ã€ŠAn Unequal Share [A Dark, Progression Fantasy]ã€‹


 1. An Unequal Share Part I

    Vero stopped and took a strip of cloth out of her bag. Carefully, she doused it in a mixture of pure clear water and fragrant herbs. Then she tied it over her face.

    Dora stayed far back with Vero¡¯s put-upon little mare Papillon, which carried their baggage and provisions. ¡°Gods- it smells awful! Why would you want to go closer?¡±

    Vero surveyed the carnage in front of her. Counting the heads, she surmised that it was once a group of three people. ¡°Something made this mess. It stands to reason that someone around here will want that something gotten rid of. Either for revenge, or only out of a sense for self-preservation. There¡¯ll be some coin in killing it, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    ¡°And ¨C just suppose ¨C that the only someones around at all¡­ are the someones already in little pieces down that ditch?¡± Dora asked.

    Vero dropped down into the ravine which ran along the road and did not answer.

    The space to either side of the old Via Imperium was meant to be cleared of trees for a space of at least fifty paces to prevent brigandage. At its deepest point near where they stood though, the Whitewood encroached all the way to the very edge of the path. The trees around her soared up higher than any castle tower she had ever seen, and the way became very dark in places.

    Despite this, the road was supposed to be very safe. The Baroness Stirba who owned the territory was widely reported to be the most ruthless landowner in the south. According to the merchants who took the land routes out of the Republic, her hunters stalked the forest and any bandits or poachers they found were left crucified to the massive pines.

    She and Dora had already passed several old looking bodies nailed to the trees and left to rot. Nothing recent.

    Vero moved carefully to avoid disturbing the tracks in the brown needles which covered the forest floor. She decided that some heads must have gone missing, because there were more than three people¡¯s remains. The true number was probably closer to five or six, but some of the bodies were more complete than others.

    Whatever had done this was no bandit. That was fortunate, since her code forbid her from hunting human predators.

    There had been panic among the victims. Vero could hardly blame them, given how matters had ended for them. Unfortunately, the scramble made it harder to determine what exactly had happened.

    Even so, after a long space of careful analysis, she had a few ideas.

    ¡°Conclusions?¡±

    Vero whirled around a hundred and eighty degrees while drawing her longsword, sending a small cloud of needles up in a semi-circle in front of her. The anonymous voice had come from a man several yards away- between her and Dora. Vero was sure her partner would have said something if she had seen him approach. How had he come between both of them without either noticing?

    She had no idea. She heard no footsteps.

    The man was tall. He held himself with so arrogant a bearing, she would have been certain he was a noble if he had not been geared like a huntsman. He had probably been attractive at one time, but his appearance had since been marred by a missing ear and a deep gouge in his lower lip. He also seemed to be missing one whole finger and a couple other digits as well.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Vero asked.

    He ignored her question. ¡°I asked for your conclusions, journeyman.¡±

    Vero watched the stranger carefully, but said nothing.

    Dora took it upon herself to respond on their behalf. ¡°He is not a journeyman, he¡¯s a trained slayer. And my husband may look slender, but he really knows how to use that sword.¡± Vero and Dora traveled together disguised as man and wife to avoid unwanted attention. ¡°So, I¡¯d advise you not to anger him.¡±

    The stranger was not making any aggressive move, although he was armed. Besides having startled her, and taking a rather curt attitude, she did not see any definite evidence that he was an enemy. He took no notice of Dora and kept Vero held very closely in his gaze.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need your woman to speak for you, journeyman. Give me your conclusions.¡±

    Vero relented. ¡°Numerous remains, decayed for a few days. Clothing scraps, and the proximity to the road, indicate travelers. Flat space near the road not far away¡­ looks like ashes from a fire. They made camp and were attacked during the night. No weapons, so they must have thought the road was safe. That¡¯s certainly what we were told. Bones have been mauled and eaten, signs of a large predatory beast. Tracks and tooth marks should allow for identification.¡±

    The stranger said nothing so Vero relaxed her posture and sheathed her sword. After consulting with her journals of tracings, she found a diagram of fang marks to match those on the bones. ¡°Dire wolf. A strange thing- to find one so far to the south.¡±

    The stranger nodded and waved her over as he walked back towards the road.

    Vero followed him. ¡°Solitary set of tracks, so there¡¯s only one of them.¡±

    The stranger gave her a wry smile. ¡°And two of us, should be a simple hunt then.¡±

    ¡°Three of us.¡± Dora corrected.

    The stranger¡¯s smile disappeared, and he bore down on Dora with a withering glare. ¡°You¡¯ll stay with the baggage.¡±

    Dora gave Vero a pleading look, but Vero motioned for her to stay silent.

    ¡°You already knew what the creature was, and that it was here.¡± Vero made it a statement, not a question.

    ¡°Monster killed five of them, two others got away.¡±

    ¡°How did it come this far south?¡±

    ¡°Gods know. And we¡¯re not being paid to find out.¡±

    ¡°Have you gotten a contract for the creature?¡±

    ¡°Yes, the Baroness of Shadowtree gave me the commission.¡±

    ¡°For how much?¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I have debts to pay and I¡¯m in need of all of it. I do have something you may be interested in- to offer you as your share. Are you lettered?¡±

    ¡°I can read anything in Imperial script.¡± Vero was being generous to herself. She could read Velian without too much difficulty, any other dialect was more of a trial.

    The stranger whistled. ¡°My name is Pentarch.¡±

    A tired looking old stallion meandered out of the greenery to approach them. The animal was clearly past its prime, but it looked like it had once been a fine warhorse.

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    ¡°My name is Virgil. My wife is Theodora.¡±

    Pentarch grunted dismissively to introduce himself to Dora, who was still frowning darkly after being silenced. He opened the saddlebags on his aged charger. From inside, he produced a worn looking tome bound in dark leather. He handed it over, and Vero began to skim through its pages. From what she could tell, it was a first-hand account of a progress through the far north by a Friar Theobald de Emmoi. It was not illuminated.

    Vero closed the book. ¡°I¡¯m sure that a cleric would find this fascinating, but I¡¯m no scholar. Is it valuable?¡±

    ¡°To most? No. But it does speak of certain ruins. A legendary fortress high in the Star Mountains. The locals fear to go near. Although according to their legends it repels even the mightiest of abominations, and purges all evil curses.¡±

    Vero¡¯s master had once told her about those mountains several years previous. She tried to remember the why. After a moment, she found it. ¡°Our last academy was in those mountains.¡±

    A smile. ¡°You see my interest. The ancients wrote down many formulae and techniques we¡¯ve lost since. It was my intention to go north and find this place- before my other pressing business arose. Perhaps you would go where I could not?¡±

    Vero looked at Pentarch, then back at the book. There were no spelling errors in it she saw. That meant it was probably well-written enough that she could sell it on for at least something, even in the worst case. She was already flush with ducats after her recent vampyre hunt in Whitegate. Her new partner Dora had also proven adept at earning her own coin so far. They had no desperate need for more money.

    She wanted another hunt.

    Vero extended a hand. ¡°Very well. I accept the tome as my share of the contract. Shall we begin?¡±

    Pentarch accepted the handshake, and they went to work.

    The pair of them tracked the dire wolf quickly. They left Dora with the animals to make camp. Dire wolves hunted only at night, and it had not been long since midday. The beast would stay in its den until sundown. They found the lair in a mossy glen, where the tracks ended at a small hole leading underground. It was well hidden in the trees and they would not have found it without the trail to lead them.

    Vero carefully watched Pentarch remove a clay bowl and two tinctures from his pack. He poured both into the bowl and mixed them with a small pinch of what looked like salt crystals. When he was finished, he prayed over the bowl and drank the mixture.

    He watched her just as carefully when she took a pair of wide green leaves from a pouch on her belt and put them in her mouth. She chewed them to suck out the resin. Then she took her dagger from her belt, and ran the edge of the blade along her left hand from the gap between her thumb to the tip of her index finger. She chanted the words of power and those secret names of the gods which she knew. At the same time, she drew the signs on her armor and boots with her blood sacrifice.

    ¡°Do you mind?¡± Pentarch asked, idly toying with his own dagger.

    Vero shrugged. She drew the same signs on him, and they recited the words in unison. When she was finished, they were both reassured that the other was not a charlatan. He nodded at her like a schoolmaster, and she was beginning to struggle not to show any frustration at his patronizing.

    Pentarch¡¯s dagger had an extensive handguard for parrying. In his stronger hand he took out a long Imperial style estoc. Both looked well-made and in fine condition. Vero found it satisfying to watch to look of surprise, however brief, which crossed his face when he examined her longsword closely.

    ¡°Those runes on the blade¡­¡± He spoke with what she thought was a deliberate sense of disinterest.

    ¡°They¡¯re Sylvan, I think.¡±

    ¡°Can you read them?¡±

    Vero shook her head. ¡°Can you?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He sounded annoyed by the fact. ¡°There are not many weapons like that left on this continent. Take good care of it, journeyman. It would be unfortunate to find it hanging on some vampyre¡¯s mantle.¡±

    ¡°Or being gnawed on by some dire wolf.¡±

    Pentarch¡¯s wry smile showed itself once again, just for an instant, before he stifled it. ¡°Indeed.¡± He stood aside at the edge of the pit and motioned for her to enter. ¡°Will you go first, or shall I?¡±

    Vero did not answer, but she shouldered past Pentarch and carefully slid down the declining slope. The ground was soft and sandy. It gave away easily under her feet, speeding her descent.

    She abruptly came to a stop as the ground leveled out. Pain shot down her leg from her hip, which was still recovering from a dislocating injury sustained on her previous hunt. She took a single stumbling step to right herself, and remained composed so as not to portray any weakness.

    Behind her, Pentarch landed with a grace intended to look effortless.

    They were standing in a small cavern. It was dark, but the ceiling was very shallow and cracks of diffused sunlight broke through the needles and sod in some places. Past them, the way narrowed so that they could barely proceed even one at a time.

    Vero stowed her sword with some disappointment, and began to check her small crossbow. ¡°You should go first.¡±

    ¡°Lost your nerve, journeyman?¡±

    ¡°You have a thrusting weapon. There¡¯s no way to swing my longsword down here.¡±

    ¡°And how would you advise me to proceed?¡±

    ¡°Keep the wolf away from us. Pin it down in one place if you¡¯re able to do so safely, but don¡¯t put yourself at risk. Dire wolves prefer to attack from the rear, so it¡¯s instinct will probably be to stay away and warn us off with barks and growls first. I¡¯ll kill it with the crossbow from a distance.¡±

    Pentarch smirked yet again, to make it clear that she had passed another test he had taken it upon himself to set for her. He turned sideways, and with his estoc ahead of him, he sidestepped forwards.

    Vero followed him. She would have to aim carefully not to hit him, so she hoped he was as competent as he pretended to be. He might be forced to hold the wolf at bay for some time before she could find her target.

    They moved at a slow pace in the cramped confines, but even so, Vero felt the den went on forever. After walking for some time, Pentarch stopped and inhaled a pinch of snuff from a pouch on his belt.

    He sniffed the air before informing her, ¡°It¡¯s close.¡±

    In a flash, from the moment he spoke, the dire wolf was on them. It was a huge angry animal, nearly the size of a horse, wiry and muscular under its mangy fur. It lunged at them from out of the darkness, barking and foaming at the mouth. Its black eyes were filled with rabies madness.

    It leapt straight for Pentarch¡¯s neck. He held it back by raising his dagger just in time to press it against the dire wolf¡¯s chest, between its forepaws, and then bracing his back against the uneven wall. The claws scratched across his armor and outstretched jaws gnashed inches from his face, until he sent it lurching back by stabbing at its belly and groin with his sword.

    Vero tried to find her shot, but her partner¡¯s body was blocking her. She dropped to the ground to aim from a prone position. Pentarch kept the beast at bay by stabbing at its face. It had already felt the estoc¡¯s sting and drew back from the weapon. Blood ran down both its hind legs and dripped from the ends of the fur between them.

    She fired, and the bolt whizzed past Pentarch. It struck the creature along the neck and penetrated deep into the wolf¡¯s flesh.

    At once, it threw itself at Pentarch again. This time he could find no place to brace himself and it pressed him backwards. The force caused him to trip over Vero, and then the animal had him pinned to the ground.

    He kept the snapping maw away from him, at least for the moment, and called out to her with controlled urgency. ¡°Do something!¡±

    Vero scrambled out from under the wolf, drew her dagger, and mounted the animal¡¯s back. She stabbed her weapon deep into the creature¡¯s shoulder to anchor herself with one hand, then grabbed the broad-headed crossbow bolt in the thing¡¯s neck. She secured herself with a firm hold and pulled the bolt out to let the arterial blood flow freely.

    The beast tried to buck her off. Rather than struggling to remain where she was, Vero let herself go limp and rolled off the wolf¡¯s back without serious injury as soon as the bolt was out. The wolf retreated for a few faltering steps in a state of confusion as it registered its shock. It dipped it¡¯s head down a few times as blood pumped from its wounds in regular beats, before then collapsing to the ground completely.

    Pentarch was already back on his feet and pressing their advantage. An instant after the wolf had lain down, he crushed the monster¡¯s jaws shut with his boot to stretch out its neck. Then he drew his dagger across its entire throat. In a few moments, the animal¡¯s trembling convulsions had finally stopped and they were sure it was dead.

    ¡°Did it bite you? Are you bleeding?¡±

    Pentarch checked himself and shook his head.

    Vero led the way as she and Pentarch silently pulled the dire wolf¡¯s body out with a rope. Once they were back in the open, Vero skinned it and took the heart and liver for preservation. She was preparing to start pulling out the animal¡¯s fangs, when Pentarch must have decided that he had seen enough.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take the pelt back to the Baroness; she should accept it as proof of contract fulfillment¡­ There¡¯s no need for you to follow me to Shadowtree, I¡¯ll leave the book with your woman.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t camp with us tonight?¡± Vero did not particularly care if he remained, but there were several more questions she would have liked the opportunity to ask him.

    ¡°There are still several hours until dark and I don¡¯t intend to waste them.¡±

    ¡°Why are you in such a hurry?¡±

    Pentarch folded up the pelt and placed it into a sack. ¡°That is my business, journeyman. If I thought it was important for you to know it, I would have told you already. You may keep any reagents harvested from the beast; I¡¯ve no need for them.¡±

    ¡°How generous.¡±

    One last smile. ¡°It¡¯s the least I could do. I fear you may be taking the unequal share.¡±

 2. The Curse of the Moon Chapter 1

    Several Years Ago

    ¡°Any strange stories pass through here?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a spy, I suppose,¡± the innkeeper replied, in a bored kind of way.

    Vero¡¯s master laughed and shook his head.

    Her master was a tall man, but scrawny from restraint in diet. His hair was dry and thin like straw. When she first apprenticed to him it was still dark in patches, but it had long since gone totally grey. He was dressed in shabby rags and a traveling cloak which had seen frequent mending. He carried a sword visibly at his waist, which marked him as a more than a common pilgrim.

    It was, she admitted freely, exactly the sort of attire royal informers were said to go about in. Although in their own case, it was a result of poverty rather than duplicity.

    The innkeeper took no notice of her master¡¯s denial, plowing forward with his own speech. ¡°You sound like one sure enough. Don¡¯t mind if you are, of course. I for one support his majesty. Something goes wrong and a man is liable to blame the king because he¡¯s the one who rules- Even if it¡¯s their own fault. Some of the local lords around here could do with a bit of the king¡¯s justice, if you ask me.¡±

    ¡°Alright then,¡± her master replied, choosing to play along. ¡°Where should I go then if I wanted to see about some of these local lords?¡±

    ¡°Well now.¡± The fat inn keeper scratched at the stubble on his neck as he thought about the question. ¡°Rumor has it that a village on the land of Ser Louis, has been beset by murders of the foulest kind. Gruesome- from what I¡¯ve heard. All the neighboring villages have taken to shunning them. Now they¡¯ve begun scaring away the merchants too. If that goes on it¡¯ll be hard times for all of us.¡±

    ¡°Gruesome, like the result of black magic?¡±

    Black magic had recently become a favorite charge brought against nobles his majesty found troublesome. Any number of things could be considered evidence of black magic, and the property of a heretic was forfeit to the crown.

    The innkeeper winked conspiratorially. ¡°Just so friend.¡±

    ¡°And this Ser Louis, did he fight for the crown in the war?¡±

    ¡°He fought for a crown to be sure, but not the crown I¡¯m afraid. He took his levy to fight for the bastard false king¡¯s claim.¡±

    ¡°He was granted amnesty after the war?¡±

    ¡°He was captured in the Battle of the Whitewood, but he swore allegiance to his highness. Of course, the man¡¯s already broke his oath of fealty once¡­ so you can make of that what you will.¡±

    Vero¡¯s master nodded his thanks and placed his coin on the bar. ¡°And such a man might find himself tempted to do so again. I¡¯ll thank-you to point me in the right direction when we depart tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d be happy to do so. The Argent Feather Inn has never wavered in support for his royal highness.¡± The man made a broad sweeping gesture with his arm to indicate the cramped and dingy surroundings.

    ¡°If I ever see his majesty, I will be sure to tell him as much.¡±

    Her master left the bar and returned with their tankards to the table where Vero sat watching the proceedings.

    ¡°We¡¯re heading towards that village at dawn, I presume?¡± she asked.

    The inn was loud, and the two of them were secreted away in a corner away from the fire. Now that the patrons had the notion they might be spies, they were given as much distance as possible. So long as they spoke closely, they had little fear of being overheard.

    ¡°For the past few days, we¡¯ve heard of nothing but these murders. Three every month.¡± Her master held up the appropriate number of fingers. ¡°I¡¯m sure there will be some profit in us investigating further.¡±

    ¡°Of course, master.¡± She was excited by the prospect of another hunt, but she kept her tone moderate. If there was a contract on the morrow her master would be drinking heavily tonight. That being the case, she thought she would be better off not drawing any attention to herself.

    She sat back in the shadows and listened to the murmur of others¡¯ voices around her. She heard Velian, and old Imperial, along with other dialects she could only understand bits and pieces of. Everyone¡¯s speech had more spirit in it then she had heard in Velois for a long time. The war still seemed to cast a shadow, but life had begun to return.

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    Vero took only a single pint. Her master took several.

    They had only paid for a space to lay out their bedrolls in the common area, but the private room was unoccupied. The innkeeper must have decided it would be beneficial to ingratiate himself with anyone who might have royal orders, because he offered the room to them.

    Vero felt no inclination to decline his generosity, whatever the pretenses it had been offered under. By the end of the night, she was forced to assist her master both to walk outside to make water. Then to climb upstairs to their room.

    The bed was large enough to accommodate several people easily and Vero was relieved to have the space between them. Her master fell asleep the moment he lay down his head, which Vero saw as a stroke of fortune. After spending the whole day on the road, she did not feel she had the remaining patience to tolerate any drunkenly groping advances. She took off her boots and cloak, but otherwise remained dressed.

    The innkeeper had set out a basin of water for them where she washed her hands and face. When she was finished, she frowned down at her reflection in the still water looking back up at her.

    Her body was lithe and dexterous, but waifish thin. She seemed to retain all the awkwardness of adolescence, despite the fact that she was now a young woman. She was tall, her fire red hair was cut short like a man¡¯s, and she wore breaches and a tunic. Her breasts had never developed so much as her mother or sister¡¯s. Consequently, under a heavy traveling cloak, and otherwise in men¡¯s attire, she very easily passed for a boy.

    Fortunately, beards had been out of style in the south for some time. So no one would think it odd for a lad not to make at least a passing attempt to display his manhood with a weedy patch of facial hair.

    Vero laid down on the bed where her master was already snoring loudly. After years of traveling as his companion she was used to the noise so she fell asleep quickly. If it had not been for the sound, she might have assumed that he was dead.

    The village was unimpressive in nearly every way, and Vero had to deliberately withhold a sigh of exasperation when her master stopped.

    The old man scanned the motley assemblage of thatch huts and announced, ¡°We¡¯ll speak to the local headman and see what comes of it.¡±

    He had been in a foul temper ever since she had roused him at dawn. He had left explicit instructions for her to do so, but that did not stop him from blaming her for his hangover.

    ¡°Are you certain, master?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll mind yourself and do as I say, girl. Or I¡¯ll cuff your ear.¡± The old man had done so often enough that she was sure he meant it.

    Vero was silent.

    They walked up to a muddy clear space in the center of the houses, and in front of what appeared to be a very modest temple built of wood. On the steps a few indigents sat talking and drinking beer so dark it was black, but their conversation stopped when the Slayer and Vero entered the village common. The residents watched their arrival wearily.

    ¡°Ho there, what god do you worship here and where is the priest?¡± her master called out.

    At first there was no reply, then one of the most bored looking of the men shrugged dismissively. ¡°Simple farming folk live here, we worship the Earth Mother mostly. But this is a temple to Queen Luna. Or it was, at least. It was built to ease some noble lady¡¯s burden of sins before she passed on- but the priestess wandered off not long after it was built¡­ It¡¯s stood empty since.¡±

    The Moon Goddess had many faces, at least according to the stories Mama had taught Vero as a child. Luna the Maiden was adventurous, she aided lovers and punished tyrants who believed they were greater than the gods.

    Luna the Mother was a caregiver and protector of the innocent. Many heroic tales began with abandoned babes taken by the goddess and fed at her own breast, so that they grew with incredible strength or beauty beyond that of normal men and women. The Mother was the aspect which Vero had been raised to worship.

    This temple bore the waning half-moon sign of Luna the Matron. Of all Luna¡¯s major aspects, Vero knew the least of her. She was worshiped by high born ladies mostly. In the stories Mama had told she mostly sought revenge against mortal women her husband King Helios had dallied with.

    Vero made the goddess¡¯ sign over her heart- but she took care to turn away from the others so that she would not be observed.

    No one took any notice of her, as her master dominated their attention. ¡°What did the priestess do here before she left?¡±

    ¡°Collect tithes,¡± said a younger man bitterly, before the first fellow chided him with a frown.

    ¡°If only more priests and tax collectors would get themselves lost!¡± Her master barked a laugh at his own jape, and the others joined him after a moment.

    Vero thought she noticed more relief than offense in their irregular reaction to his humor.

    ¡°Who has authority here then?¡± her master asked.

    One of the older men stood and pointed off towards the horizon. ¡°Ser Louis owns these lands. His manor is still some ways to the south. ¡®Was his grandmother that¡¯s memorialized here.¡±

    ¡°Aye, Ser Louis owns these lands- but I asked who has authority here.¡± This comment raised a more natural chuckle from the men, and the mood began to lighten noticeably.

    The young man who had made the remark about tithes spoke up again. ¡°My uncle Phillipe is the eldest and has the largest house in the village.¡±

    ¡°He sounds like the fellow I¡¯m seeking then. Take me to him lad.¡±

    The young man hopped up from where he was sitting, instinctively responding to Vero¡¯s master¡¯s authority, and led them to a nearby house. He need not have bothered, as it was plainly obvious this was the largest house in the village. It was twice as large as its nearest competitor, and constructed of good lumber. Vero thought it was even a little grander than the temple. The neighboring homes all had the appearance of rickety looking wattle and daub.

    She stayed quiet and tried to remain unnoticed in her master¡¯s shadow as he led the way in. Before passing through the door, she turned to find the young man still standing and gawking at them. A stern look from her quickly sent him on his way and she closed the door behind them.

 3. The Curse of the Moon Chapter 2

    It was only a small hall, but it was a mansion compared to the other hovels in the village. It looked larger from the outside; the interior was made smaller by the presence of brewing equipment. The floor was bare earth, but there was some roughhewn wooden furniture and the abode was heated by a large fire pit in the center.

    In front of this fire pit sat an old man, and nearby him was a woman of his own age. Vero supposed the woman was his wife, but she might also have been a sister. There were also several other younger girls. They were engaged in spinning wool, aside from one who seemed to be pregnant and was in the process of repairing a garment with needle and thread.

    Her master strode up directly to the fire pit and Vero followed in his wake. ¡°Greetings, are you Phillipe, the alderman?¡±

    ¡°I am,¡± he replied. Vero noticed with indignation that the village elder made no move to offer them seats, or any other hospitality. It was evident by the man¡¯s posture their reception would be a cold one. ¡°And who are you stranger?¡±

    ¡°I am a traveling slayer. I¡¯ve come here to find work.¡±

    ¡°Slayer?¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not familiar with the occupation.¡±

    ¡°My trade is to remove the unnatural, exorcise restless spirits, and exterminate abominations.¡±

    ¡°And the boy?¡± Phillipe nodded toward Vero where she stood beside her master.

    ¡°My apprentice,¡± he replied succinctly, before casting the matter aside and returning to selling their services. ¡°Word has been passed by the peasants of each manor within a week¡¯s travel¡­ that a creature of murderous inclination haunts the woods on these lands. I can remove this thing that troubles you- in exchange for a moderate fee.¡±

    Phillipe chuckled and remained unimpressed. ¡°How moderate, stranger?¡±

    Her master continued nonplussed. ¡°Nothing beyond your means, I assure you.¡±

    Phillipe played at considering the proposal for a few seconds before shaking his head. ¡°No, I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not willing to allow the village to turn over any of its hard-won produce to a wandering vagabond who claims to be a monster hunter. The bailiff has been told of the situation, and Ser Louis will organize a response how he sees best. It¡¯s not my place to circumvent him.¡±

    Looking around, Vero could not help but notice that Phillipe seemed to have profited a great deal more from the villagers produce than anyone else. Although she said nothing about it.

    For his part, her master did the same. ¡°There¡¯s no telling how long the lord will be in coming. Surely it makes more sense to take the solution presented to you. Tonight is the first night of the full moon. If the pattern repeats itself-¡±

    ¡°If you are in such desperate need of money stranger, you might find some other occupation. Woodcutting, or doing some other labor. Perhaps your boy could find some way to earn coin.¡± The alderman let out a low chuckle which made Vero¡¯s skin crawl.

    She had an idle fantasy of driving her dagger into the man¡¯s neck, but she was more concerned about her master¡¯s reaction. Vero knew her master well enough to realize that the prideful old man would be in a profound fury from the elder¡¯s mocking tone, and he might not be so willing to allow his violent fantasies to remain idle. To his credit, however, he gave no sign of disquiet save for a slight narrowing of the eyes.

    The Slayer just nodded and offered a curt grunt of a farewell before ushering both of them out.

    Her master led her in a silent huff, but once they were safely out of earshot, he let fly with a number of bitter invectives leveled at the alderman. ¡°That stupid thief. The foolish old baldhead would rather watch his neighbors be torn apart then offer a copper quarter to protect them.¡±

    The foolish old baldhead in question was, to all appearances, of the same age as her master. Although Vero knew better than to offer that observation at the moment. In lieu of it, she offered an alternative suggestion.

    ¡°We could go to the lord and offer our services to him. If it isn¡¯t too far, and we hurry, we may be back before the third night.¡±

    ¡°Bah.¡± He waved his hand at her dismissively. ¡°Lords don¡¯t give a god¡¯s damn about the ones who work their lands, that¡¯s to be expected. We shall have a hell of a time getting anything from him. Even if we made it back in time, we would be hunting exhausted, and that would only get one or both of us killed. We should have arrived sooner.¡±

    They had intended to reach the village two days ago, but her master had taken many late mornings which delayed them.

    He continued to fume about the village elder under his breath. ¡°I thought better of a member of the commons; that he might have a care about his fellows.¡±

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    ¡°I suppose only those without a modicum of empathy ever acquire wealth.¡± Vero could not help but smirk. ¡°Although in that case, why are you still so poor master?¡±

    He waved his hand at Vero again, and this time he used it to cuff her- though not hard. Her smile disappeared, but she had felt worse.

    ¡°If I¡¯d wanted your japes- I¡¯d have asked for them, girl.¡±

    He cuffed her again, and this time he hit her harder- though she had still felt worse. ¡°The logical structure of your argument is flawed in the premise. It¡¯s plainly evident that one may need to be a mean old bastard to become rich, but it does not therefore follow that one must be rich to become a mean old bastard.¡±

    He raised his hand to hit her a third time, but then appeared to lose interest. He turned away from her and continued to walk.

    ¡°Will we be going to Ser Louis now?¡± Vero asked hopefully.

    The old man grunted, and then after a dozen steps or so offered an intelligible reply. ¡°We¡¯ll head out of the village and make camp. Then we¡¯ll see what tomorrow brings.¡±

    ¡°You think something will change their minds, master?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. We¡¯ll find out tomorrow. Be silent now, girl.¡±

    Vero was none too pleased by the dismissal, but there would be no point in arguing further. She did not wish to risk learning how hard the third hit could be.

    It was a pleasant spring evening, and there was no trace of any clouds in the sky ¨C at least none with sufficient weight to bring rain ¨C so they forewent tents to bivouac beneath the open sky. Her master ordered Vero to set the wards and snares around their camp, then watched her carefully as she did so. He appeared to have no objections to her work. As soon she was finished, he sent her to fetch wood for a fire.

    By the time Vero returned with an armful of sticks, she found him already chewing on his supper of dried meat without waiting to boil it. And nursing from his wineskin.

    She built the fire and used it to boil her own meager portion of the tasteless dried meat. Even after boiling, it still bore more resemblance to shoe leather then food. She completed the meal with water, purified by sour wine, and some stale bread. While gathering wood she had taken the opportunity to collect a handful of wild berries which offered a brief reprieve of sweet flavor at the very end. With her hunger pangs subsided she lay down on her bedroll.

    Because of the season the sun still hung over the horizon, but only barely. The sooner the day was over, the better, in Vero¡¯s opinion. She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. However, after only a moment, she felt a hand fall across her breast and rough fingers work at undoing her belt. She realized it was not to be.

    Vero sighed and moved her master¡¯s hands away from the mess he was making of her clothes and disrobed herself. She could smell his fetid breath as he panted and waited impatiently for her to finish.

    If he was intent on laying with her, she would have preferred him to order her over to his bedroll. She was certain that by the time he was finished, her bed would reek of the old man. Perhaps she should have simply gone over to him- but she had hoped that the drink would put him to sleep again.

    When she was finished undressing and lay down again, he removed himself from his clothes and Vero did her best to avoid acknowledging the way his eyes crawled over her.

    The Slayer had been deft as a dancer when she first saw him in battle, but his dexterity in other matters had always left a great deal to be desired. Recently, however, Vero had noticed him becoming progressively clumsier. Now he could no longer drink enough to still his shaking before becoming drunk.

    Age had clearly taken its toll on her master. As much as she hated him, Vero could not help but feel some pang of pity for him, as he stood before her with a trembling hand trying to work himself into a fit state to enter her. The leering was finished, and his face was crimson. Partially from the effort, and partially from his own embarrassment. She directed her eyes downwards again so as not to take undue notice.

    They had both, she felt, suffered enough humiliation for the day.

    Once he was ready, he lay down and she sat astride him while he let out a long sigh. For a moment Vero wondered if he had not fallen asleep, or gone one better and simply died at last. A moment later he opened his eyes, and with the initial hurdle accomplished he seemed to have regained his confidence.

    He rolled over, none too gently sending Vero to the ground. He then took up a position behind her like a stallion, which he no doubt imagined himself to be. With her face smashed into her bedroll, Vero could not exactly describe herself as comfortable. At least she was familiar enough with the old man that there was no pain. Mercifully enough, it was over quickly.

    The Slayer practically fell down next to Vero, breathing heavily. ¡°I despair of ever teaching you to master the blade, but you¡¯ve all the necessary skills for the bed chamber.¡± He managed through wheezes.

    Vero was hardly listening. She turned herself over onto her back and felt dirty. She hoped that once he caught his wind he would leave, but that seemed not to be the case. He rested his head against her and very nearly curled up into the fetal position.

    Vero realized that she was expected to provide more comfort. She tuned herself to face him, trying to ignore how slick he was with perspiration. She was trying to decide how best to send him on his way when, to her shock, he kissed her.

    After only a moment he broke the kiss. Vero could only manage to stare at him, dumbfounded as to what had transpired. He had not kissed her in some years, and she found it still just as unpleasant as she had then. The old man looked back with a trace of embarrassment in his features. Then he laid down flat with his eyes turned upwards towards the web of heaven above them.

    Vero decided against saying anything. She just turned away and attempted to sleep again. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore her master¡¯s presence.

    ¡°I should never have brought you with me.¡±

    Vero was not certain if his words were directed at her, so she thought it best to keep her eyes closed and ignore them.

    ¡°You should be married by now with children of your own.¡±

    Vero opened her eyes to find that her master had turned over and was addressing her directly.

    ¡°I should have refused you when you asked me to train you. I should have refused.¡± Her master was blinking heavily as he spoke, and Vero began to fear that he might burst into tears. An occurrence she had no notion of how to handle.

    She decided she needed to do something, if only to make him cease his lamentations. She laid his head across her bosom and gently stroked his thin gray straw-like hair.

    ¡°Oh, my darling little Vero. What would I do without you?¡±

    Vero made no verbal response. She just held him and waited for him to fall asleep. She eventually found oblivion¡¯s embrace as well, but not until a great deal later when darkness had truly fallen. Not until the first full moon had risen to look down on them from high above.

 4. The Curse of the Moon Chapter 3

    Her master must have been restored by his night¡¯s sleep. To all appearances, gone was his hesitation of the previous night. Again, he was the embittered old man she was familiar with, for which Vero was thankful. She found it a much simpler and more direct matter to hate him like that.

    They broke down the camp together wordlessly. They acted automatically through the familiar motions. It was common for them to remain silent for long stretches at a time, but this morning the silence seemed heavier. However, if her master was uninterested in discussing what had happened the previous night, then Vero was more than happy to put it out of her mind as well.

    When Vero collected her snares, she found them all empty. She had put them along good rabbit runs, but it seemed Luna had chosen to lead the hares away from the shining wire. It would be dried meat again for supper, and they were already on short rations.

    ¡°We¡¯ll go back to the village and see what fate has brought us with a new dawn.¡± Her master¡¯s voice was so stoic as to give the impression that he had never known a moment¡¯s indecision in his life, though Vero could spy that his hands were still shaking.

    On another morning, she might have managed some impertinent remark. This particular morning, Vero felt much too lethargic.

    She only managed a very beaten sounding, ¡°Yes, master.¡±

    The moment the words had left her mouth she immediately experienced a surge of self-loathing for so easily taking on the demeanor of a whipped dog.

    They returned to the village and the walk in the crisp morning air did Vero some good in revitalizing her. Although she hoped she would not incur any brazen comments from the villagers. At that moment, she felt her temperament was hot enough to kill. The sounds of weeping reached them well before they entered the village proper.

    Despite the impiety of the act, Vero watched a smile creep across her master¡¯s face. ¡°It seems someone pays the price of their fool alderman¡¯s arrogance.¡±

    On a normal morning, Vero could never match her master¡¯s callousness. The old man had chided her for an overabundance of empathy on more than one occasion. But on that particular morning, she found herself in possession of an overabundance of scorn. It was welcome to shift it onto the convenient target the village provided.

    She smiled back at her master. Her blood quickened, both at the misfortune of the fools who had humiliated them, and the prospect of a coming hunt.

    Smiles vanished and they entered the village. A crowd gathered around the bare space in front of the elder¡¯s residence. There were few enough people present, though given the number of huts she saw; Vero estimated that it must have been the majority of the village¡¯s population.

    The alderman Phillipe considered them as they came closer, and his look was no more welcoming than the one they had received the previous day. He stood on the front step of his home. Before him, stretched on the ground, was the form of a boy of about eleven or twelve. He was the youngest lad on the church steps the previous day, although he had not said anything and Vero hardly noted him at the time.

    Over the body was a woman, prostrate in tears. Looking at her, Vero saw her own Mama¡¯s image appear before her. She felt a sharp pang of shame at taking satisfaction from their tragedy.

    Her master stepped forward and carefully peeled the mother away from her son¡¯s corpse. The woman watched him, but did not resist. No one in the village said a thing as the Slayer examined the boy.

    Vero already knew what had happened to the lad. It was obvious to the trained eye even at a distance, and what they already knew about the monster only confirmed it. Still, her master told her frequently that a bit of showmanship in front of the uninitiated could be a profitable use of time. The fact that the villagers could not determine the cause of death on their own would mean nothing to them. They would value the Slayer¡¯s work only if they believed it had been difficult to accomplish.

    The boy¡¯s neck had been mauled by powerful jaws, his chest had been opened, and his entrails roughly pulled free with monstrous claws. The neck bite was the killing blow; it happened quickly. That much had been merciful. The other wounds were the result of the killer hunting for the choicest meats. Several organs were gone, the boy¡¯s liver and heart would never be found; they were already in the thing¡¯s belly. Most of the body was still intact though. The killing had been driven by a pathological need, not a desire for food.

    ¡°This was the work of a loup garou,¡± her master declared authoritatively, once he felt enough time had passed to impress the peasants. ¡°It is a curse levied in the name of Luna the Matron, that under the moon''s full gaze an unrepentant blasphemer loses all reason and takes on a horrible bestial shape.¡±

    A murmur ran through the crowd and not a few eyes drifted towards the abandoned temple. Her master did not acknowledge what must have gone through everyone¡¯s minds, and pressed forward.

    ¡°There have been attacks like this in the past?¡±

    He directed this question at the mother, who nodded in response.

    ¡°Three killings in this area, one month ago?¡±

    The mother nodded again.

    Her master bowed his head solemnly. ¡°You have my utmost sympathy for your son. Two others will die- perhaps more. And this will continue every month until the village is gone or this monster is destroyed.¡±

    All eyes then shifted towards the village alderman, who in turn focused intently on Vero and her master. He tried to project a mood of calm contemplation, yet for the space of an instant, Vero saw a look of absolute fury directed squarely at the two of them. Phillipe already knew he was caught. Although he was the one giving the announcement, and making a show of his internal deliberations, the mob had already ruled.

    At last, when the alderman had spent enough time conducting his own bout of showmanship, he stood up straight before his neighbors and spoke very seriously. ¡°We among us in this village have no warriors or hunters with the skill to meet this threat. You are a trained slayer of monsters. We offer you the bounty of our village, will you hunt this creature?¡±

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    The Slayer smiled again.

    Once they were away from the village, and far enough from prying eyes, Vero and her master began their preparations.

    The full moon was the aspect of Luna the Mother; healer and forgiver. Her influence would close any wound struck to the creature by an unconsecrated weapon. The Slayer¡¯s blade bore ancient enchantments and would serve. As a mere apprentice, all Vero had was the dagger she took from her brother when she left home. It was plain iron and bore the marks of her negligent maintenance as a younger novice.

    Her master gave her his small crossbow. Using the little coin in their purse, they had procured a handful of silver bolt heads more than a year ago. Although only three of them still remained.

    He believed that the monster laired in the forest. It was the cruelest twist of this curse that it was only under the sign of Luna¡¯s all-forgiving aspect that the loup garou was driven utterly mad. Early in the evening, the man would be haunted by delusions and driven to seek shelter beneath the canopy of leaves in shame, to hide from Luna¡¯s gaze.

    When the moon was at its highest point, the curse would possess the creature to compulsively seek some transgression to put it forever beyond Mother Luna¡¯s love. The result was a killing madness. However, as Mother Luna''s love was boundless, the cycle of death could only repeat each month until the wrath of the Matron had somehow been sated.

    They spent the rest of the morning trying to familiarize themselves with the terrain as much as possible with the time they had. Vero spotted a rabbit on their trek and brought it down with the crossbow, so at least she knew her aim was still good. They roasted the rabbit for their midday meal and rested after. The hunt could go on the whole night and exhaustion would prove deadly.

    That evening, just before the sun set, her master began the final arcane preparations for the night¡¯s hunt. He removed his boots and held out his palm, moving his fingers rapidly in a complex set of motions. He sliced his hand with his blade, intoning a slayer working of concealment and stealth as he did so. Once he was finished, he spread the blood spilled over the soles of his shoes.

    ¡°Hold out your hand.¡±

    Vero did as she was told and cast the same working. She recited the same words, and performed the same motions. Her master nodded in reply, which was as close as he ever came to praise, and cut open her hand to finish the spell.

    ¡°How long since you¡¯ve last had your woman¡¯s blood?¡±

    Surely, he should have remembered. It came under the new moon for her, as it always did.

    Vero pushed down her indignation. ¡°A fortnight, master.¡±

    ¡°It should still be viable then. Get out your rag.¡±

    Vero did as she was bid. From her pack she removed a glass vial with a stopper containing a bit of old rags stained with dry blood. She had puzzled at why her master insisted that she keep such a thing. If she even touched him in that condition, he became apoplectic about needing to ritually purify himself from the defilement.

    He never allowed her to cast any spells in his presence while she bled, warning of the direst of consequences for working magic while her humors were unbalanced. On her own, Vero had performed some minor workings. As yet, she had faced no repercussions. Mama had even taught her several prayers to recite over an herbal concoction when she had very painful cramps as a girl, and they seemed to function perfectly well.

    Her master continued, ¡°Now, this is the first loup garou you¡¯ve hunted. So, pay close attention, girl.¡±

    Vero sat on the ground and looked up at her teacher, imagining herself to be in one of the great slayer academies of old while she listened to him lecture.

    ¡°It''s commonly known that such beasts hunt during the full of the moon and fear silver. Peasants claim that they fear wolf¡¯s bane. In fact, it proves effective in only a limited number of instances, similar to a vampyre¡¯s fear of garlic.¡±

    He paused to give Vero the chance to elaborate and demonstrate her knowledge. ¡°It holds no true power, save for the power of suggestion. If the monster was told as a human that it repels such creatures, and believes it, then they flee. The same principle applies as the charlatan¡¯s false miracle: if a petitioner is sold a false relic as a cure by a swindler, his mind may cause his body to react in order to match his beliefs.¡±

    The Slayer gave another nod to indicate that the recitation was satisfactory. According to him, the old academies had given written examinations and considered essay writing a vital skill. As her teacher was illiterate, he had to settle for testing her orally. It was just as well, since Vero¡¯s own grasp of her letters was tenuous at best.

    ¡°Peasants also claim that such a creature¡¯s bite is infectious. This is a confusion caused by the fact that ¨C because of their curse born regenerative abilities ¨C loup garou become carriers of many diseases which fail to sicken or debilitate them, but may be passed through a bite. The foremost of these diseases being rabies. Such a victim may sicken, but such a bite will never transform you into a moon beast; although some who are bitten and recover do become ravening lunatics.¡±

    ¡°Based on the same false miracle principle, because they expect to become a monster.¡±

    Another nod. ¡°The moon exerts a strange influence over the minds of mortals. The full moon draws out lunatics as well as lycanthropes. Avoid being bitten, and if you are- then clean and purify the wound the moment the battle is over. The true curse originates from the Queen Luna herself¡­ either by a genuine divine intervention-¡± The Slayer smirked at the notion. ¡°Or by calling on her emanations through a mortal¡¯s spell-working. Because the curse of a loup garou and the curse of a woman¡¯s bleeding emanate from the same source, the moon, there is a sympathetic connection between them.¡±

    ¡°So, a working designed for tracking, cast using my blood will lead us to the monster?¡±

    The final nod. ¡°I cannot leave myself ritually impure directly before a hunt. I''ll teach the proper words and signs to you, and you''ll weave the spell yourself.¡±

    The Slayer did exactly as he claimed. Vero learned the prayers in Liturgical to call down the power of Luna the Matron by rote, she understood their meaning only through paraphrasing. It was a call for vengeance and an appeal to spite. The movements were more familiar to her, they resembled other divining rituals for tracking prey she had performed. They included both gestures and breathing patterns.

    When they were finished, Vero threw her rag on their campfire with a handful of mimosa as a burnt offering.

    Blood was the universal reagent, thick with azoth, it carried life energy itself throughout the body. Blood could be used to plaster over almost any flaws in a spell, if one spilled enough of it. Slayers never had the luxury to operate in the laboratory conditions most university-trained wizards worked in. All slayer workings presumed deficits in technical spellcraft would be paid for with blood sacrifice. Using the substance held little trepidation for her anymore. Although Vero was still not happy to stand over the stained rag while it burned on a fire, inhaling the fumes while chanting and performing the signs.

    For his part, once his instructions were given, Vero¡¯s teacher remained as far away from the proceedings as he could manage. He held his cloak over his mouth and nose for fear of contamination. Once the fire was well and truly out, he approached her cautiously.

    ¡°How do you feel?¡±

    ¡°A little sick from the smoke.¡± Vero coughed, expelling a bit of the burning from her lungs.

    ¡°Yes, yes, of course. But can you sense anything? Where is the beast?¡±

    Vero examined herself mentally and physically. Even though she knew it would make her master cross if she had bungled the ritual, she could find no change- besides the mundane effects of smoke inhalation.

    ¡°What should it feel like master?¡±

    ¡°You inhaled the smoke; it should affect you there first. Try smelling for the creature.¡±

    Vero sniffed at the wind. At first there was nothing. And then there was something. Just on the edge of sensation; a smell like animal musk.

    ¡°I know the way.¡±

 5. The Curse of the Moon Chapter 4

    The Slayer allowed Vero to guide him as they ventured into the woods. The underbrush was not especially thick and they kept a good pace, though she was routinely forced to stop and wait for the old man to catch up. Vero always felt a thrill on a hunt, but the effects of the ritual to sharpen her senses had given this thrill a primal edge, leaving her practically mad with anticipation when she had to wait for her master.

    At last, Vero could tell that they were drawing near their target. The stench of the thing was almost overpowering. Ahead of them was a small clearing surrounding an entrance to a cave.

    She brought her master up short. ¡°It¡¯s inside.¡±

    ¡°A den. We¡¯ll go inside, but be careful. If a native pack of wolves is in the area, they may have accepted the beast man as their alpha. If that has happened, then it will be necessary to contend with them as well.¡±

    Faintly, the sound of wailing could be heard inside.

    Vero nodded and readied the first silver bolt in her crossbow. Her master drew his sword and held it with both hands. Although her blood called out to her to lead the charge, Vero assumed a deferential position behind her master as they entered the monster¡¯s lair.

    Immediately inside the cave a pile of old bones and scraps littered the floor. Her master bent down to examine the remains.

    ¡°A pack of wolves certainly did reside here, but the beast seems to have killed them.¡± Something about the bones seemed to be troubling him.

    ¡°Surely that makes our job easier, master.¡±

    ¡°Yes and no. We won¡¯t have to divide our attention. However, it suggests that this thing is so wild and uncontrollable that even the simple social structure of the wolf pack is impossible for it to maintain. It may be beyond even the basic instinct for self-preservation. Be prepared for it to rush you in a berserker rage, giving no thought to the defense of its own body as it attacks. Remains don''t look torn apart like the work of a loup garou though. There may be more going on here then we know. Be on your guard.¡±

    ¡°Yes, master.¡±

    The pair continued forward through twists and turns while the passage became very cramped. The sound of wailing continued to grow louder, until they reached the back of the cave which opened into a large chamber with a fire pit in the middle of it. There were barrels and chests along the walls, dozens of them. The contents were closed inside, but Vero thought the whole matter reeked of a smuggling den.

    On the far side of the fire was a young man, in torn shreds of what once may have been clothing. It was the lad who had led them to Phillipe¡¯s home in the village, and beside him was the alderman himself.

    It was from the young man that the wailing emerged, and at that moment Vero knew him to be the moon beast. She pointed towards him with her weapon and made sure her master observed her doing so. Phillipe stood over the monster with a hand on its shoulder attempting to quiet it. The beast continued to lament and took no notice of them.

    It was the village elder who spoke to them as they came near. ¡°Have you found what you are looking for, slayer?¡±

    Despite the heavy derision in the alderman¡¯s voice, Vero¡¯s master did not bat an eye. ¡°Indeed. Your hesitation at hiring me certainly makes more sense now. At first, I¡¯d thought you were just a greedy pig. You should know the lad grows ever more bestial. Soon he won¡¯t even be able to recognize his uncle- or his partner¡­¡± Then a thought struck her master and he smirked. ¡°Or his paramour.¡±

    Phillipe was affronted, but only for a moment as his face slid into a look of solemn resignation. ¡°Oh, what does it matter now? Yes, we were lovers.¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have been here if you weren¡¯t involved in this up to the neck. How did the boy become cursed?¡±

    ¡°It was that witch who did this to him. She¡¯s the one who laid the curse.¡±

    ¡°The priestess? But not without reason I expect. He had something to do with her disappearance, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    The alderman nodded. ¡°She discovered us together. Whether by some foul work of divination or by simple eavesdropping, I don¡¯t know. She was snooping for this place, I¡¯m certain. Though finding us together served her just as well. She demanded, she demanded,¡± he emphasized this last phrase, ¡°-that we reveal ourselves to the village or she would do so herself. We couldn¡¯t very well just give in to her threats.¡±

    ¡°We? So, you both conspired to have this priestess done away with?¡±

    Now Phillipe looked offended in earnest. ¡°You cannot seriously believe I would risk my position by doing something so foolish. I¡¯ve never been married, and I made no secret of the fact that I haven¡¯t the slightest interest in women. No one in the village had ever been troubled by the fact in the past.¡±

    ¡°No, but perhaps they would not be so understanding towards a young man who lets himself be used as a woman by his rich old uncle? Is that what I am to believe? Or maybe an old robber of a village alderman simply saw an opportunity to rid himself of a meddling priestess who became too curious how he afforded himself such a fine house.¡±

    Phillipe began to pace back and forth as he relived his outrage. ¡°Michel fell into such a rage that he killed her on the spot. There was nothing I could do to stop him, though I dare to say that even if I could have, I may still have stayed my hand. It was nothing less than the whore deserved.¡±

    ¡°The villagers claimed she had gone missing, so you must have hidden the body.¡±

    ¡°That very night,¡± Phillipe confirmed.

    ¡°Under a clear sky no doubt, and so your crimes were revealed plainly before the goddess. Or perhaps the priestess levied a curse on you directly with her dying breath; such things do have great power. If you guided his hand or not, the results are the same. And we have a contract to fulfill.¡±

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    Vero¡¯s master readied his weapon, and she put her finger to the trigger of her own.

    Realizing the full weight of the situation, the alderman became suddenly frantic, searching for some way clear of his troubles. ¡°You know ancient magic, master slayer. Surely there is some cure for his condition.¡±

    ¡°Of course, there is. It may be ended as any other divine curse, by making proper restitution to the offended deity. But his crime-¡± Vero¡¯s master indicated the still wailing beast. ¡°-is that of murder. And so only the toll of blood vengeance will lift the goddess¡¯ wrath towards this village. A life for a life. We must bind him in silver chains this night and the next, or else provide two more victims to sate his bloodlust. Then under the sign of Luna the Matron, waxing or waning will do, we may offer the life of his family¡¯s patriarch as a willing sacrifice to appease her. You¡¯re my employer, is that the course we shall take?¡±

    The alderman made some noncommittal noise and pulled a face as though he was embarrassed, but said nothing.

    ¡°I thought not. If cutting you down here and now would cure the lad then I would do so in a heartbeat. Alas, it would not. I have no silver chains, and the goddess would never accept an unwilling sacrifice- no matter how personally satisfying I might find it to run you through. So, it seems only one other solution remains. Stand aside or I cannot guarantee your safety.¡±

    ¡°I can pay you twice the amount we agreed. Please just go.¡±

    The alderman was clearly floundering. Regardless, it was this final comment with caused her master to truly show his wrath.

    ¡°I have been given a contract and taken it before witnesses! A slayer¡¯s honor is not yet so cheap as to break his word and leave a village of innocent people to the depredations of one of the very monsters I have sworn an oath before all the gods to hunt! Stand aside now or I cut through you!¡±

    ¡°No!¡± The young man leapt to his feet, and before their eyes his body began to alter and shift. Fur sprouted across his frame as his muscles bulged and grew. Hands and feet twisted into claws, and his once human face transformed into a slavering wolf¡¯s maw. Yet still, Phillipe moved to interpose himself between the Slayer and the monster.

    Vero was all but ignored. She used the opportunity to slink aside as the two combatants began to circle around each other. Both were, as of yet, unwilling to cut down Phillipe, who stood between them. Unnoticed, she waited until she had a clear shot at the monster.

    She loosed a silver bolt directly into the creature¡¯s back.

    The loup garou howled in rage and moved to leap at her, knocking its protector off to the side as it did so. Expertly, her master sidestepped and brought down his blade along the thing¡¯s side as it turned away from him in its haste to strike at Vero. She had fallen backwards from the suddenness of the attack on her. Fortunately, her master¡¯s blow had brought the monster up short, and turned its attention back onto himself.

    Vero hurriedly pulled herself to her feet and clumsily tried to load the next silver bolt into the crossbow. Her hands betrayed her as the excitement caused them to shake, and the bolt fumbled out of place. The ritual had turned her nerves into a storm of animal instincts, and she longed to leap into the fray directly with her bare hands to fight using tooth and nail.

    The monster raged, but the Slayer maintained his wits and danced around its blows in a way that seemed effortless. Vero knew that it was not so. Her master was not attacking; every bit of his concentration was dedicated to keeping out of reach of the beast¡¯s claws. He knew he had the thing¡¯s attention and was waiting for Vero to fire her next bolt.

    Vero stilled her emotions and readied the crossbow again. As she raised it, she saw the alderman was back on his feet. She tried to shout a warning, but it was too late. Phillipe grabbed her master from behind with a clumsy and uncertain waist lock.

    It was all the edge the monster needed. A slash of its claws left a ragged gash which ran the length of her master¡¯s belly.

    Vero fired another bolt which hit the monster at the base of the spine. Even with his injuries, her master took advantage of the distraction. He pulled a dagger out from his belt and drove it into the alderman¡¯s leg. Phillipe screamed and released his grip. Once he was free, her master sprung forward in a leap that looked more like a fall, to slash the loup garou across the chest.

    The creature howled, but rather than attack again, it chose discretion as the better part of valor and broke towards the exit of the cave. Vero followed. She reloaded and fired her last silver bolt to hit the monster just over the shoulder a moment before it rounded a corner and disappeared from view.

    Vero felt something knock against her foot and looked down to see her master¡¯s enchanted blade. He slid it across the floor to her from where he lay. Phillipe had followed him to the ground and the pair grappled with one another. It took her aback and she spent a moment gawking.

    ¡°Damnit girl- wits about you!... After it!¡± Her master¡¯s breath had become wheezing.

    ¡°But what about-¡±

    ¡°I can handle one old fool- Gods¡¯ sake!... Kill that thing!¡±

    Vero turned her attention away from where the two men fought, picked up the sword, and chased after the beast. She believed that it was her master who had gained the dominant position when they finished jockeying for control, but she could not be sure.

    Although it was already out of sight Vero could still sense the creature ahead of her. The monster led her out of the cave and through the forest. The scent began to grow weaker and weaker, but from the trail of blood left behind, it was clear that the wolf man would not be able to maintain the pace for long. The wounds had been inflicted with silver- they would fester, boil, and refuse to heal.

    At last, the scent began to grow stronger again, and it was clear that the monster had stopped. Vero came upon it sitting on the rock beside a stream which ran down a small waterfall just beyond them. The monster had its back turned to her and was preoccupied prying the silver bolts from his body. The wounds had already turned swollen and angry.

    Vero attempted to approach unnoticed, but evidently the stealth working she had placed herself under had begun to lose its effectiveness. She was a few feet away when the monster turned to face her.

    Quickly she threw all her force into a single blow aimed at hacking off the thing¡¯s head, but it shifted its arms defensively just in time. Vero sliced cleanly through its left arm, but the movement was sufficient to redirect the blade into the monster¡¯s shoulder, where she felt it shudder to a stop against the thing¡¯s collar bone.

    Vero tried to dislodge the weapon, but found it stuck fast. She had to release her hold to leap back and avoid a swipe from the creature¡¯s one remaining claw.

    The monster was uninterested in continuing to press the attack and turned to flee with the sword still inside it. Vero could only imagine the punishment her master would inflict if she managed to lose his enchanted weapon. So, heedless of the danger, she charged after the monster unarmed.

    The beast¡¯s pace was slow and ungainly. Vero maintained a speed with it easily as they splashed into the water. It came to her mind that they were very near the edge of the waterfall, but only dimly. The rest of her cognition was dedicated to the thrill of battle.

    The creature slowed to turn and see if she still pursued him. This was this moment of hesitation Vero needed. She leapt and grabbed ahold of the sword¡¯s grip, then clung to it as desperately as she could.

    The monster began to twist away from her violently. At first the weapon remained stuck, sending Vero forward and off her balance. Then all at once the weapon came free with a sound of snapping of bone and tendon.

    The beast roared in utter agony, but Vero had no time to appreciate it. Stumbling forward on the slick mossy stones, she found herself face down in the water and was carried along by the current. She tried to regain her feet, then the ground vanished beneath her. She fell, and a knock on the head deprived her of consciousness.

 6. The Curse of the Moon Chapter 5

    When Vero regained her senses, she was soaked to the bone and the sky was nearly pink. A frantic search for her master¡¯s sword revealed it in the mud a few feet further down the stream. Her head throbbed and she felt nauseous, but she supposed that she ought to be thankful she had not washed up in a position to drown.

    There was no sign of the wolf thing, so Vero climbed back up to where the fight had occurred. She retrieved the two silver bolts the monster had removed before her interruption. The shafts were fragmented, but Vero wrenched off the bolt heads and took them with her. There was no trace of the third bolt, and she hoped it was still in her prey. It was too expensive to replace.

    Remembering her master, Vero began to rush back to the cave as quick as she could manage. By that time, the sun had crested the horizon. She found the cave exactly as she had left it and went inside to the back room.

    She found it much as she had feared. A recumbent form on the ground, slashed to ribbons, with a dagger still embedded in it. She believed it might have been her master, but kicking it over revealed it to be the Phillipe- long dead.

    A cough emanated from a dark corner.

    Her enhanced perception had fled, and only small fissures of light illuminated the cave through cracks in the ceiling. Vero¡¯s eyes adjusted and she found her master sitting against the cave wall in a pool of coagulating blood. There were marks on the ground in crude sigils where he had tried to perform a working to heal himself with all the spilt blood. From the Slayer¡¯s position, it had not been successful.

    Vero knelt down next to him.

    ¡°Did you kill it?¡± he managed to rasp, through another coughing fit.

    Vero shook her head.

    ¡°Godsdamnit girl. You have a contract and you will uphold it, understood?¡±

    Vero nodded an affirmative.

    ¡°Now you know who it is. If you let him transform again- You won¡¯t stand a chance alone¡­ Don¡¯t let night fall.¡±

    Vero nodded again to demonstrate her understanding.

    As her master was wracked by another coughing fit, she fished out the silver bolt heads and pressed them into his hand. ¡°I recovered these for you, master. I don¡¯t know where the third is, but I think that it may be-¡±

    Her master cut Vero off by weakly throwing the bolt heads back against her chest. ¡°What are you giving me these for, damn fool girl? Fix them to new shafts once you find a town with a descent fletcher.¡± He reached down to his belt and pulled off his coin purse and also threw that against her as well, though it was so light she hardly felt it. ¡°You¡¯re entitled to what little¡¯s left. You¡¯ll want my chainmail as well¨C damn thing cut straight through the belly¨C but you¡¯re shorter than me¡­ and it¡¯s better than nothing.¡±

    She felt her mind chugging towards an unseen destination. From some faraway place it occurred to Vero that her thoughts resembled a horse wading through mud up to its hindquarters.

    ¡°Master?¡±

    Her master continued as though he had taken no notice of her vocalization. ¡°You¡¯ll not have it until I¡¯m all the way gone though; gods damn you. I¡¯ll not have you pawing me to scavenge my things while I¡¯m still drawing breath.¡±

    ¡°Master, are you going to be well?¡±

    Her master tried to box her on the ear, but it bore more resemblance to a limp wristed slap- and at any rate it missed her widely. Vero felt moisture on her face.

    ¡°I¡¯m dying, stupid girl. Gods help me that my apprentice is such an imbecile, but I suppose it can¡¯t be helped now. I didn¡¯t think it¡¯d be some baldhead and his catamite that¡¯d finally do it, but there it is.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t die master.¡±

    ¡°I assure you I can- and that I am.¡± He held her gaze for a moment and then his features softened. ¡°People die every day, my little Vero. Today I¡¯m among them. You¡¯ll be fine, there wasn¡¯t that much more I could teach you. Everything else you need to know you¡¯ll pick up with experience, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    A few drops of some liquid landed on her master. Vero tried to speak, but could not think of anything to say. She wanted to say that she would think fondly of him, but she knew that would be a lie, and it seemed an impious thing to lie to a dying man. It was simply that she could not comprehend what her life would be like without him.

    ¡°No crying now, Vero. I¡¯d like to send myself off by giving you a right good ploughing, but I¡¯m afraid my body hasn¡¯t got enough blood left to manage it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, master.¡±

    ¡°There are no White Sisters about so you¡¯ll just have to burn the body. Don¡¯t worry; once my soul is free¡­ I¡¯ll make it to the Lady of Bones mausoleum on my own. I¡¯ve dealt with restless shades often enough¡­ that I don¡¯t intend on becoming one myself¡­ You listening to everything I said¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes, master.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    Her master reached out a hand for her, though it was evident his vision had already gone so dark that he could no longer see her. She took his hand and guided it to her chest. He cupped her breast for a moment and a bitter smile crossed his face, before he turned solemn and spread his hand out flat over her heart.

    ¡°Your apprenticeship is over. In the sight of no man, but before all the gods and daemons that care to listen, I name you a slayer and inheritor to all that entails.¡± One last time the sour smile returned to his lips. ¡°Good luck, Veronique. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll need it.¡±

    And he died.

    It was fully morning before Vero had sorted through all her master¡¯s things to determine what was valuable enough to keep, what was too heavy to carry alone but valuable enough to try to sell, and what was useless enough to burn with her master.

    She looked through the barrels and chests in the smuggler¡¯s den. She found wheat, hidden to avoid tax collectors and priestesses. Beer as well, which she supposed was the final product. Such a petty scheme to have claimed so many lives.

    One more is still to come. The one you shall kill.

    It was midday by the time she had dragged the body to the clearing and gathered enough wood for the pyre. She watched the body burn and burn, and felt as though something inside of her was being scorched as well. When it was done only ashes remained and she left.

    It was approaching evening when she finally arrived back at the village. The villagers eyed her with suspicion, but she ignored them as she walked directly towards the elder¡¯s house. The old woman, the now-deceased Phillipe¡¯s sister, opened the door. Vero immediately pushed past her and forced her way inside.

    There were gasps and murmurs from the girls, but they stayed as far away from the intruder as they could manage. The entire room stank horribly of gangrene. A figure on a pallet weakly made a move, attempting to rise. Vero already knew its identity.

    The old woman attempted to interpose herself between them. ¡°Please, you don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Get out!¡± The old woman shrank back from Vero¡¯s roar. ¡°Leave with the others. And don¡¯t come back into this house until I walk out- or I swear I¡¯ll kill you too!¡±

    The old woman looked helplessly, first at Vero, then at her son who had finally managed to pull himself into a sitting position. Michel- the loup garou nodded, and the woman ushered herself and the other girls present outside.

    The figure was covered in bandages, though they were soaked through with blood and puss. The wounds they covered would not mend until he transformed that night. One of his arms was severed completely. Vero did not suppose that would heal no matter how many moonrises came or went.

    ¡°Are you going to kill me?¡±

    Vero slowed, but did not stop walking towards him. She drew her sword. ¡°Yes I am.¡±

    He began to quiver and tried to rise further, but his body betrayed him and he collapsed back onto the pallet. ¡°Please, it¡¯s only one more night, you could take me out of the village and chain me away from people.¡±

    ¡°I could, and then next month the cycle repeats. Lunar curses are very regular, and unavoidable, I assure you¡­ And I have no silver chains with which to bind you.¡±

    ¡°He told me- He told me I had to¡­ To do what I did. He said I would be shamed if everyone knew.¡±

    ¡°I- understand. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Vero did not want to hear anymore. It no longer mattered who had proposed the deed and who had done it. The priestess was dead. The uncle was dead. Her master was dead.

    They¡¯re all dead, except you.

    And Vero had a contract to fulfill.

    The human had already died the moment he killed the priestess. Now the monster held his remaining arm up defensively. It closed its eyes so it would not have to see the sword¡¯s sweep. Vero wished she could do the same.

    ¡°Please, I¡¯m scared to die.¡±

    ¡°People die every day.¡±

    A single movement separated the loup garou¡¯s head from its shoulders. Then she closed her eyes.

    Vero retrieved her last silver bolt from the table where the monster¡¯s family had placed it after they had removed it. She collected her reward, and despite the wailing of the bereaved mother, no one dared to refuse her demands. She sold all her master¡¯s gear which she could not carry with her at whatever price she was offered, taking no effort to haggle. She advised the villagers to burn the corpse for their own safety, but could not have cared less whether they took her words to heart or not.

    Dusk had arrived, but it was bright under the last night of the full moon. With her business concluded, Vero left towards the north, because that was the direction she faced.

    She never returned to that village ever again.

 7. An Unequal Share Part II

    The Present

    Vero and Dora had no destination in mind when they had left Whitegate, only that they wished to get out of the city. So, they continued traveling north across the Kingdom of Velois. The land had become well settled since the end of the civil war, and there was no business for Vero. Fortunately, they stocked up well with supplies before leaving the Republic.

    Dora had also been more successful than Vero in finding employment.

    The weather was very warm and they often bivouacked rather than try and hire rooms. They traveled all day, and at night Vero studied Friar Theobald¡¯s book by the campfire. She started at the beginning, since she was still much too far south to need specific directions as of yet, and because that seemed like the most sensible place to start.

    Sometimes, Dora curled up next to her and they read together.

    She had forgotten how good it felt to be so near to someone she loved so much. Vero was going to miss that once she needed to leave Dora behind. It was going to hurt, but she was prepared for that.

    Vero put it out of her mind. She needed to focus on remembering Mama¡¯s lessons of old Imperial if she was going to ever decipher the friar¡¯s book.

    Theobald had been a priest of the Goddesses of Learning in one of the free cities to the east of Velois. There, the Lady was known as Thesmos, but Vero had heard other names across the sea, or on the other side of the mountains. The Reasoning Goddess shared a church hierarchy with Orphia, the Goddess of Art, and Theobald inscribed prayers to both in his introduction to the text.

    Vero found the tenants of the faith and their devotion to study rather dull, at least for her own tastes, but she appreciated the work they did. Most of the books she had collected in the past few years were originally produced by that church in one form or another.

    The friar had traveled across the Archduchy of Teutonia on a survey of the land, investigating what crops were grown and in what yield, detailing the topography, and making sketches of the local flora and fauna. Vero found the drawings the most interesting.

    Mostly, the book was rather boring. Vero still had not found anything interesting by the time she and Dora reached the northern edge of Velian territory.

    They planned to stop at a small trade city built just short of the cross roads between Teutonia in the northeast, and the Umbrian marshes to the west. Vero knew the place; she had been there many times before. Dora would be safe there.

    When they came through the heath, the first thing Vero saw across the broad plain were the town walls in front of them. She stopped Papillon and pulled the coin purse off her belt; it was heavier than usual. She removed enough money to finance the rest of her journey and gave the purse to Dora.

    ¡°Why give me this?¡± Dora asked.

    ¡°Keep it for me.¡±

    Dora looked back and forth nervously and tried to hide the purse in her arms. ¡°I¡¯d really rather you held our money.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll rent a private room at the inn. I¡¯ll stay there with you tonight and go on alone tomorrow morning.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s dangerous further north. I¡¯m not certain I can keep you safe there.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about that. When we left Whitegate, you said you¡¯d take me with you to see new places. So far, the only place you¡¯ve taken me is this swamp.¡±

    Vero put Papillon back into motion. ¡°It¡¯s not a debate, I¡¯ve made my decision. You¡¯ll wait here.¡±

    They entered the town, found the inn, and ate dinner in stony silence. The place was almost full with traveling merchants, but not very rowdy. Everyone around them seemed to be entirely concerned with their own business, which suited Vero¡¯s tastes just fine. The quiet was one of the things which recommended the location to her.

    Dora left after a few minutes with a mumbled excuse that she was going to take a bath. Vero finished her own meal as well as the remainder of Dora¡¯s, which had only been lightly picked at.

    When she was finished, Vero followed Dora to the back. There was a stout door leading into the bathing room, but it was left open a crack to keep the room from becoming too warm. Vero entered and found Dora lounging in a large wooden tub. Vero closed the door completely and made certain there was no one to see her before removing her own clothes.

    Dora moved aside and Vero slid into the steaming hot water next to her. There was not much room in the tub between them, but Vero certainly did not mind. Dora moved herself into a horizontal position sitting on Vero¡¯s lap. Vero closed her eyes and tried to just enjoy the moment.

    She might have fallen asleep; she had no notion of how long they stayed there together. Dora took her attention by the gentle application of pressure to her lips.

    ¡°You can¡¯t really expect me to stay here in this moldy place all alone do you?¡± Dora asked, in her best pout.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be alone for long if I don¡¯t miss my guess.¡± Vero¡¯s words were just a fraction too sharp to be playful, and Dora returned them with an elbow to the ribs which was just the same.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious Virgil, I want to come with you. You promised we¡¯d go someplace wonderful. This ¡®city¡¯ isn¡¯t much more than a country village.¡±

    ¡°It has a wall around it. That makes it a city.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s so quiet here.¡±

    Vero cradled Dora in her arms and held her close against her chest, which Dora went along with very readily. ¡°It¡¯s also safe here. The Marquis de Fer owns these lands, and his justice is strictly enforced here since order was restored. Farther north than this- they¡¯re still in the midst of an interregnum¡­ And the land is infested with the living dead.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve faced the living dead together before.¡±

    ¡°Not like these. The creatures ahead of me are more than a hundredfold greater in age, and in power, to the vampyres we destroyed in Whitegate.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s so dangerous, then how do you suppose that you¡¯ll come out alright- especially without anyone to help you.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you don¡¯t understand. I have no assumptions about my own survival. In fact, I think there¡¯s a greater chance that this book is some kind of elaborate trap, than not. And if that is the case, then I¡¯ll certainly be killed. If I haven¡¯t returned by the end of spring, then you should presume that I¡¯m dead, and go¡­ wherever you like. So long as you don¡¯t dare consider following after me.¡±

    Dora sat up suddenly in the tub, displacing both of them. ¡°You think Pentarch was some kind of- evil undead spy?¡±

    Vero steadied herself, and the two of them now sat facing each other. ¡°Possibly. I hope not. He knew all the signs and phrases I was taught to use to recognize our own. If we are turning on ourselves, then things are even worse than I¡¯ve feared. My impression was that he had the same suspicions about this being a trap that I had. Which is why he passed it on to me and made himself scarce.¡±

    ¡°Coward.¡± Dora struck the water in front of her.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so harsh in your judgement. He¡¯s obviously less foolhardy than I am. Even so, if he hadn¡¯t seen the opportunity to use me as a canary- it¡¯s my feeling that he would have gone¡­ regardless of the danger.¡±

    ¡°For the gods¡¯ sake, why would either of you want to follow this damn book?¡±

    ¡°We were never numerous, but Pentarch is the first slayer I¡¯ve met since my master¡¯s death. That was years ago. My master was an illiterate mercenary before he was trained by his own master. Everything I know is second-hand information, and what I could find out on my own. The ancients may have had spells, or other knowledge- artifacts, relics¡­ I can¡¯t afford to let that chance escape me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how you going off and getting yourself killed will do anything to help your order.¡±

    ¡°One more or less slayer in the world won¡¯t make any difference. But, if I can find the intact ruins of one of the old Imperial academies, then the gods only know what I may find inside.¡±

    Dora moved to her side and slumped her head on Vero¡¯s shoulder, apparently resigned to defeat. ¡°I wish you really were my husband in truth. I never have this much trouble making men do what I want.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t suppose you do.¡±

    Vero kissed her. Then lifted Dora and herself out of the water, which had grown tepid.

 8. The Haunted Tower Chapter 1

    Several Years Ago

    Vero was not quite to the top of the hill, but she could already see the top of the stone tower ahead of her. She was too jaded to be excited at the sight. The tower had become visible every time she was near the top of one of the damned hills, and each time the summit revealed a descent followed by yet another godsdamned hill.

    This time, however, as she crested over the top, she saw a broad flat plain stretch out between her and Kaer Longus. Or at least it initially appeared to be a flat plain.

    On closer examination, joy turned to despair. Vero could see the light of the setting sun reflecting off small pools of standing water. Thick vegetation covered the surface well, but when she drew closer, she could identify nymphaeales, aquatic flowering plants.

    She sighed when she realized that the entire length, from the bottom of the hill all the way to the outer walls, was a massive marsh. Past the marsh was the tower, jutting up out of the midst of a walled city. Finally, just barely visible on the edge of the horizon, she could make out the flying banners and tents of the Marquis de Fer¡¯s encampment.

    The city was not yet under siege from what she could tell. Though with the army camped so near, the threat was clearly implicit.

    The sun would be down by the time she crossed the swamp, and the city gates would be closed. She had considered scouting the city before going to the camp, but the timing of her arrival settled the question for her. She had left the road to travel cross country for haste, and the mistake probably cost her at least a day¡¯s travel, if not two. She took a swig of water from the skin on her belt and began hiking the rest of the way down.

    The trip through the marsh was misery. She slowly slogged through the tepid stagnant water in the late summer sun, while being eaten alive by mosquitos.

    Her master had once told her that he knew a warding spell against insects. He never taught it to her, and she never saw him use it, no matter how badly they were beset by pests. She considered it just another of his lies. That list was already long enough that another late addition did not appreciably change her opinion of the man.

    The sun sank and at last Vero was nearly free of the muck. The Marquis had set down his men on relatively solid ground. His troops were in the process of erecting a wooden palisade around the site, but it was not yet completed. They must have arrived only recently since, from what she had been told, the Marquis was not a man to neglect the defense of his camp.

    One of the soldiers on patrol challenged her as she approached. ¡°Who goes there?¡±

    Vero held up her hands to show she posed no threat. ¡°A friend, I am apprenticed to master slayer Aquinas. I came here over rough terrain in response to the Marquis¡¯ urgent request for aid.¡±

    ¡°Remain where you are, boy.¡± The patrolman departed back into the camp, but two other crossbowmen had arrived and kept her in their sights.

    She used the lull as an opportunity to sit on the shore and drain the water from her boots. The swamp had come up to her waist, and her pants clung uncomfortably to her body.

    Another soldier arrived, he seemed to be a sergeant, and he waved for the others to lower their weapons. ¡°Follow me lad. Milord wishes to see you as soon as possible. He¡¯s ordered fresh clothes and a bath for you, then you¡¯ll join him for his evening meal.¡±

    ¡°That sounds wonderful.¡±

    Vero was starving. She had not eaten anything all day beside a few strips of dried meat at noon. She had run out of money to pay for hot meals, and although she set snares whenever she camped, hunting had been very scarce.

    She also felt filthy from her trip through the swamp and looked forward to prospect of a warm bath, despite the difficult explanations her undressing would entail. The soldiers had taken her, with her short hair and trousers, for a boy. Although she would never have overtly lied if pressed, it was certainly the impression she meant to give. She had serious doubts that the Marquis would hire a woman as his agent, and she desperately needed the employment.

    Since the death of her master, she had yet to receive a single contract. What little coin they had was gone and she was nearly out of provisions. It would not be much longer until she would need to begin pawning her equipment to buy food.

    The soldier extended a hand and helped Vero climb out of the muddy ditch surrounding the planned line of the camp defenses. Once she was up onto solid ground, he led her inside. Even if they ended up throwing her out, she would at least get a bath and a meal out of the adventure.

    It was mostly the peasant levies around the palisade, but they and the camp followers made up only a fraction of the population Vero saw. The majority had the look of a professional fighting force; knights and mercenaries. She observed several crossbowmen, but few horses. Obviously, the Marquis had been better informed about the local marshy terrain than herself.

    Looking at the organization on display, her precursory estimation was that the Marquis seemed a very able commander. That would confirm what her master had told her of him.

    From what she had seen of the surrounding region so far, the only thing that might have the force to stop him was pestilence. Remaining in this swamp for a long siege would only court such disaster. She hoped the she could use his desire for a swift resolution to recommend her services.

    The soldier stopped in front of a small tent. Not far away Vero could see the gilded commander¡¯s quarters.

    The patrolman moved aside the tent flap and pointed her inside. ¡°A serving girl will take your clothes to be laundered and dress you in a new outfit when you¡¯re finished. Milord is anxious to speak with you, so do not keep him waiting any longer than necessary.¡±

    ¡°I assure you; I¡¯m equally anxious to eat. I¡¯ll proceed with all haste.¡±

    Inside the tent a steaming hot bath had been drawn in a wooden tub. A pretty young woman, who looked about Vero''s own age, stood waiting with a brush and a cake of soap.

    It seemed the Marquis intended to allow her every luxury the camp could offer. That spoke well of her chances on two fronts. First, it showed the value he placed on the services she could offer him. Second, and more immediately, she thought that a woman might be easier to keep a secret from than a male valet.

    Vero set down her pack and weapons, and checked to make certain the soldier had closed the tent flap. She allowed the serving girl to help her remove her armor.

    ¡°Would Ser like me to take his equipment to be cared for by the camp armorer?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I think my chain shirt could use some mending. Leave the sword, but have the dagger sharpened. I also have a pouch with a few crossbow heads I¡¯d like fletched onto new bolts, the heads are special though. Make certain I get those exact bolt heads back; new ones won¡¯t do me any good.¡±

    ¡°Very good, Ser.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your name miss?¡±

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    ¡°Antoinette- Ser?¡± Antoinette tried to removed her tunic before Vero stopped her.

    ¡°You¡¯re very pretty Antoinette, and I¡¯m really very- I really can¡¯t afford to offend¡­ I¡¯m just very shy.¡± Vero tried to fumble her speech like a nervous young man might. ¡°Could you perhaps allow me to wash myself?¡±

    Seeing Vero acting so flustered must have made Antoinette self-conscious, because she began to blush and stammer herself. ¡°Of- of course¡­ Ser. I¡¯m not here to- I mean that I did not intend to upset you.¡±

    Once she had waited for Antoinette to leave with her things, Vero undressed herself. She tested the water and found it almost scalding. Gingerly, she placed one foot inside, and then the other.

    She was working her way downwards slowly when Antoinette rushed back into the tent. ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry, Ser- I¡¯ve only gone and left with your cake of soap! I¡¯m such a dullard I-¡±

    Vero immediately sat down and hoped that the girl had not seen anything. While naked her feminine features were more obvious than when she was dressed, but they were still not pronounced in either state. She turned away to try and hide as much of herself as possible.

    ¡°Just put it down and leave please.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my a- ah¡­ lord.¡± Antoinette kept her eyes pressed to the ground and placed the soap down next to a set of clean clothes. ¡°I¡¯m really a terrible fool, I¡¯m very sorry.¡± She said, before turning and hurrying away.

