70

Some of it is things Min could have learned from careful research: the roads, the weather, that Letha had to have her sword sharpened in Elith. But more and more of it defies explanation: specific camping spots, secret conversations. And the oddest things are vague: how many people were in your party, what you were fighting. Min never once calls Verity a demon-lord.

Alvis turns a sickly milk-white as the song continues, but the rest of the inn's patrons don't find anything amiss, at least until the song starts to come to a close. Just as they reach the verse where Verity ought to be thrown through the portal, Min locks their gaze directly on yours.

The brawl came to its close when at last Fairgrieve fell,

As they all four had planned from the start.

Her end came, as she chose, for they'd sworn not to tell

The true aims of her lies and their art.

Alvis is frantic now, gaze darting back and forth through the crowd as if he's preparing for them all to turn on you. "What is this? Did you know about this? We have to stop them." He sounds dazed.

Most of the other inn patrons are still enraptured by Min, but you're getting a few odd looks. You might get even more if you try to interrupt the performance, though, and it could be useful to hear how it ends. And if you've ever seriously thought of revealing the truth, you probably couldn't have come up with a more dramatic way than this.

There are risks to your reputation whether you intervene or not, but you're fairly certain Alvis intends to do something if you don't. Blindsided as he is by the depths of Min's knowledge, he might not be much help if you mean to stop this, but he also might have trouble reacting in time if you mean to let Min finish.

Fortunately, the instrumental bridge between this verse and the next seems longer than usual, though that may also mean Min's preparing for something.

Alvis's shock gives way to a look of contemplation you know very well. He nods almost indiscernibly to himself, in a way that you recognize from whenever he'd decided on a solution to a problem three years ago. Before he can stand to implement his strategy, you reach out and grab his arm.

Almost immediately, he wrenches his hand free from your grasp. You reach for him again as he stands, and he again casts you off, looking much more irritated. "What are you doing? I'm handling this," he hisses.

Some of the patrons seated near you have noticed the argument and are frowning, clearly not liking to see their beloved heroes arguing in public.

Disentangling himself from you, Alvis stands straight, and then abruptly puts a hand to his forehead and drops to the ground. Gasps of concern spread backward through the crowd, frantic enough by the time they reach the stage that Min stops playing with a frown.

You feel Alvis's hands scrabbling at your legs. Apparently, he's disregarding your disagreement for the sake of his performance. All eyes in the room are on you now, so you sigh and bend down to help him up.

"It's coming tonight," he intones, swaying against you as though he still can't stand. "I've seen it! The portal will be open within minutes! For your own safety, return to your homes, please! Make haste! The beasts are gathering on your doorstep!"

All at once, the citizens of Pasema practically stampede out of the inn. It's only when the room's nearly empty that Alvis straightens at last. You suspect forcing you to support his weight for so long was partially a punishment from earlier.

"That wasn't a poem," you mutter.

"Only some of them are poems," Alvis say, flicking dirt from the inn floor off his sleeves. "My visions come in fragments, as you well know." He nods toward the one person remaining in the room—Min, still seated onstage with a frown they can't quite conceal—and together you approach them.

"Hello, Jun, Alvis," Min says in a deliberately even tone, setting their instrument in its case. "I was thinking perhaps we should speak in private."