, down to the watery ale and the portrait of some long-dead Archmage hanging on the wall.

Like that night over two months ago, Mavery longed to be among different company.

Unlike that night, no one protested when she rose from her chair and left the room.