    Vero soaked lazily in the warm water. Her secret was either out, or it was not. Either way, she decided to enjoy herself while she could. She scrapped the muck off herself and rinsed her hair until she finally began to feel clean. Once she was washed and dressed, she called Antoinette back to dry and comb her hair.

    ¡°Are you a part of the Marquis¡¯ household?¡± Vero asked.

    ¡°Yes, my¡­ um¡­ yes. My father is one of his huntsmen. I¡¯ve lived in his house since I was born.¡±

    ¡°And how does he run his household?¡±

    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s very strict. But not at all cruel! I know he¡¯s very honorable. All his retainers think very highly of him, although they sometimes complain about his discipline.¡±

    Antoinette finished then brought a mirror for her. Vero examined herself, really clean for the first time in months. Her skin was naturally fair, but she had been constantly out of doors all summer which gave her a ruddy complexion over her face and lower arms. Still unusually strong and tall for a woman, but also thin enough she could easily see the line of her ribs when she was in the bath.

    Nothing but sinew, skin, and bones.

    As her master always described her, and she admitted he was not entirely wrong.

    She tried on a smile and adjusted the line of her hair. She would need to trim it again soon; it nearly came down over her face, and she hated when it got caught in her eyes. The outfit she wore consisted of plain breaches with a doublet in a dull reddish brown. Sewn into the fabric over the breast was the badge of the Marquis¡¯ house, an argent stallion raised onto its back legs against a vert field.

    ¡°The Marquis, he always pays his soldiers on time?¡± Vero continued her questioning after the short lull.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard anyone in the camp complain about him being late.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s excellent. How do I look?¡±

    Antoinette nodded approvingly. ¡°Very fine, Ser.¡±

    Vero gave herself one final check in the mirror. The doublet was smaller than she would have liked, but she had bound her chest as tightly as she could and nothing seemed to show. She looked, to anyone who did not know better, like a grown squire awaiting his knighthood. Her figure was a bit slight, and free from grime her face was rather pretty. However, some knights preferred their squires slight and rather pretty.

    Vero stepped out of the tent. Antoinette led her over to the commander¡¯s quarters and drew the curtain aside for her. Inside was a freshly set table with spiced goose, trimmed with berries added for color. A bottle of vino sat ready for consumption beside it. The meal was not exactly peasants¡¯ fare, but nobles had been known to set more extravagant tables, even when on campaign.

    A man in impressive attire, presumably the Marquis¡¯ body servant, stood by the table and pulled out a chair for her. ¡°My Lord is currently delayed with a messenger. He will be here momentarily. He graciously invites you to begin eating without him.¡±

    ¡°Whatever his lordship wishes.¡±

    Vero sat down and tucked in. She showed the slightest restraint to try and keep the grease from running down her borrowed clothes, but otherwise spared no time in eating as much as she could, and doing so as quickly as possible. The wine was fortified and quite strong, so she limited her drinking to avoid becoming lightheaded.

    She was kept waiting for only a few minutes before her host arrived. Vero was positioned facing away from the entrance, so her first indication of his presence came when the servant pulled out the chair opposite her.

    A young man in his twenties sat down. He was handsome and clean shaven, with long auburn hair he kept tied back by a band, and a big athletic frame. His features were distinctly aristocratic, and his impressive height made it clear he was a man of distinction. His hair covered one of his ears, but the other was exposed and he wore a piercing of the type bravoes in the south used to display their courage.

    She ought to have found him intimidating, but he had such entrapping sensitive eyes it did not occur to her. He wore an awkward friendly smile which gave Vero the impression that he was approachable; and she had to remind herself not to become too enamored with someone she had, after all, not even met yet.

    One thing was certain, he was not the dour old man in his late sixties ¨C with loose skin hanging from his jowls, and hair like a thatch of straw ¨C her master had described.

    The Marquis also spared no time before filling up his plate, and he cut slices of goose for himself as he spoke. ¡°Well, I can tell you¡¯re not master slayer Aquinas. I take it you¡¯re his apprentice.¡±

    Vero swallowed and sat up a little straighter in her chair. ¡°Yes, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°Will master Aquinas be joining us shortly?¡±

    This was the moment Vero had been dreading. ¡°Unfortunately, my Lord, master Aquinas died more than a season ago. I accepted your message for him on his behalf. I am prepared to accept the contract you offered to him, if your lordship so wishes.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s fitting that I should call upon one of my dearly departed father¡¯s old allies, only to find him also deceased. I imagine I¡¯m not the Marquis described to you.¡±

    ¡°I confess, I was expecting to meet a man my master¡¯s age.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not too much of a disappointment to you I hope.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not-! ¡­my Lord.¡± Vero hoped she had not sounded too excited.

    The Marquis paused while cutting his meat for just a moment and smirked. ¡°If master Aquinas took you as a student, you must have some talent¡­ Yet I¡¯m still not certain I should trust this contract to a mere boy.¡±

    ¡°With respect, I¡¯m not a ¡®mere boy¡¯ my Lord.¡±

    ¡°As you wish.¡± He waved her objection away and took a large bite of goose, which he swallowed with a gulp of wine before continuing. ¡°I¡¯m not certain I should trust this contract to a woman either.¡±

    Vero choked on a bit of black berry, and the Marquis nearly burst into laughter to see her surprise. ¡°My Lord¡­ I-¡±

    ¡°Please, there¡¯s no need for concern. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    Vero took a sip of wine to recover from her coughing fit. ¡°Vero- Ah, Veronique my Lord.¡±

    ¡°Veronique, then. I¡¯ve spent my whole life pursuing beautiful women. And I certainly know when I find one- even if she cuts her hair short and pulls on pants.¡±

    ¡°My Lord is a diviner.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. You must let me keep some secrets... Regardless, I sniffed you out.¡± The Marquis tone had turned flirtatious, but a moment later he became more businesslike once again. ¡°But as I said, there¡¯s no need for concern. I have a very liberal point of view when it comes to those of your profession. Priests may say a woman taking work as a man is sinful, but they also condemn your type of magic in general. As well as anything else they can¡¯t control.¡±

    ¡°Does my Lord not approve of priests?¡±

    ¡°I approve of priests very much. When they are solving my problems, not adding to them.¡±

    Vero took a substantial gulp of wine. She decided that it was time to sell her services, and hopefully win the Marquis¡¯ respect.

    ¡°And in this case your problem is a hostile entity, non-corporeal, which has established itself inside the keep of your vassal and altered his mind to turn him against you. Your priests have prayed, but their exorcisms must have proven ineffective, or you and I wouldn¡¯t be here. You could take his home and kill him, but that just weakens your force camping in this bog and laying siege for weeks, possibly months. And it still doesn¡¯t destroy the thing ultimately responsible for all this in the first place. I know spells and techniques for hunting ethereal creatures your priests lack. They¡¯ve been trying to exorcise it with their expensive prayers, but obviously whatever it is¡­ has an anchor somewhere deep within the keep. I shall go straight to the source, find it, and kill it.¡±

    The Marquis ate in silence for a few moments and considered what she had said. ¡°You¡¯re certainly very confident.¡±

    Vero was glad she had given that impression, because it was certainly not how she felt¨C even with the wine propping her up.

    The Marquis continued. ¡°As I see it, I don¡¯t have much to lose. Your description of my situation was most apt. What I shall do, is allow you to enter the city, and then continue my own preparations for a siege. If you destroy the creature, then you¡¯ll be rewarded. But I¡¯ll warn you that I don¡¯t plan on staying here long. If my men breach the walls- You¡¯ll be just another resident in a sacked city. Sound fair to you, Veronique?¡±

    Vero did not like the sound of the arrangement, but knew that she also had no other source for coin since the death of her mentor. She also noticed that the nature of her reward was kept vague, but then her master always told her that one did not haggle with nobles.

    She nodded. ¡°I won¡¯t fail, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°I think I like you, Veronique. I very much hope you return to claim your reward.¡±

 9. The Haunted Tower Chapter 2

    Vero¡¯s eyes fluttered open and she found her face buried in the long strands of Antoinette¡¯s hair. They had a very pretty smell, like rosemary. The Marquis had graciously offered her a servant¡¯s services while she was in the camp. Vero accepted the offer and requested Antoinette, as they already knew one another. Vero gently shook her head free and turned over to her other side.

    There was no more need for feigned shyness since the Marquis already knew her secret, and Vero suspected it was Antoinette who had informed him. Vero had not felt comfortable leaving the girl to sleep in a pallet on the floor when the bed the Marquis had given her was easily large enough to accommodate them both.

    The early morning was still much colder than Vero cared for and she pulled her blankets tighter around herself. She was in no hurry to get underway, so she let herself drift back to sleep.

    When Vero woke up again, the sun had fully crested over the horizon and it was past time for her to be rising. She would have to trust most of her weapons and armor to the Marquis to keep for her. At least she was able to fill her pack with fresh rations. When she tried to collect her dagger, Antoinette told her that the camp smith refused to return such a rust eaten weapon.

    Instead, she was returned a poniard with a unique mottling which resembled water. Vero had seen oasis steel before, once in a market, but she and her master could never have afforded such a thing. The Marquis must have been even more astonishingly wealthy then she had heard, if his smith could take it on his own authority to give her something so expensive. It was a far finer weapon than her disguise called for, but the hilt had no ornamentation, so the plain appearance in its sheath belied its true value. It was perfectly balanced, she expected no less.

    Vero¡¯s plan, as she had detailed it to the Marquis over more wine the previous evening, began with her entering the castle town anonymously and dressed as a woman to allay suspicion. She had tried on some of Antoinette¡¯s things, but the maid was a bit too short or too wide in too many of the wrong places. The Marquis had promised to arrange something for her the next morning.

    She ate breakfast in the camp mess and was pleased to find that the men were being as well fed as their master, albeit more cheaply. They ate pork and ale rather than goose and wine, but the servings were generous. Vero had been certain that she would never be hungry again after stuffing herself the previous evening, but at once she found herself eating just as voraciously when she finally received her portion.

    After her meal, Vero wandered around the camp aimlessly for almost an hour before the Marquis¡¯ valet found her. He brusquely directed her into a large unmarked tent, but did not enter with her. Inside was a knight¡¯s quarters with a separate dressing area behind a curtain. On a table lay a new and brightly colored green dress, with dark flourishes woven into the tailoring.

    There was a mirror in the dressing area, so Vero went behind the curtain and changed her clothes. It was more revealing than she would have liked, but that was a necessity of the cover she had chosen. She kept her weapon in a leather sheath attached to her thigh, hidden from sight under the dress.

    She returned to the main area of the tent, and was shocked to find the Marquis sitting at the table. He had obviously been waiting for her, but he still seemed surprised when she arrived; although he stood up, he said nothing.

    ¡°Is there something else you wanted from me, my Lord?¡±

    ¡°Yes-¡± He appeared puzzled for just a moment, but Vero hardly noticed. ¡°-there was something I wanted to give you.¡±

    He took a moment longer to examine her apparel, and when he spoke again, he seemed to have fully collected himself. ¡°You look very beautiful, Veronique.¡±

    ¡°You prefer me dressed thus?¡±

    ¡°Prefer? Clothes change and the woman stays the same.¡± He smiled and Vero found it very contagious. ¡°The flourishes were originally white, but I thought it would be a poor spy who wears her employer¡¯s colors on her sleeves. I ordered my valet to have them changed- and I don¡¯t know how he managed it as quickly as he did. Although I¡¯m afraid he may have been awake all night at it, poor fellow.¡±

    Her heart was beating fast and her mouth felt dry. ¡°You said you had something to give me?¡±

    ¡°Ah yes.¡± The Marquis produced a lacquered box from behind his back. ¡°I want to make sure you have everything you need to have the best chance at success. My armorer has equipped you with a suitable weapon from my stores, yes?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    He opened the box for her. Inside of it were several bracelets of small copper chain, one more bracelet of silver, a ring of silver etched with writing in Liturgical, and a plain band ring of gold. There were also some cosmetic paints, and a vial of what she presumed to be perfume. ¡°I thought these might help your subterfuge.¡±

    ¡°Thank-you, my Lord.¡±

    She took the box back to the mirror quickly to regain her composure. She began to put on the jewelry and tried to apply the paint as she saw best, although she had no experience with it.

    ¡°These are only the least of the gifts I could give you, of course. But I did not want to jeopardize your mission by drawing undue attention.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate your consideration, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°I only gave you what I thought a common woman on her own liberty might keep with her for barter. I¡¯ve been purchasing jewels from each of the merchants I¡¯ve passed on this campaign, and these are only the pettiest trinkets. I think I shall reward you with the rest once you return, and you¡¯ll see then that they put these baubles to shame.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure my payment will be very generous, my Lord.¡±

    Eventually Vero was satisfied she was not going to improve her face any further by continued readjustment of the paints. She sniffed the perfume and found it smelled very strongly of jasmine. She began to apply a small portion and realized that the tent was very quiet. She knew she ought to say something, but every time she tried to think of what, she drew a blank.

    ¡°Who was it you were purchasing these things for?¡± Vero could not really believe what it was she said when she had, at last, spoke.

    She came out from behind the curtain, but if the Marquis was offended, he did not show it. ¡°I don¡¯t remember at the moment. My mother, perhaps.¡±

    ¡°And what does my Lord think of my disguise?¡±

    He made a very considered judgement before speaking. ¡°You are a woman. I would stake my life on it.¡±

    Vero let out a titter of nervous laughter before stifling it. ¡°I should go¡­¡± She tried to sound decisive, but failed completely. She did not really want to leave, but she did not really want to remain and continue to embarrass herself either. ¡°Perhaps we could speak more- after I return.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no question of it. I want to see your face when I show you each of the presents I have to give to you. Good luck, Veronique.¡±

    ¡°You may- My friends often call me Vero.¡±

    ¡°Gods go with you, Vero.¡±

    Vero left the way she had come. Now dressed as she was, she did her best to remain unnoticed as a camp follower and collect her things. Antoinette seemed very surprised when she saw her transformation, but the maidservant assured her that her face had been painted well. Once she had her pack, she hurried out the gate as quickly as she could, ignoring everyone she passed along the way.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    There was a single rough road of hard packed dirt which led through the marsh to the city. The exercise was a great benefit to her and her head began to clear. The tower¡¯s height played tricks with her perspective of distance. It appeared close, but it still took a long way of walking to reach it.

    On the way she had plenty of time to consider her encounter with the Marquis de Fer. He was trying to seduce her, she felt certain of that.

    Surely, he knows many women fairer than you?

    Of course, the Marquis probably had the most beautiful women one could imagine at his estate, but they were not close to hand. And he was much too disciplined to encourage prostitutes to come into his camp where they would spread disease. This would just be an alliance of convenience, a temporary affiliation.

    Are you going to let him seduce you?

    Vero was very infatuated with him, that much was clear to her. Even in the afterglow of his presence she felt rather giddy. If she did let him lay with her it would certainly make him more favorably disposed towards her when he determined her pay.

    Have you already fallen to whoreing then?

    Her master had often been forced into demeaning work, but he only visited prostitutes and never did the work himself. Of course, it was not as though she was a virgin any longer. She could not think what remaining virtue she could stand to lose from the affair, even if she was motivated by her own material benefit.

    Aren¡¯t you merely justifying yourself?

    Despite what her master might have angrily sputtered when he was deep in his cups, she had never been with a man besides him. And she had never encouraged his attentions either. She hardly thought a man was likely to purchase jewels and perfume for his mother. If the Marquis did have a wife, that would only make the matter even more impious. And the last thing she wanted was to become a party to a marital dispute between individuals with enough wealth and influence to do her great harm if either were to feel slighted.

    Things had been simpler with her master, when there had never been a matter of choice.

    But this is a choice.

    And what did she really know about the Marquis after all? At the moment she was solving a problem his priests could not, but in time he might just as easily view her as a problem for his priests to remove. She did not fancy being burned as a witch.

    As Vero came closer to the city, the noise of the mass of humanity grew louder and louder, until she could see the gates ahead of her. There she found a rolling mass of foot and cart traffic trying to move both ways at once, resulting in a complete blockage.

    The city was surrounded by water, a natural moat. A stone wall protected the small urban island in the center of the swampy lake. The path she was on wound through the water and terminated at a wooden bridge to the front gate. On the bridge was a jam of farmers with their goods looking for safety from the invading army inside the walls going one way; and merchants, thinking that they and their property would be safer by not being in the city when it was taken, going the other.

    Vero had no choice except to line up with the farmers, their foodstuffs, and animals. The last of the morning passed with only the most gradual progress, and more peasants continued to queue behind her. She used the time to scratch her mosquito bites and consider how she should make up her face again when she returned to the Marquis, and if she should apply more of the perfume. She found the scent of jasmine rather overpowering, but perhaps the Marquis was fond of it. He was the one who had purchased it in the first place for someone- she knew not who.

    A few merchants leered at her, but quickly went on their way. Everyone else seemed to wish to ignore her, which was just as well. At midday Vero shared her lunch of dried meat, fruits, nuts, and hardtack with an elderly woman who was nearly blind with cataracts. The old woman was the only person on the bridge willing to speak with her, probably because she could not see how Vero was dressed. The woman claimed to be traveling with a son-in-law who, as far as Vero could tell, had vanished.

    As the sun advanced, the shadow of the tower fell over the bridge and Vero felt a terrible chill emanating from it. All around her the peasants unconsciously held themselves and drifted closer together as they felt the same malingering presence.

    ¡°Oh, I feel an awful chill. What¡¯s caused it, child?¡±

    ¡°The sun has moved behind the tower, grandmother.¡± The old woman had asked Vero to call her grandmother, and Vero had indulged her. ¡°It will come out again soon.¡±

    ¡°What a dreadful feeling of cold this is.¡±

    Vero was filled with a sense of pressing anxiety which put an end to her daydreaming. Her master had often told her that she must keep her heart hard, because on a hunt any sentiment is just another distraction that will kill you. She had not thought much of it at the time, but now she decided that he was right- and she did not intend to die in that dreadful tower.

    At last, mid-way in the afternoon, she reached the gates themselves. In addition to the traffic passing both ways through a gate ¨C which was none too wide to begin with ¨C guards were checking travelers in either direction looking for spies attempting to enter, or traitors taking necessary war material out.

    A fat barrel looking knight approached as her turn came. ¡°Open your bag.¡±

    ¡°As you wish, Ser.¡± Vero took her pack from her back and opened it up. The knight peered inside and rifled through the contents, more bored then suspicious.

    ¡°You have a resident to vouch for you?¡±

    ¡°No Ser, I do not.¡±

    ¡°You shall be questioned to ascertain if you have legitimate business inside. Spies will be apprehended. If you wish to leave now, then do so. Otherwise talk to the man over there.¡± After his rote delivery, the guard pointed to another man who wore armor and a tabard like a knight, but this man sat at a wooden table with a pile of vellum and writing implements.

    Vero nodded and the knight handed her pack back to her. As she got closer, she could see that the tabard on the man at the desk showed the sign of the Lady of Reason. He had a sword at his waist, so she supposed he was a knight of the temple.

    The clerk watched her walk up to him, then took a sheet of vellum and began to write. ¡°Name?¡±

    There was no seat for her, so Vero was forced to stand. ¡°Veronique, Ser.¡±

    ¡°Address me as Fra, please.¡±

    ¡°My apologies, Fra.¡±

    ¡°No surname?¡±

    ¡°None, Fra.¡±

    ¡°Place of birth?¡±

    ¡°A village in the barony of Loix.¡±

    The clerk looked up to read her expression. ¡°That¡¯s to the east, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    It was plain enough to Vero that he was trying to trap her in a lie, but it would not have been apparent to the peasant girl she was trying to portray. She allowed some hesitation to contradict a superior to tremble into her voice. ¡°I suppose slightly so my Lord- But ¡®tis mostly to the south...¡±

    ¡°I am not a lord. Address me as Fra, please. Who owned the land you lived on there?¡±

    ¡°The Baron Mattias, who was called ¡®the bold¡¯.¡± Her father had owned his own farm, and Mattias may well have died since Vero had left home years ago, but it was mostly the truth.

    The clerk nodded and turned back to the vellum. ¡°Reason for entrance?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a prostitute, Ser- Fra! I¡¯m looking to make some money.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be going to the Marquis camp then?¡±

    ¡°The Marquis is still trying to maintain discipline by keeping whores out of the camp. I need to wait until they¡¯ve been here long enough to turn lax, and I have to stay some place in the meantime. I don¡¯t plan on remaining more than a night or two.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a very mercenary attitude you have.¡± He did not bother to hide his displeasure.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like war. When cities are taken nobles are exchanged for ransoms, but prostitutes are killed or abused with everyone else. It¡¯s just a fact of life, and I can only do what I have to in order to eat.¡±

    The clerk snorted derisively but continued to write. ¡°You need only justify your beliefs to the gods, not to me. Are you host to any infectious diseases, venereal or otherwise?¡±

    ¡°No Fra, absolutely not.¡±

    ¡°If you are found to be spreading any illness which undermines the defenders of this city you will be hanged.¡±

    ¡°I understand, my lor-¡± She stopped herself. ¡°I understand, Fra.¡±

    He wrote a few more lines. Vero tried to read what he was recording, but her grasp of letters was uneven to begin with, and upside down she could not make out anything.

    ¡°I need to see physical proof of your sex.¡±

    Vero was only too aware of the knife belted to her thigh. The templar looked up at her and she tried on a devious smile. ¡°Usually, I receive some coin first.¡±

    The clerk turned even more terse. ¡°I don¡¯t need your barbs. I do require proof that you are not an enemy spy masquerading as a woman.¡±

    Vero looked around and tried to position herself so as to hide her front form as many of the crowd queued up to either side of her as possible, and then lifted her dress up to her ribs.

    The clerk craned his neck downwards with an expression of total disinterest, then motioned for her the lower her dress again. ¡°You¡¯ll be required to turn over your weapon before entering.¡±

    ¡°Fra, please. You well know how easily I could be raped, robbed, and killed. It¡¯s only a small knife for self-defense. Please.¡±

    The clerk kept his eyes pressed to his vellum to avoid looking at her, but she noticed him begin to chew his lower lip. ¡°If a guard within the city sees the weapon... you will be executed as a saboteur.¡±

    ¡°I understand, Fra.¡±

    The clerk finished what he was writing and left a seal in wax upon it. Then he handed it to Vero.

    ¡°This states that you are authorized to remain within the city. A guard may ask you to present this seal at any time. If you lose it, you will be imprisoned. Probably hanged. There¡¯s no order left in this city, so sell yourself in wherever quarter you like. I recommend you leave before we burn the bridge and close the gates, because after that no one is going anywhere.¡±

    Vero began to tell him. ¡°Thank-you Fra.¡± But he just waved for her to move on and make room for the next entrant.

 10. The Haunted Tower Chapter 3

    Past the gate, the line of people going the other way stretched on and on. Every spare corner was occupied by newly arrived families reuniting with city dwelling relatives.

    Once she was inside, Vero stepped off the main road into the tightly packed alleys of the city. Like in most cities, the alleys formed a maze for the non-resident. The tower showed her the direction of her destination. At least when it was not obscured by the dirty overhanging upper stories of the surrounding buildings. However, even knowing the location of her ultimate goal, there was still no telling which directions led into dead ends.

    She kept a close eye out for threats. With what passed for the law focused on the threats outside the walls, the threats inside the walls would be looking for victims. Vero had killed humans in self-defense before, but she did not enjoy it. It would upset her sleep for weeks afterwards, so she preferred to do what she could to avoid conflict.

    In particular, she was frightened of being cornered in a dead end by a gang. She was confident that she was more than a match for a single robber, but without a slashing long sword she would never stand a chance against multiple foes. She doubled back on herself several times, looking for the same face to appear more than once, which would indicate she was being followed.

    Despite her healthy paranoia, it seemed no one in the city was taking any notice of her. Everywhere she went looked almost empty. Away from the main thoroughfare, it appeared as though the city had been almost abandoned. The only people she saw had the look of refugees from the countryside, seeking shelter in one of the abandoned homes.

    Eventually Vero made her way through the labyrinth of cramped muddy streets to the curtain wall which surrounded the tower. She felt the chilling effect of the tower there again as she drew closer, despite the warm late summer evening.

    The earl therein must have lost interest in maintaining the defensiveness of his fortress some time ago, because the houses of the city had been allowed to creep right up to the walls. The defenders would only have a very limited range of fire in the event of an attack. Although she could not see or hear any sign of defenders at all.

    The wall was tall, but some of the surrounding buildings went up three stories. Vero walked until she found one such building which looked empty. It did not take long.

    The neighborhood was quieter than any other she had seen since her arrival. It did not appear to be one of the wealthier districts. That struck her as odd, since merchants and rich men were typically drawn towards loci of power like the tower represented.

    Vero went inside and ascended to the top floor. Then she pulled a sturdy looking table from the second floor up after her. Standing on top of it, in the center of the widest room, she used her dagger as a chisel to open up the ceiling.

    It was much easier than she had anticipated, which gave her some concern that the roof might not support her weight. Up through the hole, it looked to be perhaps eight or nine feet higher from the roof to a handhold on the wall she could grab. A difficult leap, but not an impossible one for her- after the proper preparation.

    It was early evening by this time, and Vero decided to wait until dark. She laid out a dinner for herself which was identical in composition to her mid-day meal. Once she had finished, she took off her leather traveling boots to don a pair of cloth slippers. Then she hiked her dress up above the knees and tied off the excess into a knot to keep it out of her way.

    She prepared a plain bowl for her arcane working. The barrel looking knight should have been more careful searching her bag. She had not even the need to justify the components for her spellcraft to get them past the checkpoint.

    Crushed raven feathers and certain ground herbs ¨C eyebright, chief among them ¨C went into the bowl. A lead weight of known density was placed at a precise angle to her and the bowl. All the lines were marked in chalk. Everything was set exactly in its place.

    Even after her preparations were complete, she waited to begin the casting until she was certain the sun was completely below the horizon, and the moon had fully risen to hear her.

    With a grimace of pain, she ran her dagger horizontally along her left palm. As the blood welled up, she let it fall into the mixture and combined it all together. She wiped the resulting compound along both of her legs, and then across her eyelids. As she did so, she chanted an entreaty to Maiden Luna to hide her presence, but to illuminate her eyes; and then another to Terra to lighten her grip.

    Once she was finished, she pinched some aloe into the wound and uttered a final prayer to Vedio, the Lord of Medicine, before bandaging it.

    Keeping her blade in hand, Vero re-ascended the table and easily climbed onto the roof. She touched the stone wall and found it unnaturally cold. Even with her steps lightened, her feet still caused the roof beneath her to tremble slightly. After taking a moment to test her footing, she took a running leap up to the wall.

    She kicked off the wall to push herself up higher, and then just caught the edge before drifting too far away. In the end, she was left easily holding her near weightless body with just her finger tips.

    Below her, even the reduced impact of her leap had proven too much for the decrepit building and the roof collapsed in on itself. Perhaps it had been the fault of the spell. Workings to alter the natural pull of the Earth Mother could have unpredictable effects on the gravity of the surrounding area.

    Vero flinched at the crash of falling timber, but even after a minute of waiting, still no one had arrived to investigate. Her pack was buried somewhere in that wreckage, but there was no time to worry about that. She supposed that she could simply have the Marquis¡¯ men dig it out for her later, if she succeeded.

    Finding a bit of leverage for her feet on the uneven stone wall, she poked her head above the edge. No one was walking the grounds of the keep. She could see firelight through windows at the base of the tower, and more light from inside what appeared to be a set of barracks.

    She pulled herself onto the top of the wall and readied her weapon again. Wooden scaffolding on the other side allowed defenders to look over the wall, and Vero used it to descend into the inner courtyard. She shied away from the barracks. Instead, she approached what looked like a set of stables, although no horses were present. She also climbed this structure. After taking several minutes finding handholds, she then climbed the tower itself up to a dark window.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    No one was present inside. In fact, the room was completely empty. She clambered through the window and caught her breath before putting her dagger away and untying her dress. If someone caught only a glimpse of her, she hoped to be mistaken for a servant in the poor light.

    Inside the tower the feeling of chill was much more intense. She placed her palm directly onto the floor, and then felt as high up on the wall as she could reach. If her guess was correct, the cold was only an imagined physical response to the spiritual pressure emanating from something in the tower. The floor was cold, but the wall felt as though it was covered by a layer of frost. Vero surmised that her goal lay upwards.

    After listening at the door to make certain there was no one on the other side, she slipped through. To complete her disguise as a servant Vero would have liked to find something to carry with her, to give the impression she was in the middle of some errand. However, she could not find even the most basic furnishings in any room she passed. Only bare room after bare room.

    As soon as she found the stairs, she took them upwards. Even as she neared the top, she still saw no sign of any of the tower¡¯s residents. By the time she reached the final floor, she was shivering from the cold.

    The first few rooms she searched were empty, just as those on the lower levels. The whole place had the unnatural feeling of a nightmare. At last, she found one which was outfitted as a bedroom. Vero peered her head inside, and had to suppress a start of surprise when she saw a figure sleeping in the bed, only a foot away from her.

    She had fortune on her side for once, he had not sensed her presence and remained fast asleep. Vero had never seen him before, but his orange-red hair and full beard matched the description of the tower¡¯s earl.

    Beyond him, Vero could see another figure in the bed, but she could not make out anything about his sleeping mate other than a lump beneath the blankets. She knew the Earl had no surviving family and no wife. The Marquis had not mentioned anything about a lover, which must have been an obvious subject for investigation once he noticed the wavering loyalty of his vassal.

    Nothing in the room showed any obvious signs of being wrong. An apparent island of normality at the end of this bizarre tower. Everything else there seemed typical for the apartments of a nobleman. Although several items, like the implements for needlework in the back corner, suggested the residence of a woman there.

    She balked at the prospect, but for more information, Vero knew she needed a closer look at whatever was beside the Earl in his bed.

    Slowly, she worked the door open far enough that she could slip inside, praying that the hinges would not creak. Once there was enough space, she held her breath and sidestepped her way inside ¨C brushing within inches of the Earl ¨C who slept facing her direction. She stepped around the side of the bed until she was on the opposite side. She found that the blanket had been pulled up on that side of the bed, over the lump¡¯s head.

    Vero should have known not to expect anything less, but a litany of curses ran through her mind regardless. Any chance of a ruse would be gone if either of them woke up, so Vero drew her dagger once again. Slitting the Earl¡¯s throat was certainly one way to solve the Marquis¡¯ problem, but it was also certainly not her preferred method. She would take it only as a last resort.

    As carefully as she could, Vero grabbed a hold of the blanket near the lump¡¯s midsection. She pulled it downwards, as gently as she could manage.

    Vero bit her knuckle so as not to scream.

    Beneath the blanket was the desiccated skull of a human. She released the blanket where it was, but she had seen enough to surmise that the full naked corpse of a woman lay beside the Earl. No longer held in place by the blanket, or perhaps by the horrible thing¡¯s own evil design, its head slowly turned over to face her with hollow eye sockets.

    Flee you fool! There is naught here but death! Run while you can!

    Vero backed away; her mind filled with nothing but a sense of stark animal terror. She moved around the bed again, refusing to turn away from the hideous form. As much as she feared to look at it, she feared also what it might do out of her sight.

    She was nearly through the door, when a sudden iron grip on her arm brought her up short.

    ¡°Thief! Thief!¡± Spittle flew from his mouth as the Earl bellowed, uncomprehending in his rage.

    Acting more in instinct than as a reasoned defense, Vero drove her dagger directly into the man¡¯s wrist. The Earl let go and clutched at his arm, screeching in pain. She took the opportunity to pass through the door and yank it closed behind her. The Earl continued to cry out for assistance, but did not pursue her.

    Vero began heading towards the tower stairs as quickly as she could. The shouts for help followed her down, but she did not believe that they would be heard all the way into the inhabited parts of the tower.

    Away from that horrible room the unreasoning panic which had descended on her began to recede. Had that been the work of the spirit? She needed to get away and plan a new course of action.

    She had only gone a single level before she already heard the sound of boots coming up towards her.

    ¡°Drop the knife!¡± A man called up to her.

    He was armed with a longsword, but as he was fighting up the tower in the dark, he would be at a disadvantage. He had not pulled on any mail, and Vero felt sure that she could kill or maim him easily enough. She could also hear that there were many more on their way behind him, still out of sight.

    Vero dropped her weapon as she had been ordered, and held out her hands to feign surrender. ¡°You need to listen to me! There¡¯s something wrong with the Earl!¡±

    The man climbed towards her cautiously. ¡°I understand. I¡¯m listening to you.¡±

    More men appeared behind him, but he motioned for them to stop and they did so. He spoke very slowly and clearly. By his demeanor, it was obvious that he thought she was a madwoman and was attempting to placate her.

    Still, she no longer had any other options but to try and win his support. ¡°He¡¯s keeping a corpse in his room. I believe he may be possessed by a spirit.¡±

    The man put away his blade as she spoke. ¡°Do not be afraid. Everything is going to be fine. Come here and I can help you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go with you, but please- you must check the Earl¡¯s room. You¡¯ll see I¡¯m telling the truth!¡±

    ¡°A man does not simply barge into his lord¡¯s bedroom demanding to search it.¡±

    Vero was about to object, but it was too late. The knight was close enough grasp her and grabbed a hold of her wrists.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got her!¡± He cried out, and the other guards sheathed their weapons and began to come up towards them.

    ¡°You need to listen! If he¡¯s possessed this battle against the Marquis may all be a mistake. You could all die for no reason!¡±

    One of the men coming up the stairs brought a torch with him. In the brighter light Vero looked right into the face of the man who held her. She recognized him. It was the templar who had questioned her at the gate.

    A look of recognition passed across his face as well. ¡°That scent- jasmine¡­?¡±

    The brief moment of confusion was the last chance she had, so Vero took it. She rammed her knee between the templar¡¯s legs as hard as she could. He started to crumble to the ground, but he pulled her down with him as he did so. Vero clenched her jaw and thrust herself forwards with a headbutt to his face.

    This second attack caused him to release her wrist and grab his head as he fell backwards into his companions. Her own head was spinning, and she could barely see through the pain. Vero ran backwards the way she had come through memory.

    She reached the door to the Earl¡¯s room and threw herself into it. Only now there was a force fighting against her from the other side. Vero tried again and again, but something was pushing back from the other direction. She felt it begin to give way for just a moment, before an arm wrapped around her waist from behind and tossed her to the ground.

    ¡°It¡¯s in there!¡± She tied to explain, but only managed the first word before feeling a heavy boot strike her on the side of the head.

 11. The Haunted Tower Chapter 4

    When Vero woke, she was lying in a bed of filthy straw. As her mind slowly moved into motion, the first thing she became aware of was the overpowering odor of dung. She held a fistful of cloth from her dress across her face as a mask to offer some relief from the smell.

    The room she was in was pitch black at first. The effects of her spell had worn off, but her eyes began to adjust naturally to the lack of light. She was in a prison cell. It felt damp, but not as cold as the Earl¡¯s room had been. She presumed she was located somewhere beneath the tower. The smell came from the walls, which were covered in human waste. There were no windows, and as far as she could tell the only way out was a single solid wooden door.

    She did not fancy the prospect of checking for secret passages behind the walls, so she focused her attention on the obvious exit. The only light in the room creeped in from beneath the door. It emanated from torches or candles somewhere in the hall beyond. A tray of food had been slid underneath the door from the hall.

    At first, eating was the last thing on Vero¡¯s mind. After a few minutes of searching her surroundings, she could not think of anything else she should do. There was some moldy stale bread and a tin cup with water. She said a prayer to Vedio, scraped off as much of the mold as she could manage, and pressed it against the wounds on her wrist and head. She drank the water and ate about half the bread, leaving the rest for later, since she had no idea when she might be fed again.

    Stupid fool of a girl! You couldn¡¯t even remember the simplest rule of all.

    Vero had left her mind unguarded and allowed the spirit to put a deathly terror into her. She had made it all that way, only to flee like a craven and be captured. Now she would be trapped in this horrible dungeon until she was hung, or until the Marquis soldiers pulled her out like a weak little kitten. She could not even decide which of the two possibilities she dreaded most.

    Pathetic!

    She stayed there for what felt like hours, but it was difficult to be sure. Eventually she did relent and checked the walls for any weaknesses, but found none. She could still feel the unnatural cold from time to time, but only at a distance. Vero presumed the dungeon she was held in was somewhere near the base or beneath the tower. No footsteps ever went up or down the hall, but listening at the door she could hear the sounds of someone in the room off to the left of her cell.

    With no other obvious options, she decided to try speaking to her captors. ¡°Hello? Is anyone out there?¡±

    Silence prevailed for a moment.

    Then she heard the voice of the templar. ¡°Veronique? You were injured when we subdued you. How does your head feel?¡±

    ¡°Throbbing. I didn¡¯t expect you to be my jailor.¡±

    ¡°The men were afraid when they saw the signs in blood written on you. These bumpkins are terribly superstitious and feared that you were a witch. They intended to burn you before I stopped them. Now I don¡¯t trust any of them to keep watch on you.¡±

    ¡°Why are you so concerned about my welfare?¡±

    ¡°I was the one who allowed you into the city armed. Any crimes you may have caused are ultimately my responsibility. Standing vigil over you is part of my penance.¡±

    ¡°You have my word I won¡¯t mention the matter to anyone.¡±

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°I have already informed my mother-confessor of my failure and she has relieved me of my previous rank. I have nothing to hide and I would never ask you to lie for me.¡± Vero heard the templar sit beside the door. ¡°Veronique, this is important. Did you harm anyone else in the city before coming to the tower? I promise you there will be no further repercussions against you, but if there are injured people somewhere in the city-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous. The only person I¡¯ve harmed since I arrived in this city is you.¡±

    ¡°Are you telling me the truth? You swear it before the gods?¡±

    ¡°I swear.¡±

    ¡°Ah, you have lifted a weight from my heart. The Earl may try and have you executed, but I promise you that the church won¡¯t allow him.¡±

    ¡°Why should your church care about me?¡±

    ¡°It offends the gods to execute one afflicted by madness.¡±

    Vero steadied her temper. ¡°I am not mad, Fra. I''m a slayer, hired by the Marquis de Fer. Your lord has been possessed by a wraith, anchored to the dead body of a woman kept hidden at the top of this tower. The ghost has caused the Earl to abandon his feudal oath, though I¡¯m not certain yet for what reason. Stopping it is our only chance to prevent this battle before it begins!¡±

    ¡°You must know how this sounds.¡±

    ¡°How did I get past the wall if I¡¯m only a madwoman?¡±

    ¡°One of the guards has sworn he allowed you inside to sell yourself to the men in the barracks.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a lie! Look for my bag beneath some wreckage outside the wall. There are reagents inside. That barrel shaped fool at the gate didn¡¯t recognize them, but I¡¯m sure a man of learning like yourself could recognize the signs of spellcraft. The building itself collapsed because of the working I cast to alter Terra''s natural pull. You must let me go so I can confront the thing responsible for all this!¡±

    ¡°Calm down, Veronique.¡±

    Vero could tell she was making no progress with the stubborn knight and felt miserable. ¡°You think I¡¯m lying. Whoever this spirit is, it has all of you under her power.¡±

    The templar sounded sad. ¡°No, I do not question your honesty. I think the pressures of this conflict has had a terrible effect on you. It has been well documented that constant tension and great changes in circumstance can unhinge a person¡¯s mind. Women ¨C by their sensitive nature ¨C are even more susceptible to these ailments. Watching your father, brother¡­ perhaps your husband¡­ be called away to fight and die for foolish political reasons completely beyond your understanding- I know what a terrible and terrifying burden it must be. With no direction to turn for comfort, your mind turned on itself, and invented this fantasy. But you must have faith, the gods will see us through. When this battle is over ¨C if the gods determine that I survive ¨C I swear that I shall personally escort you to an asylum where the priestesses can make you well.¡±

    The templar believed he understood the inner working of her mind so well. Vero remembered something Mama had told her a long time ago, that a person afflicted by worries often cannot help but project their own thoughts and fears onto others. If the knight felt desperate and helpless because of the situation they were in, then perhaps she could use that against him.

    ¡°I¡¯m frightened, Fra.¡± She tried to sound confused and vulnerable, which was not difficult under the circumstances.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Veronique. It was my intention to relieve your fears, not add to them.¡± The templar placed his hand beneath the door.

    Vero considered this a positive sign and placed her own hand over his. ¡°May I ask your given name, Fra?¡±

    ¡°Heward.¡±

    ¡°Fra Heward, please. Find some excuse, investigate the top of the tower. If you even just approach the top, you will feel the unnatural cold, I swear it. You worship the Goddess of Learning, is it right for a tower to grow colder as one ascends? If I am mad then you will find nothing. If you are right, then I swear that I will go with you to this asylum and do whatever else you ask, and I¡¯m certain your confessor won¡¯t be any angrier than she already is. But, if I''m right, then we are the only ones who can prevent all this unnecessary bloodshed. If there is even the smallest chance that I am correct, is it not rational for us to do everything in our power to stop this war now?¡±

    The hand withdrew. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Veronique.¡±

    Vero could hear him stand and begin to leave. ¡°Open your eyes! If you will only look the signs are obvious! You¡¯re all under her spell! When the Earl began to shout, you were already running up the stairs! What drew you there!? Everyone in this tower, in this city- could be killed! If you do nothing now, then every one of those deaths is on your head! Are you listening to me!?¡±

    There was no further reply. She continued calling out for several more minutes, but Fra Heward no longer spoke back to her. Eventually, she lay back down on the small patch of straw and did her best to conserve her energy for whatever would come next.

 12. The Haunted Tower Chapter 5

    It was impossible to tell how long she slept, but Vero woke to the sounds of voices. She could not quite make out what they said, but they sounded harried. As she crept towards the door for better hearing, the voices began to recede, taking the guttering light of the torch with them. She was left in complete darkness, and silence.

    ¡°Hey!¡± She called out. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±

    There was no response.

    A potential crisis represented her best chance for escape. She stuffed the last of her bread into her mouth to quiet her hunger pangs, and waited for opportunity to present itself. She was still uncertain of just where she wanted to go, even if she got out. If the Marquis had launched some kind of attack, she must presume that his men would be just as hostile to her as the Earl¡¯s.

    It would do nothing for her reputation to fail her first contract, but her greatest prerogative was to preserve her own life. If the city was filled with self-righteous fools like the templar who refused her help, then they could save themselves. Once she found an escape route, she planned to take it and run.

    Then she heard the sound of approaching steps and saw the dawning light of a torch. They stopped outside her door. Vero crouched near the wall and hoped she was out of sight.

    ¡°Veronique, are you there?¡±

    The possibility of remaining silent and hoping that the templar would come inside, where she could knock him unconscious with a blow to the head, played across Vero¡¯s mind.

    However, she put aside her frustration and decided to make one final attempt to save the fools from themselves. ¡°What¡¯s happening? Has the Marquis attacked?¡±

    ¡°The city wall was breached at sundown by some sorcery and his men are pouring through. Everyone is retreating to the tower.¡±

    ¡°I keep telling you, something is wrong with the Earl! If you don¡¯t let me out of here, you¡¯re all going to die!¡±

    The door swung open, but the templar stood back with his sword drawn and he wore a chainmail cuirass under his tabard.

    He eyed her wearily, but she also saw signs of confusion and indecision in him. ¡°I saw¡­ I went to the top of the tower and I saw it- The room was empty, but I saw the evil thing. I wanted to smash the bones to powder, but the cold gathered around me and a terrible fear gripped my heart. Did you speak truly about being a slayer, Veronique? If I set you free, can you destroy the spirit and release the Earl?¡±

    ¡°Yes, please. I beg you to release me and allow me to complete my contract.¡±

    Fra Heward¡¯s breathing became heavier, and he held his free hand up to his forehead. ¡°Why is this happening? What¡¯s causing this?¡±

    Vero did not know, but Fra Heward appeared too distressed to expect an answer.

    She replied with her own question to focus him. ¡°Where is the Earl?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s fallen into a stupor. He¡¯s been taken to the temple hospital.¡±

    ¡°The corpse at the top of the tower is the anchor. Let me destroy it and he will be restored. Then he can negotiate with the Marquis and end this pointless battle.¡±

    Fra Heward looked up at her helplessly, wracked with uncertainty. ¡°If there is a restless spirit in need of exorcism¡­ Then it is a matter for the priests. I will summon the mother-confessor and-¡±

    Vero felt this was her last chance, and decided she needed to push the templar further. ¡°Your lord has been possessed for months! And your priests have done nothing! Go out and find them, if there are any left in the city. I shall wait here for the Marquis to free me, and then my employer and I shall destroy this spirit at our leisure once you¡¯re all dead.¡±

    Fra Heward wrestled with himself for a few moments, then yielded.

    He put away his sword and stood aside to let her out. ¡°Very well, my Lady. What would you have me do?¡±

    ¡°Save as many lives as possible. Gather as many defenders as you can manage and tell them to stop resisting. Find the women and the children and take them to the temple for shelter.¡±

    ¡°Is there anything you need?¡± Now that he had a mission to direct him, the templar¡¯s confidence looked steadier.

    ¡°A torch,¡± Fra Hamilton proffered the torch he carried to her. ¡°And oil.¡± She added.

    ¡°Our stores are nearby. I¡¯ll lead you to them.¡±

    Vero followed him out of the dungeons into a storeroom. There were several barrels of oil. She grabbed a large pitcher and filled it to the brim. Fra Heward stayed by the door. Once he was sure there was nothing else that she needed, and fully restored his own courage, he nodded and left.

    Vero reacquainted herself with the layout of the tower until she found the familiar set of stairs, and began to ascend them again. She approached the door back into the earl¡¯s bedroom trepidatiously, and put down the pitcher of oil to open it.

    There was no one inside. Just as the templar said. Vero had believed him, but she was glad to have her trust confirmed.

    The first time she faced the wraith she had allowed the monster¡¯s aura of terror to enter her thoughts and panic her. There were mantras slayers ran through their minds to protect themselves from such psychic attacks, her master had taught them to her.

    Fool girl! You¡¯re no slayer at all if you can¡¯t even remember the first thing your master taught you.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Vero calmed her thoughts and began to run the mantras.

    She placed a foot inside and found that it was no longer underneath her. Like she had stepped into a noose, Vero was yanked forward with tremendous force by the ankle.

    She landed on her back and felt the wind knocked out of her lungs; the torch went flying from her hand.

    A moment later she was being dragged into the room. As she was pulled inside, she snatched the handle of the pitcher taking it with her, sloshing a trail of oil behind it. The door slammed shut behind her, blocking the light from view.

    Inside the bedroom, Vero scrambled to her feet and threw the pitcher at the wall, spraying what was left of its contents all over the bed. Then, when nothing leapt out to attack her, she stopped to examine her surroundings.

    The room was quiet. The only illumination came from the moonlight streaming in through the window. There was no movement, until a misty vapor began to emerge from beneath the blankets on the bed, ultimately coalescing into a roughly humanlike shape.

    ¡°Identify yourself, spirit!¡± Vero tried to sound more confident than she felt.

    ¡°You come into my home and demand that I identify myself? Who are you, thief?¡± The echoing voice seemed to come from all around her. It was vaguely feminine and definitely disdainful.

    ¡°My name is Veronique, and I am no thief. I¡¯m here to remove you from this place. What keeps you trapped here? I would like to help, if I am able to do so.¡±

    Ghosts of the departed could be exorcised by removing the bonds of pathos which tied a spirit to the material plane. Her master taught her that it usually was not worth the bother. It often required the wraith¡¯s cooperation, and a lot of effort. A burning pyre would serve just as well, and was much quicker.

    Vero began loosening her bandage and scratching at the scab on her hand with her fingernails, in a way she hoped would appear like nervous fidgeting.

    ¡°You want to help me?¡± The disdain in the voice was lessened, but without any physical body language to read, Vero found it difficult to determine the thing¡¯s feelings or intentions.

    ¡°If I can, yes. What¡¯s your name? What is your connection to the Earl of Kaer Longus, and to this tower?¡±

    The spirit laughed, and the temperature of the room dropped further. ¡°My name was Enid. I grew up here when I was a girl, and I was imprisoned here when I was a woman. You asked about my connection to the Earl? I was his sister, I was his prisoner, and I was his victim.¡±

    It had become so cold, Vero¡¯s breath turned to mist as she exhaled. ¡°He locked you in here?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I said isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m very sorry, Enid.¡±

    ¡°Are you?¡±

    The smoky shape left its position over the bed. It came towards Vero and mingled with the mist of her breath. Vero ripped her wound open. She began reciting an incantation under her breath as quietly as she could manage, and tried to work the signs with her numbed fingers. Without any reagents she would need to make a very large sacrifice of blood.

    The spirit continued. ¡°When our father died, he sent our mother off to die in a hermitage and locked me in this room. ¡®To ensure that I remained chaste until my wedding¡¯ or so he said. Although he never bothered looking for suitors to arrange such a wedding.¡±

    ¡°Why would he do something like that, to anyone- let alone to a member of his own family?¡±

    ¡°Why do men do anything?¡± Vero could no longer see the distinct form of the wraith, although she could feel it probing the ends of the hair on her arms and legs. ¡°When my brother Conrad was still just a lad, I had a friend¡­ a certain squire. The two of us would make love hidden in the stables, and Conrad would hide away watching us. Although I did not know it at the time. Later, the night father died, my brother brought me here. He said that he knew about my whoring. He said it was disgusting the way I disgraced the family, spreading my legs for any man who asked my favor.¡± The spirit¡¯s voice had turned to cooing.

    Vero felt the probing of her body continue. The spirit was looking for a weakness to try and take a hold of her mind. She relented where the spirit pressed her, so that the ghost would notice nothing. She Depended on her mantras to protect her deepest thoughts.

    She continued subtly weaving her magic. Vero felt her wound burning, even as the rest of her was freezing. She tried hard not to show any signs of discomfort that might give her intentions away. As the heat increased, life returned to her hands and it became easier to work the signs.

    Blood dripped from the ends of her fingers.

    ¡°How did you die?¡±

    ¡°He lost his mind when he learned that I was already pregnant. I told him to send for a cunning woman to ¨C address ¨C the matter. He began to scream, and so did I. He hit me. Knocked me down¡­ Wrapped his hands around my neck...¡±

    Vero could feel the probing of the ghost turn to a grip around her own neck. ¡°Please stop.¡±

    ¡°That was what I asked him. I wonder if I sounded as pitiful then as you do now. I confess, I do not remember.¡±

    Vero felt as through unseen hands were shaking her as they throttled her.

    The ghost continued to speak, her voice rising in crescendo as the pressure on Vero¡¯s throat continued to increase. ¡°He strangled me until I was dead, and didn''t cease even after my heart had stopped. When my flesh was cold, he claimed I was ill and needed rest. He locked my body in this tower to hide his crime!¡±

    Vero¡¯s vision began to tunnel, turning dark in the peripheral as she struggled to breathe. ¡°Please, you¡¯re choking me. I want to help.¡±

    The wraith began to show herself again, coalescing with vaporous arms wrapped around Vero¡¯s neck. ¡°Help? Help me put my hatred of my dear brother to rest? I¡¯ve already done that. The Marquis de Fer won¡¯t find anything left of him but a rotting cadaver. The same way he left me. What I need is another body to fill. I can see in your mind that you''ve already caught that handsome young lord''s eye. His face shines so bright in your memories. I can use that once we''ve been made one. I¡¯ve grown so tired of inhabiting a man¡¯s flesh- Oh! Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t hurt you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re killing me.¡±

    ¡°Just relax and let me inside¡­ You¡¯ll feel so much better¡­ It only hurts like this¡­ Because. You. Are. Fighting. Me.¡±

    Vero yelped in pain as the blood oozing from her hand finally ignited. The sleeve of her dress began to smoke and burn. She whipped her arm as hard as she could manage, sending flaming droplets of blood flying across the room.

    The bed erupted into a tower of fire as the oil ignited.

    Instantly the pressure on her neck released and Vero was left gasping for air. The wraith shrieked, but with its body and prison burning, it no longer possessed the power to do anything besides vent its impotent rage. Once she had recovered, Vero beat out the flames on her arm.

    She ran to the door and pulled at it, only to find it stuck fast. She could only stay near for a few seconds before she was forced to retreat from the spreading flames. Through the smoke she could just see that, after closing the door, the ghost had warped the hinges.

    The room was becoming an inferno. Vero began to choke again, from the smoke in the air. She fled to the window. It was large enough for her to squeeze through, but only just. There were no handholds that she could see below her, only a straight drop. The side of the tower she was on overlooked the swamp rather than the city.

    Already the fire was running totally out of control and room was full of smoke. Vero kept her face as near the window as she could for fresh air. She desperately smeared runes in blood on her singed dress, and chanted as best she could manage between the coughing. Her wound was still bleeding freely.

    The working to slow her fall was quick and dirty, but she had no time to test it. She eased herself out of the window, keeping a hold of the sill. The city wall was directly beneath her. It was closer than the swamp, but she thought she would stand the best chance landing in the water.

    As smoke continued to billow out of the window, she leapt out as far as she could manage. Vero prayed that the swamp was deep. She was falling so fast.

    Too fast!

    At least she would not die in that dreadful tower.

 13. The Haunted Tower Chapter 6

    Vero woke up in a bed softer than any she had ever felt before.

    The crypts in the Sheol were all hard-white marble, so she supposed she must still be alive. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids only fluttered weakly and what she did see was too blurry to make out.

    She tried to speak, but emitted only a faint moan.

    ¡°Vero?¡± Her hearing was the only sense which seemed to be working properly. ¡°Vero, are you with us?¡±

    And her sense of touch. She felt a hand move the hair away from her face, and then grasp her own hand. She tried to respond in kind, but nothing occurred.

    Then she became aware of the tremendous pain which she felt all over her body. It came over her as a torrent and she realized she was dying. Almost as if responding to her thoughts the voice called out.

    ¡°She¡¯s waking up; bring her something for the pain.¡±

    She tried to open her eyes again, and this time the image coalesced into the sight of two man-shaped blobs. One moved away from her.

    ¡°As you wish, my Lord.¡±

    Her eyes must have been watering from the pain, though she was scarcely aware of it. All she could feel was wetness on her face. A hand wiped her cheeks dry. ¡°Don¡¯t worry Vero. I¡¯ve sent the healer to fetch something that will help you go back to sleep for a little while- until they''re finished fixing you.¡±

    ¡°Wha¡­¡± Vero tried her best to form words. ¡°What hap¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to talk. You¡¯ve done everything you promised. Now you can rest, I swear you¡¯ll be safe.¡±

    The second blob returned and placed an object to her lips. A cool fluid flowed into her mouth and a warm soothing sensation radiated outwards from her stomach, the familiar anesthetic effect of poppy milk. Then the cup passed from her lips.

    ¡°Now just go back to sleep. We need you to get well.¡±

    Even if Vero had wanted to argue, she could not have managed it. As slowly as her senses had come, they began to recede.

    The last thing she was aware of was the hand holding hers.

    Vero woke up intermittently over the next three days, only to be quickly dosed again and put back under after only a few minutes. Each time her thoughts were a little clearer when she would wake. The Marquis was always there, and at last she realized that she must have been sleeping in his tent. He never told her anything except that she was safe, and that the physician said she needed rest. Sometimes Vero woke up and felt as though she were being moved.

    After it was clear that she was not likely to die, sometimes it was Antoinette who sat beside her when she woke up rather that the Marquis. She only said the same as her lord.

    One time Vero believed she heard the voice of Fra Heward, but she never saw him. It may have only been a fragment of a dream.

    At last, Vero woke and did not feel such terrible pain. She moaned, and her vision cleared.

    She could see a group of men leaving the tent. It was a cold draft of air from the open flap of the tent which had brought her to her senses. The last one to leave was the Earl of Kaer Longus. He was pale and emaciated like a man recovering from a grave illness, but there was no mistaking that it was him. He looked at her with a mixture of embarrassment and resentment before departing.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    The Marquis appeared from behind a curtain, which gave her cot some privacy from the main room. He approached her and took a seat which was placed beside her bed.

    ¡°The doctor says you¡¯re well enough to stay awake now. How do you feel?¡±

    ¡°¡­Bad¡­ Tell me¡­ what happened...?¡±

    He smiled, and moved the strands of hair which always seemed to fall over her eyes. It reminded her why she did not allow it to grow long.

    ¡°You did it. -Certainly completed the contract to my total satisfaction. Fra Heward called an armistice and came over to our lines with a dazed and very concerned earl. He told me where you had gone, and by that time we could both see the smoke from the tower. I sent a detachment of soldiers to help you, but the top was totally engulfed in flame by the time they reached it.¡±

    ¡°¡­Release of energy¡­ caused by¡­ spirit destruction¡­ increased intensity¡­ of fire.¡± Vero managed to explain with effort.

    ¡°Well, the tower burned hot enough to melt stone like wax. The whole thing looked like a burnt candle when it was over. I feared you were dead. But we sent out search parties for you anyway, of course. A cobbler and his wife swore they saw someone jump from the tower as it burned. We found you half drowned, out in the marsh. Over the past few days, I think I¡¯ve had every priest of the healing god in the province come to look at you.¡±

    ¡°You have my thanks¡­ my Lord... What¡­ did they find¡­?¡±

    He gently pulled down the blanket covering her. She could see that she was dressed in a plain white chemise, and that both her legs were immobilized in hard clay, as was her left arm. ¡°They¡¯ve worked their spells ¨C forgive me, ¡®miracles¡¯ ¨C and they claim that you¡¯re through the worst of it. Several of the doctors have said you should regain nearly all your mobility¡­ in time.¡±

    ¡°Nearly¡­ all¡­?¡±

    The Marquis¡¯ smile turned a shade sad. ¡°They- vary¡­ in their degrees of optimism.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Vero felt like crying, but she was mindful that she was not alone and could not allow her control to slip.

    ¡°What was the spirit?¡±

    ¡°The Earl didn¡¯t tell you...?¡± Vero¡¯s mind was still on her own problems.

    ¡°He claimed not to know its identity. Although he made a quite a show of his helplessness to resist it.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t comment on his helplessness¡­ That all depends on his strength of will... or lack thereof... But he still lied to you¡­ He created the wraith in the first place¡­¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°The ghost was the spirit of his sister¡­ He imprisoned her, and eventually murdered her¡­ along with her unborn child... Her spirit was trapped in this world¡­ by her desire to destroy him¡­¡±

    The Marquis de Fer scratched at the day¡¯s growth of stubble on his chin and took on a grave expression. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t trust his loyalty to begin with. But I thank you for this information regardless. It more or less confirms my worst suspicions about him.¡±

    Something in his voice gave Vero a horrible feeling. ¡°You¡¯re not going to arrest him¡­ are you...?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°Unfortunately, no. Not yet, at least. I need his soldiers for battles further in Umbria. This disturbance, and my father¡¯s death, has caused a great deal of unrest among my vassals here. The fire has destroyed any evidence of what transpired, which we would need for the lengthy trial he could convince my other allies to insist on giving him. Once my hold is more secure, however, I¡¯ll be in a position to put him through a swift trial. Evidence carries less weight in a swift trial than the judge¡¯s first impressions. I swear to you on my honor- I will give this woman justice, once I am able.¡±

    Vero wanted to believe him. ¡°It¡¯s not my place¡­ to ask for more...¡±

    ¡°Vero I-¡± The Marquis seemed unsure of himself. ¡°You were injured in my service, and I intend to meet all the expenses of your convalescence. Once you are well again though¡­ I must confess that I find myself thinking of you very often... Perhaps we could extend your contract, if you wish to join my household as a permanent retainer?¡±

    Vero began a grim laugh, but the terrible pain that shot through her whole body when she did so, quickly dissuaded her from continuing. ¡°Perhaps¡­ you should wait¡­ to see if your slayer can even¡­ walk again¡­ before you offer¡­ that contract.¡±

    ¡°I said that the doctors vary in their degrees of optimism. My own is steady.¡±

    "This is rather unusual... isn¡¯t it...? What would your priests say... about you keeping a woman in your retinue...?¡±

    ¡°If they complain- Then I¡¯ll get rid of them, and find new priests.¡±

    ¡°You have no one else¡­ close to you¡­ who might object¡­? Your mother perhaps¡­?¡±

    It was Marquis¡¯ turn to laugh. ¡°My mother retired to her paramour¡¯s estate the day after my father¡¯s funeral. I suspect that it¡¯s my wife you really mean, but there¡¯s no need for concern. She and I are very tolerant towards one another¡¯s right to privacy in our personal affairs.¡±

    Vero had no notion of how she drew the Marquis¡¯ attention. She also knew that with her body in the shape that it was, she was no longer able to allow the opportunity pass her by. ¡°I would be honored, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°Your friends call you Vero. Mine call me Jean. If it pleases you, I would like you to do the same.¡± Jean leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

    Vero felt her heart beating fast again.

 14. An Unequal Share Part III

    The Present

    ¡°You won¡¯t mind if I sit down, I hope?¡± The fop in front of Vero was dressed in a rich cream-colored doublet, with a grand necklace of gold and pearls. His fingers were covered in rings which sparkled in the firelight of the inn¡¯s common room. His skin was much too dusky to be a local of the region.

    ¡°I would rather drink alone.¡±

    ¡°I can be very pleasant company, I assure you. I think we¡¯re the only two here that speak a civilized dialect. Let me fetch us both a couple of drinks at least.¡±

    Vero did not like the notion, but she did not object in time and the man left to do as he had suggested. She wanted to enjoy her rabbit stew and black bread in peace, and pass through to her destination before anyone took notice of her. Being associated with an effete noble pretender would not help her do either of those things.

    She had always heard that the north was a conservative region, but in the chaos of the endless succession crisis it seemed that a kind of religious fanaticism had seized everyone. She already passed flagellants more than once on the road, and there were fresh ashes from an auto-de-fe performed in the courtyard of the traveler¡¯s inn where she was taking her supper.

    She needed to be careful how she handled the man to be sure that he would not cause a scene, or try and rile up a mob to get back at her. He could not speak the local tongue; neither could she. He would need to find someone who spoke old Imperial if he wanted to start causing mischief for her. Most settlements in the north had someone who did, but she would have time to be on her way before he found them.

    She decided to wait and see what he wanted.

    The noble returned with a bar maid and eased himself onto the bench beside Vero. ¡°There¡¯s a good fellow. May I offer you a glass of the local apple wine?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d prefer another beer.¡± Vero did not care for any alcohol made to the north of the Imperial City ¨C as far as she was aware ¨C but she found the beer the least objectionable.

    The aristocrat expressed their orders to the wench with only a little difficulty. ¡°Rather coarse, but I suppose that is the style here. I make it a habit to always explore the local production of spirits whenever I travel. You¡¯d be astounded were you to catalogue all the myriad ways which men have found to make themselves legless. And it¡¯s not a trait which extended only to mortal men, but also to all other man-like creatures such as elves, dwarves, giants, hermaphrodites, gods, and women. Where do you call home, friend, and what do they drink there?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a home.¡±

    The wench placed the beer and apple wine down on the table.

    The man took a careful sip of his wine, but appeared to find it acceptable. ¡°Ah! I am a traveler myself. But what you¡¯ve said has given me a curious thought. If our homes do not exist, what do they drink there? That is to say, what do they drink in nowhere? In limbo? That¡¯s why we all drink after all, to return to that realm- to go into oblivion.¡±

    ¡°They drink nothing.¡±

    ¡°The bitterest liquor of all. It¡¯s just as well. In truth my family have been courtiers in the Imperium for generations, but I¡¯ve ever had restless feet. There they drink wine made of rice, which has the most delectable fragrance I have ever-¡±

    ¡°No, they don¡¯t.¡± Vero replied before she realized that she ought not to.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    Vero sighed, placed her stew down on the table, and put her straw through the floating layer of her beer. ¡°Rice wines were spoken about as rich gifts in the scriptures, but the Imperium banned them a century ago. This is also a matter of personal taste, but when I did eventually smell an elven rice wine, I couldn¡¯t have considered it delectable. I guess you hoped your complexion would be taken for steppe elf heritage, but you look completely human to me. Your accent isn¡¯t quite right either. I suppose you¡¯re from one of the Oasis Cities, or somewhere else far to the south.¡±

    The man smiled and gave a bow of the head. ¡°A clever one, aren¡¯t you? Very well, you have caught me. Just north of the Oasis Cities, in Lusitan, where we drink a deep red with a flavor as rich as butter. Most southerners are not well loved here. So, I invented this little Imperial identity, full of confidence that these ignorant peasant barbarians would not know southeast from southwest. Mostly because all of creation is south from here. How was I to know your road had led you there? Men from the free kingdoms such as ourselves rarely want anything to do with those jackals. You have plucked me of my pride, and left me chastised. I apologize to you most abjectly.¡±

    Vero drew a long drink and put the mug back down. She took up her bread and began to swirl it through the stew. She tore off a hunk with her teeth and found it very tough even after being soaked with broth. ¡°You needn¡¯t apologize. Only speak plainly now, please.¡±

    ¡°I will, if you promise to do the same.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t lied to you once.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ll thank-you to continue to be so forthright. Are you a slayer, by chance?¡±

    The question caught Vero by surprise, and it took her a moment to respond. ¡°A peculiar question.¡±

    It was only half a second of hesitation, but the man¡¯s smile told her he had noticed it. ¡°Is it?¡±

    ¡°Why do you think I¡¯m a slayer?¡±

    ¡°The north is suddenly lousy with them, to hear the stupid peasants¡¯ talk at least. You¡¯re a stranger, traveling alone. You carry a sword-¡±

    ¡°A lot of men carry swords.¡±

    ¡°You also carry a dagger, a crossbow, wear chainmail under your cloak-¡± He annunciated each point with the lifting of a finger. ¡°-And I have a very keen nose.¡±

    ¡°You can smell slayers?¡±

    ¡°Your bags. They hold aloe vera, amaranth, belladonna, hellebore, monkshood, wormwood, crushed feathers, and guano¡­ and also, the teeth, organs, and tallow of an animal or animals I cannot identify. Amongst other things.¡±

    ¡°Slayers have an interest in natural history?¡±

    ¡°No, but they do have an interest in-¡± he silently mouthed the final word, ¡°-sorcery.¡±

    Vero finished her bread and drank a mouthful of the broth from her trencher. After the slice of bread she had just eaten, she could not imagine what the consistency of her trencher must be like and did her best not to find out.

    She was beginning to get bored of the equivocating. ¡°Very well, since you have obviously managed to search my baggage without my noticing already. I am a slayer. If there¡¯s anything missing from my pack, I will take it back from you. Now, what do you want?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to hire you of course. My name is Ramiro.¡± He smiled more broadly than Vero thought his face ought to be able to accommodate.

    ¡°Virgil.¡±

    ¡°Well met, Virgil. I suppose I should start at the beginning. I am the youngest son of the Count de Merilla in Lusitan. I had no inheritance, so on my father¡¯s death I was sent north by my brother with a generous stipend to study for the priesthood.¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t.¡±

    Ramiro gave her a blank look. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    After Vero finished her meal, she had begun to observe Ramiro more closely. ¡°Your doublet is second hand; besides being patched, I can see the stitching from the retailoring. It¡¯s rather clumsy, so I presume you tried to do the work yourself. And your rings are fitted with colored glass, not jewels. You are a liar. And a thief too, if I don¡¯t miss my guess.¡±

    Ramiro clutched his grand necklace and moved it beneath his clothes to hide the false pearls from view. ¡°You wound me, friend.¡±

    ¡°Not yet I haven¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I take your point. No more lies. I am a thief; a thief, a student, a swindler, a son, a brother, a lover, a friend, a rogue, and a gambler, each in my own time. It is the last which has given me trouble this time. I recently relieved several men of a great deal of coin-¡±

    ¡°-By cheating.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Ramiro tried to look indignant, but he must have been able to sense how unnatural it looked, because he abandoned it in another moment. ¡°No. I was prepared to cheat, of course. But, in this case, chance showed me such favor it was totally unnecessary.¡±

    ¡°So, where is the trouble?¡±

    ¡°Those whom fortune favors in cards, she often castigates soon after. Won honestly or not, these fellows still want their money back.¡±

    ¡°Give it to them.¡± Vero finished her beer.

    ¡°I would rather give it to you. Part of it, at least. I¡¯ve already given most of it away already, I fear. That¡¯s why I¡¯m afraid they now mean to kill me.¡±

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Get the money back from the people you gave it to.¡±

    ¡°I gave it to some poor orphans, and I have no notion where they are now.¡± Vero gave him a look and he acquiesced at once. ¡°Well, fallen women often come from difficult circumstances. I presumed they were orphans when I paid them. I¡¯m willing to give you everything I have left to act as my bodyguard.¡±

    ¡°Slayers hunt monsters, never men.¡±

    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re able to the kill the former, then I¡¯m more than confident in your ability to handle the latter.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a matter of competency. The answer is no.¡± Vero stood up to find another beer.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t heard how much I have to offer yet.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to. The answer is no.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Ramiro hung his head like a whipped child as she left. ¡°Then I shall trouble you no further. Or anyone else ever again, perhaps.¡±

    It was a cold dawn. The sun was just beginning to crest over the horizon, but in the thick arboreal forest there was very little light. A layer of frost covered the ground, and the grass crunched under Vero¡¯s boots. She secured her bags to Papillon and prepared to set out from the inn.

    Vero whispered with the mare, as she did every morning. Papillon informed her she wished to have a rest. Vero had been riding her hard the past few days after leaving Dora. They had made good time so far, and Vero decided to walk for the day.

    At the entry to the stables the draft blew cold against her. She raised her hood and pulled her cloak tight around herself.

    She often found that on an early unpleasant morning, the first step was the hardest. She sucked in a long cold breath, which she expelled as a visible mist. Then she took the step, and ¨C as she expected ¨C the others followed much more easily.

    ¡°Gods you wake early. And it¡¯s colder than the Veiled One¡¯s teats out here.¡± Ramiro hurried after her, still pulling his own cloak over himself. ¡°I hate the north.¡±

    Vero stopped. ¡°I gave you my answer last night.¡±

    ¡°I know you did, but my pursuers don¡¯t. If they see us together, they may give up. And if they do attack, there is always the chance that your cold slayer¡¯s heart may still melt to see my plight and cause you to step forward as my champion.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on it.¡±

    ¡°In this weather, neither would I. But you wouldn¡¯t be the first reluctant partner I¡¯ve eventually convinced with persistence, and I¡¯m afraid you haven¡¯t left me with any other choice. Shall we set off?¡±

    Ramiro waited for Vero to begin marching again. Then, he happily started off after her, intermittently humming a jubilant little tune as he did so.

    The sun eventually rose higher, but if the day ever got warmer Vero could not tell. She kept up a rapid stride just to stay warm, which Ramiro regularly complained of. Twice she found herself slowing her pace so that he could catch up, although she did not know why. As afternoon turned into evening, he began to fall further and further behind, until Vero really could no longer justify slowing her pace any further.

    Eventually, he disappeared behind her.

    The sun sank beneath the trees, and Vero stopped marching to make a fire and eat dinner. She coaxed Papillon to lay down on the ground and laid out her bedroll next to the mare so that they could share warmth. She was nearly finished with her typical meal of hard bread, nuts, dried meat, and fruit when Ramiro stumbled into her camp.

    ¡°Thank the gods you have a fire going. I am frozen to the bone. What I wouldn¡¯t give for a bath.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a river nearby. The water is flowing, so there shouldn¡¯t be any ice.¡±

    ¡°A hot bath.¡± He collapsed to the ground beside the fire. ¡°Slayers would do better to leave the wit to jesters.¡±

    ¡°If you marched faster, you wouldn¡¯t be so cold.¡±

    ¡°You say that so easily it disgusts me. I don¡¯t suppose you prepared any food for me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not your mother.¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± Ramiro looked at her in a strange way, sentimental perhaps. She could not say for certain. ¡°You are very beautiful like she was though. I hope you aren¡¯t offended by my saying so.¡±

    ¡°I am. Offended- I mean. Do not speak that way to me again.¡± Vero tried to read his expression to see if he suspected something.

    They were silent for a time, until Ramiro held up his hands and laughed to release the tension. ¡°Then I retract my words. I only said it to please you. It was merely a shallow attempt to convince you to save me from being murdered by cruel assassins. In fact, I find you very ugly.¡±

    Vero was more than happy to ignore the advance. She removed the tome from her bag and laid down by the fire.

    She warned Ramiro not to disturb a ritual bowl she had prepared earlier and set beside the fire. He swore to stay well away from it. Confident that everything was under control for the time being, Vero settled into her studies.

    Friar Theobald¡¯s final destination was Burgorod, a city built into the foothills of the southeastern leg of the Star Mountains. It had a population of only a few thousand at the time, but that was still very large for the region. Speaking to the merchants she had met on her journey, Vero learned that it had grown since. It was a center of trade and the main road should take her there.

    The friar stayed in the city for over a month, learning about his new mission field. He made mention of how strict the nightly curfew was taken, and how troubled his sleep was due to unremembered nightmares- both of which had an unsettling ring of familiarity to Vero. It was in Burgorod that Theobald first heard the rumors of the ancient fortress.

    The prospect of finding the ruin seemed to fascinate the friar, because he soon devoted all his time to uncovering new information on the subject. However, most of the locals were loath to speak on the topic, and they often warned him that his inquires might bring him unwanted attention.

    At the time, the city was controlled by a council of burghers. They were theoretically appointed by the bishop of Helios, who controlled the city as a fief, but de facto they had been almost totally independent. The friar sought a meeting with the city¡¯s burghermaister, who was the greatest political force within the city walls, and also represented the city in the Landtag. However, he had been put off so long that he presumed he was being actively avoided.

    From what Vero had been told by the merchants she met, any alliances between free cities had been prohibited by the last Kaiser several decades past. Since then, the burghers had been tightly controlled across the north, and the Landtag hardly wielded any influence in Teutonia any longer.

    In Burgorod in particular, the bishop had deprived the merchants of nearly all their previous liberties. As it was, she did not believe it would be worth her time to try and question the city¡¯s lay officials. At the same time, she also did not relish the idea of trying to infiltrate the cathedral.

    At last, after weeks of trying to arrange a meeting, the burghermaister invited Friar Theobald to supper. However, as the nightly curfew was so strict, he would have no choice but to remain with the burghermaister for the rest of the night afterwards. Regardless, Theobald was so grateful to finally be seen by one of the local authorities, that he agreed at once.

    ¡°There he is! Grab him!¡± Vero¡¯s study was interrupted by a call from the path.

    At the sound of the voice, Ramiro yelped like a kicked dog and scampered around behind her. Papillon also jolted up and fled into the dark, but Vero had already told her to expect an intrusion and knew that the animal would not go far.

    There were four of them. Their leader had the look of a robber knight. He wore chainmail and held an ill-kept broadsword. Two others looked like hired thugs in thick padded gambesons with clubs. She spied one more, farther back than the others, holding what looked like a hunting bow. That one was probably a poacher when he was not working as a murder for hire. He had a shaft ready, but he kept it pointed to the ground. It was too dark to make out what type of arrowhead was fastened.

    Of course, she would not have wanted to risk relying on her chainmail to catch the arrow ¨C no matter the head ¨C if she could avoid it.

    ¡°Who is this? Hired a protector?¡± The hedge knight spoke old Imperial, but with an atrociously thick local accent.

    ¡°He¡¯s a slayer. He¡¯ll kill all four of you without even working into a sweat if you press him.¡± Ramiro spoke very bravely by the standards of a fellow hiding behind a woman for protection, Vero thought.

    To his credit, she did not believe he was aware that she was a woman.

    Some of the henchmen looked unnerved, but the robber knight was smirking as he spoke. ¡°A slayer? You hire as bodyguards to thieves?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Vero kept her temper. ¡°He¡¯s just following me. Betting that I won¡¯t stand by and allow an unarmed man to be murdered in cold blood.¡±

    ¡°And is that a good bet?¡± the hedge knight asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I suppose you¡¯re the one who will force us to find out. Or not.¡±

    ¡°Leave now slayer. You will have no trouble from me.¡±

    ¡°And I say the same to you.¡±

    The robber knight stopped smirking, and began to chew the ends of his mustache.

    ¡°Remember what happened the last time you called my hand.¡± Ramiro piped up while holding a wide eyed and terrified poker face.

    ¡°Kill-¡± Vero had watched the knight¡¯s posture. Before he could finish his order, she kicked over the contents of her ritual bowl into the fire.

    Immediately a thick smoke bellowed forth, obscuring everyone from view. She did not try to stand, but instead lay down so that she was beneath the smoke screen and could follow the killers by their feet.

    The poacher was the only one far enough away not be immediately immobilized by a spasming fit of coughing and retching. She hurled her dagger at the bowman. She could not see if it struck, but he dropped his weapon to grab his side with a scream.

    Vero drew her sword and crossed the distance to the knight by crawling on all fours. Before he realized what was transpiring, she had cut him just below the groin where his chain shirt ended.

    Blood gushed; she had severed his femoral artery.

    The knight¡¯s legs buckled under him while he took a wide and desperate swing Vero easily evaded. His wound was mortal, but it would take time for him to bleed to death. She crawled backwards to stay away from his crumpled form.

    She turned back to the poacher. He was searching for the weapon he had recklessly discarded when animal instinct compelled him to clutch at the sting of pain in his side. She moved past the cloud and rose to her feet.

    The poacher found the bow and bent forwards to retrieve it. He was in the process of straightening back up when Vero impaled him through the chest from behind. There was a short ¨C almost surprised ¨C gasp of breath, and she pushed him forward off her blade.

    The smoke began to clear, and the last two thugs tried a clumsy and ill-coordinated assault. Their eyes were both red and swollen, and mucus was running down their faces. She doubted either could see much more than a blur in the dark.

    Vero dodged the first blow with no trouble and cut the man¡¯s legs out from under him. Then she evaded the second with no more difficulty and tore the man open diagonally from hip to shoulder.

    The hedge knight had tried to rise to his feet with the aid of his sword, but Papillon emerged from the dark to kick him over from behind. She then trampled him under her hooves until his screams of pain ceased.

    Once Vero was certain there would be no further resistance, she kicked the survivors¡¯ weapons away from them, and slit their throats. With the battle over, she proceeded to check their bodies for anything of value.

    ¡°Gods. What happened?¡± Ramiro was still recovering from a state of shock. He stood and looked around in a daze without really comprehending anything he saw.

    ¡°They¡¯re dead. You won your bet, I suppose.¡±

    Unsteadily, Ramiro set himself back down by the fire, shivering very badly. ¡°I did at that.¡±

    The hirelings had only a handful copper coins, halves, and quarters- except for the bowman who had a pair of chipped and worn Velian silver crowns. The knight had a few gold sovereigns and several pieces of silver jewelry under his armor. All of them had rations, of course.

    She took the valuables, the food, gathered up the weapons, and stripped their armor. She was happy enough with what she had, and the collection was already heavy enough, that she did not bother to take their boots.

    Vero whispered her thanks to Papillon and settled her back down beside the fire.

    ¡°This is all rather grim, isn¡¯t it?¡± Ramiro posited once Vero had finished cataloguing her plunder.

    ¡°They¡¯re dead, what use do they have for these things? I did them the favor of killing them quickly so they wouldn¡¯t be left in pain. And I killed them on your behalf I remind you, before you presume to judge me.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I owe you my life, I am well aware of that. If there is ever anything I can ever do for you-¡±

    ¡°No payment.¡±

    ¡°Of course not. But if you ever need a friend, you will find me your most devoted servant.¡± Then after a space he added, ¡°Should we light a pyre for them? It would be the pious thing to do, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m certainly not going to leave the fire to chop more wood. I slit their throats and turned them to the sky. If their souls are still trapped, they¡¯ll just have to hope the crows take them.¡±

 15. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 1

    Several Years Earlier

    Vero hated being cooped up in a bed. Even when she was sick as a girl, she had still given Mama no end of trouble making her lay down to rest.

    There was nothing else for it though.

    Most of her minor fractures were well on their way to mending, but her right leg had been totally shattered and her spine severely injured. Half the physicians brought to examine her urged Vero to temper her expectations of ever walking faster than a hobble again.

    Jean sent those men away and retained only the half that believed in a full recovery- or at least, those who claimed so. From the moment she had woken, Jean and his doctors visited her constantly. The healing priests prepared a therapeutic schedule to manage her recovery. Jean stood by and listened to everything they had to say. Then, when they were finished, he would sit by her bed and caress her hand, occasionally leaning forward to exchange kisses with her.

    Vero had spent hours as a girl daydreaming of kissing knights with merely half the dash and nobility which the Marquis de Fer possessed. Each time their lips met Vero thought her heart would explode out of her chest.

    At first, Jean asked her many questions about herself, but he quickly discovered that was one of Vero¡¯s most detested subjects of conversation. Instead, they discussed her previous hunts, a subject Vero felt much more at ease speaking about. She told him about the mountain lion which became possessed by a rogue fae to snatch children until she and her master had put it down, about the gibbering dead risen from the untended casualties left behind by the civil war, and also about the false unicorn she and her master exposed near the border with the Imperium.

    Jean listened to her with unexpected interest. He had even heard the second-hand accounts of the unicorn, and was greatly amused to learn the true tale of the matter.

    He returned her stories with some of his own. His father had remained aloof from the War of the Bastards until the end. Consequently, as a hot-blooded youth, Jean had no choice but to throw himself into tournaments with reckless abandon. He earned a grand reputation in both the melee and the joust. All his stories were filled with knightly valor ¨C Vero¡¯s favorite kind of story ¨C and she listened to him tell them with devoted attention.

    Eventually, Jeans father did commit them to a side in the war ¨C the winning side, of course ¨C and Jean had his opportunity at real battle. However, he did not speak of the war with relish, and Vero did not press him on the topic.

    He was such a constant companion to her that she almost forgot how dreary it was to be trapped in bed all day, aside from her brief bouts of painful exercise.

    There were four of them total sleeping in the tent, which might have been uncomfortably close, if Jean¡¯s pavilion was not larger than most peasant families¡¯ homes. Vero¡¯s bed was almost in her own room with the curtain between them. Her father was the richest commoner in their village, but even the house she grew up in had only a single room.

    The first nights after Jean had kissed her, she was afraid that he might simply come to her bed and take his pleasure from her. He had not.

    Jean stayed in his own bed, and his squire slept in a pallet at its foot. Vero and Antoinette shared a bed together, and Vero found it very pleasant to have someone to hold as she fell asleep.

    Fra Heward came to visit her once, but only briefly. He had been called by his bishop to answer for all that had happened at Kaer Longus. Vero tried to convince him to ask Jean for help explaining matters to his church, but he refused. Relying on the Marquis¡¯ support would only reaffirm that he had lost his objectivity. The templar preferred to be vindicated only by his own actions, and Vero respected his choice.

    Whenever they moved camp further into Umbria to subdue the next batch of disloyal vassals, Vero traveled on a cart with Antoinette. Jean offered her more servants, but Vero turned them down. At least with Antoinette Vero could convince herself that the girl was not really a servant, but only her friend.

    The necessities of campaigning began to draw more and more of Jean¡¯s time, and Vero was shocked to find how quickly she had come to depend on his company. Fortunately, Jean traveled with a small library. He put it at her disposal to entertain herself with while he was away.

    Antoinette was not lettered, and Vero had not read a book since she left home, leaving her own letters to become very uneven. Consequently, Vero read aloud for both their benefits. Jean was impressed when he learned she could read, and she wanted to be sure she was proficient again before she might be called on to use the skill while he was present.

    Antoinette preferred romances, but the love books Jean brought with him were so explicit, Antoinette could not stop blushing and occasionally squeaking her disapproval at the most intimate moments. Vero eventually set those books aside. Perhaps Jean might like to read them with her later.

    Instead, they read adventure stories and accounts of knightly chivalry, which were Vero¡¯s preferred genres. Antoinette only listened politely to them at first, but Vero eventually prevailed on her to become more engaged. At last, she had Antoinette caught up in conversation about how the protagonists ought to proceed in order to escape their present peril.

    Their talk also gave Vero more time to decipher the words on the page before proceeding to the next passage.

    As the days passed, Vero¡¯s reading became steadier, and once she asked Jean for a dictionary her vocabulary was much expanded. Although some of the words the love books had made her curious about did not seem to appear in the dictionary, so she still did not know precisely what they meant. Except from what she could gather through context.

    It was well advanced into autumn before they reached Hollowstone, the last of Jean¡¯s disloyal vassals. The fortress was put under siege; Jean preferred to take the castle intact so he had refrained from bringing cannons to bear on the walls.

    Her leg had rehabilitated enough that she was independently mobile with the aid of a cane. They had been at the methodical siege for a ten-day when Vero suggested over breakfast that she could accompany Jean out into the field that morning.

    He looked taken aback, but not unpleasantly so. ¡°If you wish so. Are you sure? You would be very welcome company- but will your leg stand up to it?¡±

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    ¡°I believe so. If it doesn¡¯t you shall simply be required to carry me in your arms. And I consider that no bad thing.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± He cut a slice of ham with joviality. ¡°We¡¯re agreed on that point. Very well, I don¡¯t think there¡¯ll be any danger. We¡¯re only waiting for their food stores to run out, after all. And here- I was going to give this to you once we took the keep, but this is as good a time as any. Lad-¡±

    Jean spoke to his squire; Lyam was the boy¡¯s name. He had been concentrating on his eggs, but jumped to attention at once when spoken to.

    ¡°-Go fetch the presents we purchased for Vero a fortnight ago, won¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°At once, my Lord.¡± The boy leapt up and left the tent. He was much better disciplined then Vero remembered being at his age.

    ¡°A present?¡± No one had given her a present since she left home with her master, and Vero was almost childishly excited to see what it was.

    ¡°You¡¯ll need something else to wear besides an infirmary shift if you¡¯re going out to be seen. I said those clothes and baubles I gave you before were just the start of your payment. It¡¯s not much of a shame their being lost. You¡¯ll hardly remember them in a moment, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    The squire returned with the majordomo and some other domestic servants. They brought in a ruby red dress with voluminous long skirts which blossomed in all direction from a very confining looking top. It was matched by rings, a hairclip, and a pendant, all with emeralds set into silver.

    Vero had never before seen something so valuable so close. She had no idea how she ought to respond.

    ¡°Do you like them? I wanted to find a dress with a deeper red to better match your hair, but it¡¯s impossible to find really fine clothes this far north. When we¡¯re back in Velois, I shall provide you a real wardrobe worthy of you.¡±

    No- I mean, this is perfect. I like the gay color.¡± Even if she got a bad price from haggling, Vero still expected that she could sell the dress and jewels for more money than she or her master had ever received for a contract. ¡°May I put them on now?¡±

    ¡°Please do.¡± Jean turned to the majordomo. ¡°You have the rest?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my Lord- in just a moment. I believed that you wished the delivery once Hollowstone had been taken.¡± He replied.

    ¡°I did. But I changed my mind. It¡¯s your labor to respond to these flights of fancy I take.¡±

    ¡°I do so, Ser. Only you must please be patient for a moment.¡±

    More servants arrived bearing a small vanity with a mirror backed by silver. The lacquer box of cosmetics came with it. Then there was a set of ivory combs and brushes along with more of the accoutrements noble ladies must use for their beautification, but which Vero could not identify.

    ¡°Put that back in Vero¡¯s space so that the women may have some privacy.¡± The servants moved to follow Jean¡¯s orders.

    Vero retreated behind the curtain with Antoinette the moment they were finished.

    ¡°Vero, it¡¯s beautiful.¡± Antoinette regarded the dress with wonder.

    ¡°Yes. And you¡¯re the one that must find a way to get me into it.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Vero watched the features of Antoinette¡¯s face alter as the dress changed from an object of wonder to an enemy.

    At least a quarter of an hour passed before they got her properly tied into it. The bodice was indeed tight, but it was formfitting once she was in it. Jean had taken her measurements from her physicians; he informed her through the curtain. The neckline of the dress plunged more deeply than any Vero had worn before, and she was surprised to see that the dress had somehow found breasts to push up and present.

    It was hard to breathe, but Vero considered that an even exchange. She was not used to looking at her chest and feeling satisfied by what she found.

    Vero put on her jewelry herself, while Antoinette brushed her hair. There were earrings, but Vero¡¯s ears were not pierced so she put those aside to sell when she could do so discreetly. She positioned the pendant so that it fell into the valley of her breasts and was very enamored by the look of it. Antoinette began drawing rouge and paints from the box of cosmetics. Her hair was securely held out of her eyes by the silver and emerald clip.

    It suddenly occurred to her that those were the colors of Jean¡¯s house; white and green, the argent stallion against the vert field.

    Well, she had agreed to serve as his retainer, had she not? Male retainers typically wore a patch embroidered into their doublet bearing the sign of their lord¡¯s house. Was this her mark? A sign of his patronage?

    Or ownership.

    Vero thought that she might be introspecting and philosophizing too far. It also happened that the richest man in the kingdom was almost certainly courted by jewelry merchants regularly, and what better to offer his lordship than jewelry in his own colors.

    Her master often told her never to seek a complex answer when a simple one would do.

    He also told you slayers never involve themselves in politics.

    But then, he always added the proviso that politicians were still people, and that personal vengeance was a private matter not a political one. If she became the mistress of the Marquis de Fer that was also a sort of private matter, so she did not see why the same principle should not apply.

    She would act within her capacity as a slayer for him, and become his lover, no more. So long as she did not become a direct party to any plots or schemes aimed against a human target, the code would not be violated.

    What of the scheme to commit adultery against his wife?

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m not a trained maidservant. I don¡¯t know the proper arts of applying paints and such.¡± Antoinette had already begun applying the makeup without Vero noticing her passing.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not trained in the arts of being a proper lady, so I suppose it shall be appropriate. You¡¯ll just have to do the best you can and I shall do the same.¡±

    Antoinette giggled a moment, then returned to her work with renewed intensity.

    Vero knew that it was common for bishops and princes to keep mistresses even if they ought not to. Jean assured her that his wife tolerated him spending time with other women. If the Marquis de Fer fulfilled his obligations to his wife to her satisfaction, then why should she feel guilty for being his lover in her absence?

    Antoinette made a satisfied smile. She stepped aside so that Vero could see herself in the mirror.

    It was a rare occasion when Vero was pleased to see her own reflection, but she did think she looked rather beautiful. She was by no means the fairest woman in the world, nor even in the kingdom. However ¨C as Hollowstone was under siege ¨C she doubted the ladies there had much time for finery, so she might have been the fairest woman in the county.

    Vero stood and hugged her, though more lightly than she would have liked, for fear of smudging Antoinette¡¯s careful workmanship. ¡°If you¡¯re an untrained artist, then I think you must have strong natural instincts.¡±

    They stepped out from behind the curtain. The Marquis stood up from the remains of their breakfast and wore a very wide smile.

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s just as I thought. Absolute radiance.¡± He walked nearer to her and Vero felt her heart pound in her chest as though she were on a hunt. A strand of her hair had fallen by the devilry which always seemed to move her hair where she did not wish it. He tucked it neatly back into place. ¡°I believe that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.¡±

    That was not the kind of thing one said and meant it seriously- though in the moment she wanted more than anything to believe him. It was not so much that she thought that he was lying. It was just that she considered it the kind of flighty romantic talk that lovers often use flippantly with one another. They may not have been lovers yet in a real physical sense, but they had already decided to become as much once her leg was well again.

    She was very firm with herself that she would not take his words seriously. ¡°Thank-you, my Lord.¡±

    The Marquis flinched, but it was only a small movement. Had she said something wrong? ¡°Only Jean- please. I¡¯ve told you before that I don¡¯t want any of this ¡®lords and ladies¡¯ business coming between us.¡±

    ¡°My thanks, Jean.¡± Vero corrected herself. ¡°I confess I- find you rather comely as well.¡±

    ¡°Do you? I shall need to bear that in mind.¡± He took her by the arm, and also helped to support her bad leg. ¡°Shall we go now?¡±

    ¡°Yes, please.¡±

    Jean turned to Antoinette. ¡°I¡¯ll look after your mistress myself today. Go with my majordomo and arrange a new wardrobe for yourself. We don¡¯t want Veronique¡¯s attendant looking like a poor relation. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re the best expert at which clothes suit you.¡±

    Antoinette blushed and stammered. ¡°Thank-you, my Lord.¡±

    And then they were out of the tent and into the noise and bustle of the camp.

 16. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 2

    Jean¡¯s massive grey stallion charger was waiting for them. Jean mounted on his own first, then a castle tower of a manservant helped Vero up into a side-saddle position in front of him. He held her securely by the waist to keep her in place.

    Then, at last, they were out of the camp and into the open air for the first time since Vero had first approached that damned city, and that thrice damned tower. She rested her head against Jean¡¯s chest and sank further into his arms.

    ¡®I love you.¡¯ She mumbled into his chest too quietly for him to hear.

    ¡®As I love you.¡¯

    Vero looked up in surprise. She heard something like a whisper just above the wind. Or had she imagined it?

    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± Jean asked.

    ¡°Did you say something to me?¡±

    He smiled. ¡°Yes, I asked if something was wrong just now. Did you say something to me?¡±

    Vero pressed her head against his chest again and did not reply.

    The field command was not far from the camp. It was situated on a hill overlooking a broad field, across from which there was another hill bearing the castle town of Hollowstone. The active companies of men were all out in the field and nothing could get into or out of Hollowstone without being observed. However, she saw only infantry and siege engines.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have much call for cavalry during a siege.¡± Vero mused aloud with mild disappointment. She had hoped to see some knightly valor in person.

    ¡°Oh¡­ We may see the defenders come out to give battle on the plain. My informer was caught trying to bribe the gatehouse men, but that was a week ago and they only had ten days rations left then.¡±

    ¡°What good is a fortress if one only keeps the food stores to hold it less than a month?¡±

    ¡°The current magistrate was negligent it seems. Somehow the granaries became infested with rats. I shall have better leadership put into place once I take it. I already have a candidate in mind.¡±

    Vero could see the companies of pikes and crossbowmen, but also smaller groups of soldiers who stood apart and fraternized only with themselves.

    ¡°What are those smaller groups doing?¡±

    ¡°You have an interest in the arts of warfare, master slayer?¡±

    ¡°During the ancient Imperium ¨C and before that when the elves ruled ¨C slayers often commanded whole battalions of troops trained especially for the purpose of hunting dragons. My education, however, did not include field maneuvers.¡±

    ¡°Well, perhaps we shall need to change that. But, you know¡­ the stories always make it sound as though the ancient slayers hunted dragons single handedly.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s impossible. I¡¯ve seen the dragon bones on display in the Imperial acropolis, it was more than fifty foot tall. No man ¨C or woman ¨C could kill something of that size alone. And mind you- scholars aren¡¯t even certain that dragon was fully grown. But you haven¡¯t answered my first question. Who are those fellows on their own?¡±

    ¡°Artillerymen. They¡¯re something of an elitest lot, but their skills are almost indispensable.¡±

    ¡°You have cannons here!¡± Vero moderated her initial burst of excitement. ¡°I thought you wanted to keep the wall intact.¡±

    ¡°I do, but I also want to keep the threat in their minds. And if they decide to give us battle, we¡¯ll load the cannons with grape shot.¡±

    ¡°May I see the cannon fired at something? I¡¯ve heard about them being used during the war¡­ but I¡¯ve never seen one up close!¡±

    Jean laughed. ¡°Yes, in just a moment. But I fear if we keep Ser Henri standing there much longer, he may fall over.¡±

    Vero realized that Jean¡¯s marshal, Ser Henri, had been waiting to give his report since they had arrived. After being acknowledged, Ser Henri stepped forward and cleared his throat. He was a large man, a few fingers shorter than Jean, but also a few stone heavier. His face was not necessarily ugly, but it was very flat and plain and his head had been shaved bald. He was wearing a full suit of armor, and his expression was terse.

    ¡°Report Henri.¡±

    ¡°Ser, are you certain it is appropriate for your¡­ friend, to be present.¡± He gave a look towards Vero which was not precisely hostile, but nor was it particularly friendly.

    ¡°Yes, it is appropriate," Jean replied. "Because I have decided it is thus. Now report, marshal.¡±

    "As you say, my Lord." Ser Henri bowed respectfully. ¡°There¡¯s been no change to report; except that our men have yet to see an archer on the walls all morning.¡±

    ¡°Not a one?¡±

    ¡°None at all, Ser.¡±

    Jean considered the matter. ¡°Hm¡­ Nothing to be concerned with for now. But remind the men to be ready to go into their defensive formations the moment a signal is given.¡±

    ¡°As you command, my Lord. Other orders?¡±

    ¡°Find Aeolus and send him after me, otherwise continue as you were. With luck they may be preparing to concede soon. Oh! And you might spread the word that we shall be demonstrating one of our cannons for my¡­ friend.¡± Vero felt Jean squeeze her for just a moment. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t want to start a panic, would we?¡±

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    ¡°No, Ser. Do you wish me to send a detachment of men along with you to ensure your guest¡¯s safety?¡±

    ¡°I think my honor guard should suffice.¡±

    Jean was always trailed by a collection of at least half a dozen knights who served as his personal body guard. They never spoke to her, and Vero considered them mostly a part of the scenery.

    After his consultation with the marshal was finished, Jean turned their mount towards the nearest group of artillerymen and began to ride at a steady canter. Vero had lived through the civil war and knew well that battle was no glorious business, but here on the eve of combat when all the men were arrayed in their ordered companies under colorful banners, it was very easy to be swept away by one¡¯s romantic notions. Fighting may be a cruel thing, but it caused her blood to rush and sing like nothing else in the world. It was all the aftermath that she would do away with. The wounds infected by sepsis, the rapes and plunder¡­ the wailing of the bereaved.

    They approached the artillerymen and Jean brought them to a halt. He dismounted and then helped her down. He ordered a target of straw bales set up further down the field, and led her towards the cannon.

    Not long after, a thin man in a tri-corner hat arrived, trailed by an assistant carrying parchment and writing implements. Vero presumed this was Jean¡¯s court wizard.

    ¡°Aeolus!¡± Jean greeted him cheerfully. ¡°My companion has requested a demonstration of precision artillery fire. Do you suppose you could hit that target at five hundred yards?¡± He pointed to the bales in the distance.

    The wizard looked at the target, then towards the cannon. ¡°Five hundred yards from high ground? Negligible wind? Yes, that should be alright. Providing you¡¯re willing to wait for my calculations to be complete.¡±

    They stood back and allowed the wizard to work. The artillerymen loaded a precise measurement of powder and a cannonball. Then they worked to adjust the bombard¡¯s position and angle according to the wizard¡¯s direction. Jean kept his arms around her waist from behind and whispered more flighty talk into her ear. Vero found herself giggling helplessly in response.

    ¡°Done.¡± The wizard declared as he looked up from his tablet. ¡°You may fire when ready.¡±

    ¡°May I be the one to apply the spark?¡± Vero asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why not.¡± Jean said with easy confidence over the unhappy looks of the artillerymen.

    Vero was handed the match and approached the cannon carefully, being sure that the hem of her dress would not be caught under the gun¡¯s recoil. She lit the powder.

    The explosion was tremendous.

    The wizard¡¯s aim was precise and the straw bales were struck with incredible force, releasing a rain of straw fragments over the target area.

    ¡°One could certainly bring down a dragon with this!¡± Vero found that she had handed away the match to someone and placed herself back into Jean¡¯s embrace.

    ¡°Then you approve, I take it?¡±

    ¡°Very much so! I don¡¯t suppose slayers shall ever make use of cannons such as these¡­ but if they could be made smaller so as to be man portable-¡±

    ¡°Hush!¡± Jean¡¯s voice was tense.

    Vero quieted at once to listen. There was a horn blowing.

    ¡°We¡¯re going into defensive formation. They¡¯re moving to attack.¡± He turned to Aeolus. ¡°Load with grapeshot and get these men into position!¡±

    ¡°Aye, Ser.¡±

    This was it! The enemy was on them.

    ¡°Give me a crossbow, I can fight!¡± Vero called out as Jean moved back towards his mount.

    He regarded her astonished. ¡°I admire your spirt Vero, but I think one woman with a crossbow and a broken leg may be of negligible military value in this battle. Besides that, I¡¯m not letting you out of my sight. And I¡¯m going to the field headquarters to order the fighting.¡±

    Jean put her up on the horse himself and mounted after her. Then they were off at a gallop. The rushing wind pulled Vero¡¯s hair into her face.

    Ahead of them, Vero could see that a large yellow flag had been hung up over the command tent. She presumed this was a visual signal to change formation.

    As they gained height moving up the hill, she could see that the Hollowstone cavalry had come out of the besieged city and were now cutting their way through a swarm of pikemen. Enemy infantry was pouring out through the city gate in a roiling mass behind them.

    Jean brought them to a halt at the top.

    ¡°Situation!¡± He barked before helping her down.

    Vero came down too hard on her leg, but in the thrill of battle she easily put the pain out of her mind.

    ¡°Cavalry charge!¡± Ser Henri called out to them from the large map table. ¡°Came out right after the cannon shot- but looked slow to me. They¡¯ve gotten stuck into the forward pikes. Looks like the infantry is just starting to come through behind them now.¡±

    ¡°Optic!¡± Jean ordered.

    A servant brought out an unusual set of refractive glass pieces mounted to a metal frame. He held it out in front of him, and Vero could see that together the lenses acted as a magnifier. A very clever piece of wizardry, in her opinion.

    ¡°I see lots of banners, but not nearly enough men for them to be whole companies. There¡¯s some confusion at the gate that¡¯s stalling them. Cavalry is surrounded. They¡¯ve bungled their surprise attack, but we can still lose this. I want you to take Captain Crispin and Captain Georges pikes between the infantry and the cavalry. Aeolus is moving the guns to make a killing field just past the gate, it¡¯s your job to keep them there.¡±

    ¡°Aye, Ser.¡± Ser Henri stood up from the table and put on his helm.

    ¡°It may be rough going for a while, but I¡¯ll send reserves to you once they¡¯re ready. When they arrive, use them to push back through. Secure the gatehouse if you can.¡±

    Ser Henri mounted his own horse. ¡°It¡¯ll be done, my Lord.¡±

    And Ser Henri was gone.

    Everyone else seemed to be moving with purpose, yet Vero felt completely lost. It was strange to think how there was so much fighting and death so near her, and yet she had no part to play. She stood where she was in such relative safety.

    Vero had seen killing before, and done the work herself, but those deaths had come singly or in groups of two or three at most. Now dozens of men were dying every moment that passed. Hundreds, if not thousands, would be dead before the day was over. And somehow the immensity of the matter made the whole thing feel so much further removed from her.

    Jean had no time for her. She would have considered him grossly negligent in his responsibilities if he had. So, Vero tried to remain out of everyone else¡¯s way. It was better that she not become involved anyway. This was exactly the sort of political conflict she ought to be trying to avoid. The Marquis had plenty of soldiers, there was no need for her to fight his battles for him.

    Jean moved to the map table and concerned himself with sending messengers to one company or another with orders. Vero tried her best to keep track with what was happening, even if she took no part. They enemy infantry eventually began to arrive in mass, but after their confusion forcing their way out of the gate, they could not break through to relieve the cavalry. Cut off from their support, the mounted men were pulled down by the pikes one at a time. Vero could not see what happened to them then, but she presumed she did not wish to know.

    The crossbows and cannons kept on hammering the enemy as they made occasional surges into the mass of Jean¡¯s forces, before being thrown back again. Reinforcements from the camp arrived and Jean gave them orders to assemble in formation. Despite the excitement of the moment, they moved with purpose, but not haste.

    The reserves marched forward in good order and the fresh troops easily pushed the bedraggled foe back to his own gate. There the fighting intensified, and Vero suspect that they were attempting to bar the way. However, the gate remained open.

    At last, a white flag was hung from the castle walls and all the men raised a great cheer. Vero joined them without hesitation.

 17. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 3

    The rogue Earl of Hollowstone had given himself up.

    They learned after the fact that the defenders had been planning an attack at midday. The cannon shot panicked them, causing them to come out too early and in a disorganized muddle. Upon being told this, Jean remarked to Vero that this was now a second easy victory she had brought him.

    Vero felt like a princess being so close to great events. She was on Jean¡¯s arm when he received the grey bearded lord¡¯s informal surrender.

    The Earl''s son would perform the formal swearing of feudal oaths in a public ceremony the next day. It would be the man¡¯s third and youngest son, according to Jean. The father and eldest son were both being taken as captives for their rebellion. The second son had been killed in the fighting.

    By the time the sun set, Hollowstone had been completely secured. Jean gave orders for their sleeping quarters to be moved out of the camp and into the master¡¯s bedchamber. Then they held a raucous banquet in the great hall which lasted until well into the night.

    Vero rarely drank to excess. Her master became a terrible drunkard before he died, and she did not like to think that she might be following his example. However, with the campaign now at an end, everyone ¨C including Vero ¨C was in a very festive mood. She tried hard not to allow herself to get completely drunk, but she did become very giddy before the end of the night.

    When the celebrations began to die down, Jean carried her up to their room when her legs failed under her.

    She realized that it would be tonight. They were going up to the bedroom together. And then¡­

    Then you lay on your back and spread your legs to earn those emeralds he¡¯s given you.

    There was not really anything to be frightened about. The first time a man had carnal relations with her it had been terribly painful, but she was sure she knew Jean well enough to be certain he would not be rough with her. So why should she be frightened?

    It¡¯s a kindness Mama cannot see the daughter she raised with such care prostitute herself so.

    Then they were already in the bedroom and there was no more time left to think. Jean put her down on the mattress, then sat down beside her.

    First, he kissed her hand, then her wrist, then her arm, shoulder, and along the nape. ¡°You¡¯ve never taken a lover before, have you?¡±

    What a curious thing for him to ask her. Did he believe she was a virgin? How would he react to finding that she was not?

    ¡°I know how a man holds a maid when they¡¯re alone together, if that¡¯s what you mean.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not.¡± He rose back to his feet. ¡°When you¡¯re ready you¡¯ll tell me. I¡¯ll sleep down in the hall with the others tonight.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no need-¡± Vero winced as she heard her own voice crack.

    ¡°It''s quite alright.¡±

    ¡°What does it matter if a thing happens now- or if it happens later? If it must be done, then let it be over and done with as soon as possible!¡±

    Why was she shouting? It could only have been the drink.

    Have you become a lush now too?

    Jean sat down beside her again. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, my love?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a virgin, there¡¯s no reason why we shouldn¡¯t.¡± Vero deliberately kept her voice quiet. Her hands were shaking.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to be afraid of, Vero. Take some rest and we can discuss this tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t leave me!¡± She grabbed his arm as he moved to go.

    Even Jean was surprised to see the how years of slayer training sent her hand launching itself after him, like a viper biting into a fat mouse.

    That look in his eyes, he thinks you¡¯re mad.

    He held her. ¡°I¡¯ll stay if that¡¯s what you wish.¡±

    She kissed him across the lips.

    When she tried to kiss him again more intimately, he kept her away. ¡°Don¡¯t, Vero. There will be time later.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid. I want to.¡±

    Jean laughed softly. ¡°My love, I would find that more convincing if you were not crying and trembling in my arms.¡±

    She realized that her face was wet. ¡°I¡¯m sorry-¡± She felt something caught in her throat. ¡°-I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to be sorry for.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m weeping like a child.¡±

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°I promise to tell no one.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever you wish. I love you; I don¡¯t want to be alone again.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t leave you; I promise I won¡¯t. But there¡¯s nothing I wish you to do for me except to try and sleep. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll feel better in the morning.¡±

    ¡°You think I¡¯m drunk- or mad.¡±

    ¡°I think someone has hurt you very badly. And I¡¯m not certain how I can help you.¡±

    ¡°Just stay here. Hold me.¡±

    ¡°As you wish.¡± He began to rub her back with careful delicate movements.

    Vero was asleep in moments.

    There was a sour feeling in Vero¡¯s stomach. She realized that she let herself have too much to drink. Where had her vaunted slayer¡¯s self-discipline gone? She felt as though she were adrift on a great ocean, with no port to be seen.

    There was someone near to her, and Vero clung to them in desperation for anything that might offer a sense of stability. Arms wrapped around her in response. She opened her eyes.

    Jean¡¯s eyes were smiling back at her. They were so beautiful it was easy to become lost in them. ¡°How do you feel?¡±

    ¡°Sick.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, my love?¡±

    Vero could not answer. She had already lurched out of bed to find something to evacuate the contents of her stomach into. As she wretched and vomited, she felt someone hold her hair out of her face and rub her back.

    When her nausea began to fade, Vero hid herself in Jean¡¯s embrace. He held her and whispered soothing words to her until his squire arrived with a pitcher of water. The water was fresh and cool, and she drank eagerly.

    ¡°There. Things aren¡¯t so bad now, are they?¡±

    Her eyes were watering and Vero felt miserable. The ends of her hair and the front of her dress had been flecked with vomit. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I-¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to be sorry for. I can hardly count the time I¡¯ve gotten legless and left last night¡¯s supper on the floor.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve ruined the beautiful dress you¡¯ve just bought me.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense. It just needs a washing. And I¡¯ve bought lots of other dresses for you, so you shan¡¯t have to wait in your chemise while it¡¯s cleaned.¡±

    Vero could not think of anything else to say, so she only stayed silent in Jean¡¯s arms. Eventually, Antoinette arrived and took her to a tub where she could wash. Jean was waiting for her with a light purple dress, something like the color of an evening sunset. Along with it were jewels, rubies set in gold.

    The dress was much looser to wear, something Vero was thankful for. Although it did not work the same miracles for her figure which the previous dress had.

    When he saw her, Jean appeared not to notice any decline in her appearance. ¡°Beautiful.¡±

    The sleeves of her dress were left bare and he traced the lines of musculature on her upper arm with his finger. He kissed her neck and smelled her hair. ¡°That¡¯s not one of the perfumes I¡¯ve given you.¡±

    ¡°No¡­ the smell of heavy jasmine upset my stomach. Antoinette scents her hair with rosemary, and I asked her to do the same for me.¡± Vero hoped she had not made him angry; he was the one to give her the perfume. ¡°Do you approve? I could wash it out and change it if you like.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no need. I like it very much.¡± Vero realized that they were in one another¡¯s arms once again.

    How had that happened? She could not say. Perhaps her bad leg had failed again- it often did when Jean came very near to her. He was going to spend the day inspecting his newly won demesne.

    Would she accompany him? Of course, she would. Vero would not have countenanced them being separated again.

    In the hall some of the men were wearing the previous night¡¯s revelry worse than Vero herself, and many were still sleeping soundly. Neither she nor Jean had a stomach for a heavy breakfast, so they took some fresh apples and set out at once.

    Their first stop were the field hospitals near the battle site to visit the wounded. However, they were only just through the gate when Vero saw a great mass of men still laying out in the open on the field of battle. The living mingled among the dead.

    A barber-surgeon was sewing a man¡¯s side closed, but he looked up to shout at them as they passed. ¡°Hey! Hold there, Lord-Whomever! I need to speak with you!¡±

    Jean brought them to a halt, but it was one of his honor guard who spoke for them. ¡°Show some respect to the Marquis, you bastard!¡±

    The surgeon kept his eyes to his work and took no notice of the knight. ¡°Lord Fer, that¡¯s was what it was. Or Far-er, as they pronounce it here.¡± The physician imitated the local accent in a way that might have seemed like a jest under other circumstances. No one laughed, and he continued. ¡°I must speak with you once I¡¯ve stitched this closed.¡±

    The man spoke good Velian, but he was not one of Jean¡¯s physicians. Even so, he appeared well educated in surgery from what Vero could see of his technique. The soldier he was stitching up had been one of the defenders of Hollowstone.

    Jean¡¯s bodyguard looked to his lordship for instruction.

    ¡°We shall see what the fellow has to say. Then we may decide if the subject of our conversation has merit enough to warrant this lack of protocol.¡±

    They waited in silence until the stitches were finished. Elsewhere survivors, who looked half dead themselves, dragged comrades in even more dire condition to be seen to. Vero saw more than a hundred soldiers, unable to walk and slowly bleeding to death, while one doctor scrambled to save the life of a single patient. She saw also a few dozen nearby who had already been sutured back together, and now clung tenuously to life.

    The surgeon¡¯s work was done and he stood up to approach their horse. He bowed to them, covered in blood.

    ¡°I beg your pardon, my Lord. But it¡¯s urgent that I must speak with you. You can see the deplorable conditions these men are in. Your own troops have been carried into field hospitals, but the soldiers of Hollowstone have been left out here to die of exposure. Or have their throats slit by scavengers.¡±

    Jean dismounted. ¡°Yes, I can see that.¡± He helped Vero to dismount right after. ¡°What is your name, surgeon.¡±

    Standing beside one another, he was a head shorter than Jean. ¡°Barnabas, my Lord.¡± Barnabas bowed again, though not so deeply as before.

    ¡°Well, Barnabas. You seem to be the most knowledgeable about conditions here. Speak your mind.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the only one to look after them. I¡¯ve nearly run out of catgut; the antiseptic and clean bandages are long gone. I¡¯ve been using dirty rags as tourniquets¡­¡±

    Vero had lost the thread of the others¡¯ conversation as she looked out at the field of the dead and the dying. She saw some who still drew breath, though they were beyond hope of saving. Others she saw still had a chance, though they were all fading fast. Most of them were going to die, there was not enough time to save them all.

    The surgeon had left his tools unattended. Vero took them and called for water from Lyam. He gave it to her and she used it to wash the wound of the most urgent case nearest to her. Then she took up the needle and catgut to begin making sutures. There was no antiseptic to be seen. Perhaps it would be brought and applied later, perhaps not.

    The lacerations were new, probably inflicted by scavengers. The patient¡¯s left leg and arm were also both broken, probably why they were left for dead after the battle. Maybe her work would make the difference and they could be saved, maybe not.

    ¡°Vero, what are you doing?¡± She felt Jean¡¯s hand on her shoulder.

    ¡°We haven¡¯t much time. Every moment is important. Get more help here quickly, please!¡± She could not look away from her stitches.

    ¡°Yes, as you say.¡±

 18. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 4

    Time became an unfamiliar concept to her. Every moment appeared to slip away too soon, and yet Vero watched each action she took in agonizingly slow motion. Each patient became an hourglass to her, sand trickling away. One saved, two lost, and ten thousand more lost souls pleading for her help. On to the next hourglass to stop up the sand before the last grains could fall.

    She said prayers to Mother Luna as she worked. They were the same prayers Mama said over her when she treated Vero¡¯s cuts and scrapes as a girl. How effective could such prayers be in the face of suffering on such a massive scale? There was so much blood already spilt in sacrifice. How could a goddess of mercy not be moved?

    But then it was only last night Vero herself, who was so much nearer to these things than the Queen of Heaven, had been happily oblivious. They had been out here dying this whole time, alone in the dark and cold, and what had she done? By what right did she condemn the gods when she had been so close and so callous?

    There was no more time. This hourglass could not be halted. And how much time had she lost in the failed effort? Enough that there was no more time for any self-recriminations. She moved on to the next patient.

    It was not really a person, but rather a pig carcass. Yes, a pig carcass, just as Mama had taught her on. There was no need to feel anything for a pig carcass. It was only a lump of flesh waiting for Father to carve it up, salt it, and put it in the larder. This pig carcass was livelier than most, perhaps that meant it would have the strength to recover. How could she know?

    And then came Barnabas with antiseptic.

    Stretcher bearers were now taking some away to the field hospital. Soldiers were rousting the scavengers. The physicians and priests had arrived with acolytes bearing medical supplies.

    Now she became more careful in her work. She was more selective in her patients, because she knew how to bandage wounds and set bones, but she was not a trained doctor. She left the most dire cases to others and helped who she could.

    Cut away the clothes. Clean the injury. Set the leg. Anoint the wound. Put on the splint. Wind the whole thing in clean bandages and move on to the next, and then the next. The actions became automatic, like a clockwork toy. She could work more easily that way, disconnected from emotion. Moving flawlessly from one movement to the next, mistakes forgotten the moment they are made because there is no other choice. Repair the damage and move forward.

    Lyam was there to keep her medical bag filled with everything she needed. And Jean was there as well, albeit at a distance. He was imposing some order on the chaos, having the dead collected for identification, and helping the survivors return to their families.

    Then Vero stood and her vision became dark.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°She seemed to come over faint, my Lord.¡±

    Her vision cleared and she was laying in the grass with Jean kneeling beside her. ¡°Vero? Are you alright?¡±

    She sat up. ¡°I just became lightheaded a moment. I¡¯m alright now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not surprised. It¡¯s hours past noon now. You¡¯ve hardly eaten since last night- and a lot of that ended up on the bedroom floor this morning. We¡¯ll have dinner now, you¡¯re no help to anyone in this state.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve ruined another dress.¡± Her front had several deep stains.

    ¡°Yes, well¡­ I¡¯m not certain how this one will wash out. But I¡¯ve bought more than a dozen dresses for you, so I don¡¯t expect losing one shall matter. You can choose another after we¡¯ve eaten.¡± Jean helped her to her feet.

    ¡°I want to go to work in the hospital once we¡¯ve eaten.¡±

    ¡°As you wish. Perhaps we had best put off changing your clothes then, until just before the ceremony tonight.¡±

    A servant brought Jean¡¯s horse to them. He lifted her up first, then followed himself.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you decided to help them.¡± Vero put her hand over Jean¡¯s. ¡°Those people in the field took up arms against you, you could have left them all to die.¡±

    ¡°They took up arms out of loyalty to their lord, I don¡¯t bear any malice against them.¡± Jean spoke very easily. ¡°Hopefully they shall show equal zeal in service to the new lord I set for them. They are my own subjects, even if their previous ruler led them astray for a time. It wouldn¡¯t be sensible to depopulate my own demesne and leave such lingering scars of resentment behind. Not when much loyalty stands to be gained from an easy act of charity. It¡¯s the simplest kindnesses which are often best remembered.¡±

    They returned to Jean¡¯s pavilion in the camp where the servants had prepared a lavish dinner of lamb with truffle shavings. It was served with a sweet flavored northern white wine. Vero found she was ravenously hungry and set in the moment she had washed her hands.

    ¡°Was it your master Aquinas who taught you the healing arts?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. I knew more about medicine than he ever did.¡± The lamb was delicious.

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Oh? Who was it then?¡±

    ¡°It was Mama.¡± Vero reminded herself not to speak with her mouth full. ¡°My mother trained as a priestess of Queen Luna before she married Father. She was the wisewoman and midwife for our village, and I often helped her.¡±

    ¡°I see. I heard you reciting prayers to Luna while you worked.¡± Jean skewered two slices of lamb with a truffle between them. ¡°I had just presumed you worshiped the Earth Mother- or¡­¡± He put it in his mouth whole.

    ¡°Or that I was a sorcerous atheist with a lot of natural-materialist explanations for the divine emanations?¡± The food had started to restore her good humor.

    Jean smiled and shrugged in response.

    ¡°Yes, I worship Mother Luna- though not as often as I should. Most of the village I grew up in worshiped the Earth Mother, but the priestess in our village was extremely elderly, which is why they had practical need for a wisewoman. I suppose you must have been trying to decide which I was- the na?ve country girl, or the conniving sorceress. If so, I¡¯m glad I was able to evade such easy classification.¡±

    Jean swallowed the last of his truffle with a gulp of wine. ¡°It¡¯s easy to become abstracted from humanity in my position. Companies of soldiers must be controlled like objects- wooden pieces on a map. It¡¯s such a simple thing to forget that when banners on a map meet, individual men begin to kill and die. Each name on a company register is a person with a whole life¡¯s journey which has brought them to that point, and may well end there¡­ I made presumptions based on your accent and occupation because ¨C until now ¨C you have been disinclined to discuss yourself in any greater detail.¡±

    ¡°Ah, well. What does it matter? At the moment I feel too exhausted to care.¡± The effects of digestion, and the relief of tension after hours of constant careful labor, left her completely drained.

    ¡°Oh? Excellent.¡± Jean skewered more slices of lamb and truffle. ¡°Interrogations typically become much easier at this stage.¡± He fed the combination to her, and Vero took it without complaint. ¡°Tell me something else about your family now.¡±

    ¡°What should I tell you? I can¡¯t think of anything that would be of interest to a great lord such as yourself.¡±

    Jean became thoughtful a moment, then he began to speak. ¡°My father¡¯s given name was Louis; my mother¡¯s given name is Catherine. Their courtship was brief and their marriage was political. They never cared for one another, but both were very dear to me. My father had little time for affection, but I felt he showed his love for me in the careful attention he paid to my education. My memories of him were learning at his side when he conducted council meetings or troop inspections. My mother is an imposing presence to strangers, but also unrestrained in her affection towards those close to her. I understand why she left the day after my father¡¯s funeral, but I wish she had not.¡±

    There was silence for a time, and Vero realized that she must make some reply in kind. She cleared her throat to give herself some time to think. ¡°Mama was called Olivia, and Father was named Niall. He was a mercenary during the civil war- not the war in our time I mean, but the last one.¡±

    ¡°The Priests¡¯ War, I¡¯m familiar. My family stayed out of it, though our Fer-mark steel weapons were certainly to be found in both camps.¡±

    It was a neutral position. Vero was relieved. She had not considered the possibility she might learn something unpleasant about him when she brought up the topic. It would certainly have cast a pall over their relationship if his family had taken part in the repressions.

    ¡°Mama and my grandmother ¨C whom I was named after ¨C went to the Grand Conclave in the peasants¡¯ delegation, at the church council to depose the pontifex. And then helped to elect Joan the Good.¡±

    She paused and realized Jean was probably not familiar with the internal workings of a church he was not a member of. So, she added more context for him. ¡°They also helped the persecuted escape the burnings once most of the fighting had stopped. We lived in Loix, right on the border with the Republic. They gave the refugees food and shelter before they went to Whitegate.¡±

    ¡°Oh? That¡¯s nice to hear.¡± His eyes smiled at her the way she liked. ¡°We tried to do what we could to help after the war. The king¡¯s authority hardly meant a thing once all the various dynastic feuds were over. Father provided plenty of the refugees shelter- artisans and craftsmen, mostly. Gave them positions with the guilds. Then he went one better and made the guilds completely secular. I can remember the thundering feuds he had with the chaplain over that as a child. Those fights were the only time I can ever recall my father shedding tears. But he refused to relent, and Ignacio had eventually returned to him- as none of us had ever doubted.¡±

    ¡°They sound like intimate confidants.¡±

    ¡°Very intimate. That¡¯s why I¡¯ve treated him so gently since my father¡¯s death- but he¡¯s becoming intolerable. Ah! Why are we discussing the priests causing me problems? Tell me more about your father- Niall, was it? He must have come from the highlands just north of here by the sound of his name- and the look of your hair.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. As I said, he came to Velois as a mercenary. He wasn¡¯t a knight, but he did rise to the rank of sergeant. And made quite a lot of money because he didn¡¯t gamble or drink. He was injured in battle and then taken to the temple where Mama was studying as an acolyte. They began to court one another, and Father swore that he wanted nothing more to do with war and wished to settle down and build a farm with the money he had. When it came time for Mama to be consecrated as a priestess, she refused. When she told Father, he proposed to marry her on the spot.¡±

    He took her hand. ¡°I have four sisters, three elder and one younger. No brothers, although my cousin and I are rather close¡­¡±

    Jean¡¯s cousin the Duc de Emmoi had joined him on this campaign. Jean introduced her to him a few weeks previous and he had taken an immediate dislike to her when they met, although she was not certain why. They had cordially ignored one another since.

    Vero realized that Jean was still talking.

    ¡°¡­are Catherine, Marianne, and Petronilla- in descending order. And my younger sibling ¨C almost certainly a half-sister to the rest of us ¨C is Johanna. The first three are all safely securing marriage alliances with our house¡¯s near allies. The last, who I confess is my favorite, is studying to become a priestess. Father was on the verge of marrying her off too when he died, I was only just able to extricate her from the contract in time. She already managed to have two previous contracts broken off on her own- and I knew she loathed the prospect of a political marriage. I arranged this church position for her to close the issue permanently with our mother.¡±

    He stopped, and Vero presumed it was her own turn again.

    ¡°I have two siblings- once three. My elder sister Yvette was a terrible nag, and my younger brother Antoine was only a babe when I left. My other brother¡­¡± She took notice of how late the afternoon had grown from the changing of the light. ¡°But we¡¯ve been talking too long. I feel much better now, we should go to the hospital tent.¡±

    ¡°As you wish. But can I convince you to leave at sunset to attend vespers in Hollowstone chapel with me?¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t the full moon- or do they permit men to attend all evening services in Umbria? I¡¯ve never been so far north before.¡±

    ¡°They permit very many things when one pays enough for the indulgence.¡±

 19. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 5

    They went to the hospital. Jean visited his injured officers and bestowed gifts to many of the wounded, both noble and peasant, who had displayed great bravery on the field. Vero assisted the healers as she could, mostly changing bandages. She also applied splints and stitches to those whose injuries were too minor to have been treated yet.

    The army¡¯s field hospitals were well stocked and organized- and many of the worst cases had already died. Things no longer appeared very urgent. Barnabas had even collapsed exhausted on a free cot. When the sun began to set, Vero allowed herself to be drawn away for a bath and a change of clothes before the vesper mass.

    She chose a white dress which was more subdued than the others- though it did still bear some golden flairs. She thought it looked the most appropriate attire to wear in church. They arrived back at the chapel just as the sun passed beyond the horizon. It was that eerie hour of twilight when the color of fey-light could sometimes be distinguished by unaided human eyes. This was the hour when will-o¡¯-the-wisps led mortals on to their own demise.

    The waxing half-moon was in the sky, and there were few parishioners in attendance. Most of the congregation were aging courtiers who cast unhappy glances toward her and Jean, but the priestess took no objection to their presence. Jean started to move towards the front, but Vero pulled them into seats in the back.

    The scriptures were read in Liturgical and then the congregation recited their vesper prayers with one voice. Vero knew the prayers by rote, but she noticed Jean only listened in polite silence. The rest of the congregation filed out quickly once services had ended.

    Vero went to the front where there were five statuary idols, each representing one of Luna¡¯s five faces. In the center was the full moon, Mother Luna. The goddess held her arms outstretched, her face a picture of perfect compassion. The artist had been very skilled, and it moved Vero¡¯s heart to look upon it. To the statue¡¯s right were Luna the Maiden and Luna the Wanderer, to her left were Luna the Matron and Luna the Widow.

    She knelt to say her personal prayers to the full moon aspect.

    When she was finished, Vero found Jean was in conversation with the priestess. She let them be for the moment and went to the sculpture of the crescent moon aspect, Maiden Luna. A spritely figure of budding womanhood appraised Vero with devious stone eyes.

    Vero knew no formal prayers to the Maiden.

    She invoked the secret names of the crescent moon when she crafted a spell to obscure herself from the views of others. Her spells could not make her genuinely invisible, but they shrouded the appearance of her movement so that she became effectively unseeable- so long as she did not pass directly in front of an observer¡¯s sight.

    The human eye possessed only a small area of clear vision at the center point. Movement in the peripheral caused a rapid readjustment of the point of focus to the new interest, which allowed the illusion of complete visual clarity.

    In the scriptures, Luna the Maiden intervened to hide the affairs of lovers from parents and spouses. Vero had neither- and it seemed both of Jean¡¯s were absent.

    Vero turned away from the statue, back towards Jean and the priestess.

    ¡°Have you finished your prayers?¡± Jean had noticed her the moment Vero began to draw near.

    ¡°Yes- but I¡¯d also like to give confession, if that¡¯s alright?¡±

    The priestess smiled beatifically at her. ¡°Of course, daughter.¡± It was a relief to discover that the local cleric was a priestess of the full moon. ¡°Although I believe his lordship has something he wishes to ask first.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been speaking with Mother Agatha about the banquet tonight,¡± Jean began. ¡°After the feudal oaths are finished, I intend to raise a few fellows up to the rank of knight now that the campaign is over. I¡¯d like to make you a dame at the same time, but my chaplain is being a right bast-¡± Jean remembered he was in a holy place and restrained himself. ¡°-He¡¯s creating problems rather than solving them. That¡¯s why I¡¯ve decided to ask Mother Agatha notarize the proceedings. What do you think?¡±

    ¡°I think a priestess of Luna is a fine choice. As to the relative merits of the men, I cannot say as I spent most of this campaign confined to a bed. But for myself¡­ I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve done any great feats of valor to earn a title.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Well, firstly, it¡¯s not a knighthood. It¡¯s a damehood, which does not carry valorous acts as a prerequisite. Secondly, I consider your solitary infiltration of Kaer Longus and the exorcism of the spirit haunting that place to be a feat of valor.¡±

    It had not seemed so heroic as Jean described it to her. She had been captured, freed by someone else¡¯s hand, and then acted in blind desperation, nearly crippling herself in the process. And the evil man responsible for everything still walked free- at least for the time being.

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    ¡°But surely there must be some standard for dames- beyond simply one lord¡¯s pleasure?¡±

    ¡°One lord¡¯s pleasure opens the doors to more than you might imagine. But, yes, dames are meant to show their nobility of character through virtue and piety. I consider your actions today ample indicators of that. Besides that, it shall put all this ¡®your friend¡¯ business behind us. Everyone shall know where we stand and that will be the end of it, or so I hope.¡±

    Vero still did not think that she had earned the honor, but he appeared very insistent. In the end, she relented in order to get along with her confession. Jean stood aside, and Vero left for the confessional with Mother Agatha.

    When they were safely in solitude, the priestess began the rite of confession. ¡°Mother Luna offers Her infinite mercy to any who come to Her in honest contrition. Search your heart and lay down your burden of sins.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me Mother, for I have sinned. It has been eight months and-¡± She worked the arithmetic. ¡°-thirteen days since my last confession.¡±

    Vero began with her minor sins, as was her habit when she gave confession. She had shown wrath and spite towards others in thought, word, and deed. She had misled others by omission, and lied to them overtly.

    She had taken vain oaths in Luna¡¯s name. She had allowed her master to have carnal knowledge of her outside of wedlock.

    She had killed.

    The priestess listened in patient silence. Priestesses of the full moon never asked for acts of physical penance. Mother Luna¡¯s mercy was total, and so her forgiveness was always unconditional. Vero poured out everything she had done, everything the hunt had required from her, without restraint.

    When she was finished, a space of silence passed before Mother Agatha asked: ¡°And do you earnestly repent?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mother. In choosing to do wrong I have sinned against my sisters in the faith, and I have sinned against those to whom I should have ministered. I have also offended against my goddess, whom I should love as she loves me. Queen Luna, with your guidance I firmly resolve to turn away from evil. May you show compassion on me, your humblest daughter.¡±

    ¡°Luna has sent Her holy spirit among us to offer us reconciliation through the ministry of the church. I hereby absolve you in Her name, and may She grant you Her peace. You are forgiven. Go forth and sin no more.¡±

    ¡°Mother?¡±

    ¡°Yes? Is there something else you wish to speak about?¡±

    ¡°What if I do something that Mother Luna can¡¯t forgive me for?¡±

    Mother Agatha was quiet for a moment. ¡°Luna forgives all Her children, no matter the trespass. No sin can place you beyond Her compassion.¡±

    ¡°If I earnestly repent- but suppose that I can¡¯t repent?¡±

    Another pause. ¡°Why don¡¯t you explain the matter which is worrying you directly, and perhaps I can help you?¡±

    ¡°I have lustful thoughts- for a married man. I know it¡¯s wrong, but I¡¯ve conspired with him to have an affair.¡±

    ¡°I see. I presume you are speaking of the Marquis?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°You say that you believe it¡¯s wrong, so it sounds to me that you are repentant already.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what frightens me. Because if I still intend to do something when I know it¡¯s wrong- How can I, in honesty, claim to my goddess that my contrition is in earnest?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t say that I have ever met her ladyship, his wife. But the Marquis¡¯ family have been the masters here since I was born, and I know he¡¯s had several very public mistresses in the past. Those things aren¡¯t uncommon with lords and ladies of high rank. Her ladyship reportedly got along very well with all of them, so I don¡¯t think that she shall be calling down the Matron¡¯s curses upon you.¡±

    ¡°But it is still a sin, is it not?¡±

    ¡°The Maiden aids lovers and the Matron punishes them. Who is to say which is truly right or wrong? If your conscience troubles you and draws you back into confession- then your repentance is genuine, and Mother Luna shall offer Her forgiveness to you freely. But if your heart does not call you back to confession- then consider if you are truly in need of forgiveness.¡±

    Everyone stood at attention when she entered, and Vero felt ridiculous a moment later when she realized it was for Jean.

    The hall was very full, but much less boisterous than the celebrations the previous night. The party then had mostly been knights, mercenary officers, and others who had been on hand for the real fighting. About half of that group still remained, but they were now joined by the local nobility, and some of Jean¡¯s other vassals who had preferred to stay in the camp during the battle. The overall atmosphere was now more refined and serious.

    Vero began to feel very nervous with everyone watching them, and she leaned more heavily on Jean when her knees felt weak. She was doubly glad she had worn her most demure dress. They crossed the room to the head of the main table. When they sat down everyone else followed suit.

    Jean¡¯s chancellor, Ser Renaud, arrived with an order of business. Jean stood up again almost at once to begin the proceedings. First, he accepted the formal oath of vassalage from the new Earl of Hollowstone. Then, the other minor lords they had collected in the region came forwards. Not all the nobles had fought against Jean, but he had each of them publicly take feudal oaths to himself and his family regardless.

    All these oaths were overseen and notarized by both Mother Agatha, and a sun priest who watched Vero with undisguised disapproval and suspicion.

    After the surrender had been formalized, Jean began to dole out knighthoods to men who had served with distinction. Vero noticed how young Lyam watched the proceedings with great interest.

    When it was over, the priest ¨C who Vero presumed to be the chaplain, Father Ignacio ¨C shot her a look of utter contempt. Then he sat down, to leave Mother Agatha alone.

    Ser Renaud guided Vero up and in front of Jean. She was instructed to kneel and did so.

    ¡°For valor outstanding in the capture of Kaer Longus¡­¡± Jean¡¯s voice was solemn and serious. ¡°¡­And for acts of great compassion and piety tending to the injured and dying after the Battle of Hollowstone, I do dub thee Dame Veronique de Loix.¡±

    He tapped his sword to both of her shoulders, and Mother Agatha anointed her head with oil.

    And Vero was nobility.

 20. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 6

    Supper had been excellent, and Vero was more successful when moderating her drinking. However, she had neglected to take any draughts of poppy milk during the day, and her leg was throbbing in agony when they returned to the bedroom. Even with Jean¡¯s help she could only manage with a heavy limp.

    She laid down on the bed and Jean brought her some blessed medicine, which subdued the pain to a dull ache.

    ¡°Better?¡±

    Vero stretched herself. ¡°Yes, much. Though it¡¯s still stiff- and my back¡­¡±

    ¡°I can give you a massage, if you like.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes.¡± Vero had replied before she could give a moment to consideration.

    ¡°I¡¯ll send in your maid to take off your dress.¡±

    Jean was replaced by Antoinette. Then Vero began to think and her heart began to race.

    From what source did this damned tension come? She had already agreed to become his mistress, why should she be distressed if he saw her undressed? He must know about her scars; he had spoken with all her physicians while she was unconscious.

    But knowing is different from seeing.

    The thought of watching the look of disgust cross his face when he saw her the first time was too much to bear. She lay down on the bed again, flat on her stomach and still self-consciously tried to cover the most intimate parts of her body with her hands. When she had hidden as much of herself as she thought she could manage, Vero sent out Antoinette to find Jean and told the maid she would not need her for the rest of the night.

    She heard Jean enter the room, but she kept her face hidden and eyes shut. She tracked him crossing the room by his footsteps.

    ¡°Beautiful.¡±

    She ventured a quick glance towards him. ¡°It¡¯s kind of you to say so, but I know it¡¯s not true.¡±

    He pressed his hands to her shoulders. ¡°And why do you say that?¡±

    He did not use a light touch. His fingers dug into her muscles to force them into submission. It was the kind of massage she much preferred.

    ¡°No reason. I can only see what the mirror shows me.¡±

    Jean kissed the top of her spine. ¡°We shall simply need to disagree then. Fortunately, I¡¯m the one lucky enough to gaze upon you. You have only me to look at.¡±

    Vero reflected again on how beautiful she found him. ¡°I think I¡¯m taking the better part of that bargain.¡±

    His hands moved slowly downwards, demanding her muscles relax with exact applications of pressure. Vero closed her eyes once more and let the pleasant poppy milk haze pass over her.

    She was nearly asleep when he passed his hand over her buttock, and she jerked her head up on instinct.

    ¡°Is something wrong?¡±

    Vero put her head back down. ¡°No¡­ nothing.¡± She felt so warm. She was sweating everywhere.

    He began to work the calf of her weak leg. It was a terribly agony, followed by blessed relief as he molded the muscles back into shape. He moved upwards to her thigh.

    What was he doing? Vero would not speculate. She could bear to think no more and decided that what would happen, would simply happen.

    ***

    Vero sat up at once. She put an arm over her chest when she saw the direction of his gaze.

    He grinned at her. ¡°Do you want me to stop?¡±

    Her mouth felt too dry to speak. She shook her head instead.

    He moved her arm away. She lay on her back, but kept her hands over her most intimate charms.

    His face came near. They kissed.

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    Vero felt him move her hands aside and she did not resist. His fingers brushed her intimately. It was not by accident, because it occurred again.

    And that was not all he did.

    One of the more curious stories in Jean¡¯s books crossed her mind. In the earliest days the first men were created by King Helios in his own image. When the eldest of them began to die, the sun god soon tired of restoring them to life and youth. His wife Luna came to him and offered to relieve him of his burden, but only if he would turn over half of mankind to her. Helios agreed and Luna remade those she chose in her own image, and thus created womankind. Men and women could then multiply in number. That much was the story of creation as Mama had related it to her.

    The book went on to suggest that these ¡®first women¡¯ soon began to complain of this arrangement. They were the ones, quite literally, bearing the burden of life¡¯s propagation. However, as Luna had taken their manhoods, they could no longer take pleasure from the act of love making.

    To make matters right, Luna had broken her own necklace of pearls and enchanted them. One pearl was given to each woman as a replacement for what had been taken. The book further claimed that was why women felt impelled to cry praises to the goddess when their pearl was caressed.

    Vero did not give in into her impulse, although she did make Luna¡¯s sign over her breast. It was very near now. She could not hold back much longer.

    She knew what was happening, and what was coming. His gaze felt heavy on her.

    Vero twisted the sheets in her grip. A spasm went all through her, and it seemed that everything was sparkling for a moment.

    ¡°Do you wish me to stay with you tonight?¡±

    She realized Jean was speaking to her. Vero had been blissfully absent for a moment.

    ¡°Yes, I do. I never want to be apart from you again.¡±

    ¡°I would prefer not to sleep in my clothes again.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite alright.¡± Vero climbed under the covers and turned away to let him undress in private. She considered turning her head to look- but no, she did not think that she could.

    She heard a small laugh and then the sounds of clothes dropping to the floor. Then she felt him climb into the bed behind her. Arms enveloped her from above and beneath and pulled her into his chest. She felt his warm skin against her back.

    ¡°You said-¡± Vero began to speak so that she could not take time to think. ¡°-That is- Do you miss your father very much?¡±

    What a foolish question, of course he did.

    ¡°What I mean is¡­ You said this afternoon, that you wished your mother hadn¡¯t left so soon after his funeral...¡±

    ¡°I- Yes, I do miss him very much.¡± His tone was empty.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to ask clever questions as you do- But I love you very much. If you wish to talk, I shall listen.¡±

    He gripped her very tightly a moment. So much so that it hurt, but Vero said nothing and a moment later he held her more comfortably.

    When Jean spoke, he did so in a low voice. ¡°He had been sick for a very long time, so it didn¡¯t come as a surprise- But I couldn¡¯t believe it. He wasn¡¯t so old¡­ And we had so many doctors¡­ Every day I expected him to show signs of recovering, but it only ever became worse and worse. Near the end he could no longer recognize any of us- Not my sisters, nor I, nor¡­ Ignacio. Then- he was gone.¡±

    Vero turned over and Jean was wearing an expression she had never seen on him before. She pressed his face to her breast and it was wet.

    ¡°Forgive me. It¡¯s not very chivalrous to shed tears before a lady.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a proper lady- And I would never tell a soul anyway.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re very kind, Vero.¡±

    ¡°I- just wish you to know that I would rather die than betray your confidence. I swear it by Luna¡¯s grace.¡± And the oath was not given in vain.

    ¡°It seems not so long ago; I remember him so strong and vital. I had stepped in to act as regent when his health began to fail. The king was anxious to secure his position after the war and we couldn¡¯t afford to show any weakness he might take advantage of. I threw myself into state¡¯s business and left my father to the physicians- certain that he would return to take my place again any day. Why should the gods wish to take him? He tithed generously and prayed every sunrise and every sunset. By the time I realized he may not recover- he no longer knew my face¡­ It was less than a month after his death that our Umbrian vassals began agitating for independence. His sepulcher hadn¡¯t even been finished when I left for this campaign.¡±

    There was quiet for a while.

    Then Vero began to speak. ¡°I hated my master. He taught me how to fight and how to hunt. Even when we had meager rations, he split them evenly with me. But I hated him. All day he would drink, and at night he-¡± Her voice caught in her throat.

    ¡°I believe I understand- you don¡¯t need to say more.¡±

    ¡°And I hated him for it. I longed to be rid of him for so long- to be free. It was this spring that we were hunting a loup garou far south from here. The creature split him open along the belly and I watched him bleed to death on the ground in front of me¡­ I would have done anything in my power to keep him alive, but I was helpless. He was dead and I was alone. I no longer had a cruel master to lay all my problems upon. I spent all that time wishing him dead, and then I wept over his pyre like a child¡­¡±

    Her voice was lost in sobs and she said no more. They held one another in silence until Vero had fallen asleep.

    They were still holding one another when Vero woke the next morning. She tried to be still so that she would not disturb Jean, who was sleeping peacefully. He looked so innocent and beautiful as he was.

    She felt something prod her stomach. She reached a tentative hand down between them. She dare not look beneath the covers. Vero considered his anatomy with equal parts excitement and intimidation.

    ¡°Mhm?¡± Jean opened his eyes.

    ¡°Does it please you? I can stop if you wish me to.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±

    He said no more and Vero continued with more confidence.

    She had never considered before how a woman made love to a man. It had always been a matter of abstraction to her when she had considered fornication to be a thing that men did to her.

    ***

    ¡°I- did you like it? I don¡¯t have much experience...¡±

    Jean turned them over so he was on top of her, and kissed her again.

 21. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 7

    They stayed at Hollowstone for almost a fortnight. During that time, Jean was kept busy attending to matters of state, and setting things right in his Umbrian territories before they could depart back to Velois.

    Vero wanted to stay near to him, now that she was free from her sickbed. She observed him at his business, although she remained aware that she must be careful not to risk violating her order¡¯s code.

    His main concerns were to repair the damage done in the rebellion, to restore law and order by securing garrisons in the recalcitrant provinces, and to develop the road and bridge network connecting the region to the main body of his demesne in Velois. His policy priorities came in that order, and Vero approved- although she refrained from offering him any opinions on the matter. Their relationship was personal and professional, but it could never be political.

    Occasionally, Vero found some labor in the hospital or overseeing safe disposal of the unclaimed dead. However, perhaps a testament to Jean¡¯s efficient leadership, there was soon very little for her to do. When their business in Hollowstone was concluded, they began the long trek back towards Velois and home.

    The mercenaries had been paid and departed their company already, making the camp feel much less crowded now that the campaign was over. The m¨¦lange of foreign languages was reduced to only Velian, with a small minority of Umbiran.

    As they traveled back the way they had come, Vero put down some gibbering dead who had been neglected after previous battles. There were few enough of them, and they lacked the intelligence to prove a genuine threat against even a half-lame slayer.

    She also investigated some reports of hauntings, but these could all be attributed to more mundane causes. Vero gave the peasants a simple prayer in Liturgical and told them to repeat it every evening to calm their minds, and then to send a message if things got worse.

    At night, she and Jean always went to bed together in the same fashion. Antoinette would undress Vero first, and she would climb under the blankets. Then Antoinette would leave and Jean would enter. His squire would undress him and Vero would avert her eyes, stealing only the occasional subtle glance when she believed it would go unnoticed.

    Then the squire would go and they would read some of the love books Vero had set aside. They would discuss all the things they wished to do with ¨C and to ¨C one another, and caress each other until they were both satisfied. However, they never became more physically intimate with one another than they had on that first night.

    More than once Vero had tried to push things farther, but everything always seemed to become a kind of cataclysm each time she made the attempt. The fear would start in her chest, then spread all through her until she had completely closed in on herself.

    Jean simply refused to just force everything to happen, no matter how she insisted. He only held her, whispering that they had all the time in the world.

    But how long would a such a great prince truly remain interested in a mistress so constantly lost in her own turmoil? The danger would only increase when they returned to Velois and were surrounded by so many women much fairer than she.

    Sometimes Vero tried to silence her anxiety with alcohol, but that only made things worse. The tears would begin and she would find herself revealing all the most vile and loathsome things about herself. The things that she ought to have kept hidden from everyone, and all the more hidden from someone she wished so desperately to convince to love her.

    By all rights, Jean should have known that he would do better to send her away as quickly as possible. Instead, he only kept her in his arms, and continued to whisper all the same soft lies Vero could not keep herself from clutching at.

    As they traveled, they made occasional stops at the larger settlements, but they made steady progress towards the border and Kaer Longus. The camp had trickled away the few remaining Umbrians as they went. As much as she loathed his presence, Vero feared that the earl of that evil tower would be one of them, and thus escape justice for what he had done.

    She was relieved when Jean informed her that he had placed the Earl of Kaer Longus under discreet house arrest within the camp. The blackguard would be accompanying them all the way back to Jean¡¯s estate, with a few others whom Jean also intended to arrest, once his cousin and other Velian allies had departed.

    Jean wanted to be sure that he directly controlled the only fighting men nearby when he moved against them. Even if it proved to be an unpopular decision, he could simply present the whole matter as a fait accompli.

    Vero was satisfied. She only smiled slyly at the bastard when the Earl sat beside Father Ignacio at dinner with his martyred expression, consulting sorrowfully with the sun priest. He knew that he was caught in the trap now, and that was good enough for the time being.

    It was cloudy the day that they passed the ruined tower, and the visibility was too poor to see it. For that, she was glad.

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    They spent their first night back in Velois in the sleepy motte and baily castle town of Greenvale. The community was a small one, but many minor nobles from across the Fer-Mark had come to win favor by greeting Jean on his return to their homeland. Because of that, the castle was already full to bursting when they arrived.

    The atmosphere was a jolly one, and Vero was glad to hear that they would stay for a few days before pressing on. The only dark cloud was the recent news that the newly appointed Earl of Hollowstone had fallen ill a few days after they left.

    Jean had purchased new hunting birds and organized a hawking expedition for their first day there. Vero had experience hunting rabbits with snares or a crossbow, but she had never used a raptor bird before and she was excited to try.

    Their hunting party all assembled at breakfast, and several female courtiers had joined them. Vero was relieved to see that she would not be the only woman in their company, even if she was rather intimidated by the beauty of some. Unfortunately, she soon discovered that half of the women must have come with their own designs on Jean, because they treated her with unrestrained jealousy. The other half had more moderate aspirations, and treated her with unrestrained flattery- which they always made certain to let Jean overhear.

    The whole business made Vero¡¯s head spin, and she took care from then on to avoid anyone but Jean and Antoinette.

    After breakfast, Jean introduced Vero to the coy looking and broad-winged red hawk he had bought for her. Mama taught her how to whisper to animals when she was a girl, but she had not done so often since- except to quiet angry guard dogs. Fortunately, it was a general rule that trained animals used to working with humans were much easier to communicate with than wild beasts. It did not take her long to establish a repartee with the bird and make herself understood.

    Jean watched her with great interest. ¡°You know the secret of speaking with animals?¡±

    ¡°Whispering isn¡¯t exactly the same as speaking- it¡¯s difficult to explain to someone who¡¯s never done it before. But I know how to communicate simple things with some animals, yes.¡±

    ¡°Fascinating. I¡¯m familiar with the practice in principle, but I¡¯ve always been told the skill is very rare.¡±

    ¡°Among university trained wizards it is. Mama said it¡¯s because they only like reading and lecturing, but hate to listen. Most of the wisewomen I¡¯ve met could at least speak with domesticated animals. I myself learned to whisper with a coop full of hens and a milk cow.¡±

    ¡°Could you teach me?¡±

    ¡°With enough time, I¡¯m sure. Mama said that children could learn easier than adults, and that men had more trouble because whispering is traditionally a woman¡¯s art. But I know that some proper wizards have learned how to do it, so it can¡¯t be impossible. It¡¯s easier to work with animals that trust you. I¡¯m sure in a few weeks ¨C or months, maybe ¨C I could teach you some simple ways to communicate with your warhorse. ¡®Are you hungry?¡¯ ¡®Thirsty?¡¯ ¡®Sick?¡¯ Simple questions such as that.¡±

    ¡°Hm, that could be a useful trick. A shame that it sounds too esoteric to teach to an entire cavalry company, that could be a tremendous advantage.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s for the best. I¡¯m not sure I would be allowed to teach a whole cavalry company.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Slayers are outside of the law. If our hunt requires us to break the law of a mortal realm then we do so, and under old Imperial legal custom we¡¯re immune to prosecution.¡±

    ¡°We keep to the old Imperial law in the Fer-Mark, for the most part. But I¡¯ve never heard of that legal custom before.¡±

    ¡°Few have, today. Since the Imperium receded, we were impersonated by many charlatans who took advantage of our legal immunity. Few magistrates now recognize our rights. But they are valid,¡± she assured him. ¡°In exchange, we are forbidden to ever engage in politics or to act as a law enforcer.¡±

    ¡°Did your mission in Kaer Longus not violate this rule?¡±

    ¡°No, because that was a valid hunt for a wraith. Any political ramifications of the ghost¡¯s exorcism are moot, because its removal was a necessity.¡±

    ¡°You were willing to teach me the secret of whispering just a moment ago.¡±

    ¡°I considered that a personal request. Kishar, the first among equals, who created our code, was challenged by other members of our order for killing his own brother. His brother had been high king of the elves at that time. The duel and resulting death plunged all the elves into a brutal civil war and ended the first dynasty of their people. Kishar replied simply that it hadn¡¯t been a political act against a tyrant, but an act of personal vengeance against the man who murdered their father.¡±

    ¡°A whole cavalry company would be a formal military request, and thus a step too far. Is that right?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I know other slayers have trained with regular military forces to exchange fighting skills in the past, and that wasn¡¯t forbidden. And the secret of whispering was taught to me by my mother, it¡¯s not a slayer technique. I¡¯m not an expert in interpreting the code. Until now, my master has always made these decisions for us. And he never informed me of his thinking on these matters.¡±

    ¡°I believe I understand. I shall do my best not to press you into a difficult position. I know well the weight that a code of honor can place one under.¡±

    Jean instructed her how to put on her gauntlet and use the hood and jesses. It was all simple enough, although she supposed it was probably much more difficult when one could not communicate directly with the bird to request its cooperation. Jean appeared impressed by how well she took to it and she enjoyed the opportunity to show off.

    He introduced her to his own personal hunting bird which he had requested be brought up from his estate. It was a dignified grey gyrfalcon, an ¡®eyass¡¯ he had trained since he was a boy. She had never heard the term ¡®eyass¡¯ before, and he informed her that it meant the bird had been raised from the egg. She supposed that was why the animal believed Jean to be its mother.

    They proceeded leisurely and left late in the morning. By the time they had reached the hunting ground it was noon. The servants had already gone ahead to prepare a pavilion and meal for their arrival. The day was cloudy and overcast, but it had been a very warm autumn and at midday it was still comfortable, even without the benefit of a direct sunbeam.

    After they had eaten, they set out with their hunting birds. Their party went out in smaller groups to different areas, so as not to exhaust all the game in a single direction. Vero and Jean went together, of course. They were accompanied by his honor guard, and a handful of the most incorrigible noble ladies who still hoped to draw the Marquis¡¯ eye for themselves. Jean asked his body guards to act as companions to the ladies, and remained close to Vero.

 22. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 8

    They hiked up to a high hill, and Jean carefully explained once again how to release the bird and send it out to hunt. She was rather nervous, but again her ability to whisper made everything very simple. She released the hawk and watched it soar up high into the sky.

    ¡°You say you¡¯ve never gone hawk hunting before?¡±

    ¡°No, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve told you before. Call me Jean, please.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not alone. Isn¡¯t that improper?¡±

    ¡°So? We¡¯re speaking to each other, not to them. Why should anyone else care what we call each other- my love?¡± he mused, while releasing his own bird.

    ¡°As you wish¡­ beloved.¡± She smiled at him.

    ¡°You command the animal like an expert. Perhaps I shall ask you to teach me some of those slayer secrets after all¡­ as a personal request.¡±

    She laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll teach you all of them if you like. You need only foreswear all your land and titles to become my apprentice.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll consider the matter. Are you a very harsh mistress?¡±

    Vero felt arms slide around her waist.

    ¡°Harsh, but fair.¡±

    A bird suddenly dived from its overwatch and snatched up a fat rabbit. It was Vero¡¯s red hawk.

    ¡°Impressively done,¡± he whispered in her ear.

    ¡°The animal did the work; I merely gave it some simple instruction.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re too humble, Vero.¡±

    ¡°I simply prefer to work more directly, with my own hands.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± He kissed her neck. ¡°Perhaps I should find us more exciting sport then.¡±

    They returned to Greenvale Hall in high spirits. Rabbit meat was peasants fare, but Jean ordered the hares they caught to be skinned and roasted for supper anyway.

    ¡°You don¡¯t mind such rustic cuisine, I hope.¡± Jean mentioned absent mindedly as he cut portions for each of them.

    ¡°Not at all. I was always taught it wasn¡¯t right to kill an animal unless you intended to eat it. And I¡¯ve always had a taste for conies.¡± Vero attempted to imitate the lackadaisical Umbrian accent. Not very successfully, but that was a part of the jape.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it.¡±

    He loaded their plates and she sat closer to him. He put an arm around her waist. They spoke casually while they ate, the topics were all unimportant as they were principally interested in one another. Occasionally someone would interrupt them on their own business, but Jean dismissed them with all the speed court manners allowed him.

    She was tempted by the pitcher of wine, but only drank in moderation. She realized that she was coming near to making a decision, and the responsibility of the act made her wish for the escape of alcohol. She kept her sobriety with difficulty. When they had eaten and the hour began to grow late, Vero made her choice at last.

    She leaned to close to Jean to whisper in his ear. ¡°Will you make love to me tonight? Really make love to me, I mean.¡±

    Jean was surprised only for a moment. ¡°If that¡¯s what you wish. I do understand, completely... if you still need more time. Are you certain this is what you want?¡±

    She nodded.

    Vero went to the master bedroom with Antoinette. The private rooms of the Lord of Greenvale were not so grand as those of some halls they had visited before, although they were still much richer than any accommodation Vero had ever slept in before she met Jean.

    Antoinette took off Vero¡¯s dress and jewels to put them away. Then she began to brush the knots Vero had acquired out of her hair. The ruby tresses now came down almost as far as her shoulders. She hated the way it covered her face, and loved the way Jean ran his fingers through the long strands. So, it went uncut and slowly grew longer.

    Antoinette kissed her good-night, as she always did, and left. Vero lay on top of the bed over the blankets. Everything was quiet. The host had dismissed the company, and now the revelers had either lain down to sleep, or gone elsewhere to seek still further revels. She used her hands to obscure her sex. Then she closed her eyes.

    She opened them again when she heard the door. Jean entered without his squire. His gaze drifted over her slowly and Vero suddenly had a bizarre fantasy that she was being crawled over by ten thousand spiders, and that she dare not move, lest they sting her with their venomous bites.

    Jean removed his own clothes.

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    He was very beautiful, terribly so. His manners were so well disciplined that it was very easy for her to forget that a prince¡¯s first duty was as a soldier. His body was a tapestry of scars, lines of musculature, and the ink from the discrete tattoos he wore over his heart and right arm. Slayers were forbidden to pierce their bodies or to mark them with permanent ink, but in the regions near the White Sea where she was born, it was common for men to prove their courage that way. It made the practice tremendously attractive to her.

    She recognized the tattooed inscriptions as prayers in Liturgical to the God of Battles. The one over his chest called for protection, the one down his arm called for strength.

    There was another tattoo down his right leg below the knee, a prayer for swiftness.

    He was already erect and looked very large to her- though not the largest she had seen. Once, in the Imperium with her master, she had seen a senator give a parade of his personal pleasure slaves and saw both male and female anatomies unnaturally enormous in their proportions. The effect on her then had been more disturbing than arousing, but she liked what she saw before her now.

    Jean climbed onto the bed. She tried to turn over for him, but he stopped her.

    ¡°I prefer to see your eyes,¡± he informed her.

    Vero avoided looking at his face. If she became lost in his gaze there was no telling when she might find her way free again.

    He pulled away her hands. She used them to trace the marks in ink on his chest with her fingers.

    She felt her heart pounding against her own chest. Following an impulse, she pressed her ear to her chest. Could she hear his heart beating?

    Yes, there it was. Steady heavy beats. Their pace was elevated, though not nearly so high as her own.

    Familiar fingers pressed into her the way she liked for a time, then withdrew. The head of his phallus brushed the lips of her sex and she could not bear to watch more.

    She lay on her back and looked past him towards the ceiling, trying to imagine the night sky which lay beyond the stonework.

    He was pushing against her gently and¡­

    Vero realized that Jean had found her eyes.

    Now she was locked in his gaze and there would be no escape. His eyes were a steel grey sea that threatened to drown her. Would her mantras protect her if he tried to listen to her thoughts?

    His movements were soft, his touch was tender. There was no pain and she could no longer remember why she had been afraid.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    Vero said nothing, but nodded with vigor.

    He spent some time probing her with careful and deliberate precision while she waited breathlessly. He paid careful attention to Luna¡¯s pearl while he worked, and Vero believed that she may go mad. Then his manhood touched her exactly as she wished and Jean seemed to know at once. His pace increased and she soon found herself writhing under him in response to his movements.

    There truly was nothing to fear.

    The relief came over her in a wave so intense that she contracted around him a moment, as a little shiver of pleasure was sent up her spine to her brain.

    ¡°Already?¡±

    She twisted her legs around him so he could not leave her. ¡°Don¡¯t stop.¡±

    Jean¡¯s movements had not slackened, but he bent forward to kiss her. Their lips met and tongues caressed a moment ¨C they broke away a moment ¨C then Vero followed his lips as they retreated to kiss them again.

    She drew his body into her with her legs, urging him on. His thrusts became stronger still as restraint was put aside. She wanted to scream, but feared to wake the sleeping castle. She bit her knuckle with only a small moan.

    ¡°I¡¯m nearly finished.¡± He told her in a whisper.

    Vero felt a second climax approaching her, stronger than the first, stronger than any she had ever felt. She realized he meant to pull out of her, and she locked her legs around him more tightly.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go. I know spells and things. I won¡¯t become pregnant, I swear.¡± She assured him breathlessly.

    He looked at her and she was not sure if he believed her or not. A moment later it was irrelevant.

    Vero felt her whole body contort in a paroxysm of white-hot pleasure.

    When she tightened around him again, Jean¡¯s movements slowed to a halt. They kissed in the quiet time after.

    Vero separated her legs and Jean removed himself from her. They climbed under the covers and into one another¡¯s embrace.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t lying to you,¡± she said, after a space.

    ¡°Hmm?¡± He sounded as though she had only just brought him back from the edge of sleep.

    ¡°About the spells I know- Slayer take herbals concoctions in a kind of tea every week. It tastes foul, but it keeps out humors balanced to let us exert ourselves at our physical peak. In women, it also acts as a contraceptive.¡±

    ¡°Oh? That¡¯s a curious side effect.¡± He said with a dreamy smile.

    ¡°Not at all. It takes tremendous azoth to keep a woman¡¯s womb fertile. A slayer must balance all their humors only for the hunt- preparing the body for an already unwanted pregnancy is a waste of energy.¡±

    ¡°Do male and female slayers take the same concoctions, or are women common enough in your order to have your own formulae?¡±

    ¡°Every individual¡¯s body is different. Each slayer must learn their own humors to find the right mixture, but the same general principles can be applied to all. To answer your other question- it¡¯s not common, but other women have been slayers before. Aaja the huntress was one of the original century of slayers which formed our order- when Kishar the first among equals called the ninety-nine greatest warriors to hunt the dragon which had destroyed his city. Anyone may join us if they can prove their worth.¡±

    He stretched, then closed his eyes and appeared to be going back to sleep again. ¡°Well, a tremendous relief to me it is. I should hate to think I had hired an unlicensed journeyman.¡±

    She nestled against him and kissed his chest many times. ¡°I love you very much,¡± she said between kisses. ¡°I think I love you as much as anyone I have ever known.¡±

    He opened his eyes and looked down at her, then caressed her cheek. ¡°No one has ever made me feel as you do.¡±

    Vero still did not believe him when he said these things, but that could not change the fact that she wished to hear them. ¡°Tell me more.¡±

    He began to rub her back and slowly she felt herself growing drowsy. ¡°You¡¯re the most remarkable woman I¡¯ve ever met. You¡¯re beautiful, clever, brave¡­ devious¡­ dangerous¡­¡±

    And Vero was asleep.

    Vero much preferred waking up in someone else¡¯s arms to waking up alone. She did not mind so much when she was out of doors and surrounded by all of nature, but sleeping alone enclosed in man-made walls left her uneasy. She cuddled nearer to Jean, gently waking him as she did so.

    ¡°Good morning.¡±

    She kissed him by way of reply.

    ¡°How do you feel?¡±

    ¡°Very fine indeed. Will you make love to me again?¡±

    He yawned and stretched himself with graceful languid movements. ¡°Whenever you wish.¡±

    Vero began to stroke him. He was soft, but began to respond quickly.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you meant this moment.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I suppose I¡¯m becoming a terrible slattern. No one has ever¡­ been with me¡­ as we were last night. I want it again, but¡­ perhaps it is too soon.¡± She ceased to caress him, but he was already hard again.

    He rolled over on top of her with laughter and kisses. ¡°Oh, no. There¡¯ll be no more of that nonsense. From now on, if you insisting on teasing me, you¡¯ll take the length for it.¡±

    Vero did not object to the arrangement.

 23. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 9

    The Fer-Mark was a sprawling territory. Vero was amazed how long it could take to travel through only a single lord¡¯s land, and Jean was not even the King. She well understood why his majesty was afraid of so mighty a vassal. Especially considering how lightly men held their own oaths in the present day. Of course, she knew Jean was much too honorable to ever conspire against his sovereign.

    The land was flourishing under the Marquis. There was more prosperity than anywhere she had seen in Velois since before the civil war. She knew many places where peasants hid in their homes when lords drew near, but the common people came out to greet them with cheer as they passed. Jean often gave alms to the poor or bereaved as they went, and Vero had to be careful not to let him know how strongly she approved.

    She was surprised to learn that taxes on the farming class were so lenient, if Jean was really the richest landholder in the kingdom as everyone said. When she asked about it, he informed her that most of his money came from merchants and craftsmen¡¯s guilds. The Fer-Mark held the richest iron and copper mines on the eastern side of the Ruby Mountains. His family had used that wealth to support the guilds for centuries and attracted the finest metalworkers on the continent.

    Then, several decades past, Jean¡¯s great grandfather had used their steel to expand and take control of the entrance to the Umbrian gap. That passage was the only safe trade route between the Ruby and Star Mountain ranges by land, and could be heavily tolled.

    Apparently, so much of his wealth came in the form of his personally minted copper coins, and the multitude of minor tolls he charged, he was sometimes called the ¡®Penny King¡¯ by his majesty¡¯s court. Jean appeared amused by the title when he told it to her. Vero supposed that a fortune in pennies was preferable to a handful of gold.

    They made love together every night as they traveled, and every morning. On occasion they also found some quiet time together in the afternoon.

    They were, perhaps, a single day¡¯s hard travel from Jean¡¯s estate ¨C and at least two or three away at the dilatory pace they had set so far ¨C when they stopped at Jean¡¯s hunting lodge beside his personal game forest. It had been decided that most of their camp would go on to the main estate, but that Vero and Jean would stay at the lodge for one last autumn hunt along with his cousin, the marshal, and a few other close retainers such as Antoinette and Lyam.

    Jean¡¯s sheriff and spymaster, Ser Mattias and Ser Frederic, would both come to meet them there as well.

    The Duc de Emmoi still did not like her, but after too many snide comments at dinner Jean had given him a sudden and firm dressing down in public. From that point on he was much more discreet in his distaste.

    Father Ignacio and Aeolus had gone back the way they came to investigate some trouble which Jean did not wish to discuss with her. Ser Renaud was charged with custody of their Umbrian prisoners, and thus forced to go on ahead with the rest of the camp. Vero considered it a shame not to have the opportunity to get to know the wizard or chancellor better. Although she was not at all disappointed to be deprived of the others¡¯ company.

    Vero was not sure what to expect from their accommodations, except that of all the homes Jean owned, he claimed this was his favorite. She was astounded when they approached a palace larger than Kaer Longus, Hollowstone, and Greenvale put together- albeit without the surrounding bustle of their castle towns. It was obviously of much newer construction than any of the venerable old halls they had stayed in until then.

    The front fa?ade held a colonnade of marble pillars with enormous and elegantly sculpted eaves. The land around the great house had been carefully tended into pleasure gardens, and behind the house the hunting forest stretched out dark and imposing. In her wildest imaginings of the ancient Imperium¡¯s glorious palaces, she had never considered that so grand a home could exist.

    It took her breath away.

    Two men in very fine clothes came out to greet them. They looked nothing alike, so it was simple to identify them by the descriptions Vero had been given.

    The first man was about as tall and broad shouldered as Jean. That was the sheriff, Ser Mattias. His hair was dark and cut short, but he wore the same bravo¡¯s ear piercing as Jean. He was exactly the type of knight that a younger Vero would have tried smiling at, hoping to attract his notice. Even on Jean¡¯s arm, she still smiled at him a little.

    The second man was slender, with a scholarly physic. His hair was blond and his face was rather delicate and pretty. That was the spymaster, Ser Frederic. He was not so attractive to Vero as his companion, and certainly not so much as Jean himself. However, he did have a quizzically soulful gaze which she found intriguing.

    Jean greeted them both with a warm embrace and kisses to each cheek. He moved to Ser Mattias first, but shared many more kisses with Ser Frederic when his turn came.

    ¡°Here, I want to introduce you both to the Lady Veronique. This is Frederic, and that¡¯s Mattias.¡±

    Ser Mattias acknowledged her first with a polite bow of the head. ¡°My Lady.¡± She could not read his expression.

    Ser Frederic smiled warmly and bowed from the waist to kiss her hand. ¡°You are just as beautiful as Jean wrote in his letters. A pleasure to make you acquaintance, Lady Veronique.¡±

    She felt a blush coming on. ¡°Thank-you¡­ -a great pleasure to meet you both. Jean speaks of you both often.¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Ser Frederic gave her a very alluring glance. ¡°Only favorably, I hope.¡±

    She may have found him the least handsome of the trio, but Ser Frederic appeared very amiable. On the whole, she thought he made a more favorable first impression than the silent and taciturn Ser Mattias.

    ¡°Oh yes! Jean tells me he¡¯s very fond of each of you.¡±

    ¡°Glad I am to hear it.¡±

    Jean moved between them. ¡°Enough out of you, charmer. I met the Lady Vero first.¡±

    ¡°The racer who starts the strongest is not necessarily the man who wins the victory wreath. Nevertheless, I shall concede the contest to you on this occasion in the name of our friendship¡­ no matter how tempting this particular prize might be.¡± Ser Frederic flashed her a devious grin and Vero tittered like an adolescent, even though she immediately regretted it.

    She thought she ought to make a jest to let Jean know that she was not serious. ¡°My Lords, please. These laurels have already decided whose head they wish to recline atop.¡±

    All three of them laughed. Only Ser Mattias looked taken aback, and she hoped he was not the type of be offended by a bawdy jape. Vero stood up straighter, but otherwise tried to show no outward sign when Jean gave her behind a friendly squeeze.

    They went into the lodge and Jean began to give her a tour of the rooms. There was an entire wing of the house dedicated to bedrooms for guests, enough for everyone in their company to have their own private apartment. In addition to the classical great hall, there was also a separate ballroom with a stage, and theater acoustics in the designs of the roof and walls. Then there was yet another smaller and more intimate dining hall, with only enough room for a dozen people at most.

    The kitchens that fed the whole house were enormous and bustled with the domestic staff, although their party was quite small now that the others had gone on ahead without them. In the kitchens, however, their tour took a long detour when they learned that a batch of apple cider had only just been finished.

    Everyone drank deeply. Apart from Ser Henri and a handful of Jean¡¯s bodyguards, who took only a single mug each. Vero also tried to remain temperate, but she did take some poppy milk and cannabis when her leg ached. Their company quickly became very jolly with one another.

    By the time they had sobered enough to continue, it was time for supper. So, they went back into the smaller dining hall. There they ate turkey stuffed with onions, celery, and wild mushrooms- and of course, took more cider. The food and drink made them all sleepy, and they decided to go to bed early to take an early start the next morning.

    Vero was a little lightheaded when she stood, and pretended to come over faint to induce Jean to carry her. He obliged her without complaint. She was warm from the cider and perspiring all over. For some reason she had a curious desire to nuzzle his chest, a whim she gave herself over to with great relish.

    ¡°Stop squirming, will you? I¡¯ve had a few myself, and I¡¯m likely to drop you if you keep it up.¡±

    ¡°I want you.¡±

    ¡°Excellent. Now stop moving so I can get us into the bedroom without knocking your head against something.¡±

    ¡°Naughty boy. Don¡¯t you know it¡¯s unchivalrous to approach a dignified lady such as myself with your trousers bulging like that? And it¡¯s your own fault that I am a proper noble lady now. Suppose I sent you away to see to it yourself?¡±

    ¡°Then you would be left alone to see to yourself.¡±

    Vero laughed in a way she hoped sounded convincing. ¡°Women don¡¯t do such things.¡±

    ¡°Yes, they do.¡±

    ¡°How did you know that? Mama told me I had to be very careful so that no one would ever find out.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯m a student of human nature. There are, I think, fewer differences between men and women than either would like to believe.¡±

    They entered the bedroom. It was massive and contained a huge library with multiple shelves, all packed with books. A fire crackled in its place. She could see a door with engraved brass fittings led into a separate solarium for study.

    The bed was enormous and canopied. Jean laid her down on top of it. The mattress was filled with feathers and the sheets were silk. The headboard bore a huge rendition of his house¡¯s emblem carved directly into the thick oak structure of the bed. The bed posts were gilded in gold and ended in horse heads.

    Vero began to laugh uncontrollably.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    She was still in fits of laughter while she crawled across the huge bed towards the cord to drop the canopy. Jean followed her by walking on his knees while they traversed the length of the mattress.

    Vero dropped the shroud around them.

    ¡°What a ludicrous thing to keep in a house so large everyone has their own private room.¡± She observed as her laughter faded.

    ¡°The bed is an heirloom. I had it moved here. My family¡¯s ancestral castle was originally quite small. We¡¯ve expanded it over the years, of course. But as a whole city has grown up around it, there are more considerations to make. And most of that space must also be given over to administrative functions. My father was the first child of our house to be given his own private room.¡± He took his own turn to laugh. ¡°I understand it was a matter of contention at the time.¡±

    ¡°At least it shall keep those horses from watching us¡­ Why don¡¯t we simply stay here? I think this place is wonderful!¡±

    ¡°This is where I would live all the time¡­ If men were like bees in a colony, and lived in perfect harmony with no need for justice. Alas, they do not. I need to resolve all the myriad domestic matters which have arisen in my absence. This late in the year that will mean wintering in the city. We¡¯ll return here in the spring once it¡¯s pleasant to travel again.¡±

    ¡°The master¡¯s bedroom there is private now a days, isn¡¯t it?¡± A horrible vision flashed before her eyes. ¡°Gods! Your wife doesn¡¯t sleep there does she!?¡±

    ¡°No, precious. My room is private. The Marquise has her own room for herself and her maidservants. Lyam¡¯s cot is in a separate sleeping closet¡­ I have sent word ahead for a guest room to be prepared for you and your maid. There will be ¨C certain nights ¨C when the cycle of the moon is right for Marie to conceive¡­¡±

    Vero presumed ¡®Marie¡¯ was the given name of the Marquise de Fer, his wife. They never discussed her in detail.

    ¡°Oh yes, I understand completely. I don¡¯t want to do anything to prevent you from fulfilling your marital obligations. Now- begin please.¡±

    ¡°As you wish. Turn over.¡± Jean commanded and Vero obeyed. She felt his fingers working at undoing the laces of her dress. ¡°Godsdamn knots¡­¡±

    It seemed to take forever, and she heard him whispering curses behind her. Then the laces came loose all at once with the cut of a knife.

    ¡°Jean!¡±

    ¡°I shall pay to have the dress fixed later.¡±

    He pulled her clothes off her with much less delicacy than Antoinette would have employed. She much preferred his method.

    She turned back over and watches his eyes sweep across her form. She may not have been proud of her own appearance, but she was glad to see her body still held Jean¡¯s interest.

    He put his knife back into its sheath and then tossed his belt onto the floor. It was rougher treatment then she would have given the weapons on it, but she supposed he could afford to be careless. She stopped him in the process of disrobing further.

    ¡°Let me.¡±

    ¡°Your servant ¨C as always ¨C my Lady.¡±

 24. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 10

    Vero did not expect to wake the next morning feeling so wonderful, but the cider seemed to have no lingering effects on her. They intended to leave early, so Vero woke Jean at once with kisses and instructed him to mount her like a stallion again, as he had the previous night.

    The sun was already beginning to rise, so she needed to keep insisting that he go faster. Finally, he pressed her face into the mattress too hard for her to issue anything but muffled commands.

    When they were finished, they dressed hurriedly. Jean had a set of pants and a doublet tailored for her along with her dresses. Vero preferred to wear dresses, all other matters being equal, but it often became a hinderance in her line of work. It certainly would be on a hunt out in the woods.

    The pants were forest green and the doublet a deep brown. There was a badge of the argent stallion against a vert field over the left side of her chest. Her traveling boots were new and sturdy, another gift from Jean. Her hair was long enough that she tied it back in a band as he did.

    She had no intention of trying to pass for a man. She still wore a breast cloth under her clothes, but she did not bind it tight.

    ¡°How do I look?¡±

    Jean examined her with a bemused expression. ¡°It¡¯s common practice for a fellow to tell the woman he loves she¡¯s beautiful no matter what she wears. But shall I tell you a secret?¡±

    ¡°Yes, please.¡±

    He put his arms around her. ¡°I find you most charming wearing nothing at all.¡±

    ¡°Well, my modesty assures me I look better with most of my faults obscured.¡±

    ¡°You speak of these faults frequently, but I have yet to discover one.¡±

    ¡°Stop it.¡± Vero turned away from him, but his arms stayed around her. ¡°You¡¯re being too charming. I almost believed you.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Jean massaged her over her clothes. ¡°The fabric seems to be good quality. It¡¯s wonderful how soft the material feels, don¡¯t you think? Yes, I think it¡¯s a fine outfit indeed. Well worth what I paid for it.¡±

    She let herself go limp in his embrace and only moaned a little in response.

    ¡°Did you know that you¡¯re the most sensitive woman I have ever met?¡±

    ¡°Those slayer concoctions I told you about. I¡¯ve always heard that they¡­ intensified¡­ the libido. But I think my tampering may have increased that side effect. It¡¯s possible I may not have noticed until now. No one has ever tested me this way before.¡±

    ¡°Do you suppose I could cause you to shiver just like this?¡±

    Vero nodded against his chest with mounting excitement at the prospect. ¡°Yes, probably- If you don¡¯t stop¡­¡±

    He halted abruptly. ¡°Well, that shall be something for me to consider. Now, we need to get downstairs before the others begin to wonder where we are.¡±

    Vero''s mouth was dry and her breathing was heavy. ¡°Where are you going?¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t dally here forever, we must be going. The others are waiting for us. The whole purpose for our early night was to have an early morning- As you kept reminding me, not so long ago.¡±

    He dragged them out of the bedchamber and down into the main hall. Jean¡¯s cousin, as well as Sers Henri and Mattias, looked aghast to see them. Ser Frederic smiled broadly.

    Ser Henri spoke first. ¡°My Lord, if you intend to bring the Lady Veronique further with us, I must advise against it. It will not be safe for a woman.¡±

    Jean dismissed his worries with a casual finality. ¡°I anticipated your concerns, but I don¡¯t share them. Slayers hunt rabid animals and creatures turned into maneaters by capricious fae all the time. I¡¯m certain Dame Veronique shall be more than qualified to join us for a late autumn pleasure hunt.¡±

    The Duc de Emmoi had already learned the futility of objecting to her presence, so he only made his displeasure known with an exasperated sigh. Ser Mattias covered his initial surprise with an expression of careful neutrality.

    ¡°I think it¡¯s a jolly idea!¡± Ser Frederic spoke up. ¡°Unlike these fellows, I happen to enjoy female companionship.¡±

    ¡°I have no objection to female companionship¡­¡± Ser Mattias began, deliberately. ¡°But when you said the Lady Veronique would be joining us, we presumed you meant that she would be with us here in the evenings.¡±

    ¡°So, you prefer female companionship only at night?¡± Ser Frederic observed with good humor. ¡°Presumably to tuck you into bed as mother did?¡±

    ¡°Sers,¡± Vero interjected. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to prevent men and women from being companionable with one another at any time of the day or night.¡±

    ¡°Here, here!¡± Ser Frederic quipped back.

    He did so loudly enough, that Vero could not quite be certain that she had heard Ser Henri mumble, ¡®precisely what I¡¯m afraid of.¡¯

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Jean took control of the proceedings. ¡°Yes, and we shall all be companionable with one another on this hunt! Now, let¡¯s set out before we lose the entire morning.¡±

    They went out to the stables and the Duc silently commiserated with Ser Henri. Vero ignored them in favor of gay chatter with Jean and Ser Frederic.

    The stables alone were larger than some castles they had slept in along the way. Inside there were more than a hundred horses, kept in cleaner accommodations than some humans she knew lived in.

    All the men had their own personal mounts. Jean told her to pick a horse for herself. She took her time in choosing, while Jean and Ser Frederic offered their half-serious opinions on the relative merit of each animal. Jean also availed himself of the opportunity to pinch her bottom every time they were out of sight from the others.

    At last, Vero settled on a shaggy chestnut mare with a snow-white mane and fetlocks. She was very frisky and eager. Vero found that she fell into a rapport with the animal almost at once. Vero asked her name, and saw an image in her mind''s eye of colorful butterfly wings fluttering in the sunlight. So, she called the horse Papillon.

    Servants prepared Papillon for riding and they set out at last. The sun was well above the horizon.

    The morning passed uneventfully, and they had found nothing by the time they stopped for dinner at mid-day. The Duc attributed their lack of game to the late start and made an unfriendly glance towards Vero.

    It was an hour after resuming the hunt that Ser Mattias called for the rest of them. He had found boar tusk markings on the trees, fresh.

    ¡°It¡¯s headed north,¡± Ser Mattias stood up from the nearby tracks and declared.

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Jean did not sound convinced.

    Vero rejoined the others from where she had been investigating further marks nearby. ¡°There are two of them, another¡¯s moving north by northwest.¡±

    Jean smiled at her, and the Duc made a sound of exasperation. Ser Mattias said nothing.

    The Marquis took the lead and their group began to advance once more. They left the horses and domestic servants behind to move in greater stealth, accompanied only by the huntsmen and their dogs.

    As they went, Ser Henri kept a hard expression on his face and walked very near to her.

    ¡°You are stepping on my shadow, Ser.¡±

    ¡°My Lord may be prepared to allow you to place yourself in danger, my Lady. I am not.¡±

    ¡°Your concern is very tender, Ser.¡±

    Ser Henri made a darkly tempered grunt.

    They had gone another quarter of an hour when Jean began to let the others draw ahead of him. When they were the last two in the order of march, he pulled her aside. She tried to question him, but he motioned for her to whisper.

    ¡°Have you seen one of them?¡± Even hunting easy game gave Vero a thrill.

    ¡°Not quite. There¡¯s a bird¡¯s nest I want to show you.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Where is it?¡±

    ¡°Just here.¡± He pushed her back against a tree and began to test the material quality of her attire once more, top and bottom.

    ¡°Not now!¡± She called in an urgent whisper. ¡°Suppose one of the others were to find us like this?¡±

    ¡°Then what? Do you wish me to stop?¡±

    ¡°¡­No¡­¡± she confessed.

    He explored the stitching on the badge over her chest. Over her clothes Jean could not be precise with his fingers, and she had to press herself against him to be touched exactly as she wanted.

    ¡°Well then. We shall simply need to risk the discovery. I suppose we would only be confirming Henri or Eamon¡¯s worst suspicions if they found us.¡±

    ¡°Gods, don¡¯t say that! I¡¯d be horrified to hear the rumors they¡¯d spread.¡±

    ¡°Freddie would probably ask to join us.¡±

    His tone had been the same teasing jest as his previous prediction, but Vero did not feel quite the same dread. A third possibility crossed her mind.

    ¡°What about Ser Mattias?¡±

    ¡°Mattie has caught your eye?¡±

    She hoped she had not given the wrong impression. ¡°He¡¯s- very handsome¡­ But I don¡¯t love him. Not as I love you.¡±

    She checked his eyes for just a moment, and was relieved to see that they were smiling at her.

    ¡°Glad I am to hear it. Envy ill becomes a gentleman. Yes, he is rather well built. Excellent calves. Unfortunately, he¡¯s currently engaged to be married, once his fianc¨¦e returns from her studies. They¡¯re very devoted to one another.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s marrying a priestess?¡±

    ¡°No, lots of parents are sending their daughters to learn mathematics these days. Makes them more efficient managing the household staff and brings down the dowery. So, it saves money in the long run. I think she¡¯s studying music as well¡­¡±

    There was movement near them and Vero shoved him off at once.

    Ser Frederic emerged from the greenery. ¡°There you two are. You¡¯ve put Henri in a panic. Keep up now, or we¡¯ll lose our quarry.¡±

    Jean took her by the hand. ¡°Yes, come along now. We don¡¯t want to be left behind.¡±

    They caught up with the others. Moving more carefully than ever, they came very near to their prey, attempting to surround and entrap one of boars in the area.

    A huntsman with a dog stopped them, and continued down the line.

    ¡°It¡¯s just ahead,¡± he whispered to each of them. Before directing them into position.

    Jean did as the man said, and Vero noticed that the mood had become much more serious.

    The boar knew something was happening. It was agitated, but its aggression was undirected for the time being.

    Ser Henri was the closest, but the animal had the wind of him, and he could get no closer. Ser Mattias and the Duc formed the second and third points of a triangle surrounding the wild pig.

    Vero watched them alongside Jean and Ser Frederic. They were the western segment of a secondary ring, at a farther distance from their prey. More huntsmen and dogs completed the outer circle. She was disappointed not to be closer, but her blood was still ringing only watching the others.

    Ser Mattias and the Duc stalked ahead carefully with their spears ready. Ser Mattias struck first, and pinned it down. He was followed instantly by the other two with shouts in triumph.

    Once it had gone off, the whole thing was over very quickly.

    The tense atmosphere dispersed at once and everyone converged to examine their catch. Vero was approaching Ser Mattias to congratulate him when she heard something approaching them.

    It was large, and moving fast.

    A second boar emerged from the greenery and raced to gore Ser Mattias, who was nearest. The sheriff¡¯s spear was still stuck.

    Vero had begun to move before consciously realizing what she was doing. She put herself between the boar and the knight, then braced the butt of her spear against the ground. The boar¡¯s charge carried it directly onto her weapon to be impaled.

    Everything appeared to be moving so slowly in the moment, but it was all over in an instant.

    At once, Jean and Ser Frederic arrived to skewer the second boar through its side.

    ¡°Are you hurt, my Lady? Gods! You could have been killed!¡± Ser Henri shouted, as he made certain both animals were completely dead with his hunting sword.

    Jean wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her. ¡°Wonderfully done!¡±

    Ser Henri watched them with a shake of the head. ¡°That boar nearly ran her through.¡±

    ¡°Mattie would have been run through if she hadn¡¯t done something. Our master slayer seemed to handle herself perfectly well to me.¡±

    Ser Frederic put a hand on Ser Mattias¡¯ shoulder. ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Of course,¡± he replied. Over Jean¡¯s shoulder, Vero could see Mattias giving her a strange look. ¡°All in a day¡¯s work.¡±

 25. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 11

    As soon as they arrived back at the lodge, Jean ordered the boars roasted for supper. Then he took Vero up to his room where they made use of his private bath. She washed his back and he washed hers.

    When they were both clean, he lifted her and carried her onto the bed.

    ¡°Do we have time to lay down together now? Or will you fuck me for half a minute and then insist that we run down to supper?¡±

    ¡°Mattie is my oldest friend, and you may have just saved his life today. I think you¡¯ve earned a special reward.¡±

    He kissed along her leg, then moved higher.

    ¡°What are you-? Oh! Is this appropriate?¡±

    His mouth was occupied, and he did not respond.

    How had this happened? Was it not less than a year ago that she was half starved and sleeping on the hard ground? Now she lay on silk sheets while the richest man in the kingdom kissed her very intimately. How had things taken such a wonderous change for the better?

    And how long would it be until everything changed again?

    She had already given up all her charms to the Marquis, and now very soon they would be returning to his home. It could only be a matter of time before she lost the factor of novelty which appeared to hide all her flaws from him.

    Vero did not think that Jean would treat her with cruelty and simply cast her out. She refused to believe that she could love a man with so little care for her. He would try and let her down slowly. But, even so, there would be a terrible moment when she would see him look at another woman. That would be the deathwatch beetle which turned all their old feelings to dust and ashes.

    They might stay together for a time after, but that would be the end of the integrity of their love. He would say all the same words to her, but they would ring with obvious falseness and hypocrisy to her. Even when they shared their basest and most animal passions, it could only be utterly indecent once everything else they shared had become hollow.

    It would only hurt them both, the longer she stayed from then on.

    Vero had already decided to depart the moment love¡¯s draught became bitter. Then they could each keep their memories of one another safe and pure.

    Until then, she intended to give herself over to him completely, and experience the joy they shared without reservation for as long as she could. Thus, storing up as many warm memories for herself as possible, for the cold days thereafter.

    ¡°Like that, my love. Don¡¯t stop, sweet one.¡± She put her fingers through his hair.

    Their eyes met and held one another.

    When they were finished, she threw herself into his arms. ¡°Where did you learn to do that?¡±

    Jean kissed her and she eagerly opened her mouth to receive it. Their tongues met, danced, and intertwined.

    ¡°I told you when we first met that I¡¯ve spent my whole life studying beautiful women.¡±

    They redressed and went down to supper. The boar was excellent, and once again the cider came easily.

    Ser Henri continued to refuse any part in the joviality. But Vero, Ser Frederic, Jean, and even his cousin were all in high spirits. Ser Mattias took a middle course, sometimes trading words and japes with the rest of them, and sometimes making curious sullen faces.

    When they had finished, Vero and Jean returned to their room. They made love one final time, and then went to sleep.

    The city of Fer was large and cosmopolitan. It was not the largest city she had ever seen; both the capitol Vermillion and the Imperial City were larger. However, at a certain level of population, the differences between sufficiently sized metropolises faded into academic obscurity to Vero. The city was large enough that a master of almost any trade could be found within its walls, including a university of occult science.

    The walls of the city were high stone, and several villages had grown up into fully fledged towns within eyesight of them. These settlements bore their own names, but they may as well have all formed a single urban mass.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    As they passed through the main gate, Vero noticed that the walls bristled with cannons. She reflected that the walls were strong old stone, but cannon fire would quickly bring them down with a sustained attack. Presumably, that was the reason Jean¡¯s own cannons were kept prepared for counter-battery fire.

    They rode down the main boulevard in parade formation. Vero had dressed in pants and rode Papillon herself. Many of the common people came out to wave to them as they passed, and the guild masters formally greeted them in the city square.

    The weather was still fair, even so late in the year, and everyone seemed to treat their lord¡¯s return as an impromptu holiday. Merchants hawked their wares, and food stalls served the onlookers.

    The sun was just over the horizon when they had spied the city walls, but it was past mid-day when they finally reached their destination. The Iron Hall, ancestral home of the Marquis de Fer, loomed up above them with starch authority.

    A clear space had been left around the fortress so that attackers could be kept under fire as they approached. The walls were double layered and built in an odd star shape with projecting points. Vero presumed it had been done for arcane purposes, and Jean confirmed it when she asked. His wizards had calculated that such angles served as a ward against cannon fire.

    They passed the first gate and found the garrison waiting for them, standing at attention in the killing field between the walls. A smaller party in regal attire waited for them at the second gate. Vero recognized Father Ignacio, the captive Umbrian nobles, and Ser Renaud. Along with them were two women of extraordinary beauty.

    The first woman had long flowing golden hair which came down as far as her waist. Her features were soft and kind. She wore an exceptional deep purple dress with fathomless skirts that trailed far behind her, carried by maids wearing complimentary ¨C though obviously inferior ¨C gowns to match their mistress. There was a diadem ornamented with emeralds on her head like a princess.

    Vero thought the woman was the fairest that she had ever seen, excepting perhaps Mama.

    The second woman was exceptionally beautiful herself, although age had begun taking its toll. Her hair was grey, but still appeared supple. Her face was sleek and avian, and she was very tall, taller than Vero. The woman looked to match Jean¡¯s six feet. Wrinkles showed themselves around her eyes, but that and her hair were the only hints of her mature age. Her chest in particular appeared to defy gravity¡¯s hold, which was especially impressive, given its bountiful size. That may have been a result of the rather provocative dress she wore.

    There was a man on the older woman¡¯s arm of about her own age, with the colors of salt and pepper in his hair and beard. He was broad shouldered and had a handsome face, but Vero found him just a few years too old for her own taste. Although she might have felt differently if she did not have such an embarrassment of riches to hand, already surrounded by the company of beautiful men which she presently kept.

    ¡°Mother!¡± Jean dismounted at once and ran to embrace the older woman.

    They held one another so tenderly it made Vero a little melancholic.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you and Ser Elan would be here to greet us!¡± Then, almost as an afterthought, Jean turned to the golden-haired woman. ¡°Hello, Marie. You look very beautiful today.¡±

    The Marquise acknowledged her husband with the faintest movement resembling a curtsy. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again.¡±

    The noble lady¡¯s voice almost sounded like music to Vero, she was very fond of listening to it at once.

    His mother kissed Jean on both cheeks. ¡°I told Mattie and Freddie to keep it a secret. Elan and I intended to spend the Jubilee here.¡±

    ¡°You would both be very welcome. Here, let me introduce you to the Lady Veronique.¡±

    Vero dismounted and curtsied deeply, even though she wore no dress. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Ser and Ladies.¡±

    The Marquise smiled with perfect manners. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Veronique. Jean speaks of you often in his letters.¡±

    Ser Elan kept his expression guarded.

    Jean¡¯s mother refused to disguise the fact that she was not impressed, and ignored Vero from that point on. ¡°Jean, we have serious business to discuss now that you¡¯ve returned.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll discuss it after supper tonight. Marie and I need to get everything put back in it¡¯s place now that I¡¯ve arrived.¡±

    ¡°As you say, precious.¡± She kissed her son again, and they all went inside.

    Jean immediately set upon the task of having their things unpacked. Vero stayed back from him, as she supposed he might appreciate some time with his family. They all seemed much more capable at directing domestic staff than she would be.

    Ser Frederic introduced her to Saul the dwarf, who served as Jean¡¯s steward. Together they gave her a tour of the keep. Saul possessed a shy disposition, but also a keen sense of humor if one cared to listen. Vero quickly took a liking to him. She also noticed that Ser Mattias seemed to follow them from room to room as they went, but he said even less than Saul.

    The castle was almost as large as Jean¡¯s hunting lodge, but there were so many people always coming and going on one type of business or another that it felt much more crowded. Their tour ended with the quarters that had been prepared for her. Antoinette was there with her wardrobe and other things.

    Antoinette was making efforts at needlework when they entered, but she jumped up at once when she saw them to make a deep curtsy. Ser Frederic appeared to charm the girl with a simple smile. Then the men left them alone to dress for supper.

    ¡°Oh, Vero! It¡¯s like a wonderful dream. I beg you not to wake me.¡± Antoinette threw herself on their bed. ¡°I¡¯ve never slept on a feather bed before.¡±

    ¡°Nor I, until recently.¡±

    Vero lay down next to Antoinette and they relaxed in the quiet together for several minutes before rising again.

    She was shocked when Antoinette showed her the new dresses waiting for her. They stretched out at her like some kind of hideous undersea monstrosity, with suffocating tentacles to wrap around their prey. Leviathans which sought to consume her whole. Apparently, these things were applied to the victim in stages, with the different pieces being affixed in layers.

    Neither of them knew where to begin with any of those gowns, but Vero still wished to make a good impression. She chose her favorite of the old dresses, the red one.

    Jean had been right; the vomit did wash out.

 26. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 12

    At supper, Vero sat to Jean¡¯s left. The Marquise sat to his right, and the Lady Catherine sat beyond her. Seated to Vero¡¯s other side was Ser Mattias.

    The dining hall was massive, the largest she had ever seen. It was absolutely packed with people and the clamor was deafening. Vero was surprised that the domestic staff somehow found room to move back and forth, delivering platters of food to each table.

    Vero measured her wine carefully. She already suspected Jean¡¯s family held an unfavorable view of her. She was determined not to do anything to make a fool of herself.

    She made polite conversation with Ser Mattias about nothing at all, the quality of the food and chandelier lighting, for instance. For the most part, she remained silent and listened to the others.

    She learned that Ser Elan was the Comte de Argo, and that Jean had squired to him as a lad. His rank was lower than Jean¡¯s, and the Fer-Mark was much larger and richer than Argo. Despite that, Vero noticed that Jean still called the Comte ¡®Ser.¡¯

    The two of them were close, but quiet, allies. He had not accompanied Jean to Umbria, at the Lady Catherine¡¯s request. Elan shielded Jean from his Velian enemies, while the bulk of his forces were away on campaign.

    It was Ser Elan and the Lady Catherine¡¯s intention to announce their engagement as soon as the yearlong mourning period for Jean¡¯s father had passed. Ser Elan¡¯s first wife died several years previous, according to Ser Mattias.

    Jean made it known that the union had his full support.

    Then they moved to the subject of Hollowstone. Jean¡¯s chosen earl had passed away as the result of his illness. This was the first Vero had heard of his death.

    She knew him only briefly. He had been a drunkard, but a happy drunkard. She was sorry to learn of his passing, and offered a quiet prayer for his benefit.

    The Lady Catherine was of the opinion that the eldest son of the former lord now ought to be released. After swearing fealty to Jean before many well-notarized witnesses, he would be named earl. His vow should then be enforced by keeping his father as a hostage.

    Jean replied that he would trust neither man again. Both father and son had willfully taken up arms against their rightful lord. As such, both had lost any right to their fief. They would be held captive, and ¨C with a ransom set at thrice their genuine value ¨C it was hoped they would remain prisoners in perpetuity.

    ¡®Freddie¡¯ had already arranged for a local barber-surgeon to be elected Lord-Mayor by the free peasants. According to Jean, the physician was originally a Velian, but had become very popular due to his heroic work saving lives after the battle. There would be no need for any ¡®dirty tricks,¡¯ as he put it. Jean could then take the city as a protectorate directly.

    His mother was not placated until the Marquise voiced her own support for her husband¡¯s design. A free city could seek representation in the Landtag, and stronger connections to the northern merchants would benefit the guilds. The Marquise also added that by leaving a man of low birth in control, few of their enemies would condescend to attempt wooing him from their service.

    The Lady Catherine finally gave up the argument as lost.

    The Duc de Emmoi went to the second table for a moment, where Father Ignacio, Ser Henri, and the vile Earl of Kaer Longus sat with a few others.

    The Lady Catherine used the opportunity the moment he was gone, like she had been waiting for it. ¡°I question your continued association with one of his majesty¡¯s most public sycophants.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve known Eamon since we were boys; public expressions and private misgivings often go hand in hand. And I know my brother-in-law may be paranoid, but I¡¯ve already acknowledged him as the rightful sovereign of Velois. In truth, I really do have no secret designs on his throne. So, why should I end my friendship with a fellow, simply because he reports all I tell him to the King?¡±

    ¡°An honest man has no fear of scrutiny.¡± The Marquise remarked with an ironic grin.

    The Lady Catherine was not amused. ¡°I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve ever heard such fool headed children.¡±

    Jean took a serious expression to soothe her concerns. ¡°Mother, I am careful about what I allow him to see and hear. However, I do not see any reason to antagonize his majesty without need. Or to sacrifice the opportunity to control exactly what it is his spy reports to him.¡±

    ¡°My concerns aren¡¯t only about what he reports, but what else he may-¡±

    The Duc began to return to the table, and the Lady Catherine effortlessly changed topic to the fate of the remaining Umbrian captives. Vero had listened to the whole conversation unfold, and still barely noticed the transition.

    Jean explained that he had heard rumors spread about the loyalty of each man. He wished to keep a very public affiliation with all of them for the time being, assuring everyone that they all still had his complete support.

    His cousin voiced approval for such a magnanimous decision. Adding that he was certain that any such rumors against them were totally spurious, and directing a pointed look at Vero.

    Vero said nothing.

    It was comforting to know that the Duc did not have the full confidence of anyone at the table. He would hear about how matters had really gone after the fact.

    ¡°And regarding your other ¡®traveling companion.¡¯ How long will she be remaining?¡± The Lady Catherine had no bother whatsoever about Vero remaining within earshot before discussing her.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Vero felt her cheeks burning.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Jean adopted his demeanor of breezy confidence. ¡°¡­For several months, I should suppose¡­¡±

    Several months? Longer than Vero had expected, in truth.

    Still, hearing the termination of their relationship discussed in such easy terms made her shudder- but Jean was continuing to speak.

    ¡°¡­in the spring we¡¯ve made plans for a hunting trip. And then I suppose that we shall probably be away together for some time before we return again.¡± He put his hand on her knee.

    Of course, she had misunderstood. Vero did not like how high-strung she was becoming. Hanging on Jean¡¯s every little phrase.

    Discipline now, slayer. Discipline.

    The Lady Catherine was still not amused. Vero began to doubt that anything ever did amuse her. ¡°I meant; how long do you intend to use her as your mistress?¡±

    ¡°Permanently.¡±

    ¡°Be serious, please.¡±

    ¡°I am. I love her very much.¡±

    Vero felt the walls of her emotional restraint tremble.

    ¡°A man is entitled to like whatever he wishes in a woman¡­¡± The Lady Catherine¡¯s expression turned more dour. ¡°But it¡¯s not wise to associate too closely with blood magic. I advised your father against hiring this one¡¯s former keeper as often as he did.¡±

    ¡°The matter is closed.¡±

    ¡°It is not closed. It¡¯s one matter to hire a cunning woman to exorcise a spirit. It¡¯s another completely to take her into your bed. Don¡¯t think that rumors aren¡¯t already flying from here to the Alfsteppe. Now, I¡¯m certain we can find you a more appropriate woman with red hair and a body like a female athlete. Plenty of half-Pict girls like her are born in barns after every-¡±

    ¡°Enough!¡± The whole hall fell to deafening silence, as all eyes turned towards Jean. ¡°I am the lord of this hall, and I have said that this matter is closed! You will respect that, or you shall recieve no further hospitality under this roof. Is that clear?¡±

    The Lady Catherine chewed on her words for a long time before replying, ¡°Yes, very clear.¡±

    Conversation slowly flickered back to life, and Vero just overheard the Duc de Emmoi empathizing. ¡°I know, auntie. I tried to warn him too.¡±

    ¡°I wish to apologize to you on my mother¡¯s behalf.¡± Jean said, when they reached his private chambers.

    Vero was only relieved the banquet had finally been dismissed. She had never felt so humiliated in her life.

    ¡°I knew she would not take well to you at first. But the deliberate cruelty she showed¡­ it ill-becomes a woman of her station.¡±

    ¡°I would rather forget the whole matter.¡±

    ¡°As you wish.¡± Jean opened the door into the bedroom.

    For a moment, Vero thought she had gone mad. The bed was a recreation in three-quarters size of the horse-head bed from the lodge. On closer examination, she determined that the posts were brass rather than gold.

    Jean began to untie her dress. ¡°This is the prince¡¯s bed, built to resemble the other one you¡¯re already familiar with. My father became accustomed to it as a boy. He kept it even after he became the lord of the house. I¡¯ve slept in the larger bed ever since I was a child.¡±

    ¡°What unnecessary threads this web holds. To sate my curiosity, does a third copy of this bed exist somewhere? Perhaps hiding in the prince¡¯s bedchamber today?¡±

    ¡°This is the prince¡¯s bedchamber. I could never feel comfortable in the master bedchamber again. I gave it to Marie and her maids. I would have left the bed in there as well. But Marie prefers to share with her maids, and this frame only has room for three. Or four, if they be slender women, I suppose. But she has more maids than that, and they come in all shapes.¡±

    Vero¡¯s dress fell to the floor. ¡°So, the beds changed places again. Only this time the antique went to your new residence, and this bed returned to its original home.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve had the mattress replaced, but sometimes I shiver when I look at the headboard¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, if you feel a chill, you need only draw closer to me. It¡¯s my professional obligation as a slayer to keep you safe from any restless spirits.¡±

    He did as she suggested. ¡°Your protection is a great comfort to me.¡±

    ¡°When I drop the shroud around us there shall be no one and nothing in the world at all, except you and I.¡±

    ¡°That has the sound of Elysium.¡±

    Vero drifted off for some time, before waking with a pressing urgency in her bladder. Jean had fallen asleep nuzzling her chest. She eased his head onto a pillow before slipping out of bed.

    There were many garderobes, but she could not remember how to find them in the dark. She knew the way to the great hall and main doors, so she intended to find a quiet corner outside to make water in.

    ¡°¡­Oh? I think she¡¯s very pretty.¡± She heard Ser Frederic¡¯s voice.

    Vero shifted her steps onto the balls of her feet, and crept towards the open door into the main hall.

    ¡°Yes, but you fancy anything with a hole you can fill.¡± The Duc de Emmoi.

    There was laughter. Several people appeared to have remained in the hall for more drinking, and intimate conversation.

    ¡°Yes, guilty as charged. I confess, I don¡¯t see her with the same eyes our friend seems to. But her face is rather pretty.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t fuck a lass in her face.¡± Ser Henri rumbled; it was the first time Vero ever heard him sound to be seriously under the effects of alcohol.

    ¡°You don¡¯t.¡± Ser Frederic corrected at once.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let it concern you. Please, continue your point.¡±

    ¡°Hm!¡± The marshal grumbled something she could not hear. ¡°¡­her hips are too narrow, no proper teats to speak of¡­¡±

    ¡°And that pretty face you speak of rests on a man¡¯s shoulders-! Don¡¯t you deny it!¡± the Duc added.

    ¡°Yes, too many muscles. Not seemly for a woman.¡± Ser Henri agreed.

    ¡°You can hardly understand what she says through that rural drawl-!¡±

    ¡°Now, now-¡± Ser Frederic interrupted the Duc. ¡°You¡¯re exaggerating. I¡¯ve never had the slightest problem understanding her Velian. In fact, I find the lilting provincial accent very charming.¡±

    ¡°The woman speaks clearly enough, it¡¯s true.¡± Ser Henri agreed.

    The Duc hushed his voice, and Vero barely overheard him. ¡°The chaplain says she¡¯s a witch.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe that a moment,¡± Ser Frederic said plainly.

    ¡°Nor I.¡± Ser Henri agreed.

    ¡°Nor I.¡± Vero had not realized that Ser Mattias was a part of their company until he spoke.

    ¡°He speaks up at last!¡± Ser Frederic hooted. ¡°Go on Mattie. Come out of your cups and tell us what you think of the fair lady.¡±

    ¡°Me? I think she¡¯s very fair indeed. It¡¯s her eyes- I think¡­ Like emeralds¡­¡±

    ¡°She saved his life-! That means nothing!¡± The Duc countered. ¡°I would swear I loved a mule if it happened to kick me out of the way of certain doom.¡±

    ¡°I would hardly call it certain doom. If a woman was able to halt the animal, then I¡¯m certain Ser Mattias would have managed an able defense.¡± Ser Henri assured the rest of the company, ¡°The creature looked ill to me.¡±

    ¡°Yes! Mattie was just about to lay the beast low with javelins of lightning out of the sky,¡± Ser Frederic mused. ¡°Presuming the beast¡¯s heart didn¡¯t spontaneously fail during the entire duo of seconds it would have taken to reach him.¡±

    They moved to other topics, and Vero suddenly remembered that it was impolite to eavesdrop.

    Her need to piss was also becoming more urgent. There was another exit through the kitchens nearby. She had much to consider while she relieved herself.

    She was surprised to find Jean out in the hallway when she returned to their room. ¡°There you are! I woke up¡­ I didn¡¯t know where you had gone.¡± He covered it well, but Vero thought she heard a touch of nervous tension in his voice. There was something uncontrolled in his manner she rarely saw from him.

    ¡°Oh, I was just turning wine into water.¡±

    ¡°Ah, I should have known. Shall we return to bed now?¡± There was still something mildly frantic in his voice, but it was fading.

    Vero took him by the arm and led him back into the bedroom. She cradled him against her chest until she felt the tension bleed from his muscles.

    Slowly, she drifted back to sleep.

 27. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 13

    Their arrival came only days before Father Winter. All at once the late summer ended, and the autumn was brief.

    Vero was amazed how quickly things were done around the castle. It took only a day for the servants to hang up all the heavy winter tapestries, and she often found herself stopping to admire the artistry. The great fireplaces all flared to life, although many around her still complained of the chill. It was certainly no summer day, but they were the warmest accommodations she had ever wintered in.

    Jean was very busy, as were all the other members of his council. Judicial cases had piled up, and there were lines of petitioners seeking their lord¡¯s justice. Vero was astounded to learn that lower magistrates dealt with more than ninety-nine in a hundred of the lawsuits themselves. Only the most important or complex disputes were passed to the Marquis, yet the queues appeared to go on forever.

    After their first night there, it was already time for Jean to fulfill his marital obligations to his wife.

    Consequently, Vero spent both her days and nights with Antoinette. Sometimes Vero read to her by the fire, while Antoinette struggled with needlework. Other times they explored the castle. Vero was particularly fascinated by all the servants¡¯ corridors, and the quiet little places that could sometimes be found in the far corners.

    The first snow of the year had just begun to fall. Vero and Antoinette sat by a window together to watch the flakes tumble down in the evening light. They kept hot cider to hand, and bundled themselves up together in a heavy blanket to keep warm. It was very cozy, although they had to press their faces to one another when their noses got cold.

    Vero was just describing the candid lads¡¯ talk she had overheard ¨C to Antoinette¡¯s rapt attention ¨C when footsteps approached. They both quieted down to be discreet until whoever it was had passed.

    ¡°Lady Veronique?¡±

    It was one of Jean¡¯s soldiers. Vero recognized his face, but not his name.

    ¡°Yes? What is it?¡±

    ¡°The Lady Catherine has requested your presence.¡±

    The Lady Catherine was one of the last people Vero wished to speak with. Perhaps she would be better tempered than when they had first arrived.

    ¡°Very well, take us to her.¡±

    ¡°The Lady Catherine requested to speak with you alone.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± Vero turned to Antoinette. ¡°If I¡¯m not back by supper then send out a search party.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯ll be alright?¡±

    Antoinette¡¯s eyes showed concern, but Vero kissed her cheeks. ¡°Of course. Now don¡¯t drink all our cider without me.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± Antoinette returned her kisses.

    The soldier led her out into the crowded corridors, and then through into the uncrowded corridors, and then into an enormous bedchamber. Vero decided it must belong to the Marquise.

    The bed was large enough to accommodate six or seven maidens, depending on their slenderness, or lack thereof. Two of her attendants were laying atop it in a close embrace. Other maids were amusing themselves with books or needlework by the fire. They were only dressed in their chemises ¨C or less in some cases ¨C and Vero was glad for their modesty that the soldier remained outside.

    One of them pointed Vero towards the solarium.

    ¡°They are awaiting you in there,¡± she said, with a stout Teutonian accent.

    Vero followed the direction.

    What was all this mysterious business about? Perhaps the Lady Catherine was embarrassed by her own behavior and wished to apologize discreetly.

    Inside the solarium were Jean¡¯s wife, Aeolus the wizard, Ser Elan, and the Lady Catherine. Vero was surprised to see two men in the room and quickly shut the door behind her. The maids outside were not at all dressed to be seen in public.

    Vero curtsied, but she was not certain if she should do so towards the current Marquise or the dowager, and so aimed herself roughly between the two of them. ¡°You asked for me, my Lady?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sit down. We have questions for you.¡± The Lady Catherine¡¯s voice carried a noticeable chill, and Vero did not think an apology would be soon forthcoming.

    Always watch your words when you speak.

    Her master¡¯s advice played across Vero¡¯s mind.

    More so, when you are compelled to speak.

    ¡°About what topic?¡± Vero took a seat, as requested.

    ¡°We would like to learn more about you, Veronique.¡± The Marquise¡¯s tone was noticeably warmer and softer than her mother-in-law¡¯s.

    Ser Elan stood awkwardly at attention and said nothing. Aeolus sat in a corner and appeared absorbed making markings on a sheet of parchment.

    Vero decided she would be best served by addressing herself to the Marquise. ¡°What would you like to know?¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The Lady Catherine was not prepared to let anyone else speak for her. ¡°Where do you come from?¡±

    ¡°From Loix, near the border with the Republic.¡±

    ¡°Elan?¡± She turned an eye to her paramour.

    ¡°It¡¯s small, but I¡¯ve heard of it. The Baron de Loix served with us in the Battle of the Whitewood. Her accent sounds about right to me. I could send letters to inquire about her further, but I doubt anyone would remember a single low-born girl. And I presume I would only be replicating Ser Frederic¡¯s work. If she was infamous there, then I¡¯m sure Jean¡¯s spymaster would already have informed us.¡±

    ¡°So, the baron fought for his majesty during the war?¡± The Lady Catherine sounded cautiously elated, like a prosecutor on the verge of damning evidence.

    ¡°Not until the very end. The Baron was, and almost certainly still is, in debt to Whitegate merchants. I don¡¯t think he gives much of a damn who sits on the throne. The suspicion at the time was that he was an agent of the Republic.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± The Lady Catherine appeared displeased by her amour¡¯s defense of Vero; although Vero herself was still not sure what she was being accused of. ¡°How and why did you leave Loix?¡±

    ¡°I was¡­ orphaned¡­ then I apprenticed to master slayer Aquinas, until he named me a journeyman slayer.¡±

    ¡°How did your parents die?¡± The Lady Catherine¡¯s question snapped like the crack of a whip.

    ¡°I¡­¡±

    It¡¯s your fault.

    The Marquise interceded. ¡°You don¡¯t need to answer that, Veronique. My apologies. Lady Catherine, you have every right to wish to learn more about someone so intimately connected to your son. But that does not give you the right to dredge up this poor woman¡¯s personal tragedies for your own amusement.¡±

    Vero recollected herself. ¡°Thank-you, my Lady.¡±

    The Lady Catherine did not wait a moment before trying again from another direction. ¡°And did you receive permission from your lord before leaving with master slayer Aquinas?¡±

    This time it was Ser Elan who interrupted. ¡°Kate, the lad has already made her a dame. Any obligations she owed as a serf are irrelevant now.¡±

    ¡°I was never a serf,¡± Vero added, with some indignation. ¡°My parents were both free peasants.¡±

    The Lady Catherine changed tact again. ¡°What skills did master slayer Aquinas teach you during your apprenticeship?¡±

    ¡°He taught me the lore of the unholy things which we hunt. He refined my skills in swordsmanship, pugilism, and wrestling. He also taught me marksmanship with a crossbow, and passed on certain spells known only to our order.¡±

    ¡°What kind of spells?¡±

    ¡°I have taken vows of silence, my Lady. I cannot answer.¡±

    ¡°Blood magic?¡±

    ¡°My Lady, I cannot answer. But it¡¯s not uncommon to use blood in any spell cast outside of a laboratory setting- because it¡¯s so rich in azoth.¡±

    ¡°Aeolus?¡±

    The wizard looked up from his parchment at the sound of his name. ¡°Oh? Is this why I was asked to attend? Yes, blood is the universal reagent. Very useful. Sometimes we even employ it in the laboratory as well¡­ in small amounts. If my Lady wished a lecture on the dangers of blood magic you should have called on Father Ignacio. Sun priests love to lecture about the evils of blood sacrifice, while they slit the throat of the next fattened calf to call down their ¡®miracles.¡¯ I expect those slayer oaths were probably concocted to conceal plain superstition rather than diabolism. Not that I wouldn¡¯t be interested in hearing those spells, if your order ever gives up secrecy for open scholarship.¡±

    If the Lady Catherine was disheartened by the abandonment of her allies, she did not show it. ¡°And is that all you know of magic? What your master taught you?¡±

    ¡°No, my Lady. My mother trained as a priestess of the full moon and served as our village¡¯s wisewoman. I helped her when she worked as a healer or midwife¡­ when she cast divinations for the weather¡­¡±

    ¡°You had no other teachers?¡±

    ¡°No, my Lady.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever summoned forth a spirit to learn it¡¯s arts?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not! Slayers hunt witches!¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯ve already confessed that your master taught you the dark lore of those you hunt.¡±

    ¡°Only the means to destroy them.¡±

    ¡°Aeolus?¡±

    The wizard looked around in confusion again. ¡°Forgive me, what am I being asked now? Do I believe the Lady Veronique is a witch? If I believed that I would surely have already fled from this room as fast as my legs could carry me. Screaming for the guard as I went.¡±

    Lady Catherine ignored him and kept her gaze on Vero. ¡°You¡¯ve never studied the arts of mesmerism?¡±

    Mama had known the art of influencing others with her eyes and voice. She refused to teach Vero until she was older.

    However, Vero was not prepared to admit that to the Lady Catherine. She replied with a simple, ¡°No.¡±

    The Marquise laughed, a little. ¡°Catherine, if she¡¯s bewitched your son, I think she¡¯s done it the natural way. You don¡¯t need magic for that. And it certainly isn¡¯t illegal.¡±

    The Lady Catherine sniffed, then shifted once more. ¡°Where is master slayer Aquinas now?¡±

    ¡°He fell in battle against a loup garou this spring. I burned his body on a pyre. I presume he now resides with the Veiled One in Sheol.¡±

    ¡°Were there any other witnesses to this battle?¡±

    ¡°None who still draw breath.¡±

    ¡°And were you very close to your master?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡±

    ¡°A man and young woman¡­ alone together-¡±

    ¡°That is enough.¡± The Marquise cut in, to Vero¡¯s relief. ¡°I have all the information I need. I must say ¨C Lady Catherine ¨C your questions appear to have strayed into personal vendetta, and I don¡¯t wish to hear any more.¡±

    The Lady Catherine shot back a venomous glance. ¡°I am not prepared to let this sorceress have her way with my son.¡±

    The Marquise met the Lady Catherine¡¯s gaze without flinching. ¡°May I remind you that you are no longer the lady of this house. You are here at the hospitality of another. And Jean has already made his feelings about this matter very clear to you.¡±

    An uncomfortable silence prevailed until it was broken by Aeolus. ¡°Pardon me, my Ladies. But I was interrupted for this meeting with several alchemic reactions already in progress. If you have nothing more to ask of me, then I wish to return to my laboratory at once.¡±

    The Marquise turned away from the Lady Catherine and resumed her previous, warm demeanor. ¡°Yes, of course. I would hate to delay any of my husband¡¯s projects by spoiling your wizardry. You may leave as well, Veronique. I¡¯m very sorry to have troubled you both.¡±

    With the social resilience of a stone, the wizard stood and left the room as calmly and casually as one might leave a pleasant afternoon tea. Vero was eager to escape and followed immediately behind him. The maids were still in stages of undress, and all of them were very lovely, but they may as well have been potted plants for all the interest Aeolus showed in them.

    They were out.

    Vero thought she was finally free, when she heard the Lady Catherine behind her. ¡°Hold a moment, girl. I want more words with you.¡±

    The wizard kept walking as though nothing had been said at all.

    Vero turned with reluctance. ¡°Lady Catherine, please. I know you dislike me, but I assure you- I have no ill intentions towards your son. The slayer¡¯s code prevents me from taking any part in politics. I have no interest in the affairs of nobles and kings. And I¡¯m certainly not a witch. I really hold no malice towards you. Can we not simply tolerate one another?¡±

    ¡°If you have no interest in kings, nobles, or politics, then why are you with Jean?¡±

    ¡°Because I love him.¡± Vero answered at once, surprised that the questioned needed to be asked.

    Then she added, ¡°I should think we have that much, at least, in common.¡±

    The Lady Catherine grumbled. She acted as though she had lost interest in the conversation altogether and left. Ser Elan trailed behind her.

    The Comte gave Vero a sympathetic look as he passed, and she took some small vindication in that.

    Vero returned to Antoinette and did not mention anything that had happened, to her maid, or to anyone else.

 28. The Affairs of Mortals Chapter 14

    It continued to snow as the winter solstice approached, but it never became cold enough for a deep freeze. The flakes remained fluffy and wet, and they heaped up into huge soft mounds of white. It made the whole world look beautiful and new when it sparkled in the sunlight.

    Everyone took on a more festive mood.

    The Lady Catherine made an effort to stay as far from Vero as possible. Vero was just as happy to return the favor.

    The Marquise¡¯s bleeding came, and Vero returned to Jean¡¯s bed. It seemed that the soothsayer¡¯s rabbit would live to see another month.

    It was a Jubilee year and the festivities would go on for three days. Jubilees occurred once every seven years. When the three nights of the new moon coincided precisely with the last day of the year, the solstice, and the first day of the new year. It was the most profound holiday of all.

    Unfortunately, Vero¡¯s own woman¡¯s blood always came with the new moon, which hampered her ability to enjoy the festivities. Fortunately, her discomfort was only mild. Jean had more than enough money for reagents to use in her infusions. She was able to fine tune them and keep her humors very well balanced.

    As Jean was not a sorcerer, there was no fear of being made ritually impure through contact with her, which also made everything much easier to bear.

    On the first day of celebrations, Jean¡¯s court went out into the city after a light breakfast in the main hall. They spent the morning at the city cathedral where Father Ignacio and a priestess of the dark moon read mass.

    The cathedral was still in the final stage of construction, but what had been erected already was very grand. It was originally intended to be consecrated to the Sun God alone, but it gained Luna as a sponsor before construction began. Recently, to finance the completion, the sponsorship was expanded again to serve the whole pantheon of gods.

    Besides the local aristocracy, few worshiped the sun or the moon in the city.

    After mass, a huge feast was laid out in the church. The orphans, crippled, and widows of the city were invited to dine with them. There was also much alms-giving to the poor, and by the time they left Vero had a wonderful warm feeling inside her.

    Next, they moved to the city¡¯s main guild hall. There they had supper, which was just as grand as their dinner had been. This time they broke bread with the city¡¯s merchants and craftsmen. Each of the guilds took turns presenting a scene from the lives of the saints on stage with prizes given to those who received the most acclaim.

    The iron and copperworking guilds were the largest, and Vero suspected some of their performers of being professional actors. They took the first and second prizes respectively. The third prize went to the tailors¡¯ guild which gave a more amateur, but enthusiastic, performance. Vero thought she preferred the latter.

    Several of the leading burghers took the opportunity to discuss business directly with their lord. However, Vero still had Antoinette and Ser Frederic to keep her from feeling neglected. There was also a wonderful carnival atmosphere everywhere.

    As the evening drew on, Saul arrived with the leading citizens of the dwarven quarter. The dwarves had their own calendar, and did not necessarily celebrate human holidays. Although some who settled in human lands were slowly assimilating to surface culture. More of them just appreciated any opportunity to enjoy themselves.

    They brought vodka with them, and Vero got along with all of them. They became such close friends so quickly, that she thought it a great shame to leave when the time finally came. She invited them all to come to the keep for the next day of celebrations.

    When the next day came, it also began with acts of charity. This time at the gate of the palace, where the city¡¯s beggars gathered for alms.

    After mid-day, they set the tables aside in the great hall and prepared the floor for a dance. An anxious feeling began to twist Vero¡¯s stomach into knots. She loved dances as a girl, but she had not attended one for years. Her leg was mended well enough for walking, but she worried about embarrassing herself in front of the whole court.

    She demurred as long as she could until Jean pulled her up and onto the floor with him. Of course, there had been nothing to be afraid of all along; Jean was more than skilled enough to keep them from treading on one another¡¯s feet.

    After a time, she was even beginning to enjoy herself when they were separated by the Marquise.

    ¡°Jean, may I have this dance? If the Lady Veronique does not mind my cutting in?¡±

    ¡°Not at all, my Lady.¡± Vero rushed to try and curtsy; she was surprised Jean would not let go of her.

    ¡°Then Vero would have no partner.¡±

    The Marquise was taken aback- but only just for a split second before her perfect manners reasserted themselves. ¡°I¡¯ve just received the season¡¯s greetings from my sister. I thought you would wish to hear about them. Your chancellor has only just arrived there at the capital,¡± she added, pointedly.

    Vero was horrified, but it was just then that the wonderful Frederic appeared from seemingly nowhere. ¡°I shall take the Lady Veronique for the next dance. Presuming that she be willing?¡±

    He held out a hand to her.

    She took it at once. ¡°Yes, that would be quite alright.¡±

    The last thing Vero wanted was to come between Jean and his wife. Especially not now she knew how kind and perfect that wife was.

    The Marquise took her husband back and Vero began moving in step with Frederic. She watched Jean as he leaned in close to exchange whispers with his wife.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    As beautiful as the Marquise was, Vero hardly understood why Jean should need to take a mistress in the first place. She had just presumed that his wife would be an ugly nag, but she was so fair that it made Vero¡¯s heart race to look upon her.

    If Vero were a man, as she sometimes pretended, she would surely have tried to court such a woman.

    ¡°Thinking of someone else? I promise not to be offended.¡± Frederic cut into her thoughts.

    ¡°My apologies. I didn¡¯t mean to be rude.¡±

    ¡°I already told you that I promised not to be offended. Jean¡¯s certainly very handsome. I well understand why a maiden¡¯s eye might be tempted to stray.¡±

    ¡°The Marquise is very beautiful as well. I can¡¯t believe a man¡¯s eye would ever stray from her. Certainly not towards me.¡±

    ¡°Oh no? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. You already know that I think you have a very pretty face. I admit, listening at doorways to others private conversation isn¡¯t a very attractive habit. But a man in my occupation has no room to judge on that account.¡±

    ¡°You knew I-?¡±

    ¡°A spymaster is supposed to know everything, weren¡¯t you aware?¡±

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Trade secrets, my dear. Let us simply say that-¡±

    Vero did not get the chance to hear his next euphemism; a servant interrupted them. ¡°A messenger bird for you, Ser. Marked urgent.¡±

    ¡°Not another one. And when I¡¯m with such charming company. Will you excuse me, my Lady?¡±

    Vero assured him that she would.

    She sat down again near Aeolus. Antoinette had been asked to dance by Lyam, and it had taken the lad so long to work up the courage that Vero would have hated to interrupt them.

    She hoped Jean would be finished soon. Frederic returned to the room briefly- only to then leave with both Jean and the Marquise.

    Saul¡¯s dwarven friends had not yet arrived, so she made conversation with the magister. Vero was beginning to feel useless reading romances and adventure stories all day, when she was not exercising.

    She asked the wizard if he would share any tomes of magic he possessed, written in plain Imperial script, so she could at least read something educational. He was surprised by the request, but he assured her that he considered all who wished to learn fellow travelers.

    The more Vero discovered about Aeolus, the more of an enigma he seemed to her.

    He showed absolutely no interest in women. At first, Vero thought he merely found her specifically unattractive, but she eventually realized that his disinterest was absolute. She knew some men preferred to lay down only with catamites ¨C rumors suggested Jean¡¯s father had been of that persuasion ¨C but Aeolus showed no evident interest in any of the men around them either. Even if they were very handsome.

    He was not a eunuch by his build and the sound of his voice. She came to suspect that he might really be a genuine ascetic, with no interest in carnal pleasures at all.

    Vero admired the stoicism, although she had no interest in sharing it.

    At the moment, he was a little red faced from drink. Rather than making her think him intemperate, it actually gave her just the opposite opinion. He had less to drink than she. His lack of tolerance was a testament to the infrequency with which he indulged in alcohol.

    ¡°What strange rhythmic ritualized behavior these dances are.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Vero agreed. ¡°I never questioned them as a child. Now I find myself wondering if there isn¡¯t something more important I should be doing.¡±

    ¡°The purpose is recreational, and the synchronization of movement promotes social cohesion.¡±

    ¡°Would you like to join them? I¡¯m willing to dance with you, if you like.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± He finished his spiced wine. ¡°Yes, why not.¡±

    Aeolus did not dance with the skill of her previous partners and they often stepped on one another¡¯s feet.

    Jean and the others eventually returned. However, Vero¡¯s lover was intercepted by his mother while on his way back to her. Jean and the Lady Catherine became partners for the next song, while Ser Elan took the Marquise.

    ¡°Oh, I think this spinning has made me feel sick. I should sit down.¡± Vero¡¯s partner abandoned her at the earliest opportunity to return to his seat on unsteady legs.

    Vero looked for Antoinette again, but she had been asked to dance by Frederic. Her maid looked very eager to accept, and again Vero felt too guilty to interrupt them.

    ¡°May I have this dance?¡± Mattias had arrived from somewhere.

    ¡°Yes, that would be most welcome!¡± Vero wondered if she should have sounded so excited, perhaps she also had too much spiced wine.

    They put their arms around one another. Vero found herself standing closer to him then she put herself with the spymaster or the wizard. Fortunately, he was a skilled enough dancer to keep his feet safe from her.

    She found it very flattering to know that he found her beautiful. The fact that he was unaware that she was listening made her put more stock in his words than when Jean told her the same.

    Was he unaware? Frederic had known she was there somehow. Or perhaps he learned it after the fact.

    Antoinette laughed gaily in the spymaster¡¯s arms while they danced.

    Vero turned her attention back to her current partner. His eyes were not so entrapping as Jean¡¯s, but that also made them easier for her to gaze into. He was also just a few fingers shorter than Jean, but his shoulders were broader, and she thought his arms were stronger by just a touch.

    If she were not already in love with someone else, she thought that she could fall in love with him very easily.

    ¡°My Lady, I have been meaning to speak with you.¡±

    ¡°Oh? What about?¡±

    ¡°I wished to thank you for saving my life.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no reason to think the boar was certain to kill you. You might have only been injured.¡±

    ¡°I thank you regardless.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re most welcome. I would have hated to see your fine features marred by a boar tusk¡¯s scars. I know Jean is very fond of you¡­ I hope we can be friends as well.¡±

    ¡°I would like that very much.¡±

    There was some commotion, and Vero realized that the dwarves had arrived. They were trying to cheer up Lyam- who had become a wallflower again. She led Mattias by the hand and they went to go join them.

    New Year¡¯s Day was a quieter affair than the previous two. They still began the morning with alms-giving, but in the afternoon, there were no grand activities. Everyone simply retreated with those closest to them to enjoy their own leisure.

    Vero and Jean went into his solarium to take turns reading to one another and making love sporadically the whole rest of the day. She could not remember a happier time in her life. Not for longer than a jubilee, at least.

    ¡°May I ask you something?¡± Vero looked down towards Jean as he was kissing her belly.

    ¡°Anything,¡± he answered.

    ¡°Will you give me your word of honor as a knight that you shall tell me the truth, even if you believe I would be hurt by the answer?¡±

    He looked at her seriously. ¡°Yes, if that is what you wish. I do so swear- on my honor.¡±

    ¡°Do you love me?¡±

    Jean looked relieved at once. ¡°Oh, is that all? I was worried for a moment. Yes, I love you more than I have ever loved another in my whole life. Now that we¡¯ve found one another I never wish to be apart from you ever again. Does that answer your question?¡±

    She believed him.

    ¡°Yes¡­ I- Yes.¡±

    He moved higher and began teasing her with his tongue. She was no longer paying attention.

    To lie to her as a whispered nothing was one matter. But Jean would never have broken his word to her as he just did. Not without effort, at least. And she had watched his face so carefully for any sign of deception.

    He meant it earnestly. Every word.

    All this time she planned so carefully, all the things that she would do when he lost interest in her. Where she would go, what she would sell, and what price she would take for them. She knew every answer.

    He spoke so easily. It was as though he already settled everything in his own mind long ago. He was not going to send her away. He wanted her to stay with him forever. It was no longer a dream she dreaded waking from.

    This was her life now.

    Vero realized that she was terrified.

 29. An Unequal Share Part IV

    The Present

    Burgorod was cold and quiet. When Vero arrived it was only mid-afternoon, but it was already dark in the cramped streets that ran between the over bearing blocks of buildings. The structures were lined up wall to wall tight and a fire would tear through all of them in an instant. If one could be started in the damp mixture of snow and mud, that is.

    She was alone again. Ramiro no longer needed her to watch over him. Earlier that morning she had mounted Papillon and easily outpaced him.

    Her first stop was the market, where she sold the highwaymen¡¯s things. The merchants spoke enough old Imperial for trade, and she took her time to haggle carefully. In the end, she received what she believed was a very good price for them.

    From there she followed the sound of raised voices. She could not understand the language, but an open doorway and the sounds of eating and joviality suggested an inn to her. Vero stabled Papillion, and then stepped inside to inquire about a room before she was rousted by the local watch for violating the curfew.

    The locals she saw were all very quiet and circumspect, even the market had been nearly as silent as a mausoleum. However, the travelers in the common room did not seem subject to the same somber mood.

    After trying in vain to attract the attention of the master of the house by shouting, Vero eventually grabbed the arm of a passing wench. The barmaid led her up to a private room after Vero communicated her wishes through gestures, and showed some of her new wealth. The wench immediately retreated, to be replaced by the master of the house with examples of the food, drink, and companionship the establishment had to offer.

    Vero accepted the first two and settled in for the evening. Although the owner could hardly believe she was paying the price of an entire room to sleep in alone.

    She opened Pentarch¡¯s mysterious tome to continue her study.

    Presently, her dinner was brought up by the wench. Venison cooked with carrots and onions, and served with a very dark beer, which was sweeter and pleasanter tasting then she had expected. Before she left, the wench said something which Vero could not understand. By the woman¡¯s demeanor, Vero took it for a reiteration of the house¡¯s offer for companionship, which she once again declined.

    After dinner Vero began to read again.

    As his book entered its final pages, the friar¡¯s mental state began to degrade. Whereas previously he had frequently been dull, he had never been unclear or confused in his descriptions. Now his thoughts became vague. He began to make references to obscure proper nouns, names of people or places she had never heard before, but of which he spoke with increasing dread.

    Vero¡¯s novice grasp of letters certainly was not helping, but Theobald¡¯s grammar and spelling were also failing him with increasing regularity. His melancholy progressed as he encountered dead-end after dead-end in his investigation. His narrative wandered into strange diversions; describing the nightmares which plagued him so badly that he could no longer sleep for more than an hour at a time.

    The burghermaister invited the friar to his home for dinner, a sprawling manor near the market. Vero had asked about the manor house when she sold her looted gear at market. The man she questioned made a superstitious sign of warding, then told her that it had been pulled down. His tone dissuaded her from asking for more information.

    It was during this dinner that the friar was told that the local landgrave, Von Richlau, had several slayer artifacts in his possession. He was seeking men of learning to examine them.

    Friar Theobald could hardly believe his luck and was determined to meet this landgrave, with the burghermaister¡¯s enthusiastic encouragement. The friar prepared for his meeting with a sense of renewed vigor and purpose, and then the book ended.

    The final entry was written with an unsteady hand, and resembled previous entries in which he had documented his half-remembered nightmares.

    The friar was forced to stay the night with the burghermaister due to the strict nightly curfew. Vero could presume that it might have been describing his dreams while there, although she had no proof that it was not written sometime after.

    It read as follows:

    Hurts. Claws in the dark. So cold. W-nt down th- long tunnel. No light end. A great w-rm beneath the earth. Head h-rts. The dark figure. Shadow man with eyes skin like coal. Mouth is black, a void. It tends the egg. Claws in the dark.

    -dark. A co-ncil of men conspire immortal. My fl-sh rent asunder. ----- -hearts fear. Claws in the dark. A grave worm consumes the rott-n corpse of the world. Desire weaved w-th terror. I n-me you here-

    (A long string of proper nouns of names and places Vero did not know, and which she believed it would inauspicious for her to speak aloud, followed here. She passed over them quickly, and omitted their study with purpose.)

    Hurts ev-rywere. Claws in the dark. A drag-ns daught-r shal- offer h-m the kiss of death. Claws in the dark. No escape. Claws in the dark.

    There was no indication of what had happened to the friar, or if he had ever made it to his destination.

    For the journal to end in such a place was ominous, but it could easily be explained by something as mundane as the beginning of a second volume which she did not possess. It was by no means certain that the friar had met an ill fate, and Vero still hoped that he had come away from his journey hale and healthy.

    Even if he would still have been long since dead before she was ever born in any event.

    If the burghermaister had given him definite directions, the friar did not record them in this work. Except to say that the Von Richlau manse was located deep in the forest. Nearly everything was deep in the forest at this latitude, so she would need more precise instructions to find it.

    After a troubled night¡¯s sleep, Vero spoke with some of the traveling merchants over breakfast. None of them knew the Von Richlau family. Perhaps they had died out. However, in that case, another landgrave must have taken their place.

    There was no university in the city so far as she knew, but Vero expected to find some street of scholars or a free scribes¡¯ guild she could consult with. Unfortunately, it seemed all the learned men in residence were kept closely under the thumb of the bishop in the cathedral district. A school there was operated by the priestesses of Art and Reason.

    After spending all morning looking for an alternative, Vero returned to the inn for dinner and prepared to try and infiltrate the church. She could not think of a way to keep chain armor or a hand-and-a-half sword hidden, try as she might. So, she left them in a locked chest in her room with the rest of her valuables, but kept her dagger with her.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The cathedral was very large, almost monstrously so. It was of new construction, so new that it was still unfinished in many places. It featured raised arches and spires, rather than the older style of domed temple more common in the south. Besides the church itself, the cathedral was surrounded by a whole complex of buildings which dominated most of the district.

    The library was a stone building located immediately behind the cathedral, but entrance was restricted. It was tended by monks of the Sun God from the local monastery. Near the monastery there was also a convent of the moon on the cathedral campus. Vero watched, out of sight, until she spotted a line where the nuns hung their clothes and left them to dry in the faint sun.

    She could not find anything that fit very well, and most of the items were still damp and dreadfully cold besides, but Vero made do as best she could. She made certain that her dagger was completely hidden under her disguise, and returned to the library.

    An older monk was seated near the entrance and greeted her as she came inside. ¡°Welcome, sister.¡±

    He made an upwards semi-circle with his hand, mimicking the sun¡¯s journey across the sky. Vero made the reverse half, showing the moon¡¯s journey and completing the circle.

    ¡°Hello, brother.¡± He had spoken to her in old Imperial, and she replied in the same.

    The old monk rose to his feet with an alacrity Vero would not have suspected for his age. ¡°I¡¯m Fra Sigismund; how may I assist you?¡±

    Vero let her voice tremble with emotion. ¡°My name is Sora Veronique. I¡¯m terribly sorry to trouble you, brother. But the abbess is very cross with me at the moment. We were recording new births¡­ and I spilled ink all over the register!¡± She turned away and tried to hide her face.

    Fra Sigismund put a hand on her shoulder. ¡°There, there. It can¡¯t be as bad as all that.¡±

    Vero looked back at him with more urgency in her tone. ¡°But it is, brother! If I don¡¯t fix the pages I ruined, I¡¯ll be excommunicated at vespers!¡±

    The monk continued his attempts to soothe her. ¡°Now that hardly seems likely. Lady Luna sees all and knows how often we fail her. But she always forgives us, as a mother forgives her children for their transgressions. I¡¯m sure the abbess will do the same.¡± He pondered for a moment. ¡°Even so, perhaps we can put right the worst of the damage. The library keeps genealogies of all the most important families. So, at least we can put some of the names right. And those are the only names you¡¯ll be asked to recount anyway.¡±

    ¡°Oh thank-you brother! You have no notion of what a relief this is to me.¡± Vero gave the monk a light hug, which caused him to blush.

    She held his arm to help him walk, and he led her further into the library.

    The monk continued to speak with her as they went. ¡°Your accent is rather strange, if you don¡¯t mind my saying so.¡±

    ¡°Is it? It sounds normal to me.¡±

    The monk laughed softly, as appropriate to a library. ¡°Well, I suppose it would now wouldn¡¯t it. I suppose to you, it¡¯s all of us that sound strange. Are you Velian, little sister?¡±

    ¡°Yes. From the south, near the Whitewood.¡±

    ¡°Ah, no wonder it sounded strange to my ears. You¡¯ve come a long way, Sora!¡±

    ¡°My mother was an acolyte before she left to marry my father. She sent me to the sisters when I came of age.¡±

    ¡°That must have been a difficult parting.¡±

    Vero was relieved when they came to the family records section, which removed any need for her to respond.

    ¡°Here we are. Now, there¡¯s desks with quill, ink, and parchment in every section.¡± He indicated one nearby. ¡°It all belongs to the church, so use it as you like. Where shall we begin?¡±

    ¡°Oh, thank-you so very much for your assistance. But I really can¡¯t impose on you any longer, Fra.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no imposition at all.¡±

    ¡°Please fra, I- this will perhaps sound very strange to you¡­¡± She tried to look as demure as she could manage. ¡°But it was my mistake, and I feel I really must do this on my own.¡±

    The elderly monk lifted up her chin, smiling like a grandfather. ¡°Such a dutiful child! Very well, little sister. But if you do need help, I shall be right back where you first found me.¡±

    He turned and walked away, while Vero went right to work.

    She searched and searched, but there was no chronicle of the Von Richlau family. She could find reference to their daughters through marriages to other families during the time the friar must have visited the city, but nothing regarding the main line. There was one shelf locked behind a sliding door, and it was behind this she presumed she would find what she needed.

    The barrier was only made of thin wooden slates that retracted up into the top of the niche. Vero felt that she could smash them easily enough, but she noticed the thin tracing of warding runes around the lock and restrained herself.

    The original working was very complex, and likely contained further runes on the interior side which she could not see. Dispelling it would require a lengthy and expensive ritual, and the monks would almost certainly raise some objection to it, no matter how persuasive she was.

    ¡°What are you doing there?¡± A stern-faced theology student had approached silently, while she was bent forwards examining the lock.

    Vero did not jump or give any other sign of surprise. ¡°I was studying the designs of the lock. It¡¯s a ward, isn¡¯t it? I think it¡¯s very pretty.¡± She turned to look at him only for a moment before turning back to the lock.

    ¡°My father is the Landgrave of Coburg.¡± The student did not look pleased.

    Vero had no notion of where Coburg was, but his demeanor suggested he thought she ought to. She stood up and then bowed.

    ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry, my Lord. I didn¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°That shelf is restricted, and what¡¯s a nun doing here in the first place?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here on an errand for the abbess, my lord. Fra Sigismund allowed me-¡±

    The student took her roughly by the arm and dragged her back to the entrance.

    There he curtly declared. ¡°Fra, this woman claims you allowed her into the library.¡±

    The monk was startled awake from a light doze in his chair. ¡°Yes, yes¡­¡± He took a moment to find them. ¡°Yes! Hello again, Sora Veronique.¡±

    Vero thought the elderly monk was probably her best chance at escape and gave him a friendly smile. ¡°Hello again, Fra.¡±

    The student gave her arm a tug. ¡°I caught her trying to break into restricted records.¡±

    ¡°Now, I¡¯m sure that¡¯s not the whole story; is it, little sister?¡± Sigismund asked.

    ¡°No, brother! I was only on my task, and I found that some of the family records were locked behind a funny sort of door. I was only looking at it when Ser found me and was given the wrong impression.¡±

    The student spoke at once, very triumphantly. ¡°Ah! You see! Now she admits she wanted something from inside a restricted section. Who sent you?¡±

    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s here for the convent, impetuous young man. Some birth records were damaged and she came to repair them. How is the poor girl to know that one of the families has been moved to the restricted section?¡± Sigismund limply tried to pull Vero out of the student¡¯s grasp, and he reluctantly acquiesced to the old monk¡¯s prompting.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to bring Father Holtz and let him decide the matter.¡± So saying, the student left in a dark temper.

    ¡°Presumptuous little lordling.¡± Sigismund turned back to her. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, that scoundrel won¡¯t cause any real trouble. Still, perhaps you had best return to the convent while I explain the matter.¡±

    ¡°I think that would be best too. Thank-you for your help, brother.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble at all, my dear.¡±

    Vero proceeded calmly, but quickly, towards the convent until she was out of sight. Then she pulled off her nun¡¯s garb and redirected herself back to her rented room. She hoped that the monk¡¯s kindness towards her would not bring him any trouble.

    The sun had already passed the horizon while she was in the library, and she was stopped several times to explain that she was rushing back to her room for the curfew.

    She was nearly there, when she noticed the figure following her. Vero took out her dagger and ducked off the main street into a side alley. She took some guano and grain dust into her other hand from a pouch on her belt, which contained a mixture of the reagents.

    After a few moments the figure showed himself. He was dressed like a traveler and appeared very fit. Vero could not see any mist coming from his mouth.

    In his hands were the nun¡¯s clothes she had discarded. ¡°A man disguising himself as a nun? Sacrilegious.¡±

    ¡°You only know half the matter.¡± Vero drew blood with the dagger.

    The man smelled it at once. He jerked his head and tried to restrain himself.

    Then a moment later, the monster launched itself towards her.

    Vero met him with a simple and brutal application of an elementalist working to release a gout of flames. The arcane fire lasted only for a flash, but the thing¡¯s clothes had already ignited and the vampyre began to scream. It threw itself into the snowmelt and mud to smother the blaze, while Vero ran back to the main street.

    A pair of watchmen ran towards her, and she pointed them back the way she had come. ¡°A vampyre! A vampyre!¡±

    That immediately turned their attention off her, and Vero moved out of sight.

    She hid for a long time, and made very sure that she was not still being followed before returning to the inn. She pushed the heavy chest in front of the door to her room before she went to sleep, and kept her sword in bed next to her.

 30. Among the Better Sort Chapter 1

    Several Years Ago

    It was a long cold winter, and Vero found herself always haunted by a looming sense of anxiety. Dread hung over her as a constant companion, except when she could hide deeply enough in Jean¡¯s embrace. Even then, she knew it would be waiting for her again when she finally emerged.

    The Lady Catherine and Ser Elan left soon after the solstice. So that, at least, was off her mind. The majority of Jean¡¯s other Velian allies also drifted away once the holidays had ended. Unfortunately, the Duc de Emmoi kept delaying his departure. He spent every supper with the vile earl and Father Ignacio. No doubt all bemoaning their victimization with one another.

    The Marquise and her maids often kept themselves apart, and one of Vero¡¯s many constant worries was that she was driving a wedge between Jean and his wife. The noble lady was always warm and kind to her when they did have occasion to speak, but that only made the guilt worse.

    The chancellor, Ser Renaud, eventually returned after spending the winter holidays with his family in the capital, which allowed Vero marginally more of Jean¡¯s time. Although a slate of illnesses seemed to have fallen on all the most inopportune people during the cold season, and it felt to her as though Jean was constantly busy trying to set everything right himself. She admired his work ethic, but she still wished they had more time together.

    Vero filled her head with arcane equations from Aeolus¡¯ books whenever she was alone. Anything that would prevent her mind from running under its own direction.

    The spring equinox fell on a miserably dark and rainy day, so any celebrations were muted. Despite what the calendar said, it appeared that winter would be with them for some time yet. The sepulcher for Jean¡¯s father was completed at last, and they reinterred his ashes there.

    Jean stayed at the tomb when everyone else had left. Vero expected he wanted to be left alone, but when she asked, he requested that she stay with him. She knew that she ought to do something to try and bring him comfort, but she could not think of anything that would change the basic fact that his father was dead. She could only hold him and feel utterly helpless.

    In the evening Vero had been sullen and probably drank too much. The day after the equinox was her birthday and thinking about it made her even more melancholy. She and Jean lay down together that night, but it had been quiet desperate love-making, and Vero cried herself to sleep when it was over.

    The next day was brighter, and the sun even showed himself for the first time in weeks. Sunny it may have been, but the clear sky made the morning air very cold. Jean held her tight and that kept her fears at bay, at least for the moment.

    ¡°I love you.¡±

    It was Jean¡¯s habit to tell her that every morning they woke up together. She always longed to hear the words until he spoke them. Then the moment they had been said, they chilled her.

    ¡°Hold me tighter.¡±

    When they got out of bed at last, Jean informed her that he had a surprise to show her. They went down to the stables where he told her the first of her presents was waiting for her. Papillon, was there waiting for them with a new tack, saddle, and spurs. Vero could hardly believe him when he told her that the horse now belonged to her.

    ¡°I had intended to give her to you once the weather was warm enough for comfortable riding. But as it¡¯s your birthday I thought, why wait?¡±

    ¡°How did you know it was my birthday?¡±

    ¡°The first day of the Maiden. You mentioned it last night, don¡¯t you remember?¡±

    Vero shook her head.

    ¡°Well, you had a few drinks in you by then.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t need to give me any more presents.¡±

    ¡°I know. I wished to. This isn¡¯t all either.¡±

    He took her to the castle smithy next. It was warm there and he took her past the forge to reach the armory. When they were inside, he closed the door behind them so that they were alone together.

    There were several weapons on the racks. Vero chose a sword at random and tested its balance before checking its edge.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Excellent craftsmanship. I can¡¯t see any flaws in the steel, although I haven¡¯t struck anything with it.¡±

    Jean gestured towards a practice target in the corner. She rehearsed her attack a few times slowly, then swung with all her might. They examined the results together; the cut was clean and the blade did not seem any the worse for the wear.

    ¡°Seems satisfactory.¡±

    ¡°It should be. I¡¯ve spent a lot of money to keep the best blacksmiths on this continent here. Do you want your presents now?¡±

    Vero returned the weapon to the rack and fell back into Jean¡¯s arms. ¡°You don¡¯t need to give me another present.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve already told you that I want to. And I think you¡¯ll like this one.¡±

    ¡°I love all your presents. I just don¡¯t know how to wear most of them properly.¡±

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Perhaps you¡¯ll have less difficulty with this.¡± He directed her towards a chest.

    They kneeled down and opened it together. Inside was a thick gambeson made of wool, a very fine-looking steel hauberk, along with an appropriate set of chausses and ailettes made from hardened leather and silk.

    Vero pulled out the chain mail first and held it over her chest. ¡°It fits me, I think.¡±

    ¡°I hope so, I had it made to fit your measurements. There¡¯ll be a new crossbow to come with it as well, but it isn¡¯t finished yet. As I said, I only learned it was your birthday last night. I know you¡¯ll want it lightweight, so there¡¯s a very clever cranking mechanism for fitting new bolts I think you¡¯ll like, once it¡¯s done.¡±

    ¡°This must have been terribly expensive, I¡¯m not sure I can accept it.¡±

    ¡°You certainly can. Your old chain shirt was covered in rust, and torn in a manner suggesting someone had been disemboweled in it.¡±

    ¡°It was second hand. May I put them on now?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Would you like me to leave so you can change in private?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She untied her dress and let it fall to the ground.

    She was glad the garment was easier to escape from than most Jean bought for her. She watched with some relish as his eyes pressed up and down her form. Then she turned and bent forward very deliberately to pick up her new presents. She turned back and watched him stare back at her while she slowly redressed in a set of pants and a shirt that came with the other gifts.

    When she was finished, he assisted her into the armor. It had been measured for her perfectly, and she was astonished how comfortable it was to wear.

    ¡°How do I look?¡± Vero did a spin and curtsied.

    ¡°Absolutely beautiful.¡±

    He pressed her to the back wall of the storage room. He fondled her chest- though through the chainmail, pads, and clothes, she felt almost nothing. His other hand fished its way into her trousers and was much more effective. She let herself go limp while Jean held her up and kissed his neck.

    Slowly, she slipped down onto her knees in front of him.

    ¡°What are you doing, my love?¡± he asked, with happy curiosity.

    ¡°I¡¯ve just recalled a curious practice I once overheard your marshal and spymaster discuss.¡±

    In the time she was mistress to the Marquis de Fer, Vero had learned that she was not the sort of woman who enjoyed elaborate gowns. They were difficult to get into, difficult to wear once inside, and difficult to get out of. The very idea of them grated against her nature.

    It was astounding to think that Jean had considered the attire he bought for her previously only ¡®traveling dresses.¡¯ That notion could only have come from the happy ignorance to never actually travel entombed under so many layers of skirts.

    Her maid had laid out the newest cream-colored monstrosity on the bed.

    Despite her hostility towards them, Vero wanted to do her best to at least try and accommodate herself to her new life- and all that entailed. Everything seemed so wonderful between them while she and Jean were abroad. He won victory after victory, and was very attentive towards her while she healed. Now in this drafty and dour old castle, she felt trapped in a gilded cage.

    The cold made her leg ache.

    And the shades have found you again.

    Vero watched the mirror vacantly, while Antoinette stood behind her with a brush and tried to work the kinks out of her hair. She marveled at the patience Antoinette exhibited, gently working each knot free. If it had been up to Vero, she would have just wrenched the brush through and torn out the knots, just to have the thing done.

    Now her hair was past her shoulders. Jean seemed pleased by it, she believed, so she kept it that way. Despite how atrociously tangled it became every night.

    It was important to her to try her best to attract him. Although ¨C or perhaps, precisely because ¨C Vero did not believe she was very beautiful.

    Her face was fair, but her shoulders were too broad and she had too many muscles.

    Too many scars.

    Vero waved off her maidservant. She went to the chest at the foot of her bed and opened it. From inside, she withdrew her dead master¡¯s long sword- her sword. It sat atop the new armor Jean had given her.

    The weapon was unnaturally light, but remained perfectly balanced between blade and hilt. The scabbard was plain rough leather, and the hilt had no jewels or adornment of any kind to distinguish it.

    She drew it. The blade was free of rust. Even without recent care, its edges remained razor sharp. Lines of runes, etched in silver, ran along both faces of the blade.

    Vero attempted a few simple techniques. Her body still responded slower than it should have, but she attributed this to her lack of training while she recovered. Her range of motion was nearly uncompromised- but not quite. There was no disguising the fact that she had lost flexibility in her right leg.

    She knew there would likely be no further recovery. Some injuries could never be fully repaired, no matter the skill of the surgeon. She was just thankful she could still move as well as she could, and as soon as she had.

    She needed to start putting herself into shape again.

    Is there any purpose with nothing to hunt?

    Jean owned a huge territory. It was only a matter of time before someone on his land had need for a slayer. Even if it was easy prey, Vero wanted to be sharp. Perhaps putting her mind to training would even quiet the raging tumult that was always seemed to occupy it.

    The shades gather outside the walls even now. You cannot hide much longer.

    And he shall abandon you to them.

    Vero returned her sword to its chest and allowed Antoinette to begin dressing her. The tailor responsible for crafting the monstrosity had given them both a careful explanation as to how to wear it.

    ¡°You seem fully recovered,¡± Antoinette remarked cheerfully.

    ¡°Not quite. I feel as though I¡¯m moving a half-second too slow, and my right leg gives me less dexterity than it did before the accident.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re unlikely to be required to fight anyone at a banquet- so I don¡¯t suppose a half-second¡¯s tardiness will matter.¡±

    Vero sucked in her breath as Antoinette cinched the gown closed.

    But she become accustomed to binding her breasts to hide her femininity, Vero supposed that she could also adapt herself to the inverse. Wearing the dress almost gave her an average woman¡¯s bust- but not quite.

    The hem was long and intended to drag along the floor, making it a certainty that she would endlessly have her legs tangled up in it. It had ribbons, ruffles, and other flourishes she did not know how to identify. She had never seen a less practical garment, and Vero badly envied Antoinette, in her plain dress.

    ¡°How is that?¡± Antoinette asked.

    ¡°You can barely eat in these damn things. I¡¯m not certain why we wear them to banquets.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Is there anything you would like me to adjust?¡±

    Vero gingerly made her way back and forth across the room, practicing walking with the hem dragging around her feet.

    The tailor had instructed her not to lift the dress with her hands, which was her first instinct. When Vero asked why, she was told that it was unfashionable, and unladylike, which was the end of the discussion. Instead, she was expected to walk without lifting her feet, but gracefully, so as not to give the appearance of shuffling.

    It was an esoteric skill she had yet to grasp. Not that she made much of an effort to do so.

    She sat down on the bed. ¡°It should be bearable for one evening.¡±

    Antoinette sat down next to her. ¡°I could tell them you¡¯re not feeling well.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that will be necessary.¡± Vero looked over at Antoinette¡¯s face, and it was plain that the maid was worried about her. Vero kissed her lightly on the cheek. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, Antoinette.¡±

 31. Among the Better Sort Chapter 2

    The banquet was being held to bid farewell to Jean¡¯s cousin, who was finally leaving that afternoon. Vero doubted Jean would have any time for her until the evening, given how strongly his cousin disapproved of their relationship, but she had been invited to attend. Vero and Antoinette seated themselves in the least busy corner of the packed hall they could find.

    The spiced capons and wine were both excellent. The courtiers all kept their distance from the mistress they half-believed had bewitched their lord, but that suited her tastes as well. Vero really wanted no company other than her maidservant.

    ¡°You look very pretty this evening Veronique.¡±

    The Marquise had approached them from behind, unheard in the din of the crowded hall. She was positively radiant; in an extraordinary dress she wore like a second skin. It was, if anything, even more flamboyant than Vero¡¯s clothes. A pure, rather than off white, and covered in strings and buttons to no purpose which Vero could determine. Her face was painted just enough to highlight her gods granted features, and her golden blond hair fell down around it in gentle curls.

    She was accompanied by her train of handmaidens, each more beautiful than the next. They hung around the Marquise like jewelry, and each of them only added to their mistress¡¯s own glamor, rather than detracting or overshadowing her in any way. They spread out around the table.

    ¡°Th- thank-you. I mean to say- you look very beautiful as well, my Lady.¡± Vero replied, hating the way her nerves made her stammer.

    ¡°Are you alright, dear?¡±

    When it became clear that the Marquise intended to remain, Antoinette quickly stood and offered the place beside Vero to her. The Marquise took it graciously. Although Vero would have much preferred her to stay, Antoinette stood back with the other maids to give them some privacy.

    The Marquise was more than a decade older than Vero, and even a few years the senior of her husband, but she made a good match for him. Vero found them a very attractive couple when she saw them together. She certainly made Vero feel very plain and awkward in the comparison.

    Vero took a large swallow of wine to try and calm her voice enough to put it on a single track. Then she caught a glance from the Marquise, which reminded her that gulping down wine at the table was another distinctly unladylike gesture. She put her cup back down again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t usually come to these affairs. I hope my presence here doesn¡¯t offend your ladyship.¡±

    The marquise gave her a smile which made Vero feel as if she was staring into the sun. She quickly averted her eyes down to her plate.

    ¡°And why should I be offended by your being here, Lady Veronique?¡±

    By way of an answer, Vero directed her gaze up, across the room, and toward the most crowded corner of the banquet hall. In the center of the assemblage was the Jean. The Earl of Kaer Longus and Father Ignacio were both beside him and the Duc, enjoying their brief return to the head table.

    Following her gaze, the Marquise began a refined little laugh, before demurely restraining it to a smile. ¡°Oh Vero, I hope you don¡¯t take offense, but you have the moral sense of a farmer¡¯s wife. So, my husband goes to bed with you. I see no reason why that should bar our friendship. I would even say it give us greater impetus to interact harmoniously.¡±

    Vero realized that she was already past the point of caring about how it might look, and emptied the remaining contents of her cup. ¡°Not to put too fine a point on it, my Lady. But I was raised in a small village. Mama- my mother was a farmer¡¯s wife. And had I not left- then there¡¯s every chance I would have been as well.¡±

    The Marquise put away her smile. ¡°I can see that I have offended you, and that was precisely the opposite of my intention.¡±

    Vero motioned for a servant to bring her more wine. ¡°I suppose this will sound very silly to a courtly lady such as yourself. But when I was a little girl, my mother told me that for every man, the gods created a woman. So that they could love one another and form two halves of a single whole. Like the sun and the moon.¡±

    ¡°And you believe I¡¯m standing in your way?¡±

    ¡°No. I believe I¡¯m standing in yours.¡±

    Vero felt a hand placed on top of hers. She looked down at it, then followed the body it was attached to until she reached the Marquise¡¯ soft eyes.

    ¡°I sensed you had been avoiding me. To be truthful, I insisted that you be invited this evening so that we would have the chance to talk. I can see that I should have extended it much sooner. Life has pains enough without us torturing ourselves. What your mother told you wasn¡¯t silly at all. I think it was very beautiful thought. And true, in its own sort of way.¡±

    The Marquise took a moment to collect her thoughts and then continued. ¡°Jean and I are married because my father had two daughters and no sons. When the War of the Bastards was over, he began to mistrust his nephew, whom he had put on the throne, so he gave him my elder sister to tame him. And in case that failed, I was married to the largest landholder in the kingdom as a counterweight. The first time I met Jean was at our wedding. I think he¡¯s a good man, and I¡¯m on very pleasant terms with my husband. But I don¡¯t love him. Or any other man for that matter. My children will inherit this land, and that is what matters to me.¡±

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    Vero did not know what to say. She watched while a servant refilled her cup. She wanted to reach for it and drink it all at once, but she had several already and thought better of it.

    After a prolonged silence the Marquise added, ¡°And whatever your connection to my husband, I do hope that we can be friends.¡±

    Vero¡¯s balance had faltered when she tried to stand up, so she leaned heavily on Jean as he assisted her up the stairs. An elderly female servant was waiting in the bedroom. She deftly pulled Vero out of her clothes, despite her difficulty complying with the woman¡¯s instructions. Once she was naked, Vero flopped down onto the bed as quickly as possible. She tried to make some sense of the room, which she felt certain was shaking. Jean¡¯s squire undressed him in the outer room, and he entered once the old maid had time to leave.

    Jean rolled her over onto her back to make room on the bed for himself, and laid down next to her. He began to kiss her at the nape.

    ¡°You¡¯re wearing that perfume your maid makes again- aren¡¯t you?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I prefer the scent of rosemary. Do you approve?¡±

    ¡°Fresh, honest, beautiful. Yes, I believe it suits you very well indeed.¡±

    ¡°My lord believes I¡¯m honest?¡±

    ¡°With me, I hope. I don¡¯t want there to be any secrets between us.¡±

    Vero felt fingers glide along her belly, then across her thigh. Then he stopped.

    ¡°Is something wrong, Vero?¡±

    ¡°I saw that vile man with you at dinner.¡±

    Jean did not say anything, but the look on his face told her that he knew at once who she was speaking of.

    ¡°You said that once your cousin had gone, you would bring the lord of Kaer Longus to justice.¡±

    Jean nodded, and tried to adopt the serious demeanor he used while he attended to official court business, even though he was still giddy from drink. ¡°You¡¯re right of course. I¡¯ll tell Mattie to begin the proceedings first thing tomorrow.¡±

    He began to kiss her neck once more. His fingers traveled up and down her body again. Until he stopped.

    ¡°I can have him called up right away, if it would please you. I¡¯d need to put on some clothes first, of course.¡±

    ¡°I need to leave.¡± The words left Vero choked for a time, but finally she had gotten them out.

    ¡°Are you feeling sick? You had several- well... we all had several cups at dinner.¡±

    ¡°I mean, I need to leave the castle.¡±

    Jean looked shocked. ¡°This instant?¡±

    ¡°No, not this instant. But soon.¡±

    That seemed to settle him down. ¡°Of course, it is rather formal, not to mention drafty here. This place has been the seat of my family for centuries, but I wouldn¡¯t call it warm. The Iron Keep, an apt name. We should be able to leave for our hunting trip soon- any day now¡­¡±

    ¡°I mean to say, that I need to leave you.¡±

    Vero hoped he would only dismiss her and bid her to be on her way. She had prepared for him to get angry, shout perhaps.

    Instead, his voice was quiet, wounded. ¡°Why?¡±

    Vero continued to stare upwards at the ceiling spinning above her. She could tell that Jean was looking at her, but she knew that she did not have the courage to look back at him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t belong here. I¡¯m not supposed to be here- with you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the most ridiculous thing I¡¯ve ever heard. You¡¯re just feeling cooped up because of the winter, and because of your rehabilitation, I¡¯m sure of it. But that¡¯s all over now.¡± She wished that he had shouted at her.

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­¡± Vero protested weakly, but Jean continued to speak at an increasing pace, until he was running on only a single breath.

    ¡°We can go out riding now that you¡¯re feeling better; I¡¯ve had new hawks arrive only a week ago now, and I haven¡¯t even taken them out yet; just this evening I was speaking to my marshal, and I told him that I wanted you to teach some of our skirmishers your fighting techniques; no forbidden secrets mind you, just whatever basics your order would allow you to pass on- and who knows, I may even come and try and learn something myself.¡±

    Weakened by the wine, Vero felt her eyes watering. She bit her tongue to keep from making any noise.

    Jean stopped.

    He lay down quietly next to her for several minutes before continuing. ¡°I won¡¯t force you to stay. I just ask that you stay long enough to give me a chance to try and make you feel you do belong here.¡±

    Vero was too far past words to form a coherent response. So, she only shifted over so that their bodies were directly adjacent to one another, and began to cry once she was certain the sound would be muzzled by his chest. Jean put his arms around her, and the wine finally, mercifully, winked her out of consciousness.

    ¡°Vero, my head hurts.¡±

    She had been drifting on the edge of consciousness for some time. She was aware of the physical sensation that her stomach was not quite right, but with no sense of identity or perception of the outside world. Then, the sound of Jean¡¯s voice pulled her all the way out of slumber¡¯s womb.

    The burden of self returned.

    Without opening her eyes, Vero took the shaving razor she knew Jean kept on his nightstand. She opened the very tip of her left index finger just wide enough that a tiny trickle of blood came out, and traced a pattern along her stomach based on memory. Then she opened her eyes, and moved to make the same signs along Jean¡¯s forehead.

    He caught her hand, and held it still until she asked, ¡°Would you like me to take care of your head, or not?¡±

    As a reply, he let go and allowed her to continue. She finished the signs and, to complete the ritual, she climbed on top of him to stimulate their vital essences into action as she worked a low chant.

    They had been making love for half an hour or so, when a knock came from the door. It was followed by the nervous voice of Jean¡¯s squire.

    ¡°I¡¯m really terribly sorry to interrupt- that is to say¡­ to wake you, my Lord. But the chancellor is here. He insists that it¡¯s very urgent, and that you must come right away.¡±

    Both of them held still while the lad spoke, before Jean replied, ¡°Tell Renaud, I¡¯ll meet him in the solarium, as soon as I¡¯m dressed.¡±

    ¡°Shall I send in the servant to dress you, my Lord?¡±

    ¡°No, I think I¡¯ll tend to that myself this morning. See to the chancellor and make sure he has everything he needs.¡±

    ¡°At once, my Lord!¡±

    ¡°And go fetch that woman who knows how my dress goes on!¡± Vero yelled out after, before the boy had the chance to leave.

    ¡°Ah yes! At once, my Lady!¡±

    Once they were certain Lyam was gone, they finished as quickly as possible. Jean stood up at once to pull on clothes. Vero climbed back under the blankets, intent on another few minutes of sleep. Before he left, Jean returned to her side, took her hand, and kissed it.

    ¡°I really have spoken to Henri about letting you train with our men. If you¡¯re feeling well, perhaps you could spar with some of them this afternoon.¡± After a moment he added, ¡°I do love you, Veronique. More than I have ever loved another.¡±

    Then he left and Vero went back to sleep.

 32. Among the Better Sort Chapter 3

    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t think why you would ever wish to leave. If I ever found my way into his lordship¡¯s bed, all the soldiers in this castle wouldn¡¯t be sufficient to drag me back out of it.¡± Antoinette advised Vero between mouthfuls of roast duck. ¡°He¡¯s the richest man in the kingdom. I¡¯ve heard that even the crown owes him money.¡±

    ¡°As if one will ever collect that debt.¡±

    ¡°But surely- the king must have a lot of ways to get money, if he needs it?¡± Antoinette offered her reply tentatively, like a rabbit wary of a stepping into a trap.

    ¡°I¡¯m certain he does, but suppose the king decides he doesn¡¯t want to pay his debt with that money; then what is one supposed to do?¡±

    Antoinette pondered the question, and evidently could not imagine an answer because she remained quiet while they finished dinner- which for Vero was actually breakfast. A kitchen servant took their silverware away. They need not have brought them in the first place, since neither Vero nor her maidservant were in the habit of eating with utensils.

    ¡°You won¡¯t really be leaving, will you, my Lady?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I haven¡¯t decided yet.¡±

    ¡°I would miss you terribly if you ever left. Now that it¡¯s spring there¡¯ll be dances soon. I could take you to my village for the summer solstice, and we could go mushroom hunting together.¡±

    ¡°Mama and I used to go mushroom hunting together.¡±

    ¡°Please stay, Vero.¡± Antoinette watched her with pleading eyes.

    ¡°Perhaps I will. I told you; I haven¡¯t decided yet.¡±

    ¡°Fortune favors the ungrateful.¡± Antoinette sighed to herself. ¡°Some of us must get by with whomever we can.¡±

    ¡°And just who have you been getting by with?¡±

    Antoinette turned a bright crimson, and she must have felt that she had said too much, because she could not be compelled to say any more. After eating, Vero waited idly by the window while she finished digesting, and watched the men sparring in the courtyard. Antoinette entertained herself with some needlework in the corner, where she diligently set about pricking her fingers and swearing quietly.

    Vero knew it would be hard to bid farewell to Jean. She had not prepared herself to say good-bye to Antoinette. It was only once she had set her mind to doing it that Vero had realized what a dear friend the girl had become to her. Leaving seemed to be becoming more and more difficult. Why did they all wish her to stay?

    Vero stood up and began to climb out of her dress. ¡°Go and fetch me an outfit with pants and a shirt, please.¡±

    Vero already tied the gown she wore into knots immediately after returning to her room, when she tried to loosen its vice like grip on her chest by herself. Now she had some difficulty getting completely free, even with assistance.

    At last, they were able to get her out, and Antoinette redressed her in trousers and a doublet.

    ¡°Are you going riding?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Sparring.¡±

    ¡°For the gods¡¯ sake why?¡±

    Vero could not think of an answer, but she left for the courtyard anyway. As she left the bedchamber, she nearly stumbled into a serving boy from the kitchens, carrying a tray of sweetbread.

    ¡°Terribly sorry my Lady- I was told to bring these¡­ bring them to you, my Lady. The man said- he told me that the Marquis ordered this brought up from the kitchens¡­ for you, my Lady.¡±

    The whole business struck Vero as rather unctuous, so she dismissed him with a wave. ¡°Of course, he did.¡± Then she called out to her maid, ¡°Antoinette, take care of the lad and we can eat the sweets together when I get back.¡±

    ¡°But they¡¯ll be cold then,¡± she objected.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine. And don¡¯t you dare eat them without me.¡±

    ¡°As you say, my Lady.¡± If Antoinette was making an attempt to hide her sulk, then it was a poor one.

    Vero left them and hurried out to the yard. There, she walked over past the practice ring to where the training swords and tough leather pads were stacked, and looked for some that would fit her size. The marshal noticed her as she crossed the yard, and he approached to speak with her as she was putting on her pads.

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    ¡°Lady Veronique, I don¡¯t mind telling you that I don¡¯t like this. I¡¯m not so prejudiced against your order or- listen, I won¡¯t deny that you know many unique fighting techniques¡­ some people have said you¡¯ve put the Marquis under some kind of spell, but I don¡¯t believe it.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s said this?¡±

    ¡°I would only lend credit to the rumors by spreading-¡± Vero caught him looking past her towards the stands before he stopped himself. ¡°Frankly, my Lady, I cannot let one of my men hurt his lordship¡¯s mistress. And I won¡¯t have them wasting time playing at fighting while trying not to strike you.¡±

    ¡°Tell them I expect them to try and hit me, and if I get hurt then it¡¯s my own fault.¡±

    Ser Henri grumbled something Vero could not hear ¨C although she could make a fair guess at its content ¨C and he returned to the others.

    Once her pads were on, Vero noticed that the Marquise Marie and her maids had come down to watch the exercises. Most of her maids seemed bored by the experience, but a small number of them looked to have favorites in the sparring ring and watched the training with great interest. Some of the revelers from yesterday¡¯s long feast also came out to join them, seeking fresh air to clear their hang overs.

    Vero approached the wooden stands where the Marquise seemed very pleased to see her. ¡°Greetings, Ser Veronique. Shall you be tilting today?¡±

    ¡°If this were a tournament ¨C and had I a lance ¨C I would ask for your favor, my Lady.¡±

    ¡°You shall carry my favor in spirit then, if no more. At least for now.¡±

    Vero noticed the Earl of Kaer Longus in the back of the stands, along with the others recovering from the night¡¯s festivities. Although he did not seem to be suffering as badly as his fellows.

    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± The Marquise must have noticed a sour expression cross Vero¡¯s face.

    ¡°No, my Lady. It¡¯s only that I asked Jean to do something for me last night and he seems to have forgotten.¡±

    ¡°Oh? That¡¯s very unlike him. He had a lot to drink last night, and was at work right away this morning. It must have slipped his mind.¡± The Marquise face grew a small half smile. ¡°Perhaps you can gently remind him this evening.¡±

    Vero left the stands and approached the entrance to the ring. The sparring stopped, and she became unnervingly aware that everyone in the yard was watching her. Plucking up all her courage, she marched into the center of the circle and looked over to where the marshal and his soldiers were gathered.

    ¡°Which one of you is first?¡±

    Each of the men traded glances between themselves, ranging from the awkward to the dismissive.

    Eventually one of them, a mountain of a man, stepped forward grinning. ¡°If you¡¯re all too frightened to fight the little girl, then I will.¡±

    The man looked to have giant¡¯s blood in him, and was armed with sword and shield. Vero turned away a proffered shield of her own in favor a keeping a small parrying dagger in her off hand. There was plenty of room in the ring for several groups to be fighting at once, but everyone seemed to be taking the opportunity to gawk at the oddly matched pair.

    Since they were all watching, Vero felt bound to give some sort of instruction. So she began, ¡°This is a fair sort of matchup, since a slayer expects to be fighting something possibly much larger ¨C and definitely much stronger ¨C than themselves.¡±

    The giant bowed with a faint blush. ¡°Thank-you, my Lady.¡±

    ¡°Because of this, slayers rarely fight with a shield. In our trade it''s usually our intention to evade rather than block directly which, even under ideal circumstances, is still likely to leave you with a broken arm.¡±

    Vero assumed a fighting stance and the giant did the same. They circled each other, but despite his earlier boasting, the giant appeared to be disinclined to attack her. Vero stopped and began to lecture again.

    ¡°A slayer also expects to be underestimated by a creature which sees ¡®just a human.¡¯ A knight may naturally recoil at receiving such disrespect from an opponent, but your enemy¡¯s lack of awareness is nothing but a weakness you can-¡±

    As she expected, the giant had stopped to listen to her speak. When she relaxed her guard, he had instinctively done the same. She did not waste a moment, but attacked as soon as she noticed his concentration lapse. She darted forward, while at the same time turning and swinging with all her might at the back of the giant¡¯s leg.

    She knocked him down to his knees. Momentarily lost in anger due to his pain, the man let out a roar and tried an awkward spinning sweep to hit her. She easily side stepped the blow. Vero landed another strike of her own along the side of his head, which left him dazed long enough to continue her lecture.

    ¡°After his initial surprise, he then made a hasty unthinking move to cover his mistake and save face- which I also took advantage of. If these had been real swords, the first strike would have crippled, and the second killed.¡±

    The giant punctuated her lesson with a laugh, and returned to his feet. ¡°I deserved that for being such a chivalrous fool. I won¡¯t worry about hurting you- if we spar again in earnest?¡±

    Vero nodded and resumed her fighting stance. The giant did the same. This time he did advance on her. He swung with careful discipline and it was not so simple to step out of the way. He was no longer holding back and pressed her with deliberate strategy. She tried a few strikes of her own, but he easily warded them off with his shield.

    As the battle continued, Vero found herself barely staying out of his reach, while he carefully worked her towards the fence. Then, once he had left her no place else to go, he moved to finish her with a single powerful blow and a cry of victory.

    Vero performed a feint and vanished, leaving the giant to strike the ground where she had been with an overanxious swing. She was already behind him, and left him with a long slash along the entire length of his back before he could turn.

    They returned to their starting positions.

    ¡°Your opponent will always be a willing partner in perpetuating the lie of their own superiority. Your task is to lead them forward. And be sure that when you do strike in earnest, that it is always a decisive blow.¡±

    A shout came from the crowd, ¡°I¡¯ve heard slayers know techniques for fighting multiple enemies at once!¡±

    There was no indication who had spoken, but Vero nodded. ¡°Very well.¡±

    The giant eased his way back into the group. ¡°The Marquis¡¯ mistress has embarrassed me enough for one day. I¡¯ll let other men have the honor.¡±

    ¡°How many?¡± One of the soldiers asked.

    ¡°As many as you think is fair.¡±

 33. Among the Better Sort Chapter 4

    The soldiers took a few minutes to deliberate, before three of them stepped forward and took up triangle point positions around her. They were all very young, and none of them could disguise the fact that they had only started training. One looked cocksure, but the other two appeared very nervous.

    Vero continued her lecture, while they readied themselves. ¡°When fighting a group, it¡¯s important to understand the composition of your opponents. A vampyre may form a cult of adherents. But if the cultists are all peasant farmers, then their numbers will be counter balanced by their lack of skill.¡±

    Then, the moment she had finished, Vero threw herself backwards with a wide swinging blow at one of the nervous boys. The attack startled him, but he retained enough presence of mind to block her strike. In doing so, however, he obscured his own vision with his shield. Vero did not stop, but spun off her momentum to change her angle and move behind him, where she stabbed her dagger roughly into his liver.

    The confident man saw his chance and rushed her. Vero sent her first victim forward with a kick to the backside, which sent him tumbling into her next attacker and knocked both of them to the ground. Then she turned on her last enemy, who dropped his weapon and held up a hand to yield at once when she gave him a fierce look.

    Vero returned to her starting point and let the others right themselves to reassume their positions. A pair of more seasoned looking men drifted out of the audience to join them.

    ¡°Without a definite plan, a group makes men hesitate, since they are constantly aware and always taking consideration for their companions. One can take advantage of this through rapid and unhesitating action. Strike as fast as possible, and as hard as possible, until you no longer face a group. Don¡¯t hold anything back, because a group only needs you to make one mistake. The longer a fight goes on, the more it plays to their advantage.¡±

    Again, the moment she was finished speaking she lunged towards the same novice again. This time he was ready. Seeing her come at him, he made a stumbling leap backwards. He stayed out of her reach, but was momentarily distracted while he tried to find his footing once again.

    Vero had already stopped her feint and turned back the other way, where one of the veterans was making ready to take advantage if she tried the same tactics again. She ducked low, and used the flat of her sword to bring up a cloud of the soft sand which cushioned falls in the ring into his face as he advanced.

    The other veteran had initially positioned himself on the opposite side from his partner. He must have suspected that she wanted him to act rashly, because rather than attack, he circled around her with careful and conservative movements to keep on his guard. He interposed himself between her and his comrade, who was desperately trying to rub the sand from his eyes. With three of the soldiers out of their original positions, a way out had formed between them.

    Vero took it.

    She sprinted towards the fence surrounding the training ground and bounded over it in a single fluid leap. Everyone watched in astonishment as she slowly circled around towards the stands, except for the Marquise, who was beaming with delight.

    Ser Henri¡¯s expression was colder. ¡°Your secret techniques include throwing sand in a man¡¯s face and running away?¡±

    ¡°I know knights have idealized the notion of a ritualized duel between equals. But in reality, even if two utterly equal combatants ¨C which don¡¯t actually exist ¨C met in battle¡­ then it would be nothing but a coin flip. And in that case, their dispute would be more sensibly settled that way. Fighting fair is only for sport. In battle, one is either advantaged, or disadvantaged. Deliberately restraining yourself, for any reason, is courting the Veiled One. And one person defeating multiple skilled opponents at once is impossible. Only a fool remains in a fight she can¡¯t win.¡±

    ¡°Watch this one carefully. She¡¯s smarter than you,¡± Frederic remarked glibly.

    Vero had not noticed him watching before.

    The spymaster sat behind the Marquise and her maids, with the wizard Aeolus. ¡°His lordship has requested our presence in the council chamber at once.¡±

    The marshal started off towards them. Frederic continued to stare at Vero while she stood where she was.

    She was not sure why he was watching her until he added: ¡°Oh, perhaps I was unclear. I meant you as well, my Lady. My apologies.¡±

    Vero followed them.

    They ascended the tower towards the council chamber. Aeolus dropped back to walk alongside her, and ply her with questions about what she supposed to be the anthropological origins of her order¡¯s unique fighting style.

    The council chamber was a large circular room which took up the whole of the tower¡¯s second highest level. One had to go up through the floor beneath, and pass through the chapel there, to reach it. The chapel housed a large altar to King Helios with vessels of gold, and along with it was a smaller shrine to Queen Luna.

    The gods won¡¯t help you when a beast¡¯s claws are at your throat.

    Her master always held a great disdain for religion, and would chastise her any time he caught her offering earnest prayers. Like many thaumaturgists, he considered the gods only to be the source of arcane emanations, and paid them no mind when he was not weaving a spell.

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    Each of the men queued up to genuflect beneath the sun altar before continuing further up. As she would need to wait for them, Vero decided to take the opportunity to recite some prayers she learned from Mama''s prayer book.

    The moon shrine was consecrated to the Matron, but she hoped that Mother Luna could still hear her.

    ¡°How dare you appear before the Queen of the Gods in men¡¯s clothing, harlot!¡± Father Ignacio was red faced with rage, and bellowed at the top of his lungs from the doorway.

    The other councilors looked taken aback. However, as Ignacio attempted to advance on her, only Ser Henri had the presence of mind to place himself between them.

    ¡°That¡¯s a particularly unpleasant way to greet your lord¡¯s mistress.¡± Frederic offered his insight from well off to the side of the conflict.

    ¡°My Lord,¡± the priest began, vehemently slapping his chest, ¡°is the Lord. The Lord of Light, the Lord of Everything! And the Marquis should never have taken any mistress in the first place- let alone an apostate!¡±

    By this time, Jean had come into the chamber himself. Father Ignacio seamlessly redirected his tirade towards him.

    ¡°I refuse to attend any council which allows a woman to be present- especially a witch!¡±

    Jean refused to flinch. ¡°You will be silent this instant, or I¡¯ll find a new god whose priests know how to show respect to their patrons.¡±

    ¡°I served here under your father, whelp! Your family have worshiped the sun for-¡±

    ¡°My mother often complained how you served under my father. I have been tolerant of you for many months, but do not believe for one moment that your grief at his passing is greater than that of his own son! Or that it entitles you to behave however you wish! My dearly departed sire is dead, the only deity that matters to him any longer is the Veiled One. Now, get out!¡±

    Father Ignacio began to sputter ineffectually. ¡°You- you have no right-¡±

    ¡°I own this land! I have every right! Go back to your bishop! Explain to him how you¡¯ll make up the short fall from my house¡¯s tithes!¡±

    Ignacio was stunned into silence, but then he pointed towards Vero again. ¡°This vile demoness will lead you into nothing but misfortune!¡± With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out.

    The others began to slowly go up into the council chamber. Jean remained behind with her, and Vero still was not quite sure what had happened.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t do anything to antagonize him.¡±

    He gave her a disarming smile and a kiss. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t. He¡¯s been almost intolerable since my father passed on. I¡¯ve warned him many times that I would remove him if he could not carry out his duties to my satisfaction. This is as convenient a time as any.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t this cause trouble?¡±

    ¡°How could it? Is a son responsible for supporting his deceased father¡¯s male favorites? The bishop will send me a new chaplain with a letter of apology, or he won¡¯t. I only ever pray to the gods of war and health anyway. Let him speak ill of me, if he will.¡±

    Jean took her by the arm and led her up into the council chamber, where he brought her to a seat beside himself, at the head of the table. The three council members she came with were joined by the chancellor, the steward, and the sheriff.

    Ser Renaud, began the meeting. ¡°Will the chaplain be joining us?¡±

    Beneath the table Jean kept a hand on Vero¡¯s knee, but his face was serious. ¡°I have removed Father Ignacio from his position. Our chief scholar will be forced to advise us on both theosophistry as well as the arcane until a new chaplain arrives.¡±

    Aeolus had been beaming with satisfaction since Jean chastised the priest. Although he tried to look serious when Jean informed him of his new duties, and nodded gravely.

    Jean turned to Ser Renaud. ¡°Please give your report.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± He stood up. ¡°Several of our vassals have fallen ill this winter. This is not in itself unusual, of course. However, the number and severity of these incapacitations is both large, and growing. It now begins to pose a definite threat to our security. To date an earl, and over almost a dozen landed knights have died. Many more are so ill they are confined to bed. Through a consultation with my colleague,¡± he motioned to Aeolus sitting beside him, ¡°we found that everywhere these illnesses seemed to follow in the wake of my Lord¡¯s train. The sicknesses are far too precise to be a chance pandemic. There have been no cases at all reported among the lower classes.¡±

    ¡°You believe a member of the retinue to be a maleficar?¡± Mattias asked.

    Ser Renaud nodded. ¡°Aeolus ¨C and the departed Father Ignacio ¨C examined some of the most deceased victims before they were given to the crows. They found traces of a slow acting poison residing in the internal organs-¡±

    ¡°The liver and the kidneys, in particular,¡± Aeolus elucidated.

    ¡°Using this knowledge we have begun to treat the ill, but the poisoner must be identified.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have my men begin a search of everyone¡¯s rooms immediately.¡± Mattias rose, presumably to put his stated plan into action, but he was brought up short by the clicking tongue of Aeolus.

    ¡°And I suppose you know what to look for to identify a maleficar?¡± When the sheriff did not reply, Aeolus continued, ¡°If you begin charging around like a wild bull then you¡¯ll only make the task that much harder.¡±

    ¡°Then what do you propose?¡± Ser Henri asked, in his usual chilled baritone.

    Jean cleared his throat to bring the council¡¯s attention back onto himself. ¡°I have decided to request the services of a professional. Vero?¡±

    Jean squeezed her leg and everyone in the room turned to look at her.

    ¡°Are you asking me?¡±

    ¡°I am. Slayers hunt witches, you know how to recognize the signs of black magic even if they¡¯re well hidden.¡±

    Vero cleared her own throat, although she was only concerned with making certain her voice did not crack.

    ¡°If there were a witch present ¨C I mean a true witch, not a colloquial insult ¨C I¡¯m sure we would all be aware of it by now. It sounds as though this is the work of an alchemist turned assassin. Although a magus may use his powers for evil, he ¨C or she ¨C still remains a human. At least until they have bargained their soul away to a fiend. This may still be the work of a real witch¡­ but if it is a mundane poisoning using only natural magic, then I¡¯m forbidden from becoming involved. The code of my order prevents me from becoming engaged in politics or law enforcement, for any reason. I could¡­ perhaps, assist you in the identification of the culprit¡­ but only to determine for certain if they are a witch or not. I would break my oath if I took a contract on a human.¡±

    ¡°Of course, I would not ask you to violate any binding oaths.¡± Jean turned to Mattias. ¡°Are your men competent to subdue this man if he is simply a rogue alchemist?¡±

    ¡°Unquestionably. If the Lady Veronique can find him, we can put him to ground.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s settled then, you¡¯ll work together. I¡¯m putting the Lady Veronique in charge of this investigation, and I expect each of you to offer her your full support with whatever she may need.¡±

 34. Among the Better Sort Chapter 5

    Each of the council members voiced their support and Jean dismissed them.

    Vero waited until they were alone together before speaking her mind. ¡°Why me? Surely your spymaster or sheriff would be better suited to the task.¡±

    Jean pulled them closer together, so that they were leaning against one another.

    ¡°Because I trust you, Vero. I happen to think you¡¯re the best woman for the job. Neither Frederic or Mattias know anything about magic or poison.¡± Vero was not certain about the claim that his spymaster knew nothing about poison, but she allowed Jean to continue. ¡°And Aeolis is too much of a scholar to lead a search for a criminal. I¡¯ll see to it that you¡¯re given a fee, of course.¡±

    ¡°Money isn¡¯t what I want from you.¡±

    ¡°Then what do you want?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Vero could feel her mood turning morose. Rather than relent to the emotion, she decided to try and rebalance her humors. She kissed Jean, who returned the gesture eagerly. When they broke the kiss, she found that she did feel better.

    ¡°I suppose I shall start with the sweets you sent¡­ if Antoinette hasn¡¯t eaten them all by now.¡±

    ¡°Sweets?¡±

    ¡°The sweetbread you sent-?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡± Vero searched for any sign of jesting in his expression and found none.

    She rushed from the council chamber, with Jean following close behind her. Together they raced through the castle until they reached Vero¡¯s apartment. After reaching her destination, Vero was suddenly seized by the terrible notion that she did not wish to see what was inside, and stopped just outside the room.

    Once she was certain Jean was beside her, she nudged the door open slowly. ¡°Antoinette, come here please.¡±

    There was no response, so Vero tried again.

    ¡°Antoinette come to the door this instant!¡±

    There was still no reply and Vero felt a terrible certainty about what they would find. Taking Jean¡¯s hand, she led them both inside where her fears were confirmed.

    Antoinette lay unmoving on the floor near the window.

    Vero knelt down beside her to check for any sign of life, but found none. Jean quickly pulled her into a tight embrace, where they stayed until the body had been taken away.

    Vero walked down the stairs towards the wizard¡¯s laboratory located beneath the castle. Jean had stayed with her for hours, until an urgent message arrived from the capital which called him away. He told her to stay in her room, but only minutes later she had left, almost as though in a trance.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Mattias¡¯ voice startled her out of her reverie. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be alone my Lady, not under the present circumstances.¡±

    Vero did not turn around to face him and began her advance down the stairs once again. ¡°I must see her at least once- before the examination.¡±

    Mattias walked in lock step behind her. ¡°I¡¯ll accompany you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not necessary.¡±

    Vero found herself hesitating in front of the door until Mattias opened it for her. ¡°My honor compels me, my Lady. I hope you understand.¡±

    She nodded. They moved together through a small straight corridor towards another door into the laboratory itself. A mechanism held the second door locked shut until the first had been properly closed and sealed.

    Inside the laboratory, Antoinette¡¯s body lay on a slab in the center of the room, stripped naked and deathly pale. Aeolus stood nearby scribing notes onto a sheet of vellum. All around the perimeter of the room, set into the walls, were creches containing an assortment of scalpels, tools, parchment, and other paraphernalia of his profession.

    Mattias looked all around the room, while trying his best to avoid noticing the body. He may have been content to ignore the indignity, but Vero was not.

    ¡°Could you not leave her at least the barest shred of privacy?¡±

    Aeolus clicked his tongue at her in his accustomed peculiar way, and closed the door behind them. ¡°I know she was your friend, but all that¡¯s left here now is meat. Meat, yes- but meat that we can learn from. Once I make the incision in her chest, I¡¯m sure her spirit will fly free from her mortal shell. If, indeed, it''s still trapped at all.¡±

    Vero ran her hand through Antoinette hair. She pressed her face against Antoinette¡¯s cheek, but her skin felt cold.

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    ¡°There¡¯s no guarantee of that.¡± The chill in the basement affected her, and Vero wrapped her arms around herself. ¡°Once you¡¯re finished with the dissection, you¡¯ll make arrangements with the White Sisters to have her placed in an aviary for a proper funeral.¡±

    ¡°Suppose I should miss something during my initial investigation?¡±

    ¡°See to it that you don¡¯t.¡±

    Aeolus just clicked his tongue and shrugged before going to work.

    Vero stood back, but remained to watch, despite Mattias¡¯ suggestion that they leave. Aeolus paid neither of them any mind whatsoever. He began with an initial inspection of her hair, skin, and fingernails. Once this was finished, he opened Antoinette¡¯s chest cavity. It took him a great effort ¨C eventually requiring Mattias to help ¨C after which the knight left for the hall outside to vacate his dinner.

    Aeolus carefully removed the maid¡¯s organs one at a time, carefully weighing and examining each, before placing them in a brazier to burn down to ashes. He captured the smoke in a glass instrument placed over the flame, which appeared to be designed for the purpose. All throughout the process he took notes and constantly referred to texts written in Liturgical and Sylvan scripts, neither of which Vero understood. Finally, once he was finished, he stood over the body for a long time, seemingly lost in thought.

    At last, Vero intruded on his musings. ¡°What have you discovered?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± he clicked his tongue, ¡°it¡¯s poison alright, that¡¯s sure enough. But this was a new strain. Far faster acting and much more fatal than any of the maleficar¡¯s other work. Previously, everything was disguised as a natural illness. This maid suffered a sudden seizure, then her heart stopped. A minute at most.¡±

    ¡°At least she didn¡¯t suffer long then.¡±

    The one responsible would die. Vero would not stop searching until it was done.

    Aeolus shrugged, still lost in thought. ¡°I suppose not.¡±

    ¡°Could this be the work of another poisoner else then?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no way to tell for certain. But my intuition-¡± He made a queer sort of face at her. ¡°-tells me that it¡¯s all the work of the same man.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then he or she must be aware of our investigation. They now know that there''s no longer any purpose to hiding their work as natural illness¡­ but the sweetbread was delivered before the council meeting. So, who knew of these poisonings before then?¡±

    ¡°The chancellor Ser Renaud, Father Ignacio, and myself. And Jean as well, of course. We¡¯ve kept the matter as quiet as possible to avoid a panic. You believe the maleficar is on the council itself?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps¡­ but it¡¯s also just as possible that the one brewing the poison is just a hireling, working for a paymaster who was able to give it to the victims somehow. Probably while we all ate together. The three of you were all seated at the second table at meal time. Wasn¡¯t that also where all the Umbrian nobles who fell ill ate?¡±

    ¡°Very cunning, my Lady. I believe you¡¯re probably correct. Of our two suspects, the former chaplain obviously appears the most suspicious¡­ after this afternoon¡¯s outburst.¡±

    ¡°Of our three suspects. You¡¯re an alchemist yourself. You probably know more about poisons than anyone else in this castle, except me. Although as I said, there are more than enough servants in the castle for a hired maleficar to blend in with- if they had a great lord to arrange it. I do still agree about starting with the priest, however.¡±

    ¡°You think that I am a suspect?¡± Aeolus sounded more delighted than offended.

    ¡°I consider it a possibility, why are you so excited?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve just never been accused of something so exciting before.¡±

    ¡°What do you know about Father Ignacio?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the oldest member of the council, or at least he was. The Marquis¡¯ father installed him in the position when he first inherited the title. He holds doctorates in medicine and theology. I don¡¯t trade in gossip, but you¡¯ve already heard the rumors that the previous Marquis used him as a woman, which was always something of an open secret. I won¡¯t miss him; all he ever did was toady up to the father when he was alive, and antagonize the son once he was dead. He was originally from the Imperium, so make of that what you will.¡± Aeolus gave her a look which told her exactly what he made of the priest¡¯s origin.

    ¡°It explains why the previous Marquis found him so pliant.¡±

    Aeolus chuckled, then stopped, and then started again. ¡°I won¡¯t gainsay my Lady¡¯s judgement. He knows the healing arts, that¡¯s for certain. And the same knowledge to heal a body may also be used to harm one. I have no proof, but he acted suspicious when we examined the first victims together¡­ and I suspect may have been trying to prevent me from noticing the poison at all. He¡¯s also the one who¡¯s been spreading rumors that you¡¯re a witch. Or at least the most vocal voice I know of- I¡¯m sure you presumed as much. I don¡¯t believe him, of course; he¡¯s already accused me of much the same in the past. It¡¯s the burden men and women of learning such as ourselves must bear.¡±

    Vero noticed that Aeolus seemed to know a great deal about the rumor grapevine for a man who claimed not to trade in gossip. ¡°And the chancellor?¡±

    ¡°Ah yes.¡± Aeolus scratched his chin and paced back and forth across the room. ¡°Ser Renaud was also raised to his position by the Marquis¡¯ father, a decade or so before the old man¡¯s death. I don¡¯t see why he would betray the current marquis now, but there it is. He is literate, but he¡¯s had no training in any occult science so far as I know. If he is responsible, then I think he must have hired someone else to brew the poison for him, as you said. He¡¯s the second son of a noble family in good standing; they¡¯ve served the crown in Vermillion for generations. And the man himself as always fulfilled his duties faithfully, at least so far as I know.¡±

    ¡°And which crown did his family serve in the war?¡±

    ¡°The true crown, of course. And all the way through the conflict even.¡±

    ¡°That puts them on a very short list of patriots then. What about yourself?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t pay attention to politics. I couldn¡¯t even have told you which bastard was which until the whole thing was over.¡±

    Vero shook her head. ¡°What I meant was, how did you come to serve the Marquis?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes.¡± Aeolus¡¯ eyes lit up. ¡°I forgot that I was a suspect as well for a moment. I came here after graduating from the University of Whitegate where I specialized in alchemy. That was¡­ oh, almost twenty years ago now. Gods! How the time flies. I don¡¯t like to be immodest, but I¡¯ve served both my masters rather well I believe. I was the one who brought down the wall at Kaer Longus, or rather it was my formula. You were in prison at the time I believe, but it was a terrific explosion. This poisoner is very skilled at his craft, and I confess that I am one of a very small class of persons with the necessary knowledge to be your suspect. Unfortunately ¨C although I hate to say it ¨C I really couldn¡¯t be the one responsible.¡±

    ¡°Because?¡±

    ¡°I have no motive. Really, I¡¯m just a simple scholar. All I¡¯ve ever wanted was a place to pursue my research, and I have that. Money and politics are of no interest to me. In fact, the Marquis has been very eager to pursue some of my most outlandish ideas that even I don¡¯t expect to work. So, you see, it really is in my own self-interest to keep him in power.¡±

    ¡°A lot of people act against their own interests.¡±

    ¡°A lot of uneducated people, yes. But I assure you, I¡¯m nothing of the sort. No, no. I always act in my own best interest, I guarantee it.¡±

 35. Among the Better Sort Chapter 6

    Vero spent the night with Jean in his room. They did not speak. Jean only held her and massaged her back until she fell into a fitful sleep.

    The next morning, she made her way to the chapel with the sheriff at her side.

    She did not really expect Father Ignacio to attack her. Although if he did so, it would certainly be annoying while she was wearing a dress and had no weapon to hand. It was simply that, given his hostility to her, she doubted she could compel him to answer any questions without proof that she had the force of law behind her.

    The door into the chaplain¡¯s private apartment was open, and servants were constantly moving in and out, packing up and taking away the disgruntled priest¡¯s things. When he saw her, Father Ignacio was spitting venom at once.

    ¡°Leave me in peace, adulteress. In your vainglory you lead the Marquis and yourself to destruction.¡± Although he began quietly, he quickly increased in volume until he was shouting again. ¡°You¡¯ve had your way with that weak-minded fool of a lordling and had me cast out! But I will not hear your mocking or your scheming, witch!¡±

    Sensing a confrontation that they wanted no part of, the servants instantly found occupations which required them to be elsewhere.

    ¡°I have a few questions to ask-¡± Vero started, but Father Ignacio interrupted almost at once by shouting over her.

    ¡°Your charms are nothing to me, whore! Go offer yourself to the stable hands if you''re still not sufficiently sated with the filth of your adultery!¡±

    Vero gave Mattias a nod, and he attempted to ease the situation as diplomatically as he could. ¡°Father, please. We have been ordered by his lordship to investigate-¡±

    The priest interrupted once again. ¡°-He¡¯s no lord of mine, and the Fiend can take him for all I care! And mark my words, that is where this sorceress now leads all of-¡±

    ¡°-Listen here now, you bugger!¡± Mattias brought the former chaplain¡¯s tirade to a halt by smashing his mailed fist down on the nearby table. ¡°You¡¯re still on the Marquis¡¯ land and you¡¯ll answer our questions here and now! Or, I¡¯ll have you clapped in irons and dragged to the dungeon, and we can hold our interview there!¡±

    Father Ignacio was uncomprehending in his rage for several moments in which he sputtered ineffectually before he sunk down, beaten, into a chair. ¡°It seems the gods have found me too prideful, and decreed that I must face yet further humiliation.¡±

    With the priest sedated for the time being, Mattias allowed Vero to take the lead once again.

    ¡°I¡¯ll come straight to the point, Father. We have reason to believe that one of the council members who was aware of the poisonings ¨C before yesterday¡¯s meeting ¨C is involved with the conspiracy.¡±

    ¡°I see your plot now. Not content to merely harry me from my position, you now see fit to have me disgraced. And executed as well, perhaps.¡± Father Ignacio sank lower in his chair.

    ¡°Father, my only goal is to discover who is behind all of this. Is it you?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Have you any idea who it could be?¡±

    ¡°You have come to me¡­ after desecrating a poor child¡¯s body with that warlock¡­ and then you accuse a holy priest of the sun of witchcraft? If this is not a cruel jest on your part, then you are simple minded beyond even the limitations of your sex.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re accusing Aeolus of being the maleficar?¡±

    ¡°All mages are maleficars. They vary only in the range of the obscenities they commit. If I hadn¡¯t been watching him so carefully, I¡¯m sure he would have destroyed all the evidence of poisoning before we knew anything.¡±

    ¡°I see. You are, I presume, the one who started the story that I¡¯m a witch. And that I¡¯ve placed some kind of charm on the Marquis.¡±

    ¡°Started? No. Although I believed it at once, and I don¡¯t mind telling as much to anyone who asks. It was that poor sickly earl from Umbria who first told us of your infamy. He was the victim of a hex cast by another witch, his own sister. It grieves my heart to see the poor man¡¯s pain.¡±

    ¡°Do you have any objection to us searching through your belongings?¡±

    He began to get upset once again, before remembering his untenable position. ¡°I most certainly do. Although I can see that I have no choice in the matter.¡±

    Father Ignacio left in a very black mood. Vero and Mattias spent the rest of the day going through the priest¡¯s personal possessions. Mattias looked through the furnishings for hidden compartments and tapped on the walls, searching for secret passages. Vero let him amuse himself, and concentrated on the priest¡¯s books and correspondence for anything which might be incriminating.

    The former chaplain was a great collector of letters, it seemed, and kept piles of them. Several were exchanged between himself and Jean¡¯s father. Presumably he reacquired his own side of the conversation after the elder Marquis¡¯ death, because Vero found them both together. In his writing, she found Ignacio very tender, and she could see little of the bellicose old man who had shouted such horrible things at her.

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    She could confirm that the priest and Jean¡¯s father were lovers, and ¨C to judge from their letters ¨C extremely intimate with one another. At times, their communication became downright lurid, and Vero found herself blushing at their implications. Jean¡¯s father was very bawdy, and Ignacio was almost hopelessly romantic.

    It was Ignacio¡¯s deep suspicion of mages and magic which first soured the relationship between Ignacio and Aeolus. He frequently complained about the wizard in his letters; Jean¡¯s father had evaded direct replies to the matter.

    Through it all, Vero could not help but think- a man so obsessed with grand notions of love, perfection, and purity would not sully himself with black magic, no matter how unpleasant she might find him socially. Unless, the death of Jean¡¯s father had driven him completely mad.

    Love is a debt, paid for with grief.

    Or so her master often told her.

    At length, Vero found the opportunity to pose a few questions to the sheriff.

    ¡°Mattias, how long have you been on the council?¡±

    Mattias dropped his own investigation at once, eager for the distraction of conversation. ¡°Not long. I¡¯ve been friends with Jean since we were lads. Fredric as well, although he was always the rascal of our group. When Jean''s father died, the new Marquis dismissed the old sheriff and gave us both positions on the council.¡±

    ¡°What happened to the previous men who held your positions?¡±

    ¡°Jean¡¯s father never kept a spymaster. Or if he did, we have no notion of who he was. The previous sheriff was nearly sixty. Jean gave him some land and put him out to pasture.¡±

    ¡°You must have questioned the serving boy who delivered the sweetbread, yesterday. What did he have to say?¡±

    ¡°Only that a man whose voice he didn¡¯t recognize gave him the tray and ordered him to take it to you.¡±

    ¡°Was he hiding his face?¡±

    ¡°He was, deliberately or not. A kitchen boy like that is trained to keep his eyes low, he never looked up at the man.¡±

    ¡°What about the man¡¯s clothes?¡±

    ¡°He was dressed as a servant. So, if it was a council member, then he must have disguised himself.¡±

    ¡°Would the boy have recognized a council member¡¯s voice?¡±

    ¡°Probably not. He worked deep in the kitchens and never met any of them. I did show him your three suspects and asked if he recognized any of them this morning. He had the opportunity to hear all three speak, but remembered none of them. I suppose that adds weight to your theory that there¡¯s more than one person that we¡¯re hunting.¡±

    ¡°Do you think Ignacio could be responsible for these murders?¡±

    ¡°Are you asking what my instinct tells me?¡±

    Vero nodded.

    ¡°I do not believe so, no.¡±

    ¡°What do you make of his accusation regarding the magister?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my guess that there¡¯s more prejudice in it than serious conjecture.¡±

    Vero put down the letters she had been reading and stretched the stiffness out of her muscles. ¡°That¡¯s my feeling as well, but that would leave only the chancellor. What can you tell me about him?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s never studied magic at an accredited university; of that much, I¡¯m sure. His family is noble and of good standing. He has no foreign ties that I am aware of. Although it wouldn¡¯t be much of a secret alliance if he informed the sheriff.¡±

    ¡°His family home is in Vermillion, isn¡¯t that correct?¡±

    Mattias nodded. ¡°His father and elder brother are both members of the king¡¯s court in the capital.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    Vero returned to her letters, and Mattias returned to checking drawers for false bottoms.

    Vero walked slowly into the temple aviary. She felt stiff and tired from the previous day¡¯s investigation, which had revealed nothing in the end.

    The temple of the Veiled One was only a couple hours ride from the castle, but they took such a somber pace that most of the morning had already passed when they arrived. Jean was beside her and lent his arm for support. She had decided not to resist any emotion for the time being. Once the funeral was over, she would have no time for anything besides her work.

    She did not intend to rest until she found the one responsible and extracted vengeance.

    The main temple was an austere, but impressive, dome of white marble. Beneath it were the catacombs of the Marquis de Fer, where Jean¡¯s father¡¯s sepulcher resided. Beside the main temple there was also a small commoners¡¯ mausoleum, with a pyre for the local miners and the metal workers from the city. Antoinette¡¯s funeral was being held in the main building, and Jean gently guided her inside.

    From above them, far up in the vaulted dome, came the cacophonous calls of countless crows.

    Other than the two of them, the chamber¡¯s only living human habitant was the funerary priestess who stood beside Antoinette, preparing her for the ritual. After the autopsy, Aeolus had sewn the body closed again as best he could. She now lay under a white shroud on the marble funeral bier. The priestess ignored them and continued her work.

    It was terribly cold in the chamber, and after sitting for a few minutes Jean bundled them both up in his cloak as they waited. Vero hid beneath it to obscure her tears.

    On the periphery of the room there was seating for the bereaved, and at intervals more mourners trickled in and take their places. Vero saw some of Antoinette¡¯s fellow servants, as well as an older couple who must have been her parents.

    Finally, the Marquise arrived with her maids. She approached Vero and Jean right away.

    ¡°Are you alright dear? This must have been a terrible shock.¡±

    The Marquise directed the question at Vero, and she managed a weak nod in reply.

    Jean¡¯s wife whispered a few words to her husband, then moved to Antoinette¡¯s parents. She took a seat next to them where she did her best to comfort the distressed mother.

    Once everyone was in attendance, the priestess began to recite the funeral prayers in Liturgical with a loud and deep voice. Incense had been placed around the body at each compass point, and the whole chamber filled with a thick fragrant smoke, which left Vero feeling lightheaded. As the rites continued, she soon found herself sobbing uncontrollably.

    The priestess maintained her chanting and covered the body in white poppy petals. Her voice was rising higher and higher in tambour until the whole temple seemed to be reverberating from it.

    Then it abruptly ceased.

    The shroud was torn away and the crows descended in a mass, covering the body entirely and tearing it to pieces.

    The birds feeding frenzy lasted only a few minutes before there was nothing left but a skeleton and traces of poppy petals.

    With the funeral over, the priestess doused the incense and retired from the room. She was accompanied by several acolytes who emerged at the very end of the ceremony to take the bones away. They would be ground up that evening, and her parents would be given a pinch of the dust to place in their family urn.

 36. Among the Better Sort Chapter 7

    Jean helped Vero to her feet. Before they could leave, they were approached by Antoinette¡¯s father with red and puffy eyes.

    ¡°Thank-you for sponsoring this funeral, my Lord. I couldn¡¯t ask for anything more.¡±

    ¡°It was the Dame Veronique who requested it, and I could not in good conscience do otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Yes, thanks to you as well, my Lady. Antoinette spoke of you very highly when she came home. She told us what a close friend you had been to her these past months.¡±

    If Antoinette had not been so close a friend to you, she would still be alive today.

    Vero wanted to say something to the mourning father, even if she did not know what to say. But as she tried, she found herself too affected to manage anything sensible.

    Another shade left in your wake.

    Antoinette¡¯s father seemed to understand regardless. ¡°I won¡¯t trouble you any further, my Lady.¡± With that, he bowed and returned to his wife.

    Killer! Murderess!

    Jean took Vero outside, where she sucked in a full breath of fresh air and dried her eyes one last time with his cloak.

    ¡°Are you certain you¡¯re alright, Vero?¡±

    ¡°I am. I can¡¯t afford not to be any longer.¡±

    ¡°Let me take you hawking this afternoon.¡±

    ¡°I have work to do.¡±

    ¡°As your employer, I¡¯m inclined to be lenient. And I don¡¯t think-¡±

    ¡°-What is he doing here?¡± Vero pointed at the Earl of Kaer Longus.

    The loathsome creature could not help but notice her draw attention to him, so he began to approach them. Vero¡¯s hands balled into fist involuntarily.

    Jean took her hands in his and, feigning a kiss, hastily whispered to her, ¡°When my men arrested the Umbrians, this bastard presented a royal pardon to them. The others are all in the dungeons, but I need to sort this out before I can put him there with them. I didn¡¯t know how to tell you after what happened to poor Antoinette.¡±

    Vero took no bother about whispering. ¡°So, you¡¯re going to do nothing?¡±

    ¡°The King has no rights to gainsay how I deal out justice on my land. Gods¡¯ sake- the scoundrel isn¡¯t even Velian. I wanted to do this quickly to avoid any headaches, but that¡¯s all undone now. I don¡¯t know how he got the pardon; I¡¯ve had all his letters searched since you told me what he did to his sister, and it didn¡¯t come that way. It genuine enough though, however he got it. I need to rally the other major landholders to my cause before I can force his majesty to either defend or withdraw his seal. I¡¯m doing my best to resolve the matter swiftly, but I can¡¯t seize him yet. Please try to understand, my love.¡±

    The scoundrel in question bowed to them. ¡°My condolences on the loss of your servant.¡±

    Vero did not acknowledge the bastard, but pulled Jean¡¯s face towards her again to whisper back very deliberately, ¡°Take him away from me this instant.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to leave you alone, Vero.¡±

    ¡°I made a promise to you that I would identify this maleficar, and I leave now to go do so. I can only pray that my Lord will see fit to be so faithful in the fulfillment of his promises made to me.¡± Vero removed her arm from Jean¡¯s grasp and turned away.

    Behind her, she heard Jean grab the unwelcome earl none-to-gently and lead him back the way he came. ¡°Take a walk with me, Conrad. We have a great many things to discuss, it seems.¡±

    Vero ignored them and focused on stilling the trembling in her hands.

    She returned to where she had stabled Papillon and discovered Mattias silently standing beside her horse. She walked up to the beautiful mare. Jean had given her lots of other presents, but it was Papillon that meant the most to her.

    Papillon whispered thoughts of comfort to her. Her nature was so open and affectionate, it was easier to speak with her than any other animal Vero had ever met. She held the horse very dear.

    Mattias¡¯ own stallion stood nearby and they both mounted without saying a word.

    Half way back to the keep, Vero turned him. ¡°I¡¯m going to speak to the chancellor. Will you accompany me?¡±

    ¡°As you wish, my Lady.¡±

    They returned to the castle and found Ser Renaud in his private office. It was located in a very secluded corner, near to the servant¡¯s quarters. As they approached the door, Vero could still hear the usual noise and disorder of the castle, but only slightly- at a muffled distance.

    Mattias knocked on the door.

    The voice of the chancellor responded from the other side. ¡°Who is it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s me. I have the Lady Veronique with me, she wants to talk to you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course. Come in.¡±

    Inside, the walls were covered by maps and bookcases, hemming in the cramped little room even further. Although there was one little window, which held a pleasant view overlooking the Marquise¡¯s pleasure gardens and let in some welcome sunlight.

    Taking up almost the entirety of the remaining area was a very fine desk. It looked to Vero to be fashioned of lumber imported from the Whitewood. The chancellor sat behind it, thumbing through his correspondence. There was only one seat for a guest due to the lack of space. Mattias stood, practically in the doorframe, where he watched the hall for anyone who might try and overhear them.

    ¡°How can I assist you, my Lady?¡± Ser Renaud asked, keeping his attention divided between her and his letters.

    ¡°I wonder, lord chancellor, if you could lead me through your own previous investigation into the maleficar?¡±

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    If the chancellor was nervous, he hid it very well. ¡°There¡¯s not much to tell, unfortunately. I found the spat of illnesses odd is all. They came to my attention during a routine consultation with the chaplain ¨C pardon me ¨C the former chaplain. Pandemics are random, these illnesses were too precise. And in all of nature, only man fashions his work with straight lines. I ordered Father Ignacio and Magister Aeolus to examine the victims to determine if we were dealing with a poisoner.¡±

    ¡°And they confirmed that it was poison?¡±

    ¡°Yes- well, I asked if they believed it could be the result of a natural contagion. They said it matched no miasma they were familiar with and I informed Jean. From there we had to wait for the first victims to die before we could gather more information. Ironically, the mildness of the poison worked against us in this case. The third son of Hollowstone suffered Hepatitis before his illness and his liver failed quickly. I sent Ignacio and Aeolus back to autopsy the body ¨C damned priest raised hell over that one ¨C but he had already been given to the crows before they arrived. A few days ago, we were able to finally perform an autopsy on a victim to get the final proof. As a precaution, I¡¯ve already checked if any known witches are abroad. There are none.¡±

    ¡°How exactly did you determine there are no witches in the Fer-Mark, may I ask?¡±

    ¡°I have certain contacts at the king¡¯s court. They¡¯re a necessity in my line of work. My family visit this solstice was not a social call. I spoke to my informants there and they, in turn, consulted with the inquisition.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    The chancellor must have sensed Vero¡¯s suspicion, because he immediately followed with an earnest defense. ¡°I trust my contacts completely. They¡¯re a part of my own family, and they would never conspire with any foreign power to undermine Velian security; I would stake my life on that.¡±

    ¡°I do not doubt that, lord chancellor. Thank-you for your time.¡± Vero stood and curtsied before squeezing her way past the sheriff out into the hall.

    A picture of events was now unfolding in her mind, only the motives behind some of the players remained indistinct to her.

    Mattias closed the door and followed after her. ¡°And where to now, Lady Veronique?¡±

    ¡°Are you enjoying yourself, Mattias? You may call me Vero if you like.¡±

    He flashed a playful smile. ¡°It is rather fun running around the castle with you and forcing everyone to drop whatever they¡¯re doing and speak to us. But you didn¡¯t answer my question, my- ¡­Vero.¡±

    ¡°I need to speak to the Marquise, but I want to consult with Frederic first.¡±

    ¡°He keeps his quarters in a loft above the coup for messenger birds.¡±

    Mattias led them to the raised loft. It was very open and spacious, as well as much more comfortable than Vero would have expected. Despite the muck from the birds downstairs, all the furniture looked very clean. The room seemed to serve as both an office and bedroom.

    Frederic stood beside the spacious window and appeared greatly distracted. He took no notice of them until they began to ascend up the stairs to the loft- and then it was only the extraordinarily loud creaking of the steps which gave them away.

    ¡°Hello, my Lady¡­ Mattie. It¡¯s my principle to never send away a beautiful woman, but I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t feel very well today.¡± The spymaster¡¯s voice was quiet.

    ¡°You¡¯re not ill, are you?¡± Mattias asked, with some urgency.

    ¡°No, not ill. I am- I apologize for not attending the funeral, my Lady.¡±

    ¡°Were you close to Antoinette?¡± Vero asked.

    ¡°In a manner of speaking¡­ My friend takes a new mistress- I don¡¯t want to offend¡­ I wouldn¡¯t be doing my duty if I didn¡¯t keep a discreet eye on you.¡± Frederic was speaking almost aimlessly.

    Vero repressed a desire to shiver.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to think badly of the girl. All she ever told me was that you loved Jean, that she liked you very much, and that you absolutely were not a witch. I hardly even considered her an agent, although I suppose that is what she was. I think that must have been why this all has hit me so hard. When you send a man into danger you prepare yourself for him not to come back, even before he leaves. I never did that with her, I never saw the need. I hadn¡¯t prepared myself for it- that¡¯s why this is so difficult. Spycraft is a filthy business¡­¡±

    ¡°You paid her?¡±

    ¡°I gave her gifts, amongst other things. She seemed eager for... companionship, more than anything else.¡±

    Vero suppressed her revulsion to focus on her reason for coming there. ¡°May I presume you have a similar relationship with a girl or girls in the retinue of Jean¡¯s wife?¡±

    ¡°Work?¡± Ser Frederic stepped away from the window and turned towards his shelves of maps and records. ¡°Yes, work would do us some good.¡± He sifted through his papers. ¡°I cannot comment on your presumptions, except to say that I have many little friends everywhere. What is it you wish to know about the Marquise, exactly?¡±

    ¡°You and she were here the whole time, while Jean, and I, and all the rest of us were on campaign. Isn¡¯t that right?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right. She never left, and I saw her at dinner every night. Incidentally, she also has no knowledge of poisons, so far as I am aware. Nor has she had any private meetings with strange men. Those are both some of the keenest things a husband worries about, you understand.¡±

    ¡°Without cause, I¡¯m sure. How are relations between her father and Jean?¡±

    ¡°They have¡­ cordial respect, I suppose. You¡¯re such a charming beautiful young woman, I often forget you¡¯re not noble-born.¡±

    ¡°If not for my provincial accent?¡±

    ¡°You do much better at hiding that now. But I seem to have lost my way, give me a moment.¡±

    Vero was not aware that she had been subduing her accent. She was also not certain how she felt about the revelation.

    Ser Frederic put down his correspondence. ¡°I¡¯ll speak plainly and then perhaps things will come out right. There¡¯s no formal alliance between us, but we¡¯re both natural allies against any kind of over step on the part of the king. The Duc de Flan-Goethe is the greatest living general today, he has many vassals and commands tremendous respect. He also keeps a hardened company of veteran knights from the last war around him at all times. And he can call on many more at short notice. You already well know just how rich Jean is. Between them they can easily muster enough support, both military and financial, to keep the king from ever becoming a real tyrant. Most of the smaller landowners come to one or the other of us whenever the king starts to bully them too badly.¡±

    Everything in Vero¡¯s mind became clear. ¡°Very enlightening. Thank-you. I think the plot against Jean comes from the capital. And I believe Ser Renaud¡¯s family betrayed his confidence to reveal information to the conspirators.¡±

    Ser Frederic nodded along with her, and Vero could almost see the calculations happening behind his eyes.

    ¡°Grave news. Hence their hasty action against-¡± The spymaster paused for a moment, then the matter appeared to have been forgotten. ¡°I¡¯ll begin the appropriate countermeasures at once. Will you continue your inquiries?¡±

    ¡°I see no reason to stop. I think I¡¯m nearly finished.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem to believe that the chancellor was the enemy- only that he was a source of information?¡±

    Vero nodded.

    ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then the true assassin could be anyone in the entourage that¡¯s traveled with Jean from Umbria. You know, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised to discover that their initial plan was to blame you for the blight, and claim that you were killed when your own black magic curses turned back on you.¡±

    ¡°Has his majesty ever tried to mend relations with the Duc de Flan-Goethe?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Their falling out was very public. But the fellow is the king¡¯s uncle, as well as his father-in-law, so the path is always open. So far, the old general has refused every entreaty to support his nephew¡¯s views on royal absolutism. However, if he sees the winds blowing against Jean and the other nobles, that may change.¡±

    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you the one hunting the maleficar?¡±

    If the spy master was surprised by Vero¡¯s sudden change in her line of questioning, he did not show it. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I suppose it¡¯s because Jean doesn¡¯t want to trust me with it. A spymaster is trusted with so many things no other aide or companion is told- not even a mistress. But that intimacy also breeds, by its nature, a level of suspicion. Because our connection is already illicit, he can¡¯t help but wonder if I¡¯m truly faithful to him.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t sound offended by his suspicions.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not, simply because I am innocent of them. I love Jean-¡± Ser Frederic laughed innocently. ¡°And you as well, Mattie.¡±

    Mattias watched on with exasperation. ¡°I can¡¯t believe the nonsense you say sometimes.¡±

    Ser Frederic shrugged. ¡°I only took up spycraft to help my dear friends. It¡¯s a dirty business as I said. Why should I betray them? I don¡¯t spend all the money Jean pays me now. So how can I be bribed? But for every secret only I know- he has to hold one back from me. It¡¯s a game we play. I can¡¯t complain, it keeps me from growing complacent.¡±

    Vero tried to maneuver herself back towards the stairs.

    ¡°You find politics distasteful, my Lady?¡± She had not thought she gave any sign of discomfort, but the spymaster must have found one.

    ¡°I think life has enough trouble in it, without our creating trouble for our neighbors. Which can only ever cause more trouble for us all in the end.¡±

    ¡°At the moment, I find myself in agreement with you. I only wish the world could be so simple as that.¡±

 37. Among the Better Sort Chapter 8

    Vero excused them and they left the dovecote.

    Inquiring with the servants, they found the Marquise had gone to the old Imperial-style baths with her handmaids after returning from the funeral. The baths were in a light and airy room on the first floor, kept heated by an underground furnace. They were, of course, segregated between men and women.

    Vero suggested that Mattias make use of the facilities while they were there, however he chose to remain outside. Although he assured her he was still within earshot of a shout, in case he was needed.

    Vero undressed in the outer room and entered the lovely warm and humid atmosphere of the bathing chamber. She found the Marquise attended by her omni-present maids. Despite the ridiculous nature of the gesture when not wearing any clothes, Vero offered a deep curtsy.

    ¡°Oh, do stop being so formal, Vero. Join us.¡±

    Obeying instructions, she slipped into the water. The temperature was perpetually perfect.

    Vero drifted over towards the Marquise. ¡°I need to speak with you, my Lady.¡±

    ¡°Well, it seems you¡¯ve already started.¡± She laughed. ¡°So do continue, please.¡±

    ¡°My apologies, I meant to say that I need to speak with you in private.¡±

    The Marquise became a touch more serious, but continued to smile at her. ¡°You heard the young woman; she needs to speak to me in private.¡±

    The maids each started to leave, while Vero came to a stop beside the Marquise. She began to examine the lines of muscle down Vero¡¯s arm as the others departed.

    ¡°You¡¯re really rather muscular, aren¡¯t you dear?¡±

    ¡°I exercise often, my Lady.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I can see that. Your very pretty, but if it weren¡¯t for the slight curve at your breasts¡­ I might easily take you for a boy.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps¡­ had I a lance.¡±

    ¡°You would ask for my favor?¡± The Marquise giggled again.

    Vero felt rather giddy herself in the heat. ¡°My Lady, I have a rather serious favor to ask of you. But I must ask you some questions first.¡±

    ¡°Well, if it¡¯s serious, then it had best not wait. What is it?¡±

    ¡°Your father arranged both your wedding and your sister¡¯s, didn¡¯t he? Your sister to tame the king, and you for the counterbalance, I believe¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°And if your loyalty to your father and your loyalty to your husband were ever placed into conflict?¡±

    The Marquise¡¯s eyes turned very cold. ¡°I want to know why you would ask me such a question, right now.¡±

    ¡°I need to know if I can trust you.¡±

    The Marquise held her in a hard gaze for several moments before deciding to reply. ¡°If so- then I won¡¯t lie to you. I was a daughter before I was a wife. And my husband knows better than to ask me to act against my family¡¯s interests. It¡¯s all part of our arrangement.¡±

    ¡°I thank you for your honesty. Does your sister feel the same?¡±

    ¡°To my knowledge, she does.¡±

    ¡°Then I hope that your family¡¯s interests and your husband¡¯s coincide on this matter. I believe that they do. I wonder if you could ask your sister to make some discreet inquiries on our behalf. I have reason to suspect that there¡¯s a plot against Jean originating from the capital.¡±

    ¡°At what level of the capital are we speaking?¡±

    ¡°From the king¡¯s court itself. The chancellor inadvertently passed secret information to members of his own family, who then allowed them to fall into the hands of a group of conspirators working against Jean there.¡±

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    The Marquise listened patiently, while Vero unraveled the entire thread of her investigation and the threat of the maleficar. At last, exhausted, Vero finished her story.

    She let herself sink down into the water, until only her head remained above the surface.

    The Marquise took some time to absorb everything Vero had told her before speaking again. ¡°I¡¯ll do everything I can to help you, of course. I feel I owe it to that poor serving girl. And you, Vero, how are you holding up under this burden?¡±

    ¡°As well as I can manage.¡±

    ¡°You loved Antoinette very much, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Vero nodded.

    The Marquise took her hand. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, dear heart.¡±

    ¡°I may be leaving soon. As soon as the poisoner is caught, I¡¯ll decide. Decide if I go, or if I stay.¡± Floating in the water, Vero felt calmer and more focused than she had since coming to the castle.

    ¡°I- didn¡¯t know you were considering departing.¡±

    ¡°I made up my mind to go. And then to stay. And now I have no notion of what I should do.¡±

    ¡°Why do you wish to leave?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t belong here.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± The Marquise lifted herself up and rested her arms on the edge of the pool. ¡°I confess, when I first heard your accent¡­ I wondered why Jean was so taken with a farm girl that he appeared to have pulled out of a barn, put in a dress, and draped in emeralds. I¡¯ve since come to believe there¡¯s much more to you than that. There are rumors you¡¯re a witch, but you¡¯re not the first woman in an envied position to be accused of such. Anyone with any sense knows the accusations are spurious. The rumor mill will grow bored with you soon, they always do.¡±

    ¡°I suspect everyone will grow bored with me soon. I¡¯d rather leave by my own choice than be thrown out.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t pretend I¡¯ve never seen Jean grow bored with one of his mistresses, but he always treated them very generously. And I cannot recall ever seeing one ¡®thrown out¡¯ as you say.¡±

    ¡°I still dread the prospect.¡±

    ¡°Listen, the way Jean looks at you is different than I¡¯ve seen look at any other woman. Except one. And he certainly never countenanced throwing her out.¡± The Marquise pulled Vero into a soft embrace. ¡°And even if he was fool enough to try, I would simply take you in as one of my ladies in waiting¡­ and that would be the end of it.¡± The Marquise began to massage her back. ¡°May I ask you a question, Vero? It¡¯s rather direct¡­¡±

    ¡°I prefer direct questions, my Lady.¡±

    ¡°I know my husband well, and I know he loves you. But I realize I¡¯ve never asked: Do you love him?¡±

    Vero wanted to answer at once, but she thought about it very carefully. ¡°Yes, I do. If I didn¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t think I would have any decision to make at all, if I didn¡¯t love him. I suppose it¡¯s rather arrogant of me, but I¡¯m afraid to leave¡­ because I fear that I may hurt him.¡±

    The Marquise held Vero close, and kissed her cheeks. She whispered into Vero¡¯s ear in a way that reminded her very much of Mama. ¡°My advice is this: Do what feels true to you, and don¡¯t fear for Jean. What I see- is that he loves you, because he admires you. Stay for yourself, or not at all. If you cage yourself to protect him, he won¡¯t thank you for it.¡±

    When they left the bath Vero¡¯s fingers and toes were wrinkled from the water. The handmaids were waiting in the dressing room and helped them back into their clothes. Some of the maids kept giving her curious smiles. Vero realized that she still wore some of the Marquise¡¯s lip paint on her face from the kisses they shared.

    She wiped it off.

    Outside the dressing room, they found Mattias was still waiting where she left him.

    He bowed to the Marquise as she passed with her entourage, then turned to Vero. ¡°Have you identified the blackguard yet?¡±

    Vero nodded.

    He appeared somewhat astonished. ¡°Who?¡±

    Vero narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°We know it¡¯s you. You¡¯ve been very sly to shadow the investigation so closely as you have, but no longer.¡±

    Mattias looked confused and shook his head. ¡°No? No! My lady, whatever lies were told to you, I swear-¡±

    Vero tried to hold her face as long as possible, but could not manage even a few moments before bursting into laughter. The Marquise and her maids restrained themselves to polite smiles, but Vero felt so completely hysterical she could only speak through laughing gasps.

    ¡°I¡¯m- I¡¯m sorry Mattias. I do- I do think I know who is responsible- it will take some days- to know for sure. I feel very silly- Perhaps I¡¯m just relieved my part in this is over¡­¡±

    The Marquise and her maids vanished like phantoms, while Vero was still recovering herself. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the cuff of her dress.

    She was no longer sure if she was laughing or crying.

    ¡°Godsdamnit! Scared me to death! And right in front of the lord¡¯s wife-!¡± Mattias was momentarily outraged before he remembered himself. ¡°That¡¯s not a very charitable thing to say, my Lady. I apologize.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t be. I¡¯m the one who takes himself too seriously.¡± He appeared genuinely embarrassed.

    ¡°There¡¯s just no reason to think you¡¯re the maleficar. It isn¡¯t even possible. I only thought it a jest. It wasn¡¯t my intention to try and create a scandal. I haven¡¯t any courtly manners.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s forgotten, my Lady.¡±

    ¡°After- you¡¯re my closest friend here¡­ besides Jean. And that¡¯s different. It troubles me to have you angry with me. I don¡¯t have anyone else anymore.¡±

    ¡°I swear to you, I¡¯m not angry.¡± He held her and helped to wipe away her tears. ¡°I- lost¡­ I lost a brother. During the Battle of the Whitewood. I know it¡¯s not¡­ easy¡­ Vero.¡± The sheriff cleared his throat and seemed at a loss for words.

    Vero realized she was embarrassing them both.

    ¡°Thank-you, Mattie. You have been a tremendous help to me.¡±

    ¡°Have I? I wasn¡¯t aware of it.¡±

    Vero laughed again, but more controllably. ¡°You certainly have. Now, I¡¯m going to find Jean and explain all this to him.¡±

    ¡°Allow me to escort you to his chambers.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to be alone to think for a moment before I see him. But thank-you again, for your assistance. For your companionship.¡±

    ¡°As you wish.¡± He gave her a bow, and watched as she departed alone.

 38. Among the Better Sort Chapter 9

    Vero was several steps away and down another hallway, when a servant emerged from a side closet. He was rushing towards her holding an armful of wood.

    She presumed he was on his way down to the furnaces and paid him no special attention. She stood aside to let him pass, and dimly recollected that he was going the wrong way. The stairway down to the lower level was ahead of her, not behind her.

    The moment after she turned away from him, she heard the thud of the logs falling to the floor.

    In an instant, Vero threw herself forward. She spun to face the stranger and prayed that her feet would not catch the hem of her dress.

    The man held a dagger, but seemed momentarily perplexed that she had moved beyond the reach of his sweep. In his moment of indecision, Vero grabbled as much of her dress as she could with her left hand to free her feet.

    Then she began to scream as loudly as her lungs were able. ¡°Alarum! Mattias! Help!¡±

    The assassin lunged, but Vero evaded his thrust and fell further back. Without weapons, and in the cramped space of the hallway, she could not challenge him directly. Dressed as she was, she would not be able to outrun him in a sprint either.

    She started a slow evasive retreat to give herself as much time as possible, and continued to call for help. ¡°Assassin! Guards! Mattias! Come quickly!¡±

    The dagger arched out at her again and again, although it never quite reached her. The blade glistened with an oily coating. Vero was certain she did not want to experience whatever its effects were firsthand.

    At last, Mattias rounded the corner with his sword in his hand. The knight appraised the situation in a second, then charged with a roar. The assassin spun to face him and Vero seized the opportunity. She danced forward and grabbed the arm which held the dagger, just above the wrist.

    She wrapped it up in the fabric of her dress and held it extended outwards, away from her. ¡°The blade is coated in poison!¡±

    Mattie understood her warning and carefully ended his charge with a well-placed blow to the would-be killer¡¯s immobilized arm. The man tried to pull away in instinct, but Vero made sure his arm was held taut to meet the slicing edge of Mattias¡¯ blade. A single slash was enough to sever the exposed limb just below the elbow.

    The assassin fell to the ground with a scream. After a moment, he regained enough of his senses to lunge for the fallen dagger with his one remaining hand.

    Vero kicked the weapon out of his reach. Mattie brought down his knee in the center of the man¡¯s back, pinning him down.

    Saul now approached them carefully to see what all the shouting was about, and Mattie sent him to go find Jean. Another guard arrived and they dragged the assassin down to the dungeons.

    Vero carefully picked up the killer¡¯s weapon. She took it down to Aeolus¡¯ laboratory.

    After a few hours of study, she went to the dungeons. For convenience, the dark and somber set of stone cells were located immediately adjacent to the laboratory. Jean, Mattie, and Ser Frederic were already present and conducting their interrogation of the assassin.

    ¡°In my own house.¡± Jean¡¯s voice was quiet, but a moment later he lashed out and pummeled the assassin with his gauntleted fist.

    He was trembling with rage by the time he was finished, but his voice was still tightly controlled. ¡°Tell me who sent you.¡±

    The assassin spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground, but did not otherwise respond. He looked like he experienced at least one beating already, probably several. She noticed that Mattie was favoring bruised knuckles. The spymaster appeared to have abstained.

    This killer murdered someone she loved very much. He tried to do the same to her. Vero felt no sympathy for his predicament.

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    However ¨C as satisfying as it might be to watch ¨C she had better things to do than wait in the filthy dungeon, while the men applied the repeated beatings it would take to break their prisoner¡¯s will.

    She answered on his behalf. ¡°The Guild sent him. He¡¯s no slayer. And besides our order, only the worshipers of Affliction know how to create a contact poison like this.¡±

    She placed the assassin¡¯s knife on the table nearby. The poison dried soon after the attack, but not before she and Aeolus had identified it. A rare herbal oil mixture, invariably lethal unless magically slowed within a minute of exposure. Even then, the recovery would involve a lengthy course of treatment, and survival was not a given.

    ¡°Why would the Poisoner¡¯s Guild try and kill you?¡± Mattie asked.

    ¡°They work for pay,¡± Vero answered simply. ¡°We suspected that the culprit we hunted hired an agent to work on their behalf. Here is your hireling. We can bring in the serving boy who brought the sweetbread to identify him.¡±

    The assassin gave Vero a withering look, but said nothing.

    Ser Frederic leaned forwards to examine the assassin¡¯s knife closely, but was careful not to touch it. ¡°You¡¯re familiar with the Guild, my Lady?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re despicable, they should all be hanged. My former master had some dealings with them ¨C despite my better judgement ¨C and we both came to regret it. Put plainly, I despise them.¡±

    ¡°If the poisoner is just a mercenary, then we still haven¡¯t caught the one responsible.¡± Jean struck the assassin again. ¡°Who hired you?¡±

    Vero let him have one more swing before interrupting once again. ¡°I have a theory as to who hired him, but your wife should be able to confirm if I¡¯m correct or not soon. I expect this one will eventually crack as well, if enough pressure is applied in the right place. Perhaps I should explain the rest to you in private.¡±

    Jean nodded, then turned to Mattie and Ser Frederic. ¡°Continue the interrogation. Make use of Aeolus if you have need for spells. I want this to have priority over his other affairs. I¡¯ll speak to you again tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I will escort the Lady Veronique to her chamber.¡±

    The knights nodded their approval, and then consulted with each other about how to proceed.

    Jean took Vero by the arm and led them away.

    Despite what he had said, she noticed that he was leading her towards his own bedchamber. She did not voice any complaints. After everything that had happened, the last thing she wanted to do was sleep alone.

    Not in that room.

    In Jean¡¯s bedchamber she explained everything she had done. When she was finished, he said that he approved and they lay down together.

    Although she felt very tired, Vero was also sure she would not sleep for some time. She closed her eyes and just tried not to think about anything.

    A finger began to trace lines along her back, along her arms. ¡°Where did you get these?¡±

    The scars.

    Vero did not reply.

    ¡°Are you sleeping, my love?¡±

    ¡°No- I¡­ different places¡­¡±

    Jean put an arm around her and held her close to him. ¡°I have a watch posted at the door. You¡¯re safe here.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that. They embarrass me- the scars. May we speak of something else?¡±

    ¡°Here.¡±

    He guided her hand to the top of his unpierced ear which he kept beneath his hair; it was cauliflowered. ¡°This happened when I was sixteen, and too fond of competing in melees.¡±

    He took her lower, to a raised scar along his right ribs. ¡°A jousting injury three years later.¡±

    He kissed her neck. ¡°The smallest finger on my left hand doesn¡¯t bend very well anymore after I broke it on this last campaign.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡±

    ¡°We all have scars, Vero.¡±

    ¡°The Marquise doesn¡¯t, I¡¯ve seen every inch of her.¡±

    ¡°No, you¡¯re right. She doesn¡¯t.¡± Jean sat up. ¡°I never met her once before our wedding, but I fell in love with her the moment I laid eyes on her. I was barely a man at that point you must remember, so I was very impressionable. She never returned the emotion, and love can¡¯t exist in a vacuum. Not for long, at least. It must transform into either friendship, or resentment; I chose the first.¡±

    ¡°Did you fall in love with me the moment we met?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He lay back down very matter-of-factly.

    Vero was not sure what she had expected him to say, but it was not that. She began to laugh and he laughed with her.

    ¡°You must remember, I was several years older when we met, and not quite so impressionable by that time. I thought you were a very silly, but also very brave girl. And maybe an exotic sort of dalliance to enjoy while I was abroad. When my men fished you out of the swamp, every priest I queried said that infection had set in. All of them claimed it was hopeless, and you would die soon. Any further ministration was pointless, as it would only delay the inevitable. But when I sat by your bed and watched you¡­ I can¡¯t explain it. I¡¯m a cynic by nature, I¡¯ve never believed that the gods would wish to bother themselves intervening in the petty little affairs of mortals. But I held a kind of certainty in my heart that I¡¯ve never felt the like of before. I never doubted that you would survive and return to me. I bribed the doctors to stay with huge sums of money, and motivated them with vile threats if I believed they were slack. The moment you first opened your eyes. When I held your hand. That was the moment I fell in love with you.¡±

    Vero had stopped laughing. ¡°I fell in love the very first moment I saw you.¡±

    They were both silent and watched one another for a time.

    Then he began to laugh again. ¡°I could tell.¡±

    She quickly silenced him with a kiss.

 39. Among the Better Sort Chapter 10

    It took several days for the Marquise to receive a reply from her sister. Vero and Jean went back to the lodge where they had spent their happiest hours as they waited.

    There was no telling how long they might have left together, so Vero was determined not to let a moment go to waste. They never left each other¡¯s side from the moment they had arrived. Eventually, the Queen¡¯s letter reached them, and they returned to the city for the final act of Vero¡¯s plan.

    Vero followed Jean, Mattie, and half a dozen of their knights into the apartment. The Earl of Kaer Longus stood up beside his bed and appeared distinctly unimpressed. The serving girl he was with cried out, threw a blanket over herself, and tried to flee the room. Vero directed one of the knights to grab her for later interrogation. The Guild did not hesitate to use prostitutes as their agents.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you would all like to wait outside a moment while I dress?¡± The Earl looked nonplussed.

    ¡°No.¡± Jean answered for them as a group.

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s no need to stand there looking fierce. Sit down, my Lord.¡± The Earl made himself comfortable on the bed the girl had just vacated.

    ¡°You¡¯re very glib, Conrad.¡±

    ¡°I presume you¡¯re here to see my royal pardon in person. You only needed to send a servant to fetch me and I would have brought it to you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a coward, a kinslayer, an assassin- and you attempted to kill my mistress. If you have reason why I shouldn¡¯t hang you, you would do better to be quicker about revealing it.¡±

    The Earl smiled and held up a finger. ¡°I¡¯m noble born. You can try and behead me if you like, but you can¡¯t hang me.¡±

    ¡°Poison is a coward¡¯s weapon, and cowards die in disgrace.¡±

    The Earl had clearly been expecting this interview, but despite his earlier bravado, it did not seem to be proceeding as he intended.

    He was beginning to look unnerved. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about. And I believe you lack the whole story. There will be no trial. No one would believe any testimony from a witch communing with a fell spirit anyway, and that¡¯s all you¡¯ve got. You¡¯re within your rights to deny me any further hospitality. But eventually I will walk free from this estate, I guarantee it. I am a royal agent; my master will not allow any scandal regarding my sister to become public. I have his personal guarantee on that. I am but one link in a mighty chain. One that reaches right to the top.¡±

    ¡°The weak link as it happens.¡± Jean made a motion and his men confiscated the Earl¡¯s sword, which lay with his discarded clothes. Another opened his chest and took the king¡¯s golden seal from inside.

    The Earl attempted to stop them from leaving with the seal, but Jean struck him across the face and pushed him back onto the bed.

    The Earl looked utterly astounded that someone had hit him. ¡°You have no right to treat me in this manner!¡±

    The Marquise warmly pressed Vero¡¯s hand, before slipping into the room and joining her husband. ¡°I¡¯ve spoken to my sister, and she was shocked to hear about the atrocious and evil way you dealt with your own family. She spoke with her husband who was equally disturbed. Your pardon has been revoked, and we have orders to return your royal seal to its master. Further, we have a royal imperative to begin a swift investigation into the unfortunate matter of your sister¡¯s demise. It seems my husband already has some reliable intelligence as to who is responsible, so I expect the trial will be very swift indeed.¡±

    ¡°Lies! All lies! He promised me-¡±

    The Marquise interrupted him softly, but the Earl was silent at once to listen. ¡°Your promises were contingent on you not being caught. Now that we have the confession of your assassin ¨C and the Guild records of your gold payment to them ¨C you¡¯ve become something of an embarrassment as a royal agent. And not, it seems, one the king wishes to defend before an Assembly of Notables.¡±

    ¡°The poisoner has already died of sepsis, so your execution for your sister¡¯s murder will make calling such an assembly regarding your other crimes impossible.¡± Up to this point, Jean had spoken in his natural style ¨C albeit more belligerent than usual ¨C but this statement sounded somehow rehearsed to Vero. ¡°My sister-in-law, and her royal husband, have agreed that this was the best way for all of us to resolve the matter.¡±

    The Earl was too frightened by his circumstances to notice. He became pale and did not say anything else. Eventually he turned to face the corner.

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    After seeing the Earl¡¯s color change, Jean gave a bitterly ironic laugh. ¡°It seems we¡¯ve both learned how mistaken we were to give the King our confidence. Fortunately, my mistake was not fatal. My only regret is that you killed your sister with your own hands, so it seems you will be escaping the noose by the headsman¡¯s axe. Regardless, I think the justice will still bring the poor restless soul some peace at last.¡±

    To Vero, it sounded as though Jean had returned to speaking extemporaneously once again.

    Jean and Vero rode out together. Spring seemed to have finally arrived, and bright flower buds everywhere were on the brink of opening at last. They ate a fine meal of salted meats, fresh apples, and assortments of breads, cheeses, and wines in a sunlit glen. Then they laid out on the grass together afterwards.

    ¡°You will be safe, won¡¯t you?¡±

    Jean laughed. ¡°I should be asking you that question.¡±

    ¡°His majesty won¡¯t forget this. Next time he may try and kill you more directly.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he will. He only agreed to this stalemate because he believed it would leave us on the same ground we began on. I suppose that was the reason for his use of such a disposable puppet. Once the plan unraveled, he simply revoked the pardon and let the bastard lose his head. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s his intention to simply try again in the future. Except-¡±

    ¡°Except?¡±

    Jean kissed her. ¡°Except that now we know exactly what that royal bastard is capable of. My mother was right to mistrust my association with Eamon. He¡¯s the only one who could have arranged messages, and that pardon, to be slipped past my watch on Conrad. Although she couldn¡¯t have been more wrong about you.¡±

    He kissed her again. ¡°And now we also know Ser Renaud¡¯s family is not to be trusted, thanks to you. So that breach in our wall is sealed. Although the chancellor has felt some¡­ loss- at the severing.¡± Jean must have realized that the conversation started to move in an unfavorable direction, and he kissed her once more. ¡°And¡­ it¡¯s just possible- that perhaps reports of the assassin¡¯s death from sepsis may have been exaggerated.¡±

    ¡°The body you removed from the dungeons?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Wrapped tightly, of course. A body smells terribly when death comes by infection, as you well know.¡±

    He was very obviously pleased with the ingenuity of the scheme, and Vero found the feeling contagious. Although she was not sure if it was right or wrong to do so.

    ¡°A clever sort of subterfuge, I suppose,¡± she replied, at last.

    ¡°You, Freddie, and myself are the only ones who know the truth. Not even the Marie ¨C or her father ¨C knows about this particular trump card. You won¡¯t tell anyone, I hope.¡±

    ¡°You can trust in my discretion.¡±

    Vero was not sure how to feel.

    It was the assassin who had brewed the poison which had killed Antoinette. Who was truly responsible for the poor girl¡¯s death? The lad who brought the poison was only an unknowing pawn, she held him no malice. The assassin sent the boy on his deadly mission, but only in the employ of the vile earl. Did the Earl¡¯s beheading bring justice? Was he ultimately responsible for her death?

    Or was it you?

    The Earl was dead. The assassin was a captive, and he would be used to vex the one who had truly put the whole plot into motion to begin with.

    Perhaps, if the gods were just, someday Vero would find herself in private with his majesty. If she did, then his death would not be a political act against a tyrant.

    Merely an act of personal vengeance.

    She and Jean made love together one last time. When they were finished, Vero redressed. She wore pants and a tunic, and her breasts were bound tight to her chest by a length of silk fabric.

    She was also traveling light. She had considered bundling up all her gowns and jewels to sell at the first city she reached. In the end, she decided to leave it all behind.

    Jean promised that he would keep them all for her.

    She originally thought that she would be walking, but Jean insisted that she must keep Papillon. Vero had already grown so close to her, and she was a very sweet creature. So, after some debate, Vero decided to accept.

    Besides the mount, she kept the armor and some other equipment Jean had given to her from his stores. That much was honorable payment for the exorcism of the spirit haunting Kaer Longus.

    Mostly, she was leaving as she had arrived. Perhaps a little heavier, but lean days on the road would soon take care of that.

    ¡°I can¡¯t change your mind?¡±

    Vero shook her head.

    ¡°You¡¯re always welcome to return. You¡¯ll always have a home here.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t the place for me.¡±

    ¡°It can be.¡±

    Vero stood up and approached her horse. She did not answer.

    ¡°I love you, Vero.¡±

    ¡°You live in a nest of vipers. Your own king is so terrified of you fomenting rebellion against him, that he agitates among your own vassals to create all the same lawlessness from the civil war all over again. Only he hopes this time it will be restricted to just one province and stay there. It¡¯s unfortunate that wars have a way of creeping beyond the boundaries where we wished them stop at the beginning of the endeavor. An honest man¡¯s family took advantage of his trust to advance their own interests with the crown. Friends are hired to spy on their companions. And marriages have less passion than a banking transaction. I¡¯m not brave enough to live that way; I can¡¯t understand those kinds of enemies. I¡¯m made to hunt a different kind of monster. And I need to find one soon, because I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to feel clean again until I¡¯ve washed my sins in blood.¡±

    Her hands were shaking and her legs felt weak, and when Vero felt his arms reach around her, she nearly fell into his embrace. Jean kissed her.

    She returned the kiss, but only for a moment before she broke away. ¡°Good-bye, my love.¡±

    ¡°Good-bye, Veronique.¡± She got back on her horse, and Jean watched her go. ¡°I won¡¯t forget you. Whenever you¡¯re ready to come home, I¡¯ll be waiting for you.¡±

    Vero could not help but laugh. ¡°The first passing fair maiden that crosses your path¡­ and you won¡¯t remember my name.¡±

    ¡°We shall see... I-¡± He might have said more, but Vero was no longer there to hear it.

 40. An Unequal Share Part V

    The Present

    Vero woke without feeling much refreshed the next morning.

    The whole night she was plagued by ill-remembered anxious dreams. When it was over she found that she had slept in late, but it hardly mattered given how late the sun rose during the northern winter.

    After getting out of bed, she washed her face with cold water to banish her grogginess and went to work at once. Rather than try to steal from the library herself, she decided she would go to the students¡¯ quarter nearby, and see what she could learn in the taverns and brothels that operated there.

    She was able to join in with the noon crowds, but still found it difficult going. The students seemed particularly drunken and dissolute, even by the standards of their kind. None of them could speak old Imperial, or any southern dialect she knew.

    Vero was beginning to despair, when she had a chance encounter with Ramiro.

    ¡°Virgil! Is it possible your features have grown even more fair since last we met!? Or am I just more drunk!?¡± He spoke very loudly, and hovered just above a state she would describe as a stupor.

    Vero seated herself on the bench beside him. ¡°If you must say these things, I wish you at least wouldn¡¯t shout them across the room.¡±

    ¡°What does it matter? No one here speaks a civilized tongue anyway!¡± He gestured to the room, which took no notice of him.

    ¡°I¡¯ve noticed.¡±

    ¡°Why so grim? You¡¯re always so grim! You¡¯re looking for someone to help you learn more about that friar¡¯s book, I expect. You won¡¯t get any help from this lot.¡±

    Vero¡¯s hand lashed out like a cobra, and Ramiro¡¯s face began to purple as her fingers pressed into his neck. ¡°What do you know about Friar Theobald?¡±

    Ramiro looked like he wanted to call for help, but could not find the air. Vero kept their bodies pulled close together, and in the dark and crowded tavern, none of the drunken students noticed his predicament.

    ¡°Nothing. I swear. Please.¡± Ramiro managed between desperate wheezing breaths. ¡°I only read a few pages. Snatched the name.¡±

    ¡°How did you get it, to read it?¡±

    She loosened her grip by a fraction to allow him enough breath to respond. ¡°Snuck it out of your bag¡­ when I first looked through your things¡­ I was only curious- and I put it right back.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a thief.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t act so surprised¡­ I already told you I was. I don¡¯t pretend that I¡¯ve never stolen to survive- but I¡¯ve never stolen anything from a friend¡­ at least not anything I haven¡¯t given back right away- once I didn¡¯t need it anymore¡­ I would never betray you, dear one¡­ I swear.¡±

    ¡°You swear often.¡±

    ¡°I know. I take oaths very lightly¡­ because of what an inveterate liar I am¡­ but I only use my duplicity for good¡­ and never out of malice or evil intentions. I promise you¡­ please¡­ my friend.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll say anything that benefits you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t deny it. I can¡¯t seem to stop talking when I¡¯m frightened¡­ but I would never do anything to harm my savior. If you don¡¯t believe me¡­ let me give you just the lightest kiss¡­ you¡¯ll sense my sincerity¡­¡±

    He was certainly untrustworthy, but all Vero¡¯s instincts told her that Ramiro¡¯s shock was genuine. If he was working for a vampyre, he would not have arranged this meeting without a plan. If he was scheming, she believed she would see it in his features.

    How good of an actor was he?

    Vero let go. Ramiro fell back onto his seat and gasped for breath.

    ¡°Get out of here, Ramiro. If I see you again, I¡¯ll kill you.¡±

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    ¡°Of course¡­ I¡¯ll leave if that¡¯s what you wish, my friend. Only if I do so¡­ I won¡¯t be able to take you to the scholar who can tell you more¡­ about your errant friar.¡±

    The calculations in Vero¡¯s mind started over again. ¡°You just happen to be friends with an academic in a city you¡¯ve never been to before?¡±

    Ramiro took half a minute of wheezing breaths to regain enough of his air to reply. ¡°Universities and cathedral schools form a nation unto themselves. Any clerk is just as at home in the student quarter of Whitegate, as he would be at the Lodge of Illusionists. Assuming the Lodge actually existed.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re a student now?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve always been a student. Well, not always- obviously... I was just a boy during my childhood, the same as every other man. Well¡­ not certain men, I suppose.¡± He smiled as though he thought he was very clever. ¡°But I was always a student from the time I first made your acquaintance, at least.¡±

    Vero was incredulous, but she was forced to admit to herself that she had no better leads. ¡°Very well, take me to this scholar.¡±

    ¡°At once?¡±

    ¡°I want to get this over with and return south again as soon as possible.¡±

    ¡°You have a petite amour waiting for you, I take it?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re stalling for some reason. Spit it out, or I¡¯ll drag you outside and beat it from you.¡±

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t exactly know a scholar who can tell us more about your text right at this very moment. It¡¯s only just that I possess the skills and knowledge to find one. If you give me some time that is¡­¡±

    Ramiro brought them to a cramped little building with a calligraphy shop on the first floor. It was only early evening, but it was already approaching dark.

    Vero attributed her sense of anxiety and fatigue to the short hours of daylight.

    Ramiro knocked on the door, after a few moments, an oil lantern came on in the store. A few moments after that, the door was opened by a pale slip of a girl in an equally pale white shift.

    Ramiro gave her what he probably thought was his most winning smile. ¡°Hello my darling, my name is Ramiro. I¡¯m here to see your uncle.¡±

    The girl nodded and wordlessly motioned them inside. Despite what Ramiro had said, Vero strongly doubted that she was really the maester¡¯s niece. The shop was crowded with shelves of inks and parchment, but looked to be in good order. The girl took them to a creaky set of stairs in the back.

    The second floor was equally cramped, but richly decorated. Thick carpets and tapestries kept the heat in, and Vero found it a welcome change from the endless bone chilling cold which followed her every moment she spent this far north outside of a hot bath. She supposed the scribing business must be very good, despite his store¡¯s humble exterior.

    A fire place burned away in the corner next to a tiny cot, which was barely large enough to admit a single person of more than moderate size. The scholar they had come to meet was lying in the bed, and ensconced under so many blankets that Vero wondered how he could still breathe. He looked very old at first, but on further examination he might have just been very sickly. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles, his nose was red and puffy, and his breaths came through wheezing gasps.

    ¡°Greetings maester.¡± Ramiro gave a flourishing bow. ¡°I am Ramiro, who contacted you through your student Argyll. And this is Virgil the slayer, who is the owner of the tome in question. He seeks to reclaim certain lost artifacts belonging to his order.¡±

    Vero acknowledged the weakly academic with a slight nod of the head.

    The maester¡¯s eyes grew wide when he looked at her. He held out a trembling hand to his mistress, who put down the lantern on a table and helped him up into a sitting position. She had to remain there holding him up, as he did not appear to have the strength to keep himself upright alone.

    He looked at Vero very keenly, but at once the gravitas of the moment was lost when he spoke in a voice totally muffled by congestion. ¡°A slayer, yes! I saw you in a waking dream given to me by the Queen of Heaven, while I lay in a delirium with this damned fever. I saw fate whirling around you like a tempest. Tell me my son, were you born beneath a bleeding moon?¡±

    Vero could hardly have put less stock in the feverish delusions of an old man. Even so, the prescience of the question left her feeling troubled.

    She decided to answer honestly. ¡°Yes, I was born at midnight under a bleeding moon.¡±

    The maester became even more excited and seemed on the verge of trying to rise to his feet, but the girl held his arm in place to gently dissuade him. ¡°At midnight as well? Gods be praised. It¡¯s well enough known that girls born under a bleeding moon are greatly sought after by the priestesses of Luna to be taken as novices, but even boys have been proven to show great capacity for divination, as well as other arts arcane. I myself was born on the evening of a bleeding moon. A slayer¡­? I wouldn¡¯t call your order¡¯s practices scholarly¡­ but they are definitely arcane in nature, so you see how you show your proclivity. Was it an easy birth? Do you know?¡±

    ¡°I was the younger of a pair of twins. My mother told me that her labor with my brother was the hardest she¡¯d ever had. It lasted all day and she feared that she would die many times. But once he was released from her womb the pain subsided completely, and I was born soon after. Although I didn¡¯t breathe, and I was so still, they thought I was dead. Until mother struck my back and I cried out.¡±

    ¡°Gods be praised,¡± the maester repeated it again and again. ¡°Gods be praised.¡± He looked at her with rapt attention until he seemed to come back to his senses. ¡°Bring me the book, I must begin at once. No fee. The goddess has sent you to me, so it would be greatly impious for me to delay you. And bless you, Ser Ramiro, for bringing this holy mission to me. It¡¯s certain that Luna will grant you good fortune for your service.¡±

    Ramiro ¨C who had been left bewildered by everything which had transpired ¨C blinked once, and then a second time, before responding. ¡°Well, I certainly hope so. That would make for quite a nice change, actually.¡±

 41. The Little Death Chapter 1

    A Few Months Ago

    Vero finally had enough money to leave the city of Whitegate, and to her mind, the moment could not have come soon enough. She arrived in the Most Serene Republic hoping that a city of its size and wealth would give her ample opportunity to gain employment in her chosen profession. That had not been the case.

    Misadventure in the Ruby Mountains had left her half-starved, and without her coin purse. She was forced to give her horse to a pawnbroker when she could not afford feed her. The code of Vero¡¯s order forbade her from hunting bounties or hiring her sword as a mercenary. So, she spent the past two seasons selling cures as a cunning woman, and working at a laundry.

    Thrice she had taken work as a midwife.

    There were less dignified ways to earn money, but she was glad to have seen the last of them for the time being.

    The night wind blew cold and she found it very refreshing. Vero closed her eyes and felt the sea breeze pass straight through her thin ¨C actually, threadbare ¨C summer dress. Her weak leg ached from walking, but worse than that was the constant noise. And then worse still was the stench of fish which hung over the city like an ever-present miasma that refused to dissipate.

    Every day in the city had been miserable, but this day had been even more miserable than most.

    All those problems were inconsequential to her now, however. Vero hated having to earn silver by washing well-stained bed clothes, but she finally had enough money to redeem her horse from the pawnbroker. Now she could leave at last.

    Leave towards where? She did not yet know. No destination could be worse than where she currently resided, so it did not matter.

    She left her troubles behind her, and walked home with bonny gait in her step.

    Home in Whitegate was a cramped little room on the top floor of a large building in the brothel district, near the docks. She shared the abode with a prostitute named Theodora, a very bright-eyed young woman. Vero often worried about her being as na?ve as she was, given her profession, but she also found the trait almost irresistibly charming.

    The room was cheap, even by the standards of single room hovels. According to Dora, the rent was due to its elevation. It had been very pleasant during the winter. In summer the city was almost unbearably hot at any elevation, but Vero discovered that the higher one¡¯s room, the farther one was forced the stretch the definition of ¡®almost.¡¯

    Vero entered her building, and climbed up the long and creaking staircase which led all the way to her floor. She walked down the hallway until she found her room. The neighbors¡¯ doors were all open to try and allow some movement of air. The other renters were all women who worked in the district, so they kept very little privacy from one another. A small group of their children played in the halls and on the staircase. It was too hot to even move during the day, so they slept and came out for their games at night.

    Vero found Dora preparing a meal of White Sea bass and garum. Garum was itself a sauce made from fermented fish, so one may question the reason in serving it over more fish.

    Dora did not. Nor would any other citizen of the Republic, so she was not without company. Vero speculated that it was probably one of the reasons for the city¡¯s distinctive odor.

    She closed the door behind her. It made the heat worse, but she was too modest to undress without some privacy from the city at least, if not from Dora.

    Dora was raven haired and blue eyed. She was beautiful and innocent looking in a way her customers, or perhaps simply Vero herself, found very attractive.

    In many ways they were a study in contrasts. Dora was shorter than the average for a woman by nearly the same measure that Vero was taller. Dora¡¯s skin was darker than Vero¡¯s, but she rouged it to lighten the color, while Vero¡¯s preference for the outdoors made her naturally fair skin look ruddy. Dora¡¯s body was curved and feminine in all the ways Vero¡¯s was not, and sometimes Vero even found herself envying Dora for it- but in all she was very fond of the girl.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re home early; I haven¡¯t finished with supper yet.¡±

    Dora was stripped to the waist and covered in sweat, frying the fish over a small brazier stove beside the only window. The cooking only made the room even warmer. She was already such a mousey little thing, and seeing her flushed red and puffing from the heat, Vero could hardly resist kissing her cheeks.

    Dora was the daughter of a prostitute who had worked in Kitty¡¯s Theater, one of the local brothels. She was adopted by the proprietor, the eponymous Kitty, after her birth mother was gone. The Madame gave her room and board, and provided for her education, even teaching her to read and write. Where her first mother had gone, Dora never said, and Vero had never asked.

    According to Dora, when she was a child and still too young to work on the main side of the brothel¡¯s business, she had worked in the kitchen and developed a talent for cooking. All the time they lived together, Dora always insisted on cooking meals every night for them both. Vero was very pleased to leave her the task, although she was becoming weary of garum.

    Dora eventually squirmed free of Vero¡¯s grasp. ¡°Well, I see you¡¯re feeling very cheerful this evening.¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± Vero sat down on the patch of straw which served as the room¡¯s bed, and let out a long sigh of relief. ¡°I¡¯m finished.¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°You have enough money to leave?¡±

    Vero nodded. She already told Dora of her intention to move on as soon as she collected the finances weeks previous. Dora¡¯s face grew into a wide smile and she rushed forward to belatedly returned the embrace- after stopping short once to douse the stove. Vero laughed and Dora joined her, but after a few moments Vero felt something wet on her shoulder.

    Dora turned away and tried to hide her face. Vero took her by the chin and turned her head, and there were tears she had not expected to see. The girl restored her wide smile with effort and wiped away the tears.

    ¡°I¡¯m only crying- because I¡¯m so happy for you, Vero.¡± She managed through sniffs.

    ¡°I¡¯ll miss you as well.¡±

    Vero took Dora in her arms and rocked her back and forth. She ran her hands through Dora¡¯s hair and whispered soothing words in her ear.

    After a few minutes of comforting, Dora regained herself enough to speak without her voice breaking. ¡°Look at me crying when we should be celebrating.¡± Dora walked over to the small trunk which contained all her worldly goods. ¡°I have some wine; it was given to me as a gift by a nobleman who fell in love with me.¡±

    ¡°You have an aristocratic lover I don¡¯t know about?¡±

    ¡°He wanted me to move into his palazzo and make me his mistress, but I couldn¡¯t bear to move to Castle Hill and leave all my friends here.¡±

    ¡°Of course not.¡±

    Dora found her wine and Vero had already set out wooden goblets onto the table. Dora poured, and Vero realized she felt a reluctance to leave that she had not expected. Dora was her first real friend for a very long time.

    Since you let Antoinette die.

    And years later the memory still pained her. Her only companion since then had been her horse Papillion. The animal was her only constant of any kind since she left Jean. She never allowed herself to remain in one place long enough to form a connection to anyone else.

    The thought left her feeling lonely.

    Vero and Dora sat, ate, and enjoyed a first glass of wine, and then a second, and then began preparing for their thirds. Unfortunately, they found there was no longer enough left in the wineskin to accommodate them both. They poured the remainder into a single cup, and sat close to one another to share it between them.

    Dora pestered Vero with questions about all the places she could go next. ¡°Lusitan?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful prosperous country, but I¡¯ve only just come back across the mountains from there, so I think not.¡±

    ¡°The Imperium?¡±

    ¡°Only if I have no choice.¡±

    ¡°One of the Oasis Cities?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve only just bought my horse back- or I soon will- this heat is making my head spin¡­¡±

    Dora finished the wine and fetched them some water, while Vero lay down on the straw. The water was lukewarm, but still very welcome. Dora lay down next to her.

    ¡°¡­What was I saying? Ah- I don¡¯t intend to hire a ship.¡±

    ¡°One of the free cities, in the borderlands?¡± Dora asked.

    ¡°Probably.¡±

    ¡°How dull, even I¡¯ve visited some of them before. The near ones I mean. Let us presume you shall go elsewhere. What about the Elf-Steppe?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Velois? You were born there, isn¡¯t that right?¡±

    Vero yawned; the wine felt very strong. ¡°Perhaps. My brother and sister still live there, I believe. Though I have no wish to see them. I also left my own noble lover there, a long time ago.¡±

    ¡°Really? Tell me about him. Was he very rich?¡±

    ¡°The richest man in the kingdom. Even the king owes him money.¡±

    Dora was too affected by the wine to doubt her assertion, despite how ludicrous it was on its face. Or perhaps she thought they were only playing a storytelling game. ¡°Is his family very noble?¡±

    ¡°One of the oldest, tracing their lineage back to when the Imperium ruled the entire continent. They have lands and titles in Velois, Umbria, and Teutonia.¡±

    ¡°Is he very beautiful?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes. His features are very comely. He keeps his auburn hair long and tied back in a band, but he often shaves his face. He has lots of fine clothes of course, but beneath them he¡¯s broad shouldered and strong. He¡¯s so athletic and tall that most find him intimidating, but his eyes are soft.¡±

    ¡°Is he very kind?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s very jovial when at rest, very serious and disciplined when at action. But always gentle towards me¡­ turn around.¡±

    Dora did as she was bid, and Vero began to massage her shoulders.

    ¡°When we were alone together, he would massage my back just as such.¡±

    Dora relaxed completely in Vero¡¯s hands and she leaned forwards to kiss all along the line of Dora¡¯s spine. Then ¨C when she was sufficiently disarmed ¨C Vero mercilessly tickled her sides, while Dora squealed and tried in vain to elude her.

    ¡°Oh, Vero! He sounds just as bad as those fellows who come to visit me! Now tell me, does he have a very large-¡±

    A sharp scream split the night. Dora jumped at the noise and Vero was instantly at full readiness.

    ¡°-estate?¡± She looked to Vero for some reassurance. ¡°Vero, what do you think that was?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Vero was already moving to the window. She stuck her head out and found other residents below her doing the same. Then, all the way down on the ground, in the alley their window overlooked, she could make out a pair of forms. It appeared to be a figure standing over a prone body.

    Vero immediately moved to the trunk which contained her own belongings. She did not have time to fully ready herself. She pulled on clothes quickly, and hoped that whores would ask no questions about a woman wearing pants and a chain shirt. Finally, she withdrew her longsword and hauberk. She left the rest of her armor behind, as she doubted there was time to don it.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Dora watched her in horror. Vero had always been very careful to make certain that the young woman never looked through the things in her chest before.

    ¡°Someone¡¯s been attacked down there.¡±

    ¡°Then we should wait for the Vigil to come and help us!¡±

    ¡°Stay here and bolt the door after I¡¯ve gone. Don¡¯t open it again for anyone who isn¡¯t me.¡±

    Vero left the room and started the long trek down the stairs. On her way she encountered no one else. While a few had been curious enough to look out their windows, it seemed that no one had any intention on investigating in person beside her.

    She reached the ground level, and moved around the building to the mouth of the alley where she had seen the form. It was still there, lying face down a few feet away. There were no traces of anyone else nearby, but Vero was not about to lower her guard.

    Cautiously, she approached the body. It was a young woman and, by her dress, she was one of the prostitutes who worked in the district. Vero rolled the body over and checked for a pulse, still scanning the environment all around her with her eyes.

    There was nothing, the girl was dead. Satisfied that her killer had fled, Vero put down her sword, but kept it within easy reach. She started to examine the body.

    ¡°Vero!¡±

    Vero grabbed her blade and whirled around.

    She sighed and shook her head before looking up to find which window Dora was shouting down to her from. ¡°Fiend! If the creature hadn¡¯t been long gone that distraction could have killed me, fool girl!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry! Are you coming back up!?¡±

    ¡°Yes, get dressed Dora! We¡¯re going to meet with your mother, she can help us arrange to burn the body!¡±

    ¡°Body?! She¡¯s dead?!¡±

    Vero smirked grimly, but from her distance Dora would not see it. ¡°For the moment.¡±

    There were bite marks all along the girl¡¯s neck.

 42. The Little Death Chapter 2

    Despite the innocence of her nom de guerra, Kitty had a reputation as a woman not to be trifled with. It was well-known that she was the most powerful individual in the brothel district. She had a great deal of influence, and an even greater amount of wealth, which was of more immediate interest to Vero.

    Dora had gone ahead to arrange the meeting, and Vero was left alone in the servants¡¯ areas behind the common room.

    She took the opportunity to check her appearance in a convenient mirror, no doubt intended for use by the in-house girls. Her fire red hair was still long, but she tied it back. Besides that, she had bound her breasts and put on the rest of her armor and leathers. She believed it would be enough to easily pass as a young man unless examined closely.

    It was much too warm to hide under a cloak anyway.

    Dora popped her head out through a doorway and waved her forwards. ¡°She¡¯ll see you, come on.¡±

    Vero followed her friend up a staircase and through a hallway, into the Madame¡¯s office. Vero found Kitty¡¯s appearance almost breathtaking.

    She was dressed in the absolute height of fashion, and looked like one of the noble ladies in the mansions on Castle Hill. Soft dark velvet clung tight to her figure, with elegant vines of crimson inlaid across the fabric. It was exactly the sort of gown Vero dreaded to wear, but she took great pleasure in looking at it on another. The woman inside the clothes had an aura of mature beauty. Her gaze and posture spoke of confident experience, but her body had not felt the sting of age quite yet.

    Vero realized she was staring. And that she was probably still under the effects of the wine.

    The room was a more comfortable temperature than the hallway outside. It was richly furnished and the rugs on the floor were very soft. Besides its owner, the office also featured several other beautiful figures, pieces of white marble statuary. Each statue, Vero calculated, was worth several times more than she had earned during her entire stay in the Republic.

    The anatomy of the subjects was very explicit.

    Dora obviously could have enjoyed much more lavish accommodations than those they shared together. She still worked for her mother during the day, so they were not estranged. It seemed she wished the independence of a separate living space away from the theater, even if it meant rougher circumstances. Vero¡¯s positive opinion of the girl was only reinforced.

    Kitty appraised her coolly and took a draw from a long pipe she held up to her mouth. There was a sound of cloves crackling, and then she let out a plume of smoke. ¡°My little Dora says that it¡¯s urgent you speak with me.¡±

    Vero tried to curtsey, but the movement was less than graceful. ¡°Yes, Madame.¡±

    Kitty blew another puff of smoke in her direction. ¡°You live in my district. My accounts show you pay the tax on time. So, I don¡¯t see why I shouldn¡¯t hear you out.¡±

    Once she had permission to proceed, Vero went on at once. ¡°Madame, there¡¯s been a murder of a girl working near our room.¡±

    ¡°A pity to be sure, but these things happen from time to time. Girls, and boys, who work on the streets take that risk.¡±

    Vero presumed Kitty was already using a negotiating ploy. The streets of the brothel district were quite safe, at least in comparison to the surrounding slums or the docks.

    ¡°This is more serious than a simple murder I¡¯m afraid, Madame. I found marks on the body that suggest she was exsanguinated by a reasoning undead.¡±

    ¡°Are you talking about a vampyre?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Madame. Or a draugr, or a barrow wight, or a striga if you prefer, they all mean the same thing. We need to incinerate the body.¡±

    The Madame started idly playing with the curls of Dora¡¯s hair. ¡°I don¡¯t see why it¡¯s my responsibility to dispose of the body; doesn¡¯t the city handle these things?¡±

    Vero did not care for Kitty¡¯s games, but at the same time, she did not feel she had any choice except to play them.

    ¡°The city won¡¯t see to the disposal of the body in time. She died with the evil thing¡¯s corruption inside of her. Tomorrow night she shall wake under the power of her master. And she will come back here, where it seems, her master has already begun to establish a feeding ground. Vampyres are like vermin. If this is the first that we have found, you may be certain there are more that we have not.¡±

    Her master often told her that the showmanship of selling her services was as important a slayer¡¯s art as any other, but Vero still detested it.

    Regardless, she pressed on. ¡°Vampyres only kill this way when they seek to grow their numbers, and they do so quietly if they can. Someone vanishes for a day, but returns later with a haunted expression and avoidant of sunlight. Because their master forces them to masquerade as their former selves- those who love them will chose to ignore their own growing dread. Then once the coven has grown to full size, you will begin finding the bodies- many bodies. They suffocate their victims first to kill them if they don¡¯t wish them to rise again, and then they drain the corpse of blood immediately after.¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure they could find some plump merchant with blood to spare. If they are as clever at staying hidden as you say, surely, they won¡¯t start engaging in mass murder on a whim.¡±

    Vero had the impression that the Madame may have been better educated on the subject than she was pretending, but she could only play along.

    ¡°But they will kill when they believe they can get away with it. Even when they don¡¯t murder outright, vampyres spread disease like plague rats. Cases of anemia, malaria, yellow fever, and others will spread as well. And I cannot imagine any of those things shall encourage patrons to frequent your establishment. We can get rid of the body, and then I can destroy the vampyre. As well as whatever spawn the thing has created already.¡±

    More smoke. ¡°And what does a whore¡¯s laundress know about hunting vampyres?¡±

    ¡°I have been trained as a slayer, in the methods of the old academies.¡±

    ¡°The last academy closed hundreds of years ago.¡± Kitty did know more than she was letting on, much more.

    ¡°My master, who trained me, was himself trained by an elven warrior, who himself was an accomplished slayer and taught in the last academy until its closure.¡± Vero was truncating the line of succession, but she felt no guilt for forcing Kitty to play one of her own games. ¡°I know the old techniques, and the ancient slayer magics.¡±

    Kitty appraised her, much like her namesake might appraise a particularly juicy mouse. ¡°Ancient slayer magics? More like blood magic. Not that you have a license to practice any form of magic in this city.¡±

    She was right that Vero had no license to practice magic in the city. The Vigil was too overburdened to bother tracking a cunning woman acting as an unlicensed apothecary to whores, she was only selling cheap ointments to cure the rash, but it was illegal. Kitty certainly had the influence to stir up trouble for her if she wished.

    Vero¡¯s face felt as though it was burning, and she was certain she must be showing a beet red. ¡°Yes, Madame.¡± She shifted her gaze downwards. ¡°I was only offering my humble services for hire. If you choose not to accept them, then I will depart.¡±

    ¡°Academy slayers accepted no reward for their work.¡±

    ¡°As you so correctly pointed out before Madame, the last academy closed a long time ago. I work for payment.¡± Vero resumed eye contact. ¡°Ten ducats for the coven elder, and an additional ducat per head for each of its spawn. Additionally, you will agree to meet all necessary expenses for the duration of the hunt.¡±

    There was a long silence, and Vero thought she might have overplayed her hand. Then, at last, Kitty laughed.

    ¡°Very well. I will see you provisioned for your hunt, and if you survive- I will provide you with ample reward.¡±

    Kitty sent them back for the body with a cart, and arranged the use of a furnace for the disposal. One of her bouncers drove the vehicle. Vero and Dora rode on the back of the cart beside the body, which was covered by a blanket. Dora sat on Vero¡¯s lap to stay well away from the cadaver, and Vero had to keep an arm around her waist to keep Dora stable. The girl had been quiet since they left the brothel.

    ¡°That weapon.¡± Dora inclined her head towards the longsword which lay on the cart beside them. ¡°It¡¯s not an ordinary sort of sword, is it?¡±

    The scabbard was ordinary enough, it had come from the stores of the Marquis de Fer. The grip was well worn leather, and she did not know how old it was.

    Vero drew the weapon and held it out in front of them. The blade was in perfect condition, as though it had never been used. It was forged of adamant and held a vorpal edge. Along both faces of the blade ran runes, carved in a language Vero did not understand, embossed in silver.

    After taking the time to let Dora examine the sword, Vero returned it to its scabbard and put it away. ¡°No, it¡¯s not ordinary.¡±

    ¡°If you have a genuinely enchanted weapon, you could sell it for enough to buy a great house on Castle Hill.¡±

    ¡°No, I couldn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°You could! Any noble or wizard would pay you a fortune for it!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that. The sword could be sold, but I can¡¯t sell it.¡±

    Dora sighed and shook her head. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me about this, Vero?¡±

    ¡°Would you believe it¡¯s because you never asked?¡± It was a pathetic answer, and Vero knew it, but she did not have anything better to offer.

    Dora continued her brooding for another few minutes. ¡°If you know how to fight, couldn¡¯t you make more money working as a guard or a mercenary than a laundress?¡±

    ¡°Slayers hunt monsters, we''re not murderers. I won¡¯t kill a man unless he gives me no other choice, and certainly not for money.¡±

    ¡°So, you work as a washer woman?¡±

    Vero sighed. ¡°I suppose that is what it comes down to; I didn¡¯t tell you what I was because I was embarrassed. Slayers were well respected once. I¡¯m surprised your mother knew as much of our history as she did, most people have forgotten. In the days of the old academies, we asked no money and hunted to keep all civilized peoples safe. In return, we could count on being given a soft bed and a hot meal at whatever house we came upon. Now, the cities get bigger, abominations become rarer, and we¡¯ve become an anachronism. My master worked whatever odd job he could to keep us fed, and some of the time we still didn¡¯t eat. Every time he would do some menial task for a pittance, I could see the humiliation in his eyes. He thought he was a disgrace to an honored legacy. My only trade is combat, and I¡¯m forbidden to kill men for gold. So, I do whatever I must to survive, just as he did. I am sorry if I hurt you by not telling you, that was not my intent.¡±

    The ride passed in silence for a few moments. They both watched the road behind them.

    ¡°There is a dead body in the cart next to us,¡± Dora said, with dull resignation. Then a sour look passed across her face. ¡°That¡¯s disgusting.¡±

    ¡°You should ask your mother for a room inside her theater, at least until this business is over. It might be dangerous being near me if these things learn that I¡¯m hunting them.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m helping you, aren¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°To move the body. Afterwards you should stay away. Vampyres are predators, if they learn they¡¯re in danger, their first instinct will be to attack.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a delicate princess, who needs to be locked away in some tower to wait for my knight. Though I do confess that you look rather dashing in that armor. We found the body together. If you¡¯re going to do this, then I want to help you.¡±

    Vero laughed and playfully kissed her friend along the nape of her neck. ¡°As you wish, my lady. I only hope you don¡¯t come to regret it.¡±

    Dora tilted her head to give Vero easier access. ¡°Oh Vero, if I didn¡¯t know you were only teasing me¡­ I think I¡¯d be very cross with you for taking these liberties with my person.¡±

    Vero felt a desire building low in her stomach to take further liberties with Dora¡¯s person, but she did not tell that to the girl.

    The cart came to a stop outside a soot covered building, the location of the furnace Kitty arranged for them. It had a sobering effect on their mood.

    Vero carried Dora down from the cart. ¡°First thing you¡¯ll help me to do is get this thing inside.¡±

    Burning the body was an unpleasant task, but it was likely to be the easiest part of Vero¡¯s contract. By the time they returned to their apartment, it was just after dawn and they slept through the heat of the day.

    She kept Dora cradled protectively in her arms.

 43. The Little Death Chapter 3

    Vero roused herself and Dora in the early evening as the sun was beginning to sink.

    They were returning to Kitty¡¯s Theater, when they stopped for a meal at a street vendor selling steamed mussels with garum. Once she left the city, Vero would happily never set eyes on garum again.

    Dora, perhaps because she had never eaten anything else in her life, enjoyed the food with great relish. ¡°Aren¡¯t you hungry, Vero?¡±

    ¡°Garum unbalances my humors.¡±

    ¡°I eat it all the time.¡±

    Vero smiled. ¡°I know.¡±

    Dora was about to eat another mussel, but became self-conscious and stopped herself. ¡°Are you teasing me again? I shall not stand for it much longer if you are.¡±

    ¡°It heats your blood, that¡¯s why you¡¯re so irritable.¡±

    ¡°Well, you could become livelier and the change would do you good, I think.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re right.¡± Vero guided Dora¡¯s hand to her mouth and ate the mussel out of it. She found it salty, but edible. ¡°How much do you know about vampyres?¡±

    ¡°Almost nothing. They come to you while you sleep and drink your blood.¡±

    ¡°They are immune to cold, disease, nearly all poisons, and to fatigue. They can force themselves to breathe, but do not require air except to speak. Forget any wives¡¯ tales you may have heard regarding garlic or poppy seeds, because those are only most common ingredients of a much larger ¨C and very expensive ¨C warding ritual. Left to themselves, restless dead often lack intelligence. They may be stymied by simple yet repetitive tasks set before them; counting grains of rice, untying knots in a net, and so on. However, the creatures we face are part of a coven, and will be directed by the eldest among them. They won¡¯t be foiled by simple tricks like that, unless their master is destroyed.¡±

    ¡°How does one kill-¡± Dora¡¯s voice was uncertain. ¡°-remove¡­ them?¡±

    ¡°Wounds struck against them with normal metal heal at once, but they can still be decapitated with a single swift blow. Injuries done by my sword will not heal. A wooden stake pounded into the heart puts them into a state of death, but they may be restored if the stake is ever removed. The body must be completely incinerated into ashes to be certain that the thing is totally dead. This can be done through fire, or by exposure to holy sunlight.¡±

    Dora listened with enraptured awe. ¡°You really are a slayer, aren¡¯t you? I keep expecting to wake from this strange dream.¡±

    Vero pinched the side of Dora¡¯s leg.

    ¡°Ow! Now why would you do such a thing?¡±

    ¡°I wanted to make certain you were awake.¡±

    ¡°You think you¡¯re very clever, Lady Slayer.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± Vero continued her lecture.

    ¡°There are many abilities a vampyre may display. During the ancient Imperium slayers catalogued all of them and their causes, but those records were lost long ago. Their senses are keen. They can smell blood from an enormous distance. Their eyes are permanently adjusted to the darkness, but this can be turned into an advantage if they are blinded by a bright light. They may be exceptionally strong, but some are not. I have some personal theories as to why, but I won¡¯t bore you with them for now.¡±

    Vero waited to see if Dora was absorbing everything, and she gave a small nod to go on.

    ¡°Some vampyres are able to master the minds of others, both men and also lower animals. Either through direct commands, or through illusions. Vampyres are weakened during the day, but the eldest are still capable defending themselves, and still must be approached with caution. Those that survive long enough to rediscover their independent ability to reason may work natural magic, just as living humans do. The eldest among them are probably equal in age and power to eldest elven wizards. This is almost certainly the reason for the confused accounts as to which powers are bestowed by their undead form, and which are granted to them by magic.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I- What weapons will I¡­¡± Dora started to tremble. ¡°Gods Vero, I feel a terrible chill all of a sudden.¡±

    Vero pulled Dora closer. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re well away from the danger.¡±

    ¡°No, I want to be with you. Only give me something simple to do- so I won¡¯t foul anything up.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re certain?¡±

    ¡°Very certain.¡±

    Vero paid for their food, and they finished the last leg of their journey to the brothel. Arrangements were made for Kitty to call in each of her girls on the pretext of an examination for venereal disease. Which was not entirely a lie, if one defined vampyrism very loosely.

    Vero felt practically naked preparing to face vampyre without her weapons or armor, but it was vital that her prey not know her for what she was until they were identified. Vampyres relied on subterfuge when they hunted, she must do the same.

    She and Dora used one of the rooms upstairs Kitty kept to rent for private parties. The Madame ordered her men to clear it of furniture, aside from a sofa for the patient to lie down on during the examination, and a large cabinet; inside of which Vero hid her sword and a stake made from fresh pinewood.

    Two of Kitty¡¯s most competent bouncers stood outside, but were ordered to keep out of sight so they would not scare the patients. They were stout fellows, but necessarily kept in the dark regarding what they might have to face, a precaution Vero had insisted on to prevent any information leaking out.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The examinations started slowly, to give the girls a chance to relax. Vero checked each of their complexions. Vampyres often appeared pale and wan until they fed, at which point they became bloated and took on a flushed appearance. Humans also ran that same spectrum though, and it could hardly be considered conclusive evidence on its own.

    From there, she proceeded to watch their chests carefully for the rising and falling of breathing. As well as feeling their breast for the beat of a heart. These measures also remained inconclusive. A vampyre still possessed the capacity for breathing, though not the necessity. A vampyre also caused their dead heart to beat when they called on the power in their stolen life force.

    Finally, the examination moved to the last phase. Vero ordered the girls to undress and examined their major arteries for puncture wounds; the neck, wrist, and inner thighs. The wounds present on the new vampyre at their time of death would never fade, and were impossible to hide if uncovered.

    Still, Vero and Dora went through every girl staying at the brothel and found nothing. Not surprising, in-house girls would be harder to take than those on the street.

    The last employee left and Kitty herself quickly replaced her. The Madame walked around the room, examining it critically and smoking her long pipe.

    Vero considered asking the Madame why she was there, but when she opened her mouth, she thought better of it. Instead, she pretended to help Dora look through the list of streetwalkers who paid tax to the Madame. They were the next for examination.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you just use a mirror?¡±

    The Madame opened the conversation, so Vero felt confident enough to turn her attention back to Kitty and speak. ¡°I¡¯m afraid vampyres show up in looking glasses just the same as you or I, unless the mirror is backed by holy silver and blessed to reflect souls. A device which we seem to lack at present.¡±

    ¡°Have you found anything yet?¡±

    ¡°Not yet, Madame.¡±

    Kitty must have sensed disappointment in her tone, because she pounced on it in an instant. ¡°But surely that¡¯s a good thing?¡±

    ¡°Good and bad, Madame. Hopefully this is a sign that the coven remains quite small, but there¡¯s no proof of that yet. The coven have probably been targeting those on the street.¡±

    Dora finished marking the last girl they cleared off the list, and turned to face them. ¡°And until we capture a confirmed vampyre, we have no leads.¡±

    Kitty walked over to Dora, and Vero noticed that the Madame¡¯s movements were as graceful as a dancer¡¯s. ¡°You seem to be taking to all this rather quickly.¡±

    Kitty ran a finger along the side of her ward¡¯s cheek, and Dora flushed a bright red. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to help, mother.¡±

    ¡°I know you are, duckling. I¡¯m sure our friend Veronique appreciates that. I just want to make sure you stay safe.¡±

    Vero took a step forward. ¡°I won¡¯t let anything happen to her.¡±

    Kitty turned to face the intruder, and held Vero¡¯s gaze for a very long moment before replying, ¡°See that you don¡¯t.¡±

    Then, all at once, the Madame seemed to lose interest in them both and walked out of the room. ¡°The next group of girls is coming. Find something before I reconsider our arrangement.¡±

    The next set of examinations went quickly, and they were approaching the end of the list. Vero considered the possibility that she may to expand her investigation onto the territory of one or more of the other Madams.

    Their latest subject was redressing, a chatty woman approaching middle age. ¡°I¡¯ve seen you at the laundry, my sister Anna told me you sold her a cure for the rash. How did you come to know about medicine?¡±

    ¡°My mother taught me some. I was also an acolyte of Vedio for a time, before they found me with a priest.¡± Vero preferred to always tell the truth, so long as there was no compelling reason to do otherwise.

    ¡°I thought that was grounds for promotion, not dismissal.¡±

    Although Vero was willing to lie, if the truth was too difficult or complex to bother with. ¡°Not if it¡¯s a junior cleric, whom you refused the high priest for.¡±

    ¡°Oh well, the gods have never done anything for us. I don¡¯t see why we should do anything for them. Take care friends.¡±

    The talkative woman left and the next entered. Vero found her much comelier than most of the street walkers they had seen that evening.

    She had a brown skin tone, even darker than Dora¡¯s shade of olive, and her features suggested that she came from the southern continent. She was tall, with long legs and bountiful breasts. Her gorgeous black tresses fell in curls around her shoulders.

    ¡°Shall I undress now?¡± The woman spoke old Imperial, but with a slight twist; the barest hint of an accent from south of the White Sea.

    Vero bit her tongue to refocus her attention on the task at hand.

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± Dora checked her records. ¡°¡­Fatima, you can take off your clothes now if you like. Then lay down on the sofa.¡±

    Slowly and sensuously, the woman began to divest herself of her garments. Vero wondered whether she did so for her examiners¡¯ benefit, or by simple habit.

    Her ruby red dress was new and expensive. When Fatima finished with her clothes, she moved to her jewelry; a pair of fine ruby earrings to match the dress, a bracelet of beaten copper, and lastly a blue pendant made from lapis lazuli resembling a butterfly.

    Vero reached out and stopped her, the woman¡¯s skin was cool to the touch. ¡°You can keep your jewelry on if you like.¡±

    Fatima smiled back at her, showing brilliant white teeth. ¡°Very well, you¡¯re the expert¡­ so I¡¯m led to understand.¡±

    Vero ran her hand along the woman¡¯s arm, from the bracelet up to the necklace, which she held up into the light. ¡°This is beautiful craftsmanship, where did you get it?¡±

    ¡°It was a gift; from a man I know. I¡¯m sure you understand.¡±

    Vero ceased her examination of the jewelry; no puncture marks hidden beneath them. ¡°Please lay down.¡±

    Fatima did so, laying back languidly, but she kept her charms hidden with closed legs and a deliberately-carelessly laid hand. Her breathing was shallow and purposeful.

    Vero kneeled down for her examination. ¡°Spread your legs, please.¡±

    Fatima smirked, and gave Vero a wanton look when she did as bidden.

    Right leg, femoral artery; the flesh was marred by ragged tooth marks.

    Vero kept her voice even. ¡°Dora, fetch the conifer device please.¡± Vero ran the slayer mantras through her head to protect her thoughts. She tried to continue to play at being a nurse, but felt a hand placed on the top of her head.

    Fatima smiled down at her; teeth bared. ¡°Found something you like?¡±

    Instantly, Vero felt the hand on her head turn into a fist and then wrench her head backwards by the hair, exposing her throat. She screamed and fell backwards, pushing Fatima away. The vampyress roared and snapped at her, trying to reach her neck.

    There was a sound of movement outside the door, followed by a crashing opening. The guards stumbled inside, before standing dumbfounded by what they saw. With blood red eyes and gnashing teeth, Fatima hissed at them. Then she turned her attention back to Vero.

    ¡°Help her, you fools!¡±

    Dora¡¯s shout finally brought the men out of their shock. The first one rushed forward and tackled the vampyre off Vero. The second man quickly followed, and together they attempted to hold the monster down with their combined weight. Still dazed, Vero crawled over towards Dora, who helped her to her feet.

    When Vero¡¯s senses returned, she saw the man who had rescued her sent flying across and room and crashing into the back wall. He slumped to the ground unconscious, and his companion was receiving the worst end of a grappling match against the creature.

    She realized that Dora had placed a stake and mallet into her hands.

    The vampyre rose to her feet, slowly drawing her combatant¡¯s limp form to her mouth with a look of the most sublime anticipation on her face. Too caught up in her own bloodlust, she took no notice of Vero until the stake was planted firmly into her back. Fatima fell limp to the ground, Vero continued to pound with her mallet until she was sure the stake was secured.

    Dora fetched smelling salts to revive the guards. When they were awake, Vero ordered them to haul the body up to the roof. She followed them, but sent Dora to inform Kitty of what had transpired, and to bring the tools she planned to use for the interrogation.

 44. The Little Death Chapter 4

    Vero felt exhausted from the long night, but thankfully it meant they would not have long to wait until dawn. They took off Fatima¡¯s jewelry, which Vero gave to Dora, as she had no interest in it.

    The men held out each of Fatima¡¯s hands, and Vero separated them at the wrist with her longsword. The dead flesh parted like soft butter, but did not bleed. They repeated the process with her feet at the ankles. Finally, they bound her in heavy ropes until they were certain no movement was possible.

    With their prisoner suitably disabled, each of the men readied their weapon, and Vero removed the stake. The creature looked up at the three armed individuals standing over her. She hissed and spat at them with her nature fully revealed, her eyes glowed a baleful red. Vero brought her blade up underneath the monster¡¯s chin, which stopped her fit at once. Instead, the monster gazed up at her with absolute loathing.

    ¡°That¡¯s better, little mosquito. Now perhaps we can talk civilly about the thing that did this to you.¡±

    The creature laughed, but the sound was hollow. ¡°You have no idea what you¡¯re dealing with, mortal.¡±

    Vero smiled with more genuine humor. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I know more about this than you, little mosquito.¡±

    The creature considered her position a moment, then abruptly changed her tact. Her foul aura receded and her eyes dimed to a smoldering auburn. ¡°You¡¯re right. They turned me a week ago, I don¡¯t know anything yet...¡±

    Vero lost her smile. It was only too obviously a ploy, but she felt she had to give the vampyre at least one chance to cooperate peacefully.

    ¡°Who turned you? Who did this to you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. He attacked me¡­ I awoke- hungry¡­! I was so hungry¡­ and scared¡­¡±

    ¡°It was a man or a woman? Where were you when they took you?¡±

    ¡°I was working- on the street. A man attacked me; I never saw him before¡­ never saw him again¡­ will you help me?¡± A drop of blood welled up around her eye and slid down her cheek.

    ¡°I am going to help you,¡± Vero directed her eyes to the moon, barely visible on the absolute edge of the horizon. ¡°I swear so upon Luna¡¯s grace. Now, tell me about the man. What did he look like?¡±

    ¡°He was strong. You¡¯re obviously not a normal woman, but he¡¯s stronger than you. He was dressed well. He¡¯s rich, rich enough he can give you more then you¡¯ve ever imagined.¡±

    Vero felt her stomach churn. ¡°He gave you the jewels, didn¡¯t he? And the dress? Was that before he killed you or after?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t remember.¡±

    ¡°Where is he, Fatima?¡±

    Fatima craned her neck out towards Vero. ¡°Release me and I can take you to him¡­ have you ever felt the pleasure of the vampyre¡¯s kiss? It¡¯s like drowning¡­ in love. I can show you, if you will only¡­ let me.¡±

    Vero returned her gaze and then forced herself to smile. She stepped back and turned to her allies. ¡°She just tried to entrance me. Do not meet her gaze.¡±

    ¡°Where ah- where should we look?¡± one of the guard¡¯s asked.

    ¡°Anywhere else, it shouldn¡¯t be difficult.¡± Vero turned her attention back to Fatima. She was relieved to see that the vampyre had resumed her antagonistic posture. ¡°Tell me where he is, now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not telling you anything.¡±

    ¡°I think you will. Because if you tell me where I can find your master, I¡¯ll give you something in exchange.¡±

    ¡°All I want from you is what flows in your veins-¡± The vampyre must have felt her point was too subtle, because she further clarified by raving, ¡°Blood! Blood!¡±

    Vero waited for the creature to regain its composure. She could hear Dora ascending the stairs onto the roof behind her. ¡°You¡¯re close, it won¡¯t be mine, but I¡¯ll give you something else to compensate you.¡±

    Dora put down a heavy blanket and a cage containing a rat. Seeing the monster on the ground, the animal instinctively shied away to the farthest edge of its cage.

    ¡°I would never degrade myself by consuming that disgusting thing.¡± The vampyre spat.

    ¡°You''d be surprised how difficult it was to catch this. Well- it may look more appetizing to you sometime soon.¡± Vero motioned to the east, where the sky was beginning to grow pink.

    The vampyre looked, and her eyes widened with fear, but she said nothing.

    Vero continued. ¡°I¡¯m not a mathematician or architect that could calculate the angles precisely. But I believe you will find that ¨C even with my limited knowledge ¨C we¡¯ve arranged you in a place where those buildings further up the hill¡­¡± Vero used her sword as a pointer. ¡°¡­should keep you in the shade for some time. So, that will give you the opportunity to consider your best interests. Then-¡±

    Vero raised her sword above the city skyline, where dark purple clouds were already growing lighter.

    ¡°The sun will rise higher. Its light shall begin to creep forward across this roof, starting at your legs. The ropes will give you some protection, of course. So, the light will cut you in slivers. They shall be long thin blades of radiance taking slices from you, like a sausage. That¡¯s also something to think about if you try to loosen those ropes, mind you. Then the light will continue forward, past your knees, along your hips, and up to your chest- burning you to ash piecemeal as it goes. I believe that you¡¯ll be surprised at just how little of their body an undead creature needs to survive. I once saw- well, now¡­ you won¡¯t want me to spoil the surprise for you before its time. For the moment I shall only say that you will see it for yourself, very soon.¡±

    The vampyre screamed and raged for some time. Then, the sun appeared over the horizon.

    Fatima became torn between the abject exhaustion the day caused in a vampyre, and the absolute horror she held at her fate. She appeared to desperately desire to sleep, and yet her body was also clearly in rebellion, demanding that she flee. Occasionally she would struggle in instinct to loosen her bonds, before recalling that doing so would only expose more of her bare skin to the sun¡¯s judgement.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    The sun reached her dead flesh, and the screeching reached a new intensity. Dora had since placed the rat cage inside and stood off to the side, holding the blanket at the ready. She watched, totally mystified at what was taking place in front of her.

    Vero tried to send her away, but Dora refused to go and Vero let the matter be.

    It was a great credit to the vampyre¡¯s loyalty that she held out until the beam had nearly reached her thighs, but she broke all the same.

    ¡°The King¡¯s Field! He stays at the King¡¯s Field!¡±

    Vero motioned for Dora to throw the blanket over the vampyre as she shrieked, over and over. They dragged the covered vampyre back inside where Kitty was waiting for them. They let the rat loose in an empty storeroom and ¨C despite her feeble state ¨C the blood sucker launched itself at the tiny vermin, like a horrible human sized grave worm.

    Kitty watched the mutilated vampyre tear into the rat with her bare teeth impassively. ¡°I¡¯m familiar with the King¡¯s Field, but you may have difficulty infiltrating the establishment. They don¡¯t hire locals; all their girls¡­ and boys¡­ are slaves sold by the elves. Or sometimes pirates.¡± She sounded bored by the whole matter.

    ¡°That would explain how they came to possess Fatima in the first place. But slavery is illegal in the Republic.¡±

    Kitty shrugged. ¡°The whores don¡¯t know that, most of them don¡¯t even speak Imperial. And they rarely keep them for long.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it unusual for the same brothel to offer both female prostitutes and catamites?¡±

    ¡°Very. But gender isn¡¯t really the determining factor drawing their clientele. They have a reputation for allowing the clients to take liberties, shall we say, with the staff. That sort of customer only wants their twisted fetishes met; they don¡¯t care what you carry in your small clothes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll get inside.¡±

    ¡°What shall we do with this one?¡± Kitty indicated Fatima, who had curled up into slumber around the drained corpse of the rat.

    ¡°Keep her, for the time being.¡± Vero closed the storage room door. ¡°Haven¡¯t you ever heard it said that killing the elder of a coven can cure his spawn?¡±

    ¡°I presumed that was only a foolish old wife¡¯s hearth wisdom. Have you ever actually seen it happen before?¡±

    Vero shook her head.

    Vero and Dora slept most of the day, and woke about an hour before sunset. Upon awakening, Vero enlisted Dora¡¯s aid cutting her hair short.

    ¡°It¡¯s such a shame to cut it. It¡¯s so pretty,¡± Dora said, standing over Vero¡¯s crimson locks on the floor.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯ll grow back. It always grows back. And then I just have to cut it all over again.¡± Vero bound her breasts tight before getting dressed. It was uncomfortable, but also a familiar and welcome sensation at the same time.

    A curious confluence of emotion.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never been in a battle before. Not before yesterday- I mean.¡±

    ¡°Did you enjoy yourself?¡± Vero started lowering her voice to become at ease speak at a more masculine register.

    ¡°It was terrifying, and I didn¡¯t even do any of the fighting myself.¡± Dora was evidently feeling contemplative.

    Vero finished with her binding, and started to pull on her breaches and doublet.

    Dora looked up at her. ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want me to come with you?¡±

    ¡°Well, we could borrow some men¡¯s clothes from Kitty I suppose¡­¡± Vero stopped dressing to press her face into Dora¡¯s dark curls, they smelled like jasmine. ¡°¡­but then we¡¯d also have to cut your pretty hair.¡± She traced the plunging bust of Dora¡¯s dress. ¡°You¡¯ve also got quite a bit more chest to bind than I do.¡±

    Vero returned to her trunk and pulled out a small crossbow, which she handed over to her companion. ¡°If you want to come with me, wait outside for me with this.¡±

    Dora held the weapon as though she feared at any moment it might try to bite her. ¡°You want me to shoot someone with this?¡±

    ¡°Definitely not. Because I¡¯m certain that if you try, the only thing you shall wind up hitting is me. I want you to wait outside and keep it hidden, my armor too. I have no notion of what I¡¯ll encounter there and I may need it. While a gentleman often carries his sword with him to drink, he rarely takes a crossbow and chain shirt unless he intends violence. Do you think you can handle that?¡±

    ¡°I think so.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s settled then.¡±

    Vero finished getting dressed and they left.

    The King¡¯s Field was busy, but not well advertised. It seemed to just blend into the surrounding block, which was so tight the buildings were put up wall to wall. It was also directly across from an open sewer, and Vero was very glad to go inside.

    She left Dora to follow her from behind so they would not be seen approaching together.

    Inside the lighting was low, probably to distract the patrons from the fact that many of the employees were not particularly attractive. The alcohol was cheap and plentiful, likely for the same reason. Most of the girls looked as though they had been roughly handled, recently and frequently.

    The customers looked mostly as she expected. None of them dressed ostentatiously, or seemed obviously lecherous. Instead, the entire brothel had an air of quiet desperation.

    The obvious feature of the establishment to Vero, was that few of the patrons seemed to have bathed in the past fortnight. The whole place reeked of fornication and stale sweat. A few of the more upscale clientele smelled of lavender, or some other perfume, but they only mixed with the bodily odor of the more impoverished to create an alloyed stench Vero found even more oppressive.

    Several stares followed Vero as she walked towards the bar. She wore tan breaches and a blue doublet, with her long sword belted to her waist. The clothes were old, but they had been washed since she had last worn them. She could feel in her mannerisms that she was still behaving more feminine than she would have liked, a result of her role as a laundress the past several months.

    She shook the tension out of her muscles and moved further inside.

    The d¨¦cor was no doubt intended to appear richly anointed, but was more garish than anything else. Vero needed to elbow her way through the crowd to reach her destination. She sat on a stool upholstered in worn velvet, and marred by stains she did not care to speculate on. At the bar she ordered a glass of wine, but when it arrived, she was disgusted to find it sour.

    ¡°Hello, my friend. I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve seen you here before.¡± A man with strong traits of an elven heritage took a seat next to her.

    He was comelier than most, and quite athletic besides. His age looked like a median between the terrified young waifs and the hollow-eyed veterans. He had short brown hair and was well shaved. He dressed in plain cotton pants and a shirt which were both clean, and stood in stark contrast to the surroundings.

    What really drew her attention, however, was the sapphire butterfly on a gold collar hanging around his neck.

    ¡°No, indeed. I¡¯ve just arrived in the city. My name is Virgil.¡± Vero graced him with a smile and took another drink of her wine, trying not to wince as she did so.

    He returned her smile and clearly saw her disapproval of the wine. ¡°You needn¡¯t try to be polite; the drinks are awful and we all know it. Virgil¡¯s a very unique sounding name, mine¡¯s Lucien. Your accent... Velian? What brings you to our city?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the secretary for Caius of house Dace, I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve heard of them.¡± Vero felt the man¡¯s hand on her knee, and it began to work its way along her inner thigh. She did her best to slow his movements ¨C without raising suspicion ¨C while still preventing him from moving far enough to make an unfortunate revelation.

    ¡°They¡¯re one of the merchant houses, I take it?¡±

    ¡°One of the smallest.¡± Vero leaned forward, under the pretext of offering a kiss, and found what she was looking for. A very precise parting of the flesh along the jugular vein, probably made by a knife blade.

    The man broke away from her and looked very intently into her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard of any house Dace on the docks. Tell me about them.¡± There was force behind the command, but Vero¡¯s mantras warded it away.

    She refused to flinch or give any other sign of discomfort.  ¡°No, I don¡¯t suppose you would have. We¡¯re very small, and mostly deal on the overland route between here and the northern cities. May we continue this conversation in private?¡±

    The man cocked his head to the side quizzically for a few moments, and then broke into a broad grin. ¡°Of course, friend. You have got coin to rent a room upstairs, I suppose?¡±

    Vero patted the purse affixed to her belt. ¡°Certainly, will you lead on?¡±

    ¡°Follow me.¡±

 45. The Little Death Chapter 5

    The man stood and took her hand.

    He led her through the crowd and towards a doorway with two sets of staircases inside, one leading up, and the other leading down. In front of the staircases, stood a massive man whose features bore a great similarity to a castle wall.

    The half-elf Vero had just hired patted the castle wall on the shoulder as they passed him. The wall gave no response whatsoever, but Vero saw the telltale butterfly, this time in the form of a badge sewn onto his shirt.

    In the private rooms the gaudy d¨¦cor fell away, leaving only the bare termite-undermined wood behind. It was also quieter. The man led her past a few rooms; already occupied, from the sounds emerging within. The lack of soundproofing in the rooms would be troublesome, but not insurmountable.

    Vero¡¯s attack would need to be swift and definite.

    Finally, they reached the end of the hall and entered the last room. It was even darker inside than at the bar downstairs. The decorations were sparse and the room was unfurnished, aside from a single small bed, and a nightstand off to the side with a candle atop it. The bed had a small tear in the side, and straw was spilling out onto the floor.

    The man approached the nightstand and lit the candle, before going to the window and opening the shutter. Even with both these means to provide just a bit of light, it was still dark enough to render fine features indistinct. He sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned Vero over to him.

    She did so and sat down next to him. He placed a hand against her cheek and gently directed her face towards his, bringing their eyes into contact.

    Immediately, she could feel the force of the vampyre¡¯s will attempting to batter its way into her mind. The power of this monster¡¯s personality was greater than Fatima¡¯s, it was obvious that he was much older and more powerful. However, she did not think he was the elder that she was looking for.

    Slowly, Vero allowed the monster to worm its way inside her head, all the while compartmentalizing her mind to keep her motor control and decision making deeply hidden, bringing superfluous surface thoughts to the fore as a shield of false images. A glazed expression fell over her face, and she offered no resistance as he ran his hands all along the length of her body.

    The vampyre leered his face near her neck. However, he was stymied ¨C for the moment ¨C by the high collar on her doublet. Then he came to a sudden realization that she was not the man he believed her to be, and stopped.

    He stood up. Vero remained as she was.

    ¡°We shall have a very long discussion about just who you are, and why you¡¯re here. But first I need to speak to a friend. Undress yourself, my heart. I won¡¯t be a moment.¡±

    Vero dutifully stood up from the bed and started to undo the buttons on her top. The vampyre walked past her towards the door to leave the room.

    The moment his back was turned to her, Vero¡¯s sword was in her hand.

    The moment after that, she had struck. The enchanted blade snatched the creatures head from its body with a stroke.

    She grabbed the now completely dead form, dragged it over to the bed, and hid it beneath the blankets. It would stand up to a cursory observation, and she hoped that no one would enter the room for a serious investigation until after she was gone.

    When that was done, she went to the window. After a few moments, Dora strolled into sight, trying to look like a street walker. She had Vero¡¯s things with her in a bag, but more importantly, Vero saw that she was wearing Fatima¡¯s jewelry. There was no one in the alley to overhear them and Vero drew her attention with a wave to call her over.

    ¡°Do you wish me to give you your things now!?¡±

    Vero winced at the register she spoke with, and motioned for Dora to lower her voice. ¡°Not yet. Hand me your necklace.¡±

    Dora¡¯s hand went to the lapis butterfly and Vero confirmed her request with a nod. Dora took it off and tossed it up to the window. Vero pulled it from the air and placed it around her own neck.

    ¡°I believe the vampyres have a nest beneath the brothel. It may connect to the sewers, so watch them carefully. Stay nearby. If I¡¯m not out by dawn, then tell your mother to order that the Vigil raid this place. You shall simply need to hope that they¡¯re more competent than I was.¡±

    ¡°What are you going to do?¡± She heard genuine concern in Dora¡¯s voice. It momentarily took her by surprise, but it was not an unwelcome one.

    ¡°I need to find where they sleep so that we may return during the day and incinerate them. Don¡¯t be afraid, I''ll be doing my best to avoid any conflict.¡± Dora still appeared anxious, so she added, ¡°I¡¯ve done this before and I think I shall come through alright. Really- there¡¯s no need to be afraid for me.¡±

    ¡°Be safe, Vero.¡±

    Vero stepped away from the window. She took a moment to compose herself.

    Once she was certain that she would give no sign to cause suspicion, she returned to the hall. The murmuring in the nearby rooms were uninterrupted and she went back downstairs.

    Vero held forward the pendant on her neck as she approached the bouncer. ¡°Lucien told me to show this to you.¡±

    The bouncer grunted and examined her as though she were something he was encountering on the underside of his boot. ¡°Gods, what has he done that for? He hasn¡¯t blooded you, has he?¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    His posture suggested that he did not view her as much of a threat, and she played to this assumption. She meekly assumed the confused mannerisms of freshly blooded vampyre.

    ¡°I woke up once the sun had gone down and he- he had made me like him¡­ is that¡¯s what you mean? I don¡¯t think he meant to¡­ I remember someone interrupting us together- and then nothing. He told me to go below and present myself to his master¡­ our master¡­ I suppose.¡±

    ¡°He hasn¡¯t permission to create spawn.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps that¡¯s why he didn¡¯t come back for me. And why he¡¯s sent me down below alone,¡± she responded miserably.

    ¡°What has he told you?¡± The bouncer leaned forward as he questioned her.

    Vero recognized that that he was looking for marks on her neck. He used less subtlety than herself.

    ¡°Almost nothing,¡± she replied, her persona only just coming to terms with his unfortunate circumstances. ¡°He didn¡¯t bite me on the neck.¡±

    ¡°Where?¡±

    ¡°I could show you¡­ I¡¯d like to go someplace a little more private if we¡¯re going to do that.¡±

    Vero hoped he would agree to go someplace alone with her where she could destroy him silently, but the bouncer just grunted and waved her past him.

    She went down, and down, and down. The basement was all bare stone and earth, but with lit torches affixed into the walls. There were twisting and turning hallways leading off in endless directions, but Vero could hear the sound of voices coming from only one of them. She went in that direction, trying to appear as though she had every right to be there.

    She walked, taking care not to be too obvious about hiding her presence, while also being quiet enough not to announce it either. The voices, which started in a low murmur, gradually coalesced into a form that she could understand. They emanated from a chamber that lay off to the side of the hallway she followed.

    ¡°She would have told me.¡± A man¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Would she? I think perhaps you overestimate her.¡± A woman¡¯s.

    ¡°I created her. The blood ties her to my will.¡± The man again.

    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s loyal, I have no doubt. But the blooding does not grant wisdom to a fool.¡± A second man, his voice was much lighter and more effete than the first.

    ¡°My lord, I tell you it is not like my Fatima to vanish in this manner. I swear to you that something has happened, and I beg you to take measures to protect yourself.¡± The first man once more, but his tone, which had begun combative, now held great reverence.

    Then Vero heard a third man¡¯s voice, but this one was slow and sounded very learned, perhaps even a touch aristocratic. He sounded like a man accustomed to command, and having those commands obeyed. ¡°Jon, we take this matter very seriously. Next nightfall, if your wayward spawn has not presented herself, we shall have-¡± A pause, and Vero felt her heart stand still. ¡°-Ah! But what is this? We have an unannounced visitor. Come inside where we can see you.¡±

    There was nothing else for it. Running now would only invite a chase. Perhaps she could still bluff her way through. Vero stepped forward into the entryway.

    Inside was a circular chamber, decorated as a common room, and residing there were four figures. A younger man, dressed in armor like a mercenary, and built like an ox. A middle-aged man, dressed as a noble or rich merchant. The woman looked to be in her mid-fifties, but she still dressed provocatively and was showered in jewels. She looked every bit the aging palace courtesan.

    The last man was dressed in monk¡¯s robes, he was completed by gray hair and a bushy beard and eyebrows.

    There were creches in the wall which reminded Vero of a catacomb. She suspected that she had found what she was looking for. All that remained for her was to leave in good health. Vero began to run her mantras through her mind.

    All four appraised her, but the woman spoke first. ¡°I¡¯ve not seen this lad among our coven before.¡±

    The monk spoke, and it was evident that he was the master of the coven. ¡°She is not of our blood; she is still among the living.¡±

    The mercenary inspected her more closely. ¡°She?¡± Vero believed this to be Jon, the one who had slain poor Fatima.

    ¡°Aye,¡± the monk continued. ¡°We can smell her blood. Her heart beats, and it sings to us, and tells us her nature. Tell us child, how do you come here bearing our sign?¡±

    Vero drained her emotion and kneeled before the elder, addressing herself solely to him. She kept her eyes downcast deferentially. ¡°My lord, I was discovered by Lucien in the brothel upstairs, and he sent me to speak with you.¡±

    ¡°I see, and why is that child?¡±

    ¡°He discovered that I came here to hunt your coven. I hired him in disguise to destroy him, but he discovered that I was a woman and became suspicious. He questioned me, and after I told him why I was truly here, he sent me to you for judgement.¡±

    ¡°Of course. And did you come here alone, my child?¡±

    ¡°Certainly not, master. My companions felt we would be too suspicious as a group. I was tasked with finding any vampyres within, and then going outside to summon them after I had done so.¡±

    ¡°And, of course, if I send just a few of my men outside with you- you will point out your allies to us, yes?¡± The rhetorical irony in the elder¡¯s voice told Vero that things were not proceeding to plan.

    She felt the force of the vampyre mind pressing against her own with a potency that totally dwarfed the two she had faced previously. Her muscles tensed and her breathing became shallow, she bit her tongue and focused on repeating mantras in her head.

    The monk bore into her with his eyes, and it became difficult just to rise to her feet.

    ¡°She¡¯s blocking me from her mind. Grab her.¡±

    Vero heard a footfall behind her.

    She spun, pulling out her weapon as she did so.

    The cocky mercenary felt the blade as it passed almost unhindered through his mail. It skirted through his torso just between his ribs, and he fell backwards howling in a mixture of pain and indignation. Vero continued her spin and threw her weight to the side, sending her sprawling through the door she had first come through, out of their immediate reach.

    All attention within the room remained focused on the injured Jon, who continued to screech. Apparently, he had long ago become unaccustomed to lingering injury. Not waiting for him to finish and her foes surprise to lapse, Vero scrambled to her feet and started to sprint for the exit.

    Her sword still in hand, she pressed her left palm along the edge, while chanting an arcane working over the drawn blood. As she passed one of the many branching hallways, she tossed a glob of congealed sangris vitae down one way, before continuing to run the opposite direction. Even with her limited human senses, she could smell the metallic tang in the air from the blood lure. She hoped it would be utterly overwhelming to the vampyres.

    She followed the path back to the stairs up as well as she remembered it, though as she ran, Vero began to fear that she might have forgotten her way. Then she saw the light streaming down from the brothel above ground. Her heart rose, but then fell again when she saw a silhouette against the light.

    The bouncer!

    How could she have forgotten? He would be waiting ahead of her.

    Not thinking much of her chances breaching this castle wall with a direct charge ¨C especially with at least three more vampyres somewhere behind her ¨C Vero turned down another way and ran as hard as she could.

    She saw more than one sewer opening approaching the brothel. If the tunnels did connect to the city sewers, then she had another way out.

    There was no sound of any pursuit behind her, but Vero refused to assume that was the case. She continued to press her legs onwards and her chest burned like a furnace from the exertion.

    Vero ran for what felt like hours, but what was in all probability only a few minutes. The halls she took twisted and turned, and she chose several cut offs, leaving further blood lures behind to distract her pursuers.

    When she felt she could go no farther, she slowed, and then stopped. Desperately, she tried to gulp down as much air as possible while remaining silent, expecting her enemies to emerge from the shadows and fall upon her.

    The attack never came.

    Vero realized that she had completely lost her way.

 46. The Little Death Chapter 6

    Now Vero found that she was in a tunnel almost devoid of light. She considered performing another working to grant herself night sight, but she already shed a great deal of blood casting her lures. She might also need further spells when she returned to destroy the coven. Coming over faint in combat would be fatal, it was too much to risk.

    Instead, she strained her other senses.

    At first, she listened for any sounds of the creatures in the dark, but heard nothing. Even if they were there, they would almost certainly be too quiet for her to hear, which did not make her feel any better.

    Her sense of touch was more useful. Holding a hand out in front of her, she could feel a draft of air from somewhere nearby.

    Following the cold gust towards its origin, Vero eventually rounded a corner and could see a small shaft of dim moonlight descending from above and in front of her. Moving closer, she found that it came from a storm drain on the street above her. There was just enough space for her to crawl her way through.

    Vero made the sign of Luna over her heart and stowed her sword. She jumped up to grab the edge of the drain. On the first attempt her grip slipped. The second try was more successful and she began to pull herself out.

    She was halfway free when something took a hold of her leg and tried to jerk her back down into the sewer. Kicking frantically, she loosened the thing¡¯s grasp and bolted the rest of the way through. In horror, she watched the form of the rich fop crawling up after her out of the blackness. It pulled itself out far enough out to catch her leg again.

    Vero drew her sword and cut the vampyre across the face, along the bridge of the nose. It released its grip to hold its face and screamed in agony. She scurried back, as it tried to follow her and attempted a few blind swipes with a clawed hand.

    Once she was far enough away, Vero returned to her feet. She hoped to have gained some kind of advantage with her first attack, but the vampyre had also regained its senses. Its eyes were bloodshot and it lunged like a feral beast.

    Vero was moving back, but stopped to meet his attack with a diagonal slash. The monster¡¯s hand was severed. No blood fell.

    The thing was still eager to fight, but too eager. It repeated the same maneuver with its remaining hand and she repeated her counterstroke. This time she removed finger tips, but it pulled its arm back in time to save most of the hand.

    It did not stop its advance, instead charging forward to tackle her to the ground. She brought up her weapon just in time so that the thing impaled itself upon it, even as it succeeded in knocking her onto her back and pinning her underneath its now-limp body.

    Vero took a moment to regain her wind, then bucked her hips to try and roll over to reverse their positions. The vampyre did not resist her, and she accomplished her goal without much effort by using the hilt of her sword as a lever.

    Once she was in the top position, Vero tried to rise to her feet where she could pull out her sword. She was nearly upright when she felt someone catch her in a crude waist-lock from behind.

    The second attacker pulled her back, away from her weapon, which remained lodged in the first vampyre. Fortunately, the fop seemed to have fallen into a deathlike state of suspended animation to heal itself.

    Her foe was inhumanly strong, but did not seem to have any formal training at wrestling. Vero kept her head forwards. She hoped that the creature would release its unbreakable grip around her waist to try and grab her higher- to pull her head closer and bite her neck. Once the hold was released, Vero''s superior grappling training would be enough to get her free in the scramble.

    Unfortunately, the vampyre must have been the female, because their feet became tangled in its dress and they both fell backwards. The hold stayed in place and the undead striga had no wind to lose. Vero heard the gnashing of teeth behind and underneath her.

    ¡°Let her go!¡±

    Vero looked over to see Dora taking aim at them with her crossbow.

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    ¡°No! Don¡¯t-¡±

    Dora fired.

    The bolt flew inches away from Vero¡¯s face, and planted itself harmlessly into the wall of the building, immediately adjacent to her and the vampyress.

    Knocking the thing¡¯s head against the stone roadwork would not injure the creature in any way, but vampyres still felt pain as a living person. If the bloodsucker had no practical experience in fighting, it could still be bested by pain submission.

    Vero thrust her head backwards to smash her foewoman¡¯s face. As she hoped, the grip released.

    Vero was ready and immediately turned over into a mounted position. The monster had the same wounded look a novice takes the first time he is truly struck in a melee, but it could not be long before it became aware that there was no injury. She grabbed the bolt Dora fired by the shaft and snapped it off.

    She needed a mallet- There! A loose cobblestone within reach.

    The thing had just realized the necessity of continuing to defend itself when Vero plunged the thin length of wood between its ribs. She pounded once with the stone to break through the flesh and muscle of its chest.

    The creature went into spasmatic fits like an epileptic.

    Vero retreated at once as every limb began to swing about frantically with all their unnatural strength. She must have only grazed the heart. The reprieve might not last long, she moved to retrieve her sword.

    Dora started to draw nearer.

    Too near!

    Vero did not have the wind to tell her to leave, but she waved for Dora to stay back.

    Taking it by the hilt, Vero yanked her sword free of the body it lay in. Even as she did so, she felt a fumbling grasp at her ankle.

    Now the first vampyre had recovered. It tried to pull itself into a position to bite her leg with what was left of its remaining hand, but Vero pinned it back with her other foot and decapitated it.

    ¡°Vero! The other one!¡± Dora pointed towards the remaining vampyre, which had jostled the crossbow shaft loose in its seizures and was returning to its feet.

    It charged at Vero and ducked its head in a crude attempt to take Vero to the ground. Or perhaps it simply tripped over the long hem of its gown and grabbed for what it could hold. Vero sprawled her legs to defend herself, and easily came down on top of her enemy.

    She brought her sword around to plunge it down through the base of the vampyre¡¯s spine. There was a scream and Vero slipped out of the creature¡¯s grasp before it recovered.

    With its lower half paralyzed, Vero was eventually able to safely separate the head from its body.

    ¡°Oh Vero, you¡¯ve done it!¡±

    ¡°Stay quiet.¡± Vero looked anxiously towards the drain, but nothing else had yet emerged.

    She put her sword away and relieved Dora of the crossbow. They watched in silence for a few moments until their nerves faded.

    Vero checked the bodies for anything that may help them, but found only some copper coins, quarters, and petty baubles that ¨C on close examination ¨C tried to look more expensive than Vero judged they were really worth. She took them all anyway, and they left before anyone else arrived.

    Vero led Dora by the hand and the two of them ran as fast as possible across the brothel district back to Kitty¡¯s theater. They were allowed into her office where the Madame sat smoking, as usual. Dora was winded from their retreat and practically fell into her chair; Vero remained standing to give her report.

    ¡°The coven¡¯s haven has been established in a basement beneath the King¡¯s Field, but it¡¯s connected to the sewer system and allows access to the whole district.¡±

    Kitty nodded and sucked on the end of her pipe, considering the news before replying. ¡°So, what do we do now?¡±

    ¡°I would prefer to wait until I¡¯ve had the chance to recover and prepare, but there¡¯s too much risk now. They realized I was infiltrating them and we had to flee after I destroyed three of them. Fortunately, it¡¯s a summer night, so it¡¯s already too late for them to leave the city safely before sunrise. They¡¯ll need time to arrange day shelter during their journey. Now that I know where they sleep, I can deal with them once the sun is up. They¡¯ll be groggy during the day, if they can move at all, and I should be able to destroy most or all of the coven.¡±

    Kitty just continued to nod in silence.

    Dora looked up at Vero and spoke through heavy breaths. ¡°You¡¯re hurt! Are you sure that you¡¯ll be able? Do we even know how many of them there are in the coven?¡±

    Vero smiled and shrugged. ¡°Very many. There¡¯s no way to know exactly how many are down there, but it appears there are between half and a dozen remaining. It is dangerous, but the sand is dwindling. If we wait until night falls, they¡¯ll vanish and we won¡¯t find them again. Until they¡¯re behind us with their teeth at our throats, that is.¡±

    At this point, Kitty interposed again. ¡°Should I hire men to help you?¡±

    ¡°I could use assistance clearing the clientele. But I¡¯ll go below ground alone. Taking along mercenaries who are subject to vampyric influence would cause more problems than it would solve, I expect.¡±

    Kitty rang a bell on her desk to summon one of her servants and then began rummaging through her desk drawers. ¡°I¡¯ll arrange for the men to meet you there. What time will you attack?¡±

    ¡°High noon, that¡¯s when they¡¯ll be at their weakest.¡±

    ¡°I took the liberty of arranging this for you.¡± Kitty produced a small vial of a clear liquid which looked like water, and pushed it across the desk where Vero took it. ¡°It¡¯s salt water. There¡¯s a priest of the Sea Lord who frequents my establishment and I asked him to bless it for you.¡±

    ¡°This priest knew what he was doing?¡±

    ¡°He should. He¡¯s a senior priest, and I caught him before he¡¯d had more than one drink. Still, it is holy water made in a whorehouse as payment for services rendered.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± Vero stored the vial away in a pouch at her belt.

 47. The Little Death Chapter 7

    Vero stood back while the men of the Vigil kicked open the door. It was midday and the brothel was practically deserted by comparison to her experience the previous night, but there were still a few desperate looking customers lingering behind. These degenerates were easily rousted by the guard, and it was not long until the entire establishment was empty.

    The previous evening, she and Dora returned to their room to get what rest they could. Dora had cleaned and bandaged her cuts and scrapes. They fell asleep holding one another, but when she woke, Vero snuck away alone. She did not wish to risk bringing Dora near danger once again.

    Not when they had already tempted fate twice before.

    Two Vigil-men busied themselves by nervously hanging cloves of garlic and spreading handfuls of rice along the ground. Vero neglected to inform them that neither would do any good.

    Knowledge offers colder comfort than ignorance.

    Or so her master often told her, the phrase had come unbidden to her mind.

    Even if she did fail, she did not suppose any of the surviving vampyres would be keen on staying in the city to trouble them. She hoped that they would not.

    Kitty would see to it that Dora was kept safe at least, she was sure of that.

    Vero strode forward into the room in her chainmail shirt and leather pads. Against her better judgement, she left the crossbow back with Dora. She expected to be unable to use the weapon effectively in the mazelike sewers, and she would already be weighed down by stakes and skins of oil. The Vigil-sergeant followed her most of the way to the staircase leading down into the coven¡¯s haven.

    ¡°We¡¯re not getting paid enough to go down there and rescue you, I hope you understand that.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to. I shall either be fine, or I shall be dead.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s no problem then. We¡¯ll stay up here. If you flush any up to us, we¡¯ll pull them into the sun. But that¡¯s where our involvement ends. If it¡¯s getting near dusk and you haven¡¯t come back up- we¡¯ll set the building on fire and collapse the way out on this end. If you¡¯re not out by then, you¡¯ll be stuck down there with those things.¡±

    ¡°I understand. I don¡¯t plan on letting any of them getting away, but keep your eyes open anyway.¡±

    The Vigil-sergeant pushed open the door leading into the darkness. ¡°Good luck Ser, be safe.¡±

    Vero slung a brace of sharpened greenwood stakes over her shoulder and marched downwards into the dark. Descending into the blackness, she could barely see her hand in front of her until she lit her lantern. She held the light in one hand and carried a fresh supply of oil in the other.

    She directed herself towards the catacombs she fled from the previous night. Trying to remember her way through the maze as best she could, Vero proceeded forward as quietly as she was able.

    The underground tunnels stank of sewage even more terribly during the day. They were cooler than the city above ground, but still very warm. The heat excited the smell and attracted foul buzzing insects everywhere. Vero doubted the vampyres noticed, as they had no need to breathe, but she did not share the same luxury. She pulled a cloth anointed with herbs and oil over her face to find some relief.

    The further she ventured, the more her nerves began to wear on her. She was also sore across her right side after being thrown around the previous night. She stopped and took a small draught of poppy milk as a tranquilizer to rebalance her humors. She had long summer hours of daylight ahead of her, quick wits would not be as valuable to her as steady hands and methodical thoughts.

    At last, Vero came upon the sleeping chamber she uncovered during the night. As she suspected, along the walls in the sleeping creches, lay the spawn of the coven.

    Vero pulled one of the bodies out of its place in the wall. It was heavy and stiff with rigor mortis. She did not try and lift it, only allowed it to fall onto the floor where she could deal with it more easily.

    The vampyre did not respond, but laid flat like a creature fully dead. It was too newly spawned to muster strength enough for even the slightest movement in daylight.

    With steady workman-like efficiency Vero drove a stake through its heart, secured it in place, and then repeated the process with each vampyre in turn. A few of the more potent blooded ¨C like the mercenary she split open the previous night ¨C summoned up the will to try snapping at her, once the first pound of the mallet drove them out of their day sleep. Repeated driving blows to the stake quickly robbed them of even that limited resistance.

    Most of them never moved at all.

    When she was finished, she used her blade to strike each of them off at the head.

    Which one of them was it that had attacked the unknown woman and first alerted Vero to their presence? There was no way to know.

    Perhaps it was Jon. Perhaps it was Fatima herself.

    So long as she was sure to get them all, Vero supposed it did not matter.

    She believed they were all completely dead after taking off their heads, but to be certain she also spread lantern oil over them. She incinerated them one at a time until the ground was covered in the ashes, taking care not to asphyxiate herself in the poorly ventilated tunnels.

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    Neither the leader of the coven nor the brutish bouncer was in the main chamber. They must have kept a private room, or rooms, somewhere else in the maze. She could only hope that it was somewhere nearby. It seemed that even after all her labor, she still had not finished.

    Reluctantly, Vero left the chamber and mentally readied herself for more hunting.

    Never hunt on a monster¡¯s own terms, until you¡¯re ready to die.

    Vero heard her master¡¯s words across her mind¡¯s ear once again.

    It would be wiser for her to be satisfied with the work she had done already. It was reckless to press on when her prey was alerted to her, and she no longer knew what lay ahead.

    Except that she wanted the elder.

    It would leave the city if it escaped her now, and she had never failed a contract before. She still had daylight with her. Wherever they were, the remaining two vampyres may be just as incapacitated as the previous had been.

    Presuming that there were only just the two vampyres remaining to oppose her.

    She was just considering how to go about finding her prey when she heard pounding, stomping footsteps charging directly for her.

    From out of the darkness the brute emerged.

    When he entered the radius of her lantern light, he was already horizontal and executing a flying dive directly towards her, with claws and fangs extended.

    Vero tried to duck to her side, as far as the cramped confines of the corridor would permit. Even so, the tips of its outstretched claw took her in the hip. The monster flashed past her, carried by its momentum, and whipped Vero into a spin as it went like a child¡¯s top with a pullcord.

    Her blood splattered across one wall, while her the lantern and the oil skins crashed into the other, leaving a smear of flames leading to a burning pool on the ground. Vero stumbled back behind the fire, and beat out the sputtering licks of flame along her own arm.

    Braced against the wall she held her bleeding side.

    She just managed to avoid the main thrust of the assault. If she had not, the claws would have pulled out her intestines in front of her, and she would have died very shortly thereafter. As it was, she was alive, although oozing blood.

    Her hip felt as though it might have been dislocated. There were burns across the flesh of her arm, but the muscle beneath was undamaged.

    Her opponent swung around to face her, and she could see it licking the blood from its talons. However, the bright light meant that it could not see her in return. It shielded its face to hide from the blazing fire, which Vero endeavored to keep between them, while she removed the flask of holy water from her belt.

    The monster moved drowsily after its initial burst of energy, like a punch-drunk fighter. First it stopped to smell the blood splatter on the wall, before following the trail that led from it and greedily lapping up the precious liquid along the way. She would only have the one chance as it moved around the fire.

    Vero took it.

    She splashed the water directly into the creature and it fell to its knees howling. Its hand raised to protect its face on instinct, but the salt water ate into the undead flesh like acid. Fingers dropped off the hand as it melted down into a boney stump. Holes pitted into the thing¡¯s face where it was splashed by chance drops.

    Vero lunged out to grab the creature before it could recover. She used all her might to wrench it off its knees, and down into the flaming oil and shattered glass.

    The monster shrieked and tried to lurch back, but she interrupted by hacking its legs out from under it with her sword. The burning creature rolled back and forth for a moment, desperate to smother the fire engulfing it, before Vero put an end to it by taking off its head.

    She rolled the body back into the flames, and set off again the way the vampyre had come. She no longer possessed a light, so she had to feel her way along.

    Right across the stomach, just like he went. You¡¯re going to die down here, in the dark. You were overconfident, just like your master. Now you¡¯re going to die, just like he did.

    It was becoming more difficult for her to walk, but she no longer had the luxury of time.

    Sunset was still several hours away, but she would bleed to death much sooner than that if she could not finish the job and get back to help soon. She tried to find her tincture of opiates to relieve the pain, but it was gone.

    She could not go back to search for it now.

    You were there to retrieve his body. No one will come to find you. You¡¯ll die and your soul will be trapped here. Beneath the ground. In the dark, for all eternity.

    There was no need to panic. If she was bleeding, then there was a means for her soul to find a path free. Her spirit could find a it''s way, Luna¡¯s light would guide her on. Vero crushed the fear rising in her chest.

    And there was no reason to think that she would die. Destroy the elder and return to Dora. Matters were simple.

    You never told her what you feel for her.

    It was better that Vero had not gotten too close. It would be less painful for the girl. Less painful when Vero did not return.

    She was beginning to feel very faint when the corridor opened up into a large sewer chamber. She nearly fell into the water when she tried to rest her weight against a non-existent wall. The sound of running water moving through an aqueduct could be heard nearby. It was lighter there than in the corridor, but only just.

    In the center of the room, and looking as imperious as ever, was the master of the coven. ¡°Impressive, slayer. You¡¯ve come closer to actually threatening me than any human in over three hundred years. I believe I shall make you the first of my new coven, would you like that?¡±

    Vero did not feel that she could manage a response, but a brief wrack of coughing had filled her mouth with the metallic tang of blood, so she spat it into the water.

    ¡°You can barely stand. Go on. Fall to your knees. If you hold out your wrist to me and submit, I promise you it will be painless.¡±

    Don¡¯t let him mock you! If you must die, strike at him with your dying breath!

    Unsteadily, Vero began to make her way forward. The water came up to her knees and the ground was slick, but she moved with slow and careful purpose. The figure of the vampyre smiled and beckoned her onwards.

    Time is running out! Strike! Strike now!

    ¡°Yes, come here my pet. Make your final heroic attempt.¡±

    Vero stopped directly in front of the striga lord, although still several steps shy.

    It was standing on a precipice which, in her condition, would certainly be a mortal fall. The edge was, she believed, much closer in actuality than it appeared to be. She looked at the fanged grinning face in front of her.

    She felt a force outside of herself pulling her towards it, and one last desperate maneuver.

    This is your last chance!

    Vero forced herself away.

    Away and towards the blinking and bleary-eyed vampyre monk which huddled in the corner.

    As she started moving towards it, the illusion of a proud figure began to scream and rant behind her. ¡°Stop there! I command you! You cannot run from me, you coward! Turn around this instant! I am your lord and master! You will obey me!¡±

    The feeble creature in front of her was too weary and day-weak to even raise an arm in its own defense, after using the last of its unholy strength attempting to entrance her with its illusion. Vero took off its head at the neck.

    She had no more oil, and seemed to have lost her remaining stakes somewhere, so all she could do to be sure it was dead was to hack at the body a few more times with her sword. After only a couple of strikes however, she felt too dizzy to continue.

    She stopped, but found that she was also too dizzy to stand. She fell directly onto the body which broke like ashes underneath her.

    At least you can be sure it died as well, Vero thought to herself, as the darkness enveloped her.

    At least Dora shall be safe.

 48. The Little Death Chapter 8

    Despite her previous assumption, and not for the first time, Vero woke up surprised to still be alive.

    She was lying on a mattress. It felt wonderfully soft, so it must have been filled with feathers rather than straw. She heard the sound of women speaking and laughing nearby, so she tried to sit up and see who it was, until she found herself coming over faint.

    ¡°Oh! She¡¯s awake!¡±

    ¡°Someone go- fetch Dora!¡±

    Vero¡¯s vision cleared, and she saw two perfectly formed breasts in front of her. They were attached to a yellow-haired woman of exquisite beauty. Vero looked around and found that she was in a lavish dormitory, and surrounded by half a dozen women of all different types and in all different states of undress.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been swept out to sea¡­ rescued by nymphs...¡±

    The comely woman nearest to her checked Vero¡¯s forehead for fever. ¡°I knew that dirty old priest gave you too much poppy milk. I shudder to think of what he would have tried to do if we hadn¡¯t insisted on staying during his examination- the way he was leering.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re as beautiful as a nymph.¡±

    ¡°Thank-you.¡± The woman did not seem to take the compliment very seriously, and continued her own monologue without breaking her stride. ¡°With a little rest your head should start to clear. One of the girls has gone to find Dora.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s as beautiful as a nymph too. Or a dryad, which is much the same thing as a nymph, only inhabiting the land rather than the water. As Dora herself does, you understand.¡±

    ¡°I thought there were no such things as nymphs and dryads,¡± her nurse remarked casually, as she filled a goblet with water from a pitcher.

    ¡°There are. Only very few are left. Say, why are we talking so morbidly?¡± The woman returned with the goblet and helped Vero drink from it. The water was wonderfully cool. ¡°You know in stories; heroes are awakened by nymphs with a kiss on the lips.¡±

    The woman obligingly bent forward and kissed Vero, but only lightly and without much passion. Vero did not have time to register any disappointment before Dora rushed into the room, crossed the distance between them in an instant, and threw her arms around Vero to shower her in kisses.

    Vero struggled a moment, until she found Dora¡¯s mouth with her own and returned one of those kisses. She felt Dora suddenly tense in surprise, but she did not pull away.

    A moment later, she began to respond in kind.

    Vero was eager to explore Dora¡¯s body, but in her drugged state, her pawing was clumsier than it was erotic. Dora broke away and quickly climbed off the bed, while blushing brightly and adjusting her dress.

    ¡°Well, you certainly seem very¡­ vigorous, Vero. I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯re well, truly. I- we feared that you would die.¡±

    ¡°I thought I was dead. Why aren¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°I saved you.¡±

    Vero motioned for Dora to sit down next to her. Dora did so, but just out of Vero¡¯s reach- and she did check.

    ¡°I was furious when I woke up and saw that you left me behind, and I got even worse when I arrived.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s all that garum you eat, it¡¯s unbalanced your humors.¡±

    ¡°Did you know that they were planning to set that entire place ablaze, without even checking if you were still alive?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I told your mother to order them to do.¡±

    ¡°Well, that was rather foolish, wasn¡¯t it? You¡¯re fortunate I was there then. I gave them such a tongue lashing¡­ but once I told them that they had now let two women go where they were afraid to follow ¨C and called them all cowardly eunuchs ¨C they came with me down after you. You weren¡¯t moving when we found you, I was terrified we were too late. If you hadn''t managed to bandage yourself up as well as you did, we would have.¡± Dora moved closer and put a hand on Vero''s shoulder.

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember bandaging myself¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, you must have. We heard you moving, that was what led us to you in that horrible maze."

    Vero put her arms around Dora¡¯s waist, but did no more, so as not to frighten her off again. ¡°Then you really have saved my life, it seems...¡± The priest must have given her a very heavy dose of poppy milk because she was feeling very blissfully sleepy. ¡°I must find some way¡­ thank-you¡­ love to-¡±

    And Vero was gone.

    Once she had a chance to recover, Vero went to see Fatima.

    Her hip was agonizing to walk on, so Dora needed to find her a cane before she could move.

    Kitty was waiting for them outside the make-shift prison. Her long pipe was in hand. ¡°Impressive work, for a laundress.¡±

    ¡°Thank-you, Madame. Any change?¡±

    ¡°See for yourself.¡± Cloves popped and Kitty stepped aside.

    Dora opened the door for them. Vero let the two bouncers clear the way. The fellows were seasoned by their experience and watched their prisoner carefully, but not her eyes.

    Fatima was pale as a corpse, but she smiled weakly at them. Vero watched her chest rise and fall with breath.

    ¡°You destroyed him, didn¡¯t you¡­? I can¡¯t hear him in my mind any longer¡­ I¡¯m free.¡±

    Vero nodded slowly. Her mind was still slow from poppy milk, but the sharp spikes of pain in her hip kept her focused. ¡°Yes, I suppose you are.¡±

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    ¡°Thanks to you. Bless you, my Lady.¡±

    ¡°How do you feel?¡±

    ¡°Weak¡­ weak as¡­ as a kitten.¡± She laughed a little.

    ¡°Are you thirsty?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ completely parched¡­¡±

    ¡°Dora, bring water.¡± Dora left Vero¡¯s side to do as ordered.

    ¡°You are gracious, my Lady¡­ as kind as you are beautiful.¡±

    Dora returned with a pitcher and goblet. One of the bouncers took the goblet and Dora filled it with water. At Vero¡¯s direction, he placed it to Fatima¡¯s lips. She drank for a moment before beginning to cough and wretch.

    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± Vero asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s foul, my Lady¡­ too much sour wine in it methinks¡­¡±

    Dora held out the pitcher to her and Vero drank from it directly. It was cool and clear.

    ¡°It tastes fine to me.¡± Vero felt for a heartbeat, and found it. But only a faint echo. Fatima looked at her hopefully. ¡°She¡¯s too far gone.¡±

    ¡°No! My Lady, please! I was possessed by the evil master of the coven. I never wished to attack you- or anyone else! I was forced! If you free me, I swear to you- I swear on my soul! I swear by all the gods- I will never kill again! I¡¯ll take no more than a mouthful of blood, I need no more! I won¡¯t take it from men! I¡¯ll drink from rats, vermin! Please!¡±

    Vero motioned for Kitty and they left the room together, once Dora helped Vero back to her feet. ¡°After you take off its head, have your men bring the remains out into the sun to be sure it¡¯s completely dead.¡±

    If Kitty was troubled by her instructions, she did not show it. ¡°Anything else?¡±

    Dora was astonished. ¡°Gods, Vero. Are you sure? How can-?¡±

    ¡°There is no way to return a vampyre to life. Do you remember what I told you about simple minded vampyres counting grains of rice?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°That is the natural state of a revenant on its first return to life. The human soul is meant to leave its body after death, it remains only if it becomes trapped for one reason or another. Gibbering undead like that simply wish to be put out of their misery, so that they may go to their rest. Vampyres in a coven only act as they do because the blood of their master compels them. If their master is destroyed while they¡¯re like this, they¡¯ll usually become comatose. Or return to their families in a daze, and attempt perform the rote action of their old routines. They¡¯re not dangerous in this state, and can be given a chance to bid farewell to their family or acquaintances. I hoped we might offer Fatima that same charity¡­¡±

    Vero turned to Kitty. ¡°If there are any such strays left in the city, they shouldn¡¯t be difficult to find. They''ll make no attempt to hide their vampyric nature, and some may even be so wracked with guilt they present themselves to a priest for absolution.¡±

    Kitty nodded.

    ¡°But what about her?¡± Dora asked. ¡°Fatima appeared as though-¡±

    Vero interrupted. She did not know a way to allow Dora to remain comfortably ignorant. She could only force knowledge on her quickly, so that the coldness would soon pass. ¡°-It was clever enough to play human- to attempt to manipulate us into releasing it. Creatures this far gone must all be destroyed immediately and without hesitation. Young vampyres may have only killed under the duress of their master¡­ but for a vampyre¡¯s independent intellect to develop and reassert itself, they must integrate their new bloodlust into their own nature.¡±

    By torturing her until she had been forced to break her master¡¯s hold, it was Vero who had first separated Fatima from her master¡¯s control. Was it then her fault that Fatima¡¯s own soul was corrupted before her master¡¯s destruction?

    Perhaps, it was. But it had also been necessary for the hunt, so there was no use in making herself feel guilty for it after the fact.

    ¡°Once they''ve developed this individual initiative, they will inevitably attempt to form their own covens to keep themselves fat and sated. If any vampyres are found attempting to hunt for blood, or hide their true nature, they must be put to their final deaths at once. If they do not attempt to conceal themselves, they can be trusted to bid farewell to their loved ones. Though even those poor creatures must also be forced to meet the sunrise eventually.¡±

    Kitty blew a final puff of smoke, before handing her pipe to a servant for refilling. ¡°I will use my influence to see that it is done. You won¡¯t receive any additional compensation if more do turn up, of course.¡±

    ¡°Of course. I¡¯m sure you have a bill for my medical care ready for me as well.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t trouble yourself. Besides destroying the coven you¡¯ve also put my most distasteful competition out of business. Consider your doctor¡¯s fees a bonus for a job well done.¡±

    Behind them Fatima started to scream. Dora was gravely affected by the sound, so Vero put an arm around her and led her away.

    Dora needed to help Vero manage the steps when they returned to their apartment together. Dora sat on the ground and looked up at her, while Vero deposited her weapons in her trunk. Vero sat down next to her, and Dora laid her head against her shoulder. She put an arm around Dora¡¯s waist to pull them closer together.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I have ever met anyone quite like you, Veronique.¡±

    ¡°I feel the same about you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re only being flattering, I¡¯m sure. There¡¯s nothing very special about me.¡±

    ¡°Not true.¡± Vero picked up Dora and placed the girl on her lap. It had been days since her injury, but she still felt a sharp pain in her hip until she adjusted her weight. She kissed Dora¡¯s neck and took long breaths of jasmine. ¡°You saved my life, no one else in this city would have followed me down into the sewers like you did.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve already saved my life often enough. Watching you fight those evil things¡­¡± She felt Dora shudder. ¡°I was so frightened for you. But you were rather marvelous. The greatest knight a princess could hope for.¡± She was silent for a little while. ¡°You¡¯ll be leaving soon now, won¡¯t you?¡±

    Vero nodded and kissed her cheek. ¡°I suppose I will.¡±

    Dora sniffed and looked away. ¡°I will miss you- miss you terribly.¡±

    ¡°You could come with me.¡±

    Dora turned her head with sudden hope, before questioning herself with indecision. ¡°What would I do for you?¡±

    ¡°You could cook¡­ and I¡¯ve had enough of laundry work for a lifetime.¡±

    ¡°Like a helpmate?¡±

    ¡°I travel in men¡¯s clothes; it would be a simple enough matter to pass you as my wife.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve always dreamed of seeing other lands.¡± Dora gave her a coy look and bit the knuckle of her index finger. ¡°Are there any other duties I would need to perform for you?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you could find some other little ways to please me. Other wifely duties you might offer to me.¡± Vero pulled down Dora¡¯s dress and massaged her breasts. It was not the slightest bit cold, but Vero could not help but notice that Dora¡¯s broad nipples felt very hard between her fingers.

    ¡°When the slayers taught you to disguise yourself- how fully do you commit to your new identity?¡±

    ¡°Completely. The best way to tell a lie¡­ is to make it the truth.¡±

    ¡°I-¡± Dora let the veneer of coquettishness she used as a shield drop, just for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m not mistaken, am I? You really do wish to go to bed with me? Not as we do every night- I mean as a man and a woman go to bed together.¡±

    Vero¡¯s heart was pounding in her chest. ¡°I do very much wish so, my love.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not- well, I know how a man goes to bed with a catamite¡­ but Vero, neither of us has¡­¡± Dora¡¯s voice was beginning to crack.

    ¡°Just relax yourself and do as I do.¡±

    Dora¡¯s breathing was shallow, and when she spoke again her voice was very small. ¡°You said ¡®my love¡¯ to me just a moment ago. Did you mean that as well?¡±

    ¡°I would not say such a thing to you if I did not mean it, beloved.¡±

    Dora reached a hand behind her and slid her fingers down Vero¡¯s trousers. They snaked their way through her navel hair and Vero¡¯s body felt like it was afire. She could feel the same heat radiating from Dora.

    ¡°Ah, Vero¡­ Veronique, I-¡± At last Dora reached her sex, and Vero felt as though she might burst into flame at any moment.

    Dora pulled her hand away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Veronique, I can¡¯t. Forgive me. I don¡¯t know how to- not with another woman- I mean...¡±

    Dora tried to stand, but Vero kept ahold of her wrist and she fell to land right back in her lap. Vero winced at the pain in her hip, but it faded in a moment.

    ¡°Call me Virgil.¡±

    ¡°Virgil?¡±

    ¡°My- it¡¯s the name I travel under.¡±

    Vero turned her around. They appraised one another with hard looks of plain desire for a single long moment, before pressing their lips together with such a tremendous passion that it staggered Vero in its intensity.

    ¡°Oh, Virgil! My darling handsome knight, Ser Virgil.¡± And Dora continued with further moans and sighs.

 49. An Unequal Share VI

    The Present

    The maester took almost a fortnight to study the tome. He had the pull within the church to access the restricted records in the cathedral library, although his feeble health meant that he could work for only a few hours each day.

    Ramiro kept himself amused in the taverns and brothels of the university district. Vero nearly went mad with restlessness.

    The two of them decided to share a room while they waited. Vero was happy to have Ramiro pay half their bill, and Ramiro was pleased to be assured that he would not be dragged away by undead creatures during the night.

    Vero slept in her clothes.

    She spent most of her time studying and meditating in their room, but she often came out to share a mid-day meal with Ramiro. She did so again the day they were scheduled to hear the maester¡¯s final report.

    They ate beef and onions fried in lard, and seasoned with dill and parsley. Vero used the last of her excess coin to buy them an imported Velian red, but once that was finished, they drank cheap beer.

    While they ate, Ramrio kept one of the local women on his lap, the one who offered herself to Vero the first night she arrived. He often consulted with her during their conversation, although neither he nor Vero could understand a word she said.

    They all talked about nothing in particular, but Vero began to feel very relaxed from the drink, while Ramiro became more animated.

    ¡°Where do you come from really, Ramiro? One of the Oasis Cities, I expect. Given what a rascal you are.¡±

    ¡°Merilla in Lusitan, I told you that already. Slayers should¡­¡± He paused to collect his words. ¡°¡­remember things¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, but you¡¯re a complete charlatan. A hopeless liar.¡±

    ¡°On matters of the heart I always speak true. And what greater love can a man hold in his breast, than the love of his homeland? I shall never forget sacred Lustian which gave me life.¡±

    ¡°I was near enough. That whole coastline was settled by sailors from the southern continent, even if no one likes to admit that now.¡±

    ¡°You are fortunate that I am not in the slightest part patriotic, or I¡¯d take great offense. Well- if we were to quarrel, I¡¯m quite certain you¡¯d kill me, so perhaps it¡¯s myself who is fortunate.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s often the way with patriotism,¡± Vero mused. ¡°You¡¯re not really the son of a nobleman, I know that much.¡±

    ¡°I might be. In fact, I haven¡¯t the slightest idea who my father is- or was, as it may very well now be.¡±

    ¡°You never tried to find him?¡±

    ¡°To what end?¡±

    Vero thought of her own parents, but only for a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t know. In stories bastards are always searching for their lost fathers- or so it seems to me.¡±

    ¡°In stories, their fathers are usually kings, or divine, or some such, and I¡¯m very sure that if anyone like that had been in Merilla during my conception I would certainly have heard about it. And I loved my mother very dearly, but she wasn¡¯t in the slightest bit miserly with the distribution of her charms. So, I doubt even she knew the identity of my father.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°Afterall ¨C and please don¡¯t take this as some indictment of womankind, because I¡¯m really quite fond of women ¨C even if one isn¡¯t a bastard, no one can ever be absolutely certain of who their father is. Not absolutely.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right.¡±

    ¡°Promiscuity isn¡¯t, of course, only a vice of the fairer sex. No man can ever be really certain of how many children he''s fathered either. Except to put a minimum to it, I suppose.¡± He laughed jovially, and the woman on his lap laughed with him when she saw his mirth.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Vero replied non-committally. She was beginning to feel drowsy from the drink.

    ¡°I can find one for you as well.¡±

    Vero had become distracted by the wench¡¯s ample bosom, which was only loosely held by her dress. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°One of these.¡± Ramiro kissed the woman once on the lips, then again along the top of her chest. ¡°A handsome lad like you, it won¡¯t take long. You¡¯ll have to pay something, of course.¡±

    The alcohol made the idea sound better than it really was, but Vero cast it aside regardless. ¡°Hm. No, thank-you.¡±

    ¡°Do you suppose mortal men like you or I will ever really understand them, Virgil?¡±

    ¡°Understand who?¡±

    ¡°Women, of course. What do you think of them?¡±

    ¡°I- think they are fair to look at¡­ they tend to be of a gentler disposition¡­ I¡¯m not certain what you¡¯re asking me.¡±

    She spoke carefully to avoid saying anything too revealing. Something about how Ramiro spoke made her think that he was fishing for something. It gave her a hunch that he was more sober than he was pretending to be.

    ¡°You¡¯re not a virgin are you, master slayer?¡±

    Vero laughed into her beer. ¡°Certainly not.¡±

    ¡°Good! I was worried your order required an oath of celibacy. I would hate to think of such beautiful lips going forever un-kissed. In fact, I don¡¯t think I could stand it.¡±

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    ¡°Why did you come north, Ramiro? How long do you plan to stay here?¡±

    ¡°You''re trying to avoid my questions with you own.¡±

    ¡°Am I? Which question do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Women. What do you think of them? Which type do you like best? Do you understand them? Because I surely don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I need time to think. You answer my questions and I¡¯ll think about yours.¡±

    ¡°As you wish. It¡¯s quite simple really. I came north to avoid some hostile creditors.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re gone now, why have you stayed?¡±

    ¡°Ah, I wasn¡¯t referring to the men you saved me from.¡±

    ¡°How many people want you dead, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Not all of them want me dead. Most would probably settle for having me beaten and robbed. But there are enough of them I thought it best to leave Lusitan. So, I decided to go someplace so desolate that no one would want the bother of coming to take their money back, and here I am. Now, you answer me.¡±

    ¡°I like them to have long hair and olive skin.¡±

    ¡°What color hair?¡±

    ¡°Black.¡±

    ¡°Eyes?¡±

    ¡°Blue, but shadowed with dark cosmetics.¡±

    ¡°Perfumed?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, anything to cover the smell of garum.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that all sounds very fine. Now tell me, this woman with long dark hair, olive skin, blue eyes¡­ smelling gently of fish- do you understand her? I mean really understand her? Do you know her heart? Have you looked into her soul and seen even a glimpse of what mysteries lie there?¡±

    Vero finished her beer. ¡°Not in the slightest.¡±

    Ramiro laughed uproariously. ¡°A man after my own heart. Say, shouldn¡¯t we leave soon?¡±

    ¡°If we want to arrive before sundown, and we surely do.¡± Vero stood up and gave herself a moment for her lightheadedness to clear.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough, my darling. I¡¯ll be back for you this evening.¡± Ramiro lifted the wench off his lap. He stood up and took a few faltering steps before righting himself.

    The woman helped him to the door and Vero followed after them. Ramiro kissed the fraulein good-bye and they stepped outside. The cold wind hit them and sobered Vero up at once. Ramiro shuddered and pulled his cloak tight, he looked to be in the same condition. They sloshed through the snow towards the maester¡¯s home.

    They traveled close together through the dark streets, and once more the maester¡¯s mistress admitted them into the home. They found the maester in a much livelier state, so it seemed that having an occupation had done him some good, although his nose was still very red. He was sitting on his bed, but a small writing desk was pushed in front of him and the tome was sitting atop it.

    ¡°A very interesting work, this.¡± The maester tapped the cover of the book. ¡°I should very much like to have a copy scribed for the cathedral archives.¡±

    ¡°If you know the location of the Von Richlau estate and the artifacts of my order, then I¡¯ll have no further need for it. You may keep it, for your trouble.¡±

    ¡°You''re very generous, master slayer. I do indeed believe I¡¯ve found your missing landgrave. I¡¯ve even commissioned you a map.¡± The maester spread out a freshly scribed map over the desk. The artistry left something to be desired, and it was covered in handwritten notes, but Vero believed that it should be legible with some effort. ¡°Is it your intention to go there, may I ask?¡±

    Vero nodded.

    ¡°I suppose you know your own business well enough, but I must in good conscience warn you- I do not know for certain why the Von Richlau¡¯s vanished and their records were restricted, but I think there can only be only one possible explanation¡­¡± His expression was serious.

    ¡°I understand.¡±

    ¡°That place is high in the Star Mountains. Even on the day side of the mountains- vampyres pull travelers from the road for sport and all the villagers live in fear. In this interregnum there is no grand prince strong enough to force the undead back to the night side.¡±

    ¡°I thank-you for your concern, maester.¡± Vero took the map. ¡°But it¡¯s not as though it¡¯s much safer here in the city.¡±

    The maester nodded back to her, and his declared niece led them downstairs again. Vero stepped outside, back into the cold, and pulled her cloak more tightly around herself.

    Ramiro followed her out. ¡°I don¡¯t think you ought to go.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen you fight- and I¡¯ve never seen anything like it before. But it¡¯s clear enough to me that the Von Richlaus have been corrupted by undead, and they¡¯ll be ready for you. The great elector himself led a contingent of the finest knights in the north into the Star Mountains, and the vampyres hunted them like foxes until they finally withdrew. It was the only campaign Leopold ever lost in fifty-five years of rule.¡±

    ¡°Your concern is touching, Ramiro.¡±

    ¡°I mean it. I¡¯m really very fond of you Virgil. Why don¡¯t you let me take you some places in the student quarter? We¡¯ll get drunk, and I¡¯ll introduce you to some women, friendly women.¡±

    ¡°I leave first thing tomorrow. I need to get as much sleep as I can.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re an extraordinarily disciplined one. I admit, I find it one of your most appealing traits. You are certain I can¡¯t tempt you to stay?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Well, a man must have the final say in his own matters. I shall be in this city for some time, I think. If you come to your senses, I¡¯ll keep a space on the bench open for you and we¡¯ll tell all sorts of lies about the vampyre lords you¡¯ve slain.¡±

    They walked in silence until they approached the inn.

    ¡°I have a favor to ask you.¡± Vero opened the door into the stables, and then closed it behind them to keep out the biting wind.

    ¡°You saved my life, and I always pay my debts. Even if I must steal from someone else to do it.¡±

    ¡°Your sense of integrity is a great comfort to me.¡± Vero led them past the other horses to her chestnut mare. Papillon looked excited to see her and Vero started to brush the horse¡¯s long hair as they spoke. ¡°I¡¯m leaving Papillon here; she won¡¯t be much help in the mountains. Will you look after her while I¡¯m gone, make certain she¡¯s healthy and eating well?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Ramiro sat down on an upturned bucket and watched her. ¡°You¡¯re very fond of her.¡±

    Vero did not reply to Ramiro. She whispered her good-byes to Papillon and spent a long time brushing her before she was finished.

    Her saddle was hanging nearby and Vero gestured towards it. ¡°There are two letters with the saddle. If I don¡¯t come back¡­¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t bear thinking about.¡±

    ¡°If I don¡¯t come back-¡± Vero continued, ¡°-the first is for a girl-¡±

    ¡°A petite amour? One with raven hair and olive skin?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a prostitute named Theodora- she may be difficult to find. I marked the inn where I left her on the letter, but if she¡¯s moved on¡­¡±

    ¡°I''ve never failed to locate a prostitute in the past, and I certainly shan¡¯t now.¡±

    ¡°The second is for- take it to the house of the Marquis de Fer¡­ they¡¯ll know what to do with it.¡±

    ¡°How mysterious. Another woman? Of higher birth perhaps? One who uses paints to darken her eyes and fragrances to cover the scent of fish?¡±

    Vero did not feel obligated to answer. ¡°You may keep Papillon as well- only if I don¡¯t return¡­ and only if you swear to take good care of her.¡±

    Ramiro placed a hand over his heart. ¡°I do so swear, before any god or daemon who wills to listen.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious, Ramiro.¡±

    ¡°Are you? I¡¯m not.¡± He rose to his feet. ¡°But only because I¡¯m certain you will be well. I haven¡¯t doubted it for¡­ ah, well, I¡¯ve had some doubts of course- but I¡¯ve never had a sustained doubt that lasted longer than a moment.¡±

    ¡°Ramiro.¡±

    ¡°No worries, Virgil. I won¡¯t let you down¡­ only I think you¡¯re more handsome with a smile, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I can¡¯t see myself.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true, I¡¯m sure those pretty girls you wrote those letters to agree with me. Wouldn¡¯t you like me to tell them that the last time I saw you, that you spoke about them to me and smiled? I won¡¯t mention the other letter to either of them of course, I¡¯m a man of discretion.¡±

    Vero smirked for just a moment.

    ¡°There it is. Promise me you¡¯ll come back to us, all three of us?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t¡±

    ¡°Why not? It would bring me some comfort. And even if it is a lie, it isn¡¯t as though you¡¯ll be in a position to receive any harsh words for it.¡±

    Vero smiled again, but wistfully, rather than with humor. ¡°That¡¯s just not my way. I¡¯ll be gone before you wake tomorrow. Good-bye, Ramiro.¡±

    And she left the stable.

 50. Hunting Party Chapter 1

    A Very Long Time Ago

    Under the apple tree in front of the house, Vero and Virgil crossed swords ¨C which were really carved tree branches ¨C again and again. The battle pushed one way, and then the other. A strike blocked, followed by a counterstrike, and then the same again in turn.

    Veronique was named for her maternal grandmother, who had died while Mama was pregnant. She was born in the large wooden house Father built for Mama before they were married, and where the whole family lived together. Besides herself, Mama, Father, and Virgil, there was also her older sister Yvette, and her baby brother Antoine.

    Virgil was her twin brother, so Vero supposed that of all the people she knew, they knew each other the longest. They were inseparable even before they were born and, besides Mama, Vero liked him the most of anyone in the family.

    Not that she let that fact deter her during their duels.

    Sometimes he called himself her older brother, which frustrated her quite a lot, because they were twins. And while he had been born first, it wasn¡¯t by more than a few minutes, which Vero didn¡¯t think ought to count against her.

    He attacked her with a thrust which she could easily parry with a horizontal sweep. She spied a weakness in his position and followed up with a lunge forwards, and a powerful overhand swing.

    She realized too late that it was all just a feint. He sidestepped her strike, and swatted the branch out of her grip with a stinging wrap on the back of the hand.

    ¡°Ow!¡± Vero clutched her hand to her chest. Her eyes began to water from the pain, but she blinked rapidly to disperse it. She was much too proud to let her brother see that he¡¯d made her cry. ¡°You rat! That was too hard!¡±

    ¡°Father hits me twice as hard when we train. Suppose you were in a real fight? You might be dead now.¡±

    Vero wasn¡¯t really listening; she was more concerned with the thin trail of blood along her hand. ¡°You cheated! I hate you!¡± She kicked him as hard as she could in the shin, and in seconds, they were both sprawled wrestling on the ground.

    Vero was too mad for a reasoned defense, and Virgil was easily the stronger of the two of them. It wasn¡¯t long before he had captured both her hands and pinned her down by sitting on her chest.

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    ¡°Yield!¡±

    ¡°No! Let me go!¡±

    ¡°Say you¡¯ll quit, and I¡¯ll let you up.¡±

    Vero refused to cease her struggling, ineffective as it was. ¡°I won¡¯t! Get off of me!¡±

    ¡°Oh, very well.¡± Virgil allowed her to get up.

    He was smirking as he climbed off her, but Vero had already started to cry in earnest. When he tried to put a hand on her shoulder, she shoved him off. As soon as she regained her feet, she turned her back and ran into the house.

    Mama was spinning wool when Vero came crashing in. Vero had a tendency of crashing into and out of the house, so Mama paid her no mind to her at first, until she saw the state Vero was in. Then she dutifully put down her own work to address the issue.

    The person Vero loved the most in the world was Mama.

    She loved all her family to a greater or lesser extent of course, but Mama was special. She was, Vero felt, the most kind, beautiful, and wise woman in the whole world. She had long brown hair, and wonderful green eyes which Vero and Virgil both inherited. Vero couldn¡¯t see her own eyes of course, but if they looked like Mama¡¯s ¨C and people often said they did ¨C they must be very pretty indeed.

    Vero felt fairly certain that, of all her siblings, she was Mama¡¯s favorite. But she didn¡¯t like to point it out.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, dear one?¡± Mama asked.

    ¡°Virgil¡­ and we were practicing¡­ and then¡­ too hard, and¡­ defended myself¡­¡± Vero explained through wheezing sobs, while presenting her hand to Mama as evidence. Then came to her conclusion, ¡°And I won! But it hurts Mama!¡±

    Mama kissed her hand and prepared a cold poultice. ¡°Now Vero, if you don¡¯t want to get hurt, then why do you start fights with your brother?¡±

    Vero didn¡¯t answer. She had only told Mama the story for sympathy, and maybe so that Mama would punish Virgil. She wished that she hadn¡¯t, now that it meant hearing a lecture about changing her own behavior.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you play a nice game with your sister instead?¡±

    ¡°Yvette doesn¡¯t like playing games. She just likes to talk about nothing and complain that she isn¡¯t married yet. Maybe if she was more interesting, she wouldn¡¯t have so much trouble finding a husband.¡±

    Mama took the poultice and pressed it against Vero¡¯s hand. ¡°Well, there are lots of other girls in the village you could play with instead. I¡¯ve told you before that you wouldn¡¯t get hurt so often if you stopped roughhousing with your brother and his friends.¡±

    This wasn¡¯t going at all the way Vero had wanted, so she decided to refocus Mama¡¯s attention. She let her eyes water up again. ¡°My hand still hurts, Mama.¡±

    Mama relented and hugged her tightly, which was all Vero had really wanted all along. ¡°Very well then, dear one. Would you like to say a prayer for healing together?¡±

    Vero nodded, and Mama must have felt the motion against her chest. She led them to the moon shrine. Mama and Vero clasped their hands together. Mama recited the words in Liturgical and Vero repeated them, although she had no idea what they meant.

    ¡°Feel any better?¡±

    Vero did feel better, at least a little. ¡°Mm-hmm.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you help me with my spinning and we can tell each other a story?¡±

    Vero loved playing storytelling games and agreed very quickly. Her own troubles forgotten, Vero held the distaff and Mama went back to work with the spindle.

    ¡°Once upon a time,¡± Mama began.

 51. Hunting Party Chapter 2

    ¡°Once upon a time,¡± Mama began.

    And very far away¡­

    ¡­There was a kingdom, ruled by a very good king.

    The people who lived there, were very prosperous and happy.

    One day a fearsome dragon, which roosted under the mountain,

    Took notice of their kingdom, and began to think dark thoughts.

    All the treasures of men, eventually end in the hoards the dragons,

    But this dragon was impatient, and did not wish to wait.

    She experienced terrible envy, seeing the people so happy;

    The dragon desired the astonishing treasure, which provided such joy as she had never felt.

    She set out from her mountain, and went to the king¡¯s castle;

    The dragon approached at night; she flew with great stealth.

    ¡°But the dragon was spotted!¡± Vero interjected.

    A girl had climbed up to the tallest tower in the whole castle.

    She saw the dragon, and warned all the soldiers.

    She shouted down to them,

    ¡®Hey you lazy louts! Don¡¯t you know there¡¯s a dragon coming?¡¯

    And then they all had to jump into their rusty armor right quick,

    Because they had all been eating, and drinking, and making jolly,

    Instead of training and keeping the peace as they really ought to have been.

    The militia all rode out with their lances, and their swords, and their axes.

    The dragon swooped down on them, and plucked them up in its great claws.

    It flew way up into the air, and tossed them away over the hills.

    Then it smashed back down, and crumpled up the men like dry fallen leaves.

    It grabbed them in its mouth, and crunched them up in its jaws.

    The cavalry tilted at it, but their lances all broke against its hard scales.

    The dragon roared, and all the horses took fright and threw their riders.

    The dragon took a great breath¡­

    Vero imitated a dragon drawing in breath, to make her part of the story seem more dramatic.

    ¡­And then it blew fire over all of them, and burnt them to a crisp.

    So, then more troops came out, with crossbows and trebuchets.

    And also, the king¡¯s war wizards came out with them too.

    There were catapults loaded with massive great stones,

    And the wizards set them alight with magic fire.

    They fired the flaming boulders, but the dragon dodged them.

    Then it smashed all the big war machines into splinters.

    Crossbow bolts pelted the dragon from all sides.

    None of them hurt the monster at all though.

    The war wizards called down lightning on the dragon.

    And that did hurt it¡­

    So, the dragon got very mad.

    It beat its wings so fast that it knocked all the wizards off the city wall.

    Splat!

    Vero couldn¡¯t really think of anything else that should happen, so she stopped and Mama took over once again.

    The dragon perched on the castle wall, and roared to the king,

    ¡®See the destruction I have wrought.¡¯

    ¡®Now show me, king of men,¡¯

    ¡®Where is your precious treasure?¡¯

    The king brought out all his gold, and all his silver¡­

    ¡­But there was nothing there unlike that which the dragon already possessed.

    The dragon became very wrathful;

    She demanded that the king tell her, ''What do you prize most in your entire kingdom?''

    The king replied, ¡®My daughter,¡¯

    ¡®She is more beautiful, than all the wealth in my keep;¡¯

    ¡®She is more precious, than all the treasures in my vaults.¡¯

    ¡®For if anything were to take her from me, she could never be replaced.¡¯

    The dragon smiled at the king, and with great cruelty said,

    ¡®Then give her to me, and I promise I will leave.¡¯

    ¡®Otherwise, I will burn down your castle around you;¡¯

    ¡®I will slay your people; I will lay waste to your fields.¡¯

    ¡®I will reap such destruction, that all men will know,¡±

    ¡®And no one will ever return here.¡¯

    The king was very frightened,

    Yet he could not bear, to lose his dear daughter.

    However, the princess also heard the dragon''s words,

    And she could not bear, to see her people come to any further harm.

    The king forbade her to leave the castle,

    But the princess knew many clever paths, and many ways to avoid her father¡¯s guards.

    The princess loved a man in the city, whom she would often visit,

    But she could not marry him, because he was only a blacksmith¡¯s apprentice.

    She went to see her love;

    She told him of her intention, to give herself to the dragon.

    The smith¡¯s apprentice pleaded with her not to go;

    He begged her to stay hidden, so the dragon could not find her.

    But the princess told him, have faith in the gods,

    And that all would be well, in the end.

    The princess went to the dragon, and called out ¡®Here I am!¡¯

    The dragon looked at the princess, and found her beautiful.

    But of course, dragons are eternal,

    And she knew eventually age, would take its toll on the princess.

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    The dragon also looked at the king, and at his people;

    She saw them weep, when they discovered the valiant princess¡¯ sacrifice.

    Witnessing their misery, satisfied her envy;

    The dragon took the princess carefully in her claws, and flew away.

    The king was fraught with fear, he was plagued with panic;

    He began to pull out his beard, and started to lose his hair.

    He put out a call for a great hero, anyone gallant enough to come to his aid;

    A grand tournament was announced, and the winner would face the dragon.

    If the warrior could rescue his daughter, the king solemnly proclaimed:

    ''The savior will be given the princess hand in marriage, no matter who he may be.''

    All the greatest knights in the realm, came when they heard the call;

    Their shining armor gleamed in the sun; their spurs jangled as they rode.

    They wore coats of arms on their tabards, and trailed them on colorful banners from their lances;

    All but one knight on a tired old horse, whom no one recognized.

    This knight¡¯s armor was plain, he carried no standard¡­

    ¡­And he never removed his helm.

    ¡°But Mama, why would the king hold a tournament in the first place?¡± Vero asked.

    ¡°You usually like tournaments, dear one. You asked me to include more of them in the stories we tell.¡±

    ¡°I do like them, Mama. It¡¯s only that- well, why doesn¡¯t the king just send all the knights at once and kill the dragon that way?¡±

    ¡°Because the dragon would see a big horde of knights coming, and might gobble up the princess before they got there. And anyway, the whole army already failed to defeat the dragon, remember? What they need to rescue the princess is a great hero.¡±

    Vero nodded. She hadn¡¯t thought of that. She was often surprised just how much wisdom Mama had. ¡°Ah, I see. Um¡­ give me a moment¡­¡±

    Oh! Oh! And for the tournament they put up a great big arena¡­

    Away from all the fires and bodies left by the battle, probably.

    And the knights all got onto their great big warhorses, and raced at each other;

    They smashed their lances against each other¡¯s shields, and sent themselves flying.

    One knight was very masterful at tilting.

    He broke lance after lance, and no one could knock him down.

    So, a greedy knight decided to try and impale him through the back,

    But the valiant knight heard the evil one behind him.

    He stood up in his saddle, and leapt right off his horse!

    He grabbed the backstabber, and pulled him off his mount!

    Once they were wrestling fair in the mud,

    The chivalrous knight easily pinned down the evil one.

    Once everyone had seen that he¡¯d won,

    He killed the dishonorable coward, by stabbing him all over with his dagger.

    And then there was a great big melee,

    And one of the knights had a huge axe! He swung with both hands!

    One of the knights, he clobbered another with a great big mace,

    And I think he probably also had to use both his hands.

    The honorable knights all met in the center, and battled with their swords;

    Until the big giant with the axe came,

    And they all had to wallop on him together to bring him down,

    And then they all went back to slashing at each other again.

    A big group of bad knights all had one good knight surrounded,

    And he had to duck out of the way as they swung at him,

    And then he had to beat each of them in a row;

    Just like one, two, three!

    The crowd were all cheering very loudly for him¡­

    But then the one with the mace charged!

    The mace knight knocked him down, and started to pummel the good knight!

    But then the good knight turned them over, and started to thump the bad knight!

    Vero paused to catch her breath and think of something else exciting to happen. She allowed Mama to take over again in the meantime.

    ¡°And in the end, after all the excitement was over¡­¡±

    It was only the mystery knight, who was left standing;

    The king commended him, and declared him the winner.

    The crowd wished to behold his face, the face which would rescue the princess,

    Or at least, perish very bravely in the attempt.

    However, the knight refused, saying,

    ¡®I shall remove my helm, only when I return your princess to you.¡¯

    The king found this very strange, he pondered what it could mean,

    But he chose to respect the knight¡¯s wishes.

    The enigmatic warrior set out at once, he left for the dragon¡¯s lair;

    The lonely peak rose up, it towered high above him.

    The knight stopped, and then dismounted;

    His stallion was brave enough to stand beside him, but he bade it to stay.

    The dragon¡¯s lair would have tight walls, it¡¯s floors would be uneven;

    It was no place for a cavalier and his charger, the knight went on alone.

    A single winding road led up, it ended at a cavern mouth;

    The cave glowed with red and orange, from an unseen fire somewhere within.

    The knight drew his sword, and ventured on with great bravery,

    But he stopped to stare in wonder, at the massive dragon-size of the entrance.

    The brave knight saw and realized; he was only an insect to her;

    Regardless he continued forwards, in search of the illumination.

    The strange glinting light led him on, like a will-o-the-wisp;

    Until at last, he found the source¡­

    Gold! A whole pile of it!

    Just lying there, spread across the floor!

    The knight began to rush forward, eager to lay hands on it at once;

    Before remembering himself, and his reason for being there.

    He advanced cautiously, with his shield raised,

    And he did not weigh himself down, with the material treasures of this world.

    As he drew onwards, he saw more gold behind the first pile;

    Silver, jewels, and gemstones as well.

    Past that pile there was another, and then another,

    And the knight realized, he beheld only the thinnest outer traces of a hoard.

    All he saw there were but a few scraps, carelessly discarded for their paltry worth;

    A trail leading to caverns, unthinkable in their scope,

    The dragon¡¯s vaults stretched, down deep into the earth;

    Each vast enough to accommodate, the great halls of a hundred castles within.

    Suddenly, there was a rush of air,

    And a horrible sound, coming up from the unseen depths.

    The knight could hear something below, he heard the great dragon bellow,

    And he started to climb, down a cliff face of marble statues.

    The knight¡¯s feet settled, in a desert of precious golden sand;

    He slipped and slid, over drifts and dunes of coin and pearls.

    At last, he found the dragon;

    She roosted over a great forge, and heated it with her own fire.

    Inside the forge was contained, a great mass of molten gold,

    And beside it, was the captured princess.

    The dragon knew, that human beauty is only ever temporary,

    And so she intended, to cast the princess in gold.

    The pure form of the princess, would thus be preserved for all eternity;

    An endless sacrifice of perfect love, the centerpiece of her collection.

    The knight stepped forwards; he challenged the dragon;

    He raised his sword up high, and swung it with all his might.

    But a dragon¡¯s scales can be pierced, by no weapon of mortal make;

    The blade shattered against the dragon¡¯s hide, as any sword must.

    The dragon laughed. ¡®Ser Knight, you see,¡¯

    ¡®No weapon forged by mortal hands, can penetrate my armor.¡¯

    ¡®But look here, Ser Knight, I have jaws that bite.¡¯

    She snapped her jaws, but the knight held his courage.

    ¡®And look here, Ser Knight, I have claws that catch.¡¯

    And she flashed her claws, but the knight still held his courage.

    Vero made urgent signs to Mama that she wanted to continue the story again.

    ¡°And¡­ and then¡­¡± Vero started off haltingly. ¡°...And then, the dragon pounced at her- at- at the knight, I mean.¡±

    The dragon pounced at her;

    Like the way a cat pounces at a mouse.

    But the knight jumped away, at just the very last moment!

    Treasure was sent flying everywhere.

    The dragon chased after her- after the knight¡­

    ¡­But she slid away, riding on her shield like a sled!

    And ahead of her, she saw another sword in the treasure,

    And it was glowing, because it was magic.

    The knight swooped over towards it,

    And she reached out, and grabbed it as she slid right by.

    Behind her, the knight heard the dragon taking a deep breath;

    It was about to breathe its fire at her!

    But she spun around and raised her shield, and blocked the whole blast of fire!

    She took the magic sword, and the dragon was surprised!

    And she stabbed it right in the heart!

    Because it was a magic sword and not a mortal one, the dragon fell over and died!

    The good knight won!

    ¡°The knight was victorious,¡± Mama began very seriously.

    But before she could climb, back up to the princess;

    She stopped, and she drank some of the dragon¡¯s blood.

    At that moment, the knight heard the song of nature,

    For that one brief moment, she saw eternity as the dragon did.

    As the dragon lay dying, she told the knight,

    ¡®Now you have seen the world, as it truly is.¡¯

    ¡®Though you may return to your castle, you can never go home again.¡¯

    And the dragon died.

    The knight returned to the princess,

    And they both traveled back to the castle together.

    The people had heard echoes of the great battle,

    And they feared that the brave knight had been killed.

    Suddenly a cry went up;

    The knight and the princess had returned!

    The knight rode to the castle in triumph, with the jubilant populace at her back;

    They stood before the king, who embraced his daughter.

    Then he asked the unknown hero, to show them all their face;

    Slowly, the knight removed the helm,

    And revealed¡­

    Mama smiled and paused for Vero, who nearly exploded with excitement.

    It was the girl!

    The one in the tower who warned the soldiers!

    She was the princess¡¯ sister, who was just as pretty,

    But also strong too, she was just like Aaja the huntress!

    She knew the other knights weren¡¯t any good.

    So, she had to save her sister herself.

    Mama picked up the narrative again seamlessly.

    And because the second princess, obviously, couldn¡¯t marry her own sister,

    She told their father that she wanted her elder sister, to marry whomever she wished.

    The elder princess ran at once, to the smith¡¯s apprentice,

    At last, they could finally be married!

    For you see, it was he, who had made the plain-yet-sturdy armor,

    And it was he, who had cared for the old horse, when its master had abandoned it.

    The second princess explained, how he had given her these things,

    So that she would have everything she needed, to rescue her sister.

    There was a grand wedding, and everyone celebrated;

    Except, for the second princess.

    She found she could no longer enjoy her old simple pleasures, not as she once did,

    And she remembered, the dragon¡¯s final words to her.

    At last, she donned her armor, mounted her horse¡­

    ¡­And vanished into the night.

    The king and his people were very sad, that their heroine had disappeared,

    But the princess told them all, that her sister had gone on to greater things.

    This answer satisfied the king, and his people,

    And together, they all lived happily ever after.

 52. Hunting Party Chapter 3

    ¡°I liked that story, Mama. Let¡¯s tell another one.¡±

    ¡°But we¡¯ve finished all our spinning for today, my heart. We¡¯ll tell another story tomorrow.¡±

    Vero nodded. Mama sent her out to fetch herbs and vegetables from the potager garden beside the house and water from the river for supper. While she was working, Virgil slowly meandered towards her. Eventually, he stopped and watched her pulling up carrots and onions.

    Vero wanted to wait for him to say something, but eventually she decided that he wouldn¡¯t, so she would need to. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I called you a rat, and said that I hated you. I didn¡¯t really mean it.¡±

    ¡°I know you didn¡¯t. I¡¯m sorry we quarreled too.¡±

    Virgil watched her finish loading her basket and walked with her down to the river. He showed no inclination to help her carry the food basket or the water bucket. Vero washed the dirt off the vegetables. Virgil wandered downstream to make water, then returned and lay out on the grass in the sun.

    Vero made some sly comments suggesting that he was too weak and tired to carry the water back to the house, which eventually induced him to help her. When they got back to the house, Virgil was called away. Father was holding Antoine, and ordered Virgil to put the animals in for the evening.

    Father occupied a more distant role in Vero¡¯s life than the other members of her family. She was very proud of him, but she never really spent much time with him. He was always very busy managing the family farm. He was the richest man in the village, and owned his own land, but that didn¡¯t amount to much in the grand scheme of the world. The house he''d built was very sturdy, but they all lived in only a single room.

    His hair had turned mostly grey, but it was once red. Even though he was getting older he was still very big and strong. Vero loved how effortlessly he picked her up and held her when she was a little girl, but she was getting too old for that.

    He wasn¡¯t a native Velian. Originally, he was from the Pict highlands far to the northwest. He came to the south as a mercenary during the last interregnum, but he decided to stay when he met Mama. She was training to be a priestess at the time, but they fell in love and got married.

    It was a story Vero often asked Mama to tell her, because she thought it was very romantic.

    Antoine was much younger than his other siblings. Vero and Virgil were several years younger than Yvette, but Antoine was more than a decade their junior. The gap resulted from a miscarriage, still-births, and infants too weak to live more than a few weeks. Vero was surprised each morning that he was still alive. Although now that two years had passed, she decided that perhaps he wouldn¡¯t die after all.

    She hadn¡¯t begrudged the baby Mama¡¯s attention when she thought that he would only be around for a few weeks, or a maybe a month, but recently Vero started doing her best to refocus Mama¡¯s priorities back to herself. If Father was so enchanted by having another boy, then let him look after his miracle son.

    Inside the house, Vero helped Mama make the soup. She stirred up the hot coals and set the water to boil. Mama chopped the vegetables into pieces and started to cry when she cut the onions. Vero solemnly assured her that she mourned the loss as well, but there were always more in the garden. Mama laughed with her through the tears.

    Yvette came inside first, but slowly all the family came trickling in after her. Yvette was already past twenty, and terrified that she wasn¡¯t married yet. Physically, Yvette looked more like Antoine than Vero or Virgil. Both Vero and her twin inherited Father''s hair and Mama¡¯s eyes, while Yvette and Antoine received the reverse.

    When they were all younger, Yvette would play with her and Virgil. She took the role of the princess, while Virgil and Vero were knight and squire. But Yvette never played with them anymore, so as far as Vero was concerned, that made her mostly a non-entity.

    Her most redeeming feature was that she seemed to enjoy watching over Antoine, probably because it let her fantasize that it was her baby. Vero didn¡¯t really care what her sister¡¯s motivations were, only that she kept as much of Mama¡¯s time free as possible.

    Father led Virgil and Antoine through evening prayers at the sun shrine, and the women of the house said vespers at the moon shrine. Then they all sat down to supper.

    Vero took a place on the bench next to Mama, and leaned against her whenever Mama didn¡¯t need to use her arm to eat. Virgil sat across from her and devoured his food with single minded determination.

    Vero was considering her own soup and bread when there was a knock at the door. It was later than any visitor would usually come, but it was a summer evening and still very warm and bright out for the hour. Father stood up from the table and answered the door.

    Vero¡¯s place at the table faced the entrance, and she leaned over away from Mama so that she could see the man Father was speaking to.

    He was old, though not quite as old as the village alderman. His hair was mostly gray, except for patches where it was dark. He was short, but broader shouldered then she would have expected for a man of his age. His expression was very mean, and he gave her a terribly fierce look over Father¡¯s shoulder when he caught her looking at him. He was dressed practically in rags, but she saw that he wore a sword on his belt.

    The stranger and Father were speaking too quietly for Vero to hear what they were saying over her sister¡¯s incessant prattling and the baby¡¯s screeching. Virgil was trying to draw her attention by pulling faces at her. She finally acknowledged him.

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    With exaggerated lip movements, but no sound, he asked her, ¡®Who. Is. It?¡¯

    She shrugged back and he rolled his eyes in annoyance. Through looks and gestures, Vero and her brother argued covertly as to which of them would ask Father about the stranger once he returned.

    In the end, Virgil relented that he would be the one to broach the subject.

    There was never really much choice. They both knew full well that Father would only tell her to be quiet if Vero asked, and that attempt would salt the earth when it came to any further questioning.

    Vero watched Father bid the stranger farewell and close the door. Virgil was on the verge of ruining everything by pelting him with questions at once, but Vero was able to wave him off. They waited for Father to have time to sit back down so that they could question him more casually.

    Mama, who had been watching the two of them the whole time, gave Vero an indulgent smile and gently tried to untangle the rat¡¯s nest of strands in her hair.

    Virgil began the interrogation. ¡°Who was at the door, Father?¡±

    ¡°A slayer, sent by the Baron.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a slayer, Mama?¡± Vero whispered.

    ¡°A brave warrior who uses spells, special magic just like those little prayers I taught you, to hunt monsters.¡± Mama whispered back very conspiratorially. ¡°They were all wandering elven knights at first, but then they mostly they became human as time went on. Some stories say that Aaja the huntress was once part of their order. The emperor built them great big academies to train more and more of them, back when the emperors were still good and all humans everywhere belonged in the Imperium.¡±

    ¡°That was a long time ago.¡±

    ¡°It was, sweet one.¡±

    Virgil was watching Mama whisper in her ear. Vero nodded to let him know that she had gotten the whole story and that she would tell him later. He narrowed his eyes at her, but no matter how unsatisfied he might be, he still couldn¡¯t do anything about it at the moment.

    He asked Father another question. ¡°What did the slayer want?¡±

    ¡°Our lord has hired him to lead a hunting party. Every man strong enough to hold a weapon has been called up to go on the hunt.¡±

    ¡°What''s the hunt for?¡±

    ¡°A griffon. That damn fool Abedias has let one loose.¡±

    Abedias was a wizard the Baron had kept as a retainer since before Vero was born. Father was certain he was up to no good, but Vero had never met him, or even seen him, so she couldn¡¯t form an opinion one way or the other.

    ¡°Mama, what¡¯s a griffon?¡± she whispered.

    ¡°A griffon is a kind of chimera, an awful abomination that wizards create out of different parts of poor captured animals. Griffons are made from hunting birds and predatory mammals, usually eagles and lions. Their mutations leave them in constant horrible pain so they¡¯re very hostile and aggressive all the time. Their creation is illegal in some lands, it¡¯s a very evil thing to fashion one.¡±

    ¡®Wizards. Make. Them.¡¯ she mouthed to Virgil, who rolled his eyes again.

    ¡°When is the hunt?¡± Virgil asked Father.

    ¡°Sunrise tomorrow, so get to sleep early and be ready.¡±

    Vero could hardly contain her surprise, and before thinking she blurted out, ¡°We¡¯re going with you?¡±

    Father gave her a very imperious and intimidating eye, but addressed his response to Virgil. ¡°You will be coming with us. The lord has called for every man old enough to hold a weapon, and yes, that includes my son. Besides the levy, we¡¯ll have the wizard, the slayer, and half a dozen knights with us. You won¡¯t have anything of importance to do, but it will be a good experience for you. And a chance to make a good impression on a knight you might soon be squired to. Most important, I expect you not to make a nuisance of yourself to any of these important personages, understood?¡±

    ¡°Of course, Father.¡± Virgil answered.

    ¡°What about me?¡± Vero was too impatient to hide her disappointment any longer. ¡°I¡¯ve had as much practice with swords as he¡¯s had!¡±

    Vero always watched Father when he gave Virgil his lessons at sword play. Father was much too busy with the farm to spar with him as often as he needed if he was going to be squired to a knight as Father wished for him, so Vero was given permission to act as his training partner.

    ¡°You will stay with the rest of the village women and children in the temple while we are away.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to.¡±

    Vero thought that Father would be furious, but after a moment of silence to hold his temper, he replied in a moderating tone. ¡°There may be injuries during this hunt. In fact, it¡¯s very likely. You and your mother know the healing arts, and your time will come later. But this hunt is no place for a girl.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just as old as Virgil and-¡±

    ¡°Enough. I¡¯ve made my decision.¡± Father¡¯s tone made it clear she was in for a hiding if she tried to push her luck any farther, so she bit her tongue to stifle any reply.

    Yvette continued to babble about nothing in particular, but Vero paid her no mind and spent the rest of the meal brooding in silence.

    After supper was over, they got ready for bed and Vero gave Virgil an abbreviated version of everything Mama had told her. She was too upset to take much pleasure from it. Even though she got to talk about Aaja the huntress, who was Vero''s favorite of the ancient heroes.

    Vero wanted to complain to Mama, but she and Father told her they wished to be left alone together, which only made Vero even more furious. She curled up next to Virgil and he put an arm around her. He listened very sympathetically as she complained, and let her use his shoulder as a pillow.

    ¡°Well, from the sounds of what Father has said, there won¡¯t be much for me to do. I suppose I¡¯ll just be sent running around fetching things. You won¡¯t be missing anything really exciting, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    ¡°If it won¡¯t be dangerous, then why can¡¯t I come with you?¡± Vero was still outraged.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get cross with me. Father made the decision. I¡¯m sure he has his reasons.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not fair!¡±

    ¡°When I come back, I¡¯ll tell you everything that happened.¡±

    ¡°But I won¡¯t see any of it. A slayer is going to hunt a real monster, just like Aaja would, and I¡¯m going to miss it. No adventure like this has ever come here before.¡±

    ¡°No¡­ I suppose you¡¯re right...¡± Virgil admitted reluctantly.

    ¡°And it won¡¯t ever happen again. And it¡¯s all going to pass me by. I hate it. I hate it!¡±

    Mama told them sternly from behind the curtain to stay quiet.

    ¡°I know, but there¡¯s nothing we can do about it," Virgil whispered. "So why be upset?¡±

    ¡°You could talk to Father.¡±

    Virgil chuckled. ¡°No, I couldn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°You could try, at least.¡±

    ¡°Do you really think there would be any point?¡±

    Vero couldn¡¯t honestly say that she did, so she said nothing at all.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you everything that happens. I promise, it will be like you were right there, you won¡¯t miss a thing.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll forget things.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t. I¡¯ll tell you everything the moment I get back. I¡¯ll even write it down for you if you like, and you can read it over and over. And once the griffon is dead, I¡¯ll ask Father to take you to see the body. I''m sure he''ll do that.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Vero still wasn¡¯t happy, but there wasn¡¯t any more to be said.

    She thought she would be much too annoyed to fall asleep, but Virgil rubbed her back and she drifted off almost at once.

 53. Hunting Party Chapter 4

    Mama woke Vero early the next day with a kiss to the forehead. Even so, Vero was in a foul temper all morning. Mama must have noticed, because she kept a firm eye on her all the time while they got dressed and made breakfast. After a quick meal of scrambled eggs on buttered bread, they trudged out to the temple in the village center.

    The rally point for the levy was also at the village, so Father and Virgil came with them. They all arrived together just as the sun was coming up over the trees. There were only a few people milling around, despite the orders to be there at sunrise, but because of the season it still felt very early. No one seemed distressed that so few had arrived so far, and Vero silently fumed at Father all over again for dragging them out so early just to make them wait.

    Father took Virgil off to report to the lord¡¯s marshal. The trickle of people coming to the temple slowly began to increase, but Vero couldn¡¯t find anyone she had the slightest interest in. She tried to sneak off to find the Slayer, but immediately found her arm caught in Mama¡¯s grip of iron.

    ¡°Where are you going, dear one?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m bored Mama, there¡¯s nothing to do here. I just want to go look at the Slayer. If nothing else, I¡¯d like to see him at least.¡±

    Mama looked like she was about to chide her, but at the last moment she relented. ¡°Oh, very well. Let¡¯s take a walk around the village while we wait, we¡¯ll see if we can¡¯t find this slayer.¡±

    ¡°Thank-you Mama!¡± Vero threw her arms around Mama and hugged her close.

    They held hands and walked together through the village until they saw a colorful pavilion set up just on the outskirts. There they found the Slayer speaking with a man who could only be Abedias.

    Vero had never seen that mage before, or any other, but the man certainly looked like she thought a wizard should look. He wore a long sky-blue robe and a tri-cornered hat on his head the same color as his robe. He held a wooden staff and had grey hair with a long beard. The only thing that didn¡¯t seem to fit was his complexion, which was a dark olive shade. Wizards were supposed to spend all their time reading and experimenting in towers and things, so she thought that he really ought to be very pale.

    Besides them, there were also a few handsome young knights in splendid chainmail with beautiful colored tabards. Vero tried smiling at them, but they treated her like a child and ignored her. They were all looking over something on a table. Vero thought that it might be a map, but Mama held her back from getting close enough to see.

    ¡°Greetings Olivia, you are as beautiful as ever I see.¡±

    Vero had been so interested in the knights that she hadn¡¯t noticed the Baron approach. He called her Olivia, but he was speaking to Mama. Mama bowed her head and did a deep curtsy. Vero watched and did her best to reproduce the movement.

    ¡°You are too kind, my lord.¡±

    ¡°And this must be your daughter. She looks a very pretty one as well.¡± He took on an exaggerated high-pitched tone and waved to her. ¡°Hello, little one.¡±

    Vero found his patronizing attitude very grating, and answered in her mostly courtly and dignified manner to let the Baron know that he could take her seriously. ¡°Good morning, my lord.¡±

    The Baron turned his attention back to Mama. ¡°I don¡¯t expect this hunt to be much trouble, but it never hurts to be cautious. Will you give us Queen Luna¡¯s blessing?¡±

    ¡°I am not ordained, my lord.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve still had the training. You know the prayers.¡±

    Mama obliged. She recited a few lines in Liturgical and made the wide U-shaped sign of the moon.

    ¡°Thank-you. You¡¯d best get back to the temple, we¡¯ll be off very soon.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry yourself. It should be a simple matter; I¡¯ll have your husband and son returned to you soon, I trust.¡±

    Vero would have liked to have stayed longer, but Mama pulled her away and dragged her back to the temple. By the time they returned, the village looked like it was a market fair day. People were everywhere and she found Virgil with a pack of their friends. She had only just arrived though when the men began to move out, and Father called Virgil away from them.

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    Virgil gave Vero an empathizing look then turned away to leave. She ran after him to hug him and wish for him to go safely. Mama came and rounded the rest of the children up soon after. She took them into the temple, which was being readied as a hospital to tend to anyone wounded in the hunt.

    With everyone packed inside, the temple was very tight and filled with the abrasive squalling of infants. Everyone was staying away from where Mama, the temple¡¯s elderly priestess, and a pair of young acolytes prepared to tend to the wounded. Vero was glad to stay with Mama and help them anoint bandages with holy oil, alcohol, and medicinal herbs.

    Soon they were all in a rush when they discovered that the seals on the temple¡¯s medical stores had been faulty, necessitating them to prepare everything they needed from scratch. Then Antoine became so colicky that Yvette couldn¡¯t quiet him, and Mama had to go look after him herself until she could calm him down. This left Vero in the care of the venerable old priestess.

    Mother Zora probably wasn¡¯t a hundred years old, since people generally didn¡¯t live that long, but Vero thought she definitely looked like she was. She had been the priestess for the village¡¯s temple of the Earth Mother since Vero had been born. She was blind, but she wasn¡¯t deaf. She could actually hear quite well, which made it dangerous to curse, even very quietly, within the vicinity of the temple. As Vero soon rediscovered herself.

    ¡°Language dear. You mustn¡¯t be so wrathful, child. This is no time to offend the gods with a blaspheming tongue, my dear.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, mother.¡±

    ¡°The Earth Mother always forgives my child.¡±

    ¡°Oh, mother! It seems we¡¯ve run out of aloe!¡± Vero had been deliberately applying an exorbitant amount to each bandage for the previous half an hour to make sure of it. ¡°I¡¯ll run and fetch some more from the temple garden; it will only be a moment.¡±

    ¡°Such an industrious little one. Run along, but be quick now. It¡¯s dangerous to linger outside.¡±

    It was all Vero had been waiting for. The moment she was through the door and out of sight, she was off running. It had been just more than an hour since the men left, but there were so many that they had been moving slowly and left a very obvious trail for her to follow. Vero tore off after them as fast as her legs could carry her, and she felt certain that she would catch up before midday. She hoped so at least, because she had no food with her and didn¡¯t fancy the idea of skipping lunch.

    Once she was far enough that she couldn¡¯t see the village any longer, she slowed from a run to a steady march. She realized she hadn¡¯t brought any water either. She marched for what felt like hours and the sun climbed higher. She still had a trail to follow, but off the trail the wild grasses grew up taller and taller, until at last she was trekking through a field as high as she was. It started to seem as though the trail was just winding back and forth like a snake, but she couldn¡¯t tell because she couldn¡¯t see over all the damned weeds.

    It was dreadfully hot, and she was just beginning to seriously question the wisdom of running off as she had done, when she heard a rustling in the plants and her heart stopped.

    There was something moving in the field. It was moving fast, and it was coming right for her. She was certain she ought to do something, but, in the moment, she was too terrified to think of what.

    Then a figure emerged from the weeds and her worst fears were realized.

    ¡°Mama!¡±

    Mama crossed the space between them in a flash, with rage in her eyes, and caught Vero up in her arms like a doll. ¡°Gods Veronique! Are you simple?! What in all the hells are you thinking, damn fool girl!?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Mama! I was just about to come back, I promise!¡±

    Vero really did mean it. She saw that Mama¡¯s expression wasn¡¯t really so fierce as it had seemed at first and that she had tears on her face. Vero felt so completely awful at that moment, that she was certain that she had been just a moment from turning around on her own.

    ¡°Quiet! Just you wait until your father hears what you¡¯ve done! And don¡¯t think you¡¯ll come crying to me when he¡¯s finished thrashing you. You scared me nearly to death!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Mama! I really, really am!¡±

    There was a loud and terrible shriek. The sound was like an eagle¡¯s screech, but too deep and much too loud. Vero felt Mama tense.

    ¡°When I tell you to Vero, run as fast as you can.¡±

    ¡°What is it, Mama? What¡¯s happening?¡±

    A large shadow passed over them. Vero was too afraid to look up and see what had made it.

    ¡°Vero, run!¡±

    Mama pushed her and Vero ran as fast and as hard as she could. She expected Mama to be right behind her, but when she looked, she saw that she was alone. The shadow passed overhead once more and she heard the screech again. At any moment, she expected to be snatched up like a field mouse caught by a hawk.

    Then her feet tripped over something, she knew not what, and Vero tumbled to the ground. Her mind screamed at her to get back to her feet and run, but her body refused to respond. She huddled into a ball and wished for Mama to pick her up and carry her away from that awful place. She closed her eyes tightly, but she could hear the sound of powerful beating wings slowly descending down towards her.

    Vero realized that she was about to die. She felt a massive form land immediately adjacent to her and waited for the horrible moment when the monster would kill her. She expected to feel sudden pain and to be torn apart at any second, but it never came.

    There was an intense pulse of heat and Vero heard a wounded scream from the creature above her. There was a rush of air as the monster launched itself back into the sky. Vero opened her eyes and saw Mama on a hill holding aloft a silver icon of the moon and chanting loudly in Liturgical. The wild grains around her were scorched and smoking, and Mama was burned and bleeding.

    There was a deafening screech and the griffon dived down towards her with talons extended. It was huge, larger than a fully grown bull at the torso, before even considering the enormous span of its wings. Vero watched it drag Mama to the ground and hid her eyes so she would see no more.

 54. Hunting Party Chapter 5

    Vero realized she was alone.

    Still involuntarily shaking in terror, she opened her eyes.

    ¡°Mama?¡± Vero picked herself up and crawled unsteadily to where she thought she had last seen Mama, but in the tall grass she couldn¡¯t find her, and she couldn¡¯t think why Mama wasn¡¯t looking for her.

    ¡°Ma- ma.¡± Vero tried to shout, but her voice was caught in her throat like in a nightmare. She tried again. ¡°Where are you, Mama?¡±

    ¡°Here. Here.¡± Vero could hear a weak whisper and followed it.

    She passed through a wall of grass and found Mama. She was lying on her back in a spreading pool of blood, her arm was twisted under her at a horrible angle, and her skin was scorched and black in places. Her breathing was labored and Vero could see exposed ribs protruding from her chest.

    ¡°Mama? What do I do, Mama?¡±

    ¡°Vero? I can¡¯t see you.¡±

    Vero sat down and took Mama¡¯s good hand in hers. ¡°I¡¯m here Mama. I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s all my fault.¡±

    ¡°Are you safe? Are you hurt?¡±

    ¡°No, Mama. I¡¯m not hurt, but I don¡¯t know what to do. I don¡¯t know how to fix you.¡±

    ¡°Listen to me, I love you, Veronique. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my fault. I¡¯m sorry Mama- I didn¡¯t mean-¡±

    ¡°Not your¡­ listen, Vero. Tell the others- tell them I love them too. Virgil, Antoine, Yvette, your father¡­ tell them I love them¡­¡±

    ¡°Mama, you have to teach me. I don¡¯t know the prayers to heal you. It¡¯s my fault, but I don¡¯t know how to fix it¡­ Mama?¡±

    ¡°Vero¡­ love you¡­¡±

    ¡°I love you too Mama- need to teach me- don¡¯t know the prayer¡­¡±

    Mama didn¡¯t say anything. Vero couldn¡¯t hear her rasping for breath any longer.

    ¡°Mama? Say something to me.¡± Vero squeezed Mama¡¯s hand, but she didn¡¯t move. ¡°My fault¡­ I¡¯m sorry! Mama!¡± Vero pulled Mama¡¯s arm more forcefully, but there was still no reply. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! Don¡¯t leave me, Mama! Don¡¯t leave! I¡¯m sorry!¡±

    Vero cried against Mama¡¯s chest and tried to pull Mama¡¯s arm around her, but it just fell limp.

    She was not sure how long she cried.

    It should have been you. It¡¯s all your fault. Mama died because of you.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know how to fix- don¡¯t know how¡­¡± Vero had to speak aloud to know what she was thinking.

    If you had stayed in the temple, Mama would still be alive. You killed her.

    ¡°Someone knows- Father knows- Father knows¡­ what to do¡­¡±

    Vero stood up and began to walk, although she hardly knew where she was going. There were tracks she was following, but she had no notion if she was following them forwards or backwards. Only that she must follow them, and could not stop for anything.

    He¡¯ll know it¡¯s your fault. They¡¯ll all know you killed her.

    It was tremendously hot, but Vero could not stop herself from shivering and her legs trembled under her with every step. Her mouth was dry, but she continued to repeat her task over and over to herself, because she feared that if she stopped, she might forget it. ¡°Find Father. Father will fix it. Find Father. Father will know what to do.¡±

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    You should have been the one to die. You deserve it.

    Vero marched and marched through unchanging fields for what felt like an eternity, until she heard the sounds of men and horses ahead of her. Smoke was visible on the horizon and she could smell the burning.

    Burning. Like Mama.

    Vero thought she must have been close, but the distance between her and the hunting party just kept going and going. There was shouting, but when she came closer, Vero heard moaning underneath it. It sounded like a great groaning mass of voices, wounded and in despair. When she stumbled into the smoldering battlefield, no one took any notice of her.

    No one will help you. They know you, murderer.

    ¡°One! You said there was only one griffon!¡±

    Vero could not see Father or Virgil, only the faces of mournful and broken men. With no idea where Father could be found, she let the sounds of shouting guide her.

    ¡°¡­and if the baron gives me leave, you¡¯ll be one of those bodies in a moment, magister!¡±

    ¡°Master slayer, you will, of course, receive due compensation for the additional heads.¡±

    ¡°My lord, I-¡±

    ¡°Enough out of you, damn wizard! You killed these men sure enough. Gods! I nearly died myself!¡± The Baron was shouting down the wizard Abedias.

    Beside the two of them, the Slayer was examining the bodies of four dead griffons. Past the griffons were lines of men laying still on the ground.

    ¡°The question is, is this all of them?¡± the Slayer asked, with grim resignation.

    The Baron bore down on the wizard with a ferocious gaze. ¡°Is it?¡±

    ¡°Y- yes I believe it is.¡±

    The Slayer stood up, turned, and also stared down Abedias. ¡°You believe?¡±

    ¡°Griffons are really very fragile-¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t seem so fragile when one tore this out of my plate!¡± the Baron thundered, and gestured towards an enormous gash in his steel breast plate. The strike must have come just short of his chest, or he would certainly be dead.

    ¡°I mean internally. Very prone to organ failure. I need many specimens, because without the most careful care, they die in great numbers. Given their natural expiry rate there should only have been one left by now according to my calculations, perhaps two. Four griffons are totally unprecedented. I¡¯m certain this is all of them. Certain.¡±

    ¡°Your ¡®careful care¡¯ is what¡¯s been killing them, and drove them mad enough to break free in the first-¡± The Slayer noticed Vero watching them. ¡°-gods, what¡¯s a child doing here?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Olivia¡¯s girl.¡± The Baron called for one of his men. ¡°Bring her something to drink!¡± He kneeled down and clasped her hands in his. ¡°You¡¯re covered in blood, are you hurt?¡±

    He¡¯ll find out what you did.

    ¡°Ma- Mama¡­¡±

    ¡°Where is your mother, little one?¡±

    It¡¯s your fault.

    ¡°Mama¡­¡± Vero started to cry again and could say no more.

    The Baron put a waterskin to her lips and Vero began to drink.

    ¡°What happened to your mother, dear?¡±

    You killed her.

    ¡°Griff- griff¡­¡± Vero tried to say more, but she was startled back into silence when the Slayer struck the Abedias and sent him sprawling to the ground.

    The Slayer stood over him with a terrifying expression, but the wizard remained unmoved. ¡°It¡¯s simply another one! And another bounty for you! So don¡¯t you look so fierce at me!¡±

    ¡°Another one? Another griffon, another chance to die on behalf of a lying sadist, another orphan!¡± The Slayer kicked the wizard hard in the stomach.

    ¡°Not in front of the girl. I¡¯ll have him dealt with later, she¡¯s seen enough already. And gods, but it¡¯s not over yet.¡± The Baron pulled Vero to her feet, and Abedias slunk away like a whipped dog.

    ¡°Fa- find Father.¡±

    ¡°I- I¡¯ll take you to him, little one. And your brother.¡±

    The Baron led her past the griffons, along the row of bodies who Vero tried her best not to recognize, until the end, where Father and Virgil lay sleeping.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m very sorry, my dear. I¡¯ll give you time alone with them.¡±

    Vero feared that Father would be angry if she woke him, so she shook Virgil first, but he did not respond. Then she tried to wake Father after all, but he did not move either. The Baron said he was giving her time alone with them, but she did not know what to do with them if they would not wake.

    She sat and looked at them, her mind a complete blank.

    The Baron was speaking to the Slayer behind her. ¡°There¡¯s no way to know that there¡¯s only one more left, and I won¡¯t be getting anymore fighting out of this lot. I¡¯ll pay you for the other four if you wish to close the contract now.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯ll take the fifth as well. This is my trade after all.¡±

    ¡°Is there anything you¡¯ll need?¡±

    ¡°More bolts for the crossbow. Medical supplies. And rations, I may have to stay out here overnight.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have them.¡±

    Vero looked helplessly back and forth from Father to Virgil. Her brother¡¯s clothes were torn and stained with blood, but he still had his dagger on his belt.

    ¡°Mama said- said to tell you- that she loves you. Both of you. This is all my fault. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Vero pulled the dagger off her brother¡¯s belt and followed the Slayer.

 55. Hunting Party Chapter 6

    The Slayer spoke with one of the Baron¡¯s men, who gave him the food and then the ammunition he requested. Then he left the camp, and Vero trailed after him.

    He moved slowly, carefully looking for something. Vero could not recognize what exactly he was looking for, but it must have been some sign of the monster. They were not going back the way she had come, so he must have known something that she did not.

    She kept her distance until she found him stopped and obviously waiting for her.

    ¡°Why are you following me?¡±

    ¡°I want to go with you.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± He sounded annoyed.

    ¡°The griffon, you¡¯re tracking it.¡±

    ¡°What of it?¡±

    ¡°I want to hurt it. I want to kill it.¡±

    ¡°Chimera never stop hurting, so that should give you some satisfaction. And it¡¯s far more likely to kill you than the other way around.¡± The Slayer crossed his arms.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care. I deserve to die.¡±

    ¡°Go back to the village.¡±

    ¡°No, I won¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± He turned and set out again at a very brisk pace.

    Vero did her best to keep up, but he ignored her completely and soon out distanced her.

    Eventually, she lost him in the weeds completely.

    He was not bothering to hide his tracks though. Vero may not have known how to find a griffon, but she could follow a man¡¯s trampled path through the thick field easily enough.

    However, the sun finally began to set, and the trail became harder and harder to follow as the light dimmed.

    Vero also began to realize that she had not eaten all day. The heat was making her lightheaded, and even the sundown did not seem to dissipate it.

    She refused to stop though. To stop was to think, and she would not do that. It mattered not where she went, only that she moved forwards.

    Vero was almost completely lost when she saw a trail of smoke against the faint pink sky. She followed it.

    The slayer had a cauldron boiling over a large fire. He sat well away from it and ate his rations with his wineskin on his lap. Whatever was boiling in the cauldron smelled terrible.

    ¡°Godsdamnit. I told you to go back to the village!¡±

    ¡°I said no!¡±

    ¡°Imbecile.¡± The Slayer paid no further attention to her.

    Vero also sat away from the fire, but at a respectful distance from the Slayer. They were on the edge of the Whitewood, and she sat with her back against the trunk of a tree. The forest started with a few outlying trees, but became very thick almost immediately.

    Sometimes she and Mama explored the forest together, looking for mushrooms.

    Never again.

    They sat and waited for a long time and Vero started to cry again. She pulled up her knees so the Slayer would not see her. Eventually she stopped, and still, nothing had happened.

    ¡°May I have some water, Ser?¡±

    The Slayer grumbled something and tossed a waterskin onto the grass near her. Vero took it, and even though it was bitter with vinegar, she drank it all very quickly. So quickly, she choked in her haste.

    ¡°The griffon will be arriving soon.¡± The Slayer was not looking at her, and appeared to be speaking to no one in particular.

    ¡°You put something in the cauldron that will bring it here, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    The Slayer did turn to face her, but he looked displeased at being interrupted. ¡°Yes. When it arrives- you should take cover in the woods and hide if you want to live.¡±

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    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Then run out and get yourself killed; I get paid the same. Only stay out of my way, because I don¡¯t intend to die here.¡±

    Vero crouched with her dagger ready and waited. The Slayer drew blood and spread it over his eyes while chanting a spell. Then he spread more blood over a few of his bolts while performing a different chant.

    She expected to hear a screech before the griffon attacked, but there was nothing except the sudden gust of wind. The griffon landed and immediately overturned the cauldron with a buck of its head, sending boiling water and sparks everywhere.

    Vero still was not even sure what was happening, but the Slayer was already on his feet with his sword in hand. He wasted no time and rushed the creature with a long powerful slash along the neck.

    The monster shrieked and slashed back at him with its taloned claws, forcing the Slayer away. He immediately danced forwards again, but not quite so close as he had the first time, and executed a quick cut across the griffon¡¯s torso.

    Neither strike was mortal, but the griffon was bleeding badly. It was also scorched with burns across one side of its body. It retreated backwards, and then turned to try and take flight.

    The Slayer sprinted after the monster and delivered one last vicious swing, this time taking aim at the griffon¡¯s nearest wing. The creature faltered from the blow, but still forced its way into the air.

    It¡¯s escaping and you¡¯ve done nothing. A murderess and a coward as well!

    Vero ran after them as fast as she could.

    The Slayer dropped his sword and grabbed his crossbow, which he kept ready on a sling. He fired and the bolt struck the creature in its hindquarters, eliciting another shriek, but the griffon continued to rise.

    The Slayer stopped and readied another bolt. It seemed to take him forever, and Vero caught up to him well before he was even finished.

    He took aim, but Vero could hardly see the griffon anymore against the dark night sky. It did seem to be flying in circles over them, trying to gain altitude with a hobbled wing. Even so, Vero doubted he could possibly hit the monster.

    The Slayer fired.

    It was only a glancing blow, but it still struck the creature¡¯s strong wing and sent it slowly spiraling back down to earth. The Slayer retrieved his sword and sprinted after it once again.

    Vero ran after him.

    He easily outpaced her, but also the griffon, so when it landed it came down between them. It was moving defensively, and its cries sounded wounded. The Slayer pressed his advantage by splitting the creature across the snout, but misjudged its remaining strength, and was tripped by a raking claw to the legs.

    The Slayer fell to the ground with a cry, and the griffon pounced on top of him.

    Vero rushed forwards and buried her dagger into the griffon¡¯s flank with all her might.

    The monster whipped around at the unexpected attack, an action which sent Vero off her feet. The creature lurched towards her, and Vero scrambled away as quickly as she could manage from her back. She had no idea where her weapon had gone, but her only concern was avoiding the griffon¡¯s razor-sharp beak.

    The griffon bit once and Vero rolled over to evade it. On all fours, she could gain speed.

    The griffon bit again and barely missed, passing between her legs, but it caught her dress and pulled her up short. She felt a heavy paw push her down, and claws slicing into her shoulder.

    Vero shut her eyes tightly and waited for the griffon to bite down and break her neck.

    Instead, the griffon leapt off her as it turned again in response to another attack from the rear. The Slayer had returned to his feet, and the monster was now moving sluggishly in its own defense. It stumbled, then lost its footing completely and collapsed to the ground, where it lay quivering.

    The Slayer stabbed his blade deep into the griffon¡¯s neck, and at last, the creature was still.

    ¡°Ah!¡± The Slayer fell backwards. ¡°Whoreson griffon! Godsdamn leg... girl! Help me back to the fire!¡±

    Vero moved to do as she was ordered, but stopped beside the griffon.

    She bent down beside one of the massive creature¡¯s wounds, which was still weeping. She cupped her hands under it, and let them fill with the blood. She brought it to her lips and drank, although it tasted brackish and foul.

    The night was completely still. Nothing had changed.

    She turned back to the Slayer who motioned for her to hurry. She helped him onto her shoulder and they walked back to the fire. The Slayer examined his leg in the light. There were three long horizontal gashes just above the knee on his right leg. They were bleeding very badly.

    ¡°Fortunate it was no higher, or it might have removed something vital. Show me your shoulder¡­ no, that¡¯s almost nothing. Can you move it?¡±

    Vero made a circle with her arm and nodded.

    ¡°Just a scratch then. I need to close up my leg, fetch the bandages and catgut from my bag.¡±

    Vero did so, but when he tried to take them from her, she could see that his hands were trembling too badly to hold them. ¡°You¡¯re shaking too much. I¡¯ll have to sew them up.¡±

    ¡°Gods¡¯ sake! Give me my wineskin at least.¡±

    The Slayer took the wine. He started to drink and did not stop.

    Vero cleaned the wounds with water and sutured them closed. There was blood, and the Slayer grunted when she pressed the needle through his flesh, but otherwise it was no different than sewing clothes. After everything that happened to her, Vero felt no nerves during the procedure.

    She did not feel much of anything at all.

    When it was finished, her stitches were not much straighter than they were patching shirts at home, but they held him together all the same. She found antiseptic poultices in his bag and bound one over the wounds with clean white bandages. The Slayer checked her work and grunted with satisfaction, before returning to his wineskin.

    Vero checked herself. While treating the Slayer she slowly became painfully aware of her own injury. Right after the battle she hardly felt it, but the pain had grown steadily ever since.

    She washed it and bandaged it with another poultice. The bottom of her dress was torn from the hem to her knees, but she had no other injuries so far as she could tell.

    By the time she was finished, the Slayer had already drunk himself unconscious. She checked, and he was still breathing.

    She must have fallen asleep herself soon after, because she remembered nothing more from that night.

 56. Hunting Party Chapter 7

    When she woke, it was early morning. For one moment, Vero wondered if everything had been a horrible dream.

    Then she opened her eyes, and saw the body of the griffon that murdered Mama.

    It¡¯s your fault.

    The Slayer was already awake. He handed her a loaf of bread with nuts and berries inside. ¡°Here, eat. Probably starving, stupid girl.¡±

    Vero did not feel hungry, but she began to munch the loaf slowly and soon discovered she was starving.

    ¡°We go back to the village soon. My leg is stiffer than- well, it hurts. I¡¯ll need your shoulder.¡±

    They did not go directly to the village, but instead went to the Baron¡¯s motte and baily which overlooked it. The Baron met them in the hall. The Slayer fished the griffons severed paw out of his bag as proof of the kill.

    The Baron already had a purse prepared, filled with Republican Ducats and Velian Crowns. ¡°The crowns are all clipped, of course, but the gold should cover the balance.¡±

    The Slayer put the purse away without counting the money and bowed. ¡°More than generous, my Lord. The wizard?¡±

    ¡°Undergoing chastisement. I¡¯ve sent a messenger to the high basilica in Vermillion, requesting an inquisition into possibly heterodox magical practices.¡±

    ¡°Very good.¡± Vero helped the Slayer stumble his way onto a bench.

    ¡°Your leg, should I send for a doctor?¡±

    ¡°No, my Lord. I¡¯ll just sit and rest a moment, then leave and trouble you no longer.¡±

    ¡°Are you looking after the little one?¡±

    ¡°For the moment. The whelp¡¯s been following me since last afternoon. Who does she belong to now?¡±

    ¡°She has an elder sister in the village.¡±

    She knows what you did.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go there.¡± When Vero spoke, the Baron looked at her sympathetically, before the Slayer twisted her ear.

    ¡°Quiet girl.¡±

    Once he had rested, the Slayer took her out of the castle and back to the village. The closer they came to home, the sicker she felt.

    When they arrived, they found Yvette in the doorway weeping and holding little Antoine. When she saw Vero, she turned furious. ¡°You survive? The gods take my parents, and my brother, but leave me a helpless babe, and a useless child who does nothing but eat!¡±

    ¡°Ma- Mama¡­ she said¡­ she said to tell-¡±

    ¡°You killed her!¡± Yvette set the baby aside and approached them. ¡°She went out to find you! Why didn¡¯t you die?!¡± Vero tried to cringe away behind the Slayer, but her sister grabbed her and tried to throttle her. ¡°It¡¯s your fault! You killed her!¡±

    The Slayer pulled Yvette off. ¡°That¡¯s enough! She¡¯s your family- gods¡¯ sake. She lost her parents¡­ same as you.¡±

    Vero looked up at the Slayer. ¡°I don¡¯t want to stay here. Take me away, please.¡±

    ¡°Yes, take her. We don¡¯t want her.¡± Yvette returned to the Antoine, who had been startled by the fighting and started to scream. ¡°She¡¯s had her woman¡¯s blood; you could make her your wife. Or take her east and sell her as a slave to the elves, even the Imperials if you like. Only-¡± Yvette paused to think. ¡°-only, if you take her¡­ I think we deserve something.¡±

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    ¡°You certainly deserve something. But I don¡¯t want her either. Luna¡¯s tears, she¡¯s your sister.¡±

    ¡°And what am I to feed her with? I don¡¯t even know how I¡¯m to look after myself and my brother.¡±

    ¡°You would abandon your own flesh and blood?¡±

    ¡°Who are you to judge me? I have no husband; only what my father has left me. Shall I take food out of the baby¡¯s mouth to give it to her? I can¡¯t afford to care for her.¡±

    Vero pulled the Slayer¡¯s arm. ¡°Please, Ser. I want to go away.¡±

    Yvette sneered at her. ¡°And she evidently would rather be with you.¡±

    The Slayer drew a few silver crowns from the coin purse. ¡°Here, with my condolences.¡±  He weighted them in his hand a moment, and then threw them at Yvette with malicious force.

    Yvette bend forwards to shield Antoine, and cried out when they struck her back before ricocheting away.

    He pushed Vero forwards. ¡°Go inside and change your clothes, you have a spare dress?¡±

    Vero nodded.

    ¡°Find a bag and take whatever you wish with you, but only what you can carry on your own.¡±

    Yvette tried to stop Vero, but the Slayer grabbed her by the hair and held her back. She spat and cursed at him, while Vero discarded her ruined blood-soaked clothes. She put on her clean dress, and got out her father¡¯s traveling pack. His old bedroll was still attached to it. She put her winter cloak and her brother¡¯s spare clothes inside as well. She also put on Virgil¡¯s tough leather boots.

    She considered taking some food with her, but she thought about what Yvette had said- about feeding herself and the baby. She decided to take only a waterskin instead.

    After some more thought, she also took Mama¡¯s prayer book. She wanted to take the doll Mama had made for her, but that was a childish thing and no longer for her.

    You don¡¯t deserve it.

    The prayer book smelled of Mama, that was enough to remember her by. Vero walked back outside, and the Slayer held her sister in check until she was finished.

    When they left, Yvette had started weeping again behind them.

    Vero and the Slayer traveled the whole day in silence until the sun set and they made camp. The Slayer gave her another loaf of bread for dinner.

    As she ate, Vero gradually worked up her courage to speak. ¡°Where are we going, Ser?¡±

    ¡°Do I look like a knight to you?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me ¡®ser¡¯. My title is master slayer.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Vero became quiet again because she did not want to make the Slayer even more angry with her.

    ¡°I know a convent of the Sisters of Charity near the capital. They care for orphans there.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be an orphan. I want to be a slayer.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Vero thought about the question for a long time.

    Aaja was a slayer, and Aaja was never afraid or cried. She was brave, and never let the people she loved die.

    Vero wanted to be like that. She wanted to be like anything, so long as it was not herself.

    ¡°It was a monster that killed Mama. An evil thing. It should be punished.¡±

    ¡°The griffon is dead. That¡¯s not enough to satisfy you?¡±

    Vero shook her head.

    ¡°I¡¯m taking you to the convent. You¡¯ll be happy there, in time.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be happy. I want to kill them- to find more monsters, and kill them too- again and again, until there aren¡¯t any left in the whole world! I want them all to hurt and to die! Die like-!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡±

    They stayed quiet while they finished dinner. The Slayer laid out his bedroll and settled into it, cradling his wineskin.

    Eventually, Vero decided to press the issue again. ¡°I could be your apprentice.¡±

    ¡°I told you; I made my decision.¡±

    ¡°I practice fencing and wrestling with my brother. And when I do farm work, Father says I¡¯m strong for a girl, and I don¡¯t ever get tired. Mama taught me about herbs and medicine, and- and prayers¡­ and¡­.¡± Vero thought she might start crying again, but she did not. ¡°Please, master slayer. I can do it, if you teach me.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re incapable of following instructions.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not, master slayer! I¡¯ll do anything you say, I swear!¡±

    ¡°Anything I say?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of hard work. If it¡¯s possible, I¡¯ll do it. I promise.¡±

    ¡°Come here.¡± The Slayer motioned her closer.

    Vero stood up and did as she was told.

    The Slayer put an arm around her and pressed his body against her. She had no idea what he was doing and froze in place. Then he began kissing her with wine-soaked breath and trying to pull down her dress.

    ¡°No! Stop it!¡± Vero tried to push him away.

    The Slayer was much stronger than her, but he let her go at once as soon as she resisted him.

    She worried he would be angry, but he immediately turned over onto his back and returned to his wineskin. ¡°The nuns will look after you.¡±

    Vero watched him, but the Slayer seemed interested in nothing else besides his wine. ¡°I¡¯m sorry master slayer, only you surprised me. I¡¯ll do what you want.¡± He did not do anything, or even acknowledge her. Vero fumbled at removing her dress herself. ¡°See master, I¡¯ll do anything. Only- only you must promise to teach me. Teach me to be like you.¡±

    The Slayer did not bother to even look at her. He laid on his back silently for a long time before eventually remembering that she was there. ¡°Oh, get dressed and go to sleep.¡±

    ¡°Please, master.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± The Slayer paused, and Vero waited for him breathless. ¡°I¡¯m going to the capital regardless, but it¡¯s a long way to Vermillion. I¡¯ll decide what to do with you when we arrive.¡±

    ¡°Thank-you, master slayer!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me, girl. Gods! Whatever you do, don¡¯t thank me.¡±

 57. An Unequal Share Part VII

    The Present

    If there had ever been a road leading to the estate, it was long since gone.

    There was a small path towards some of the farms north of the city, but the area was only sparsely populated. When she passed an inhabited place, everyone quickly shut and bolted their door. However, most of the structures she passed were gutted by fire or otherwise abandoned. Soon these became less frequent, and then Vero was marching through wilderness.

    As she traveled further and further the snowfall became heavier. It was still autumn, but already cold enough to chill her to the bone, and freeze piss at once when she stopped to make water.

    She had invested in thick winter clothes. It was enough to keep her alive, but not comfortable.

    The cold was not so disconcerting, however, as the silence.

    Past the last farms there were no longer birds or animals of any kind. She could not even hear the howl of wolves at night, and she knew the silence must be influencing her when she found herself wishing for that kind of company.

    All there was to listen to were the frequent gusts of wind, which sometimes played tricks with her mind, and made her believe there was someone unseen calling to her.

    The Von Richlaus resided in a castle built on a high hill, surrounded by mostly flat terrain. It was hard to tell how impressive it might have been when it was whole and occupied.

    The top of the tower had collapsed inwards. When she got closer, she found the remains of a wall which was stripped for its stone a long time ago. The old oak doors that led into the great hall hung off their hinges. The house showed all the signs of having been looted, and Vero¡¯s heart began to sink.

    She stepped inside.

    The hall was empty except for the fallen rafters she stepped over, and snowdrifts blowing in through the shattered windows. At the back of the hall was the entrance to the tower. She left her bag by the old hearth, where she intended to camp for the night, and continued on.

    The base of the tower held the traces of a firepit, and was probably a kitchen. It was difficult to determine, because all the implements were taken away long ago.

    Rotten wooden stairs led up. There was a ceiling over her, so there had to be at least one intact level between her and the collapsed roof. Vero conducted a quick working to lighten her steps ¨C out in the hall, so that the alteration of physical laws would not risk collapsing the tower on top of her ¨C and trod very carefully as she climbed upwards.

    The stairs creaked ominously, but they held her weight and took her into a solarium.

    This room was also stripped bare, aside from a faded mural painted directly onto the wall. It was a pleasant idyllic view of a horizon, which looked like it came from the top of the tower on a bright and sunny day. Vero believed the mountains should be painted higher on the horizon, but that may have been a stylistic choice on the part of the artist.

    The stairs also continued upwards to another level; Vero took them.

    She arrived at what she supposed was the family bedroom, but the roof¡¯s collapse exposed it to the elements. Everything there had been either stolen or blown away by the wind. She looked for something, anything left behind that might have given her journey there some purpose.

    There was nothing.

    Just the empty home of a dead family.

    She went back into the solarium and slumped down against the wall. She held her knees and shivered against the cold stone. She considered crying, but laughed bitterly instead.

    All this way, and all this time, for nothing.

    Vero stayed curled up for a long time.

    She watched the bright sun and clear sky in the mural until, slowly, she began to feel better.

    Eventually, she decided that she would go down into the main hall and make camp before dark. At least she would have some shelter to rest in before starting back towards Burgorad in the morning. She stood up to leave.

    And then stopped.

    The day in the mural was clear, and ¨C very small ¨C on the tip of one of the furthest mountains¡­ there was a tower.

    She went upstairs again.

    The visibility in the snow and fog was far too low to make out anything at that distance, and the line of the mountains was definitely rendered for style rather than realism. Still, by using her map and the position of Burgorad as reference, she was able to mark the tower¡¯s approximate location.

    It would only take a day or two longer to investigate, perhaps up to a week, if the going became rougher as she went up the valley.

    She returned to ground level in high spirits, until one of the steps broke under her and sent her crashing the rest of the way to the bottom. She was far enough down already that her injuries were slight, but as soon as she had landed, she heard a terrible rumbling above her.

    Vero scrambled out of the tower moments before the entire remainder of the staircase finally buckled and smashed itself into massive deadly splinters just behind her.

    She made certain that she was safe and whole.

    Once she discovered she was not seriously wounded, Vero collected some suitable pieces of the former staircase to try building a fire and shoring up her shelter with. With some warmth, she finished laying out her camp and ate supper.

    After her meal she finished her preparations for the night, and then finally slipped into her bedroll to sleep.

    Vero was awakened by the presence of another in the hall as he crossed her wards. She made no noise, or sign of waking, and waited for the intruder to come closer.

    The vampyre was so certain he was hidden from her by his powers of illusion, he did not bother to hide himself through mundane means of stealth. When he was nearly on top of her, she could hear him muttering to himself. ¡°Stupid fool¡­ think I couldn¡¯t track him here¡­? Hate to come out so far¡­ have to pay you back¡­¡±

    Vero pulled off her blanket and sprung her trap before the vampyre knew what had happened. Her crossbow bolt took the thing directly in the chest and it fell backwards, dropping its broadsword to the ground with a loud clang as it did so.

    She got up with her sword and stood over it. The vampyre was the same which attacked her in the city. Its body was still covered in burns, yet to heal. Its face had just enough time to register a moment of complete surprise, before being frozen in rigor mortis by the wooden bolt in its heart.

    Vero cut it off at the neck.

    She checked the body for valuables, but found nothing. She brought the remains over to the fire, stoked it up, and watched them burn to ashes.

    She was disturbed from her reverie when she felt another creature cross her ward.

    A short dark figure stood in the entrance to the great hall. ¡°Dame Veronique de Loix, may I enter?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think this house has a master to grant you entrance any longer.¡±

    ¡°It does. It¡¯s myself, truthfully. Although I haven¡¯t been home in decades. You seem to be sleeping here at the moment however, and I prefer to never enter a lady¡¯s bedchamber without her permission.¡±

    ¡°Enter then.¡±

    Von Richlau, or at least the creature claiming his name, stepped forwards. Closer to the light, Vero could see that he was wearing a rich ermine cloak clasped with gold. His features were hawkish and imperious, but he was only as tall as her shoulder. His hair was dark but very thin, like a man on the cusp of becoming bald.

    ¡°I know who you are, Dame Veronique de Loix-¡±

    The Landgrave pronounced her name and title very slowly. Perhaps he thought she had not noticed him say it the first time.

    ¡°-and what you¡¯re capable of. What I don¡¯t know is how you learned about this place. Would you enlighten me, my Lady?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Vero avoided his eyes and watched his posture.

    ¡°Please, at least consider cooperating with me. That man-¡±

    Vero resisted the natural impulse to turn her head and follow the direction of his out stretched finger. She knew he was pointing at the pile of ashes in the fire.

    ¡°-was a fool. I could have eliminated him myself, but I wanted to give him to you- as a gift.¡± He smiled. ¡°A sign of my goodwill. I have no more in common with a simple assassin like him¡­ then you have with a peasant in the field. There are many fools like him I count among my enemies¡­¡±

    ¡°Come to the point.¡±

    ¡°When I heard stories about a female slayer, who dressed as a man, and had an affair with the new Marquis de Fer- ha! I presumed you were a charlatan or a madwoman. You southerners do produce both with some frequency. Now that you stand before me, I can see that ¨C whatever accident of birth brought you into this world ¨C you are truly noble in bearing. I believe the Marquis was very right to grant you rank.¡±

    ¡°Did you come here to court me, Landgrave?¡±

    ¡°In a manner of speaking. I¡¯ve watched you very closely these past weeks. The fool came to me first when he discovered you attempting to infiltrate the cathedral. Don¡¯t worry- I made certain he told no one other than me about your presence in the north. My plans require you to remain an unknown factor to the other elders for the time being. Especially that bastard with Imperial pretentions on the other side of the mountains.¡±

    ¡°I thank-you for your consideration towards me, my Lord. It will make destroying them much simpler, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    The way Von Richlau spoke suggested that he was unaware of the tome which brought her there. That did not mean it was not still bait in an elaborate trap. But if it was still a trap, Vero did not believe it was this vampyre which had set it.

    ¡°You enjoy japes. It¡¯s a sign of spirit, and one I¡¯m willing to tolerate- within reason. Making it easier for you to destroy those bloated old fossils is precisely what I have in mind. I will provide you with information, maps, weapons, equipment, reagents, hirelings, anything you may need. All I require from you is an oath of fealty. Swear an oath to obey me, and I will give you riches and honors beyond imagining. I am prepared to reward you with whatever your heart desires. If you serve me very well¡­ I may even offer you immortality.¡±

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    ¡°I refuse. Shall we do battle now?¡±

    Frustration started to show around the edges of the Von Richlau¡¯s mask of superiority. ¡°I know you¡¯re not a fool, so don¡¯t play the stupid woman with me. There is much good we could do together. The petty feuds of ancient inbred families, alive and undead, are destroying this land. The people would be glad to have a strong hand to guide them. To no longer be afraid of roving bands of brigands killing and raping as they please.¡±

    ¡°I have no interest in politics or law enforcement. My code prohibits me from them. And I don¡¯t make alliances with monsters. I destroy them.¡±

    ¡°I-¡± Von Richlau started to raise his voice, before he stopped himself. ¡°-respect your decision. I¡¯ve already told you I¡¯m no assassin.¡±

    He unclasped and removed his cloak, revealing thin silk clothes beneath. He drew a long estoc from an elaborate scabbard marked with runes on his belt. There were more runes along the hilt, and the blade looked covered by a thin layer of frost.

    ¡°We will duel. One of us will live and the other will die. I swear I will not taste your blood or turn you; unless you yield to me. Say you will yield, and my previous offer still stands. You''re too valuable a commodity to waste, if I can help it. Otherwise, I assure you, this death will be permanent.¡±

    Vero moved first, without speaking. She kept two hands on her sword and focused on striking her enemy''s blade. Most enchanted weapons relied on precise alignment of the metal and rune-work; thus, they were very fragile.

    Her own weapon was unique, and she was confident it would have the better of the contest.

    The vampyre struck back at her. Its weapon did not allow it to make easy use of its superior strength, but it was still capable of thrusting at her with inhuman speed. Vero fought defensively and fell back, concentrating on deflecting each strike with all her strength. The vampyre feinted and stabbed at her almost faster than could be seen.

    There was a sharp cold pain in her left shoulder.

    The vampyre moved back and smiled. Vero felt her entire arm go limp.

    She shifted into a single-handed style and the vampyre attacked again. It pressed her, but not so dominantly as it had previously. It moved slowly and deliberately now that it felt it had gained the initiative. She felt her back pressed against cold stone and lowered her guard by just a fraction.

    The vampyre lunged.

    Vero let herself fall to her side. The frosted blade struck the stone wall, bent, and then burst with a sudden release of intense heat that seared her exposed skin.

    A cloud of steam rose from the floor temporarily halting battle. The vampyre retreated backwards, but it slipped on the floor which was slick from the sudden snowmelt. Vero was after it at once and cut it across the chest.

    The vampyre recoiled back and launched itself upwards onto one of the remaining rafters. It touched its chest, and mumbled aloud in total confusion, ¡°I¡­ bleed?¡±

    Vero tried to use the intermission to shake life back into her arm.

    The vampyre realized that it was still in combat and swooped back down towards its assassin¡¯s fallen broadsword. Vero tried to intercept the monster- but arrived a moment too slow. She threw herself backwards to avoid an upwards swing, which would have cleaved her in two- if it had struck.

    The creature swung at her again and again, attacking recklessly at incredible speeds. The sword flew so fast it sent sparks flying on contact with the stone walls and floor.

    Vero stayed well back from the whirling blade and retreated into the tower base where the monster would be forced to reckon with the mass of fallen timbers. Its first blow sunk deep into the wood rather than rebounding away.

    Vero leapt forwards, and the cut the undead noble along the length of its dominant arm before it pulled the weapon free.

    She could hear the creature snarl and red eyes shown out at her in the gloom. Just as she thought it might lose control of itself completely and leap at her with fangs and claws, it moved the weapon into its other hand, and restrained itself to a more conservative method of attack.

    The battle continued, but the vampyre was no longer willing to take any chances. It pressed her relentlessly with unending stamina, while Vero¡¯s limbs started to burn with fatigue.

    It pushed her further and further back, turning the terrain against her by forcing her into a smaller and smaller space. Each time she tried to strike back it would retreat at once, only to return a moment later before she could catch her breath.

    At last, she was trapped in a cul-de-sac of sharp shattered wood. The vampyre stood directly in the narrow gap which offered her only means of escape. Vero drew breath heavily through her mouth and moved back to a two-handed grip for one final burst of offense.

    She swung directly at the vampyre¡¯s neck. The monster ducked and struck her hands from below. She cried out in pain and her weapon was lost somewhere in the debris.  Her thick leather gauntlets caught the now-dulled blade and saved her hands, but she felt for certain that bones were broken in the impact.

    Blood swelled from injuries on her wrists as well as her other wounds.

    A shoulder charge knocked her down the ground, and the vampyre was mad with delight as it prepared to impale her.

    ¡°I yield!¡± Vero pushed herself back against the rubble with her feet and held up her bleeding hands to be sure he saw them.

    Suddenly Von Richlau was caught between his own overwhelming bloodlust and his sense of noblesse oblige. He held himself above her with his sword poised to strike, but frozen with indecision. He closed his eyes to avoid seeing her blood and clenched his jaw tightly.

    Vero wasted no time in grabbing the thing by its belt and collar, pulling it down onto an outstretched shaft of wood above her.

    She rolled out from under it and frantically searched for her sword. The moment she found it, she turned towards the vampyre and struck off its head.

    She watched the body slide farther down the shaft which had impaled it as she regained her wind.

    Slowly, she became aware of the excruciating pain she was in, and returned to her makeshift camp to treat it.

    Vero considered returning to Burgorad to warn Ramiro and the others that Von Richlau was aware of them. However, if the vampyre had sent agents after them before he left, they would already have done their work. If he had not, then his destruction would be enough to keep them safe without further intervention.

    The prospect of the slayer¡¯s fortress loomed in front of her and led her onwards. Her injuries made climbing difficult, but she dulled the pain with poppy milk and forced herself forwards.

    After the battle in the castle ruins, she traveled by night and rested only during the sparse hours of daylight, so that she could not be taken in her sleep. If any other vampyres were following her though, she could not detect them.

    Eventually the ascent became so steep and treacherous that she could not climb farther in the dark, and traveled by daylight once again. More than once, she had horrible visions of falling to her death on hard ice.

    Or perhaps worse, to fall and break her back. Then lie helpless until she froze to death, or was asphyxiated under snow fall.

    Even with hours after hours of darkness to rest, Vero found herself becoming more and more exhausted. The air was so thin, it was almost impossible to catch her breath. During the day she slept uneasily, but when she tried to sleep at night, she was haunted by the most horrifying night terrors she had experienced since she was a child.

    She remembered them only slightly, but they became more and more clear the closer she came to her destination.

    She would lay on the ground paralyzed, and a figure, cloaked in shadows, would appear at her feet. The figure would strip her of her weapons and armor, and then with a single ragged claw, it opened a gaping wound from the base of her ribs to her navel.

    To her side was a horribly bloated and rotting thing which resembled a sow¡¯s carcass, except that it was still breathing. Maggots chewed away at its narcoticized flesh, while it struggled to gasp for air and looked at Vero with the most pitiful expression.

    The fiend with the claw drew a large egg-like sack from out of the husk, and finally the poor creature died.

    From that point, she could remember no more. But no matter how long she slept, she never found any rest.

    She began to pass the nights by waiting, awake, in her bedroll for hours. Until the sun finally rose, and she could travel again.

    She trained for years to withstand mental and spiritual assaults, but Vero could tell that her sanity was fraying without sleep. Time was becoming distorted in her mind, and she could no longer remember how long she had been on the mountain.

    How many days had it now been since the battle with Von Richlau?

    It should only have been one, perhaps two, but her rations were dwindling. Worse than that, she was certain that she would go mad if she could not escape this dread valley soon.

    Though closed eyes, Vero noticed a change in the light. When she opened them, she saw it was a full moon. She had not seen a clear sky in¡­

    Vero could no longer think of how long it had been. And even now, there was only a sliver visible through the thick clouds. She drove her sword into the snow in front of her and clasped her hands together in prayer, placing herself in the shadow of the moonlight.

    ¡°Mother Luna, please hear me. Please lead me from this place.¡± There was no response, of course. Vero knew only rote prayers in Liturgical, and none of them seemed to apply. She continued on in plain Velian anyway. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I haven¡¯t been a good daughter to you. I¡¯m sorry-¡± The light started to fade. ¡°Please, don¡¯t leave me here. Mama, don¡¯t-¡±

    The clouds passed back over the moon, and it was lost from sight.

    Vero desperately wanted to cry, but when she tried, she found that she could not.

    She was no longer even certain whether she was awake or asleep. She had a horrible sensation that she was sitting on only a thin layer of snow and ice, and that beneath her was a hideous yawning void of darkness, drawing her downwards. She saw that she was slowly sinking down into an unconscionably vast maw, feeding some evil creature of proportions which defied her comprehension.

    She wanted to flee, but was too weary to force her way through the snow. She knew that the thing was so impossibly large that she had no hope of escape, no matter how hard she tried.

    It was all much too late.

    Vero forced the thoughts back with mantras. Reality began to come back into focus, but she still felt an utter dread and sense of despair hanging over her.

    ¡°Something is trying to control you. But you are master of your own mind,¡± she told herself aloud. She did not believe herself yet, so she repeated it again, and again.

    Eventually, the sun rose, and she moved forwards once more.

    It was what passed for midday when Vero pulled herself up to the top of the frosted rocky ledge, and she could see a stone tower ahead of her.

    There was no sign of a road or anything else other than the tower. She and the fortress were both on a flat shelf set into the side of a high mountain, and behind her was a far view of the valley she had traveled for a week, or perhaps longer.

    So then, she pondered. Why have you not seen this tower ahead of you until now?

    Past the cliff edge, the snow came right up to her waist. She trudged through it regardless. She saw movements on the walls and froze for a moment, before realizing there was not much point. She was in the wide open, and it was obvious whoever was inside was waiting for her.

    Even supposing that she could run, she certainly did not think she could withstand another night in the dread valley. She had no food left.

    The gates opened as she approached, and a figure emerged.

    It was Pentarch.

    Whatever trap he had set for her, she walked right into it. At the moment, she was too tired and hungry to care.

    ¡°Hello again, journeyman.¡±

    If you¡¯re going to kill me, I wish you¡¯d just do it so I can leave this godsdamned mountain. Vero could not find the wind to vocalize her thoughts.

    His wry smile again. ¡°Come inside and we can talk.¡±

    Vero hesitated.

    She could barely think through the dull haze of madness which hung over her, but she retained just enough presence of mind to know that there were worse fates then death.

    The sun still hung over the horizon, but within the keep she might be restrained and held until nightfall. A whole coven of vampyres could use her as sport for hours, perhaps days, and that death would not be permanent.

    In her present state she could barely stand, much less offer any resistance, but she could still have time to fall on her own sword, if she so chose.

    Pentarch was watching her.

    He seemed to be waiting to see what she would do. ¡°You have my word that you will enter freely, and go safely.¡±

    Vero hesitated a moment longer, then started to trudge forward once more.

    Pentarch waited for her, and she nearly collapsed reaching him, so that he needed to take her by the arm to hold her up. He took her into a gatehouse and sat her beside a lovely warm fire.

    He vanished for a moment, but soon returned with a very welcome hot spiced cider. As she drank, some measure of sense returned to her gradually.

    ¡°Hap- hap. Wha?¡± She tried to question her guide, but found her ability to speak running behind the rest of her cognition, and all that came out was a mumbled word salad.

    Regardless, Pentarch appeared to understand her intent. ¡°There is a daemon bound into this mountain. Some say it¡¯s the Fiend himself. We¡¯re warded against his power here within the walls, so you¡¯ll have already started to recover. I confess, I don¡¯t enjoy lodging so close to the unholy thing, but it makes for excellent security¡­ and a test. You made it all the way to the gate. Not too many do that.¡±

    ¡°What. They. Don¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°We send out a team of scouts to find those that don¡¯t quite make it here. The devil eventually drives anyone unprotected into a coma. About half recover once they¡¯re brought in. It might take days or weeks. If it¡¯s longer than a month then they¡¯ll be lost in the nightmares forever. For them- we slit their throats to put them out of their misery. A few unfortunates die by accident during the climb in their delusions¡­ or by purpose, if they be weak in spirit.¡±

    ¡°Who. Are. You?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Pentarch. I didn¡¯t lie to you about that. Although our meeting was not by chance, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve ascertained on your own by now. The final academy sealed itself off from the outside world, but it never ceased to function. For centuries independent monster hunters have passed on our secrets in an imperfect form from master to apprentice. Most of these so-called slayers are unlettered louts, like your master Aquinas. But we¡¯re always watching them for potential recruits. We¡¯ve been very impressed with you, Veronique. That¡¯s one of the reasons I brought you here. The other is more delicate, but we shall have plenty of time to discuss that¡­¡±

    Pentarch kept talking, but Vero did not hear any more of it.

    She had already fallen asleep.

 Appendix A: Lunas Many Faces

    A Novice¡¯s Catechism Regarding Luna¡¯s Many Faces by Sister Agatha de Emmoi. Published by the Royal University at Vermillion Press, 1349 ME.

    Queen Luna is the greatest of all goddesses, and second in power only to her husband King Helios among all the hosts of heaven. However, much confusion has arisen from the fact that She is a Goddess with many faces. This confusion has since led many sisters into discordance with the church, and even, on rare occasions, into outright heresy.

    Each aspect of the Lady Luna is but one piece of a larger nature, and no woman may understand the Goddess by studying only a single face. Each face also teaches us truths about both divine and human natures. Although many worshipers chose to declare their allegiance to one aspect or another, no one may understand the Goddess¡¯ true nature without studying each of Her faces. This text aims to enlighten our youngest sisters into the truths found in the scriptures about each of Luna¡¯s faces, so that they may not be led astray.

    The first aspect we shall examine is Luna the Maiden, represented by the waxing crescent moon. Luna the Maiden is a trickster, and a stumbling block for the proud. She protects lovers and confounds authorities. When society becomes calcified, She shakes it free. In the scriptures Luna the Maiden appears during times of change or revolution, and even helps women to escape their husbands.

    Many theologists find her to be the most troublesome of all Luna¡¯s aspects to explain. Her behavior in the scriptures appears almost unconscionable to many, but the truth is very simple. She teaches us that no man or woman, no mortal king or queen, is greater than the gods. No mortal law may circumvent or overwrite divine law.

    If a structure is so feeble that it cannot resist Her challenge, then it does not deserve to endure and her meddling will bring it down. She is a force for revolution only to enable a new and stronger form of order to rise up and take the place of a decaying source of authority that no longer has the strength to enforce its will.

    The sign of Luna the Maiden can also be represented as a waning crescent moon. This inverted sign is used under regular circumstances by convents dedicated to the treatment and care of those suffering from senility.

    The waning crescent is also worn by certain mature priestesses who overindulge themselves in communion with their younger sisters, and wish to show their openness to heterodox practices in religion. These sisters may be misguided, but should not be treated as heretics, which risks making them into martyrs among their followers. Instead, they should be guided gently back into proper religious practice so that they may bring their younger sisters with them.

    The second aspect we shall examine is Luna the Mother, represented by the full moon. Because Luna the Mother is the only aspect which shows Her whole face many believe that She is the most powerful, but the scriptures tell us that no aspect of Luna is greater than any other. Luna the Mother is the patron of forgiveness, compassion, kindness, and familial love. In her words given to us through the scriptures, She teaches us that no one is beyond hope of redemption; that all mortals are children of the gods, and each of us is deserving of love.

    In the scriptures, Mother Luna appears as a protector of the weak and helpless. When Prince Marcus of the Golden Legion was left to die of exposure as a babe, it was Luna Herself who appeared to nurse the baby at Her breast until he could be found. Those who even touched Her cloak as She passed would be healed of any illness. She also acts as a teacher, both through Her words handed to us by the scriptures, and through Her prophets whom She inspires.

    More priestesses in sheer numbers chose to associate themselves with Luna the Mother then to any other aspect of the Goddess. They act as midwives, pediatricians, teachers, and perform acts of charity for the sick and impoverished. Just as Luna the Mother shines the brightest, they are the face we present most often to outsiders. However, adherents should not be confused into believing that greater prominence is any indication of greater wisdom.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    The third aspect we shall examine is Luna the Matron, represented by the waning half-moon. Luna the Matron is the source of wisdom and patron of female authority. She is the strictest of Luna¡¯s aspects, and only women of noble blood are permitted to officiate rituals in Her name by the laws laid down in the scriptures.

    She demands that daughters obey their mothers, and enforces the natural social hierarchy among women the way Her husband does among men. In the scriptures She is most prominent as the avenger of adultery. Many of her followers emulate Her by exposing and shaming women or catamites guilty of sexual impropriety with married men. These sisters provide a vital service protecting the delicate tapestry of our moral society.

    Priestesses associated with Luna the Matron tend to be older and fulfill most of the administrative roles within the church. It is not at all unusual for a sister who had dedicated herself to another of Luna¡¯s faces to feel the draw of the Matron as they grow older. Just as the moon inexorably begins to change, it¡¯s a natural extension of a sister¡¯s growing wisdom for such a change to occur within her when she is ready to take her place among those of us in the highest ranks of the church.

    Much has been made of the so called ¡®half-nuns¡¯. Firebrands never cease their agitations claiming that certain priestesses in elevated places take too much interest in worldly affairs. Some even dare to accuse the pontifex herself of impropriety.

    These accusations are totally without merit. The church is dedicated only to the spiritual benefaction of its worshipers. Any assertations to the contrary are fundamentally opposed to our holy mission and must be exposed as the lies they are. However, that is a concern for those of us more advanced in our learning of theology. Novices would do well to avoid considering such weighty matters while still so young in their faith that they might be led unknowingly into heresy.

    The sign of Luna the Matron may also be represented as a waxing half-moon without heresy, although the practice is uncommon. The waxing half-moon is worn to signal adherence to a fundamentalist sect of Lunar worship which melds the conservatism of old age with the vigor of youth. Because of their association with certain reactionary political groups the sign of the waxing half-moon is often viewed with unwarranted suspicion by those who do not share their beliefs. Although novices would do well to learn from their zealousness in following Queen Luna.

    These have been the three major aspects of Queen Luna, but she also rarely shows herself through two minor aspects.

    The first of these minor aspects we shall examine is Luna the Wanderer. The Wanderer is unique in that She shows Herself in daylight. In life, the moon may in fact appear during the day showing any of her faces, but when represented in art the Wanderer is always depicted as a waxing gibbous moon.

    Luna the Wanderer is most well known as a sponsor of women who must interact with the world of men, but She also acts as a sponsor for men who must take on a feminine role. For instance, Luna the Wanderer may offer her protection both to a noble lady who must act as regent in the absence of her husband. She may also do the same for a father who must care for a child in the absence of its mother.

    In the scriptures, Luna the Wanderer shows Herself to mortals as a male traveler, even challenging those She meets to match Her in feats of strength. She reveals Her truly divine nature only to the devout.

    The sign of Luna the Wanderer may also be represented as a waning gibbous moon without heresy, but such a sign should never be worn by a woman. Although few brothers follow our faith, it is by this sign that a male may proclaim his allegiance to the Queen of Gods.

    Although the practice is not religious, catamites who wear the clothes of women often wear the sign of the waning gibbous moon as a discrete advertisement of their true nature. As there is no genuine theological justification for the practice, we shall not dwell on it further.

    The final aspect we shall examine is Luna the Widow, represented by a new moon. Luna the Widow oversees the process of transition that exists between death and birth which mortals may never witness.

    She is the most mysterious of all Luna¡¯s aspects and many theologians have commented on the similarities between Luna the Widow and the Veiled One. While the two are often found in company with one another, Luna the Widow oversees death within the context of the circle of life. The Veiled One is a goddess of universal eternal entropy with a greater purview then the simple cessation of life¡¯s pulse.

    According to the scriptures, it is Luna the Widow who shall entomb the gods themselves in the moment of Gotterdammerung, after the death of the sun itself. Then after the death of all other life She will Herself be entombed by the Veiled One and that shall be the end of the universe.

    Few sisters devote themselves to the Widow, but those who do are often studious with a noticeably mystic bent. Novices would be well advised to treat them with respect.

    And leave them alone.

 Appendix B: Theories of Magic

    The study of magic has been standardized into ten discrete ¡®schools¡¯ of magic. They are the schools of Alchemy, Astrology, Divination, Elementalism, Geomancy, Healing, Illusion, Runes, Warding, and finally the forbidden school of Conjuring.

    School of Alchemy: A school of magic dealing with the combination of simple reagents into more complex compounds. It is among the most common schools of magic. In some universities its study is subdivided into the Minor School of Transmutation; dealing with inorganic reagents, and the Minor School of Herbalism; dealing with organic reagents. The patron goddess of this school is Orphia, goddess of art and creativity.

    School of Astrology: The rarest school of magic, dealing with the study of spheres beyond the material. The study of astral spheres is very tightly controlled, as such knowledge can be used for forbidden summoning rituals. However, the spheres also exert a subtle influence on any working or sending from any school of magic. For this reason, most universities post regular astrological forecasts for their region, and independent research on the topic is strongly discouraged. The patron goddess of this school is the Veiled One, goddess of death and eternity.

    School of Divination: A school of magic dedicated to perceiving events even when displaced from their occurrence by either time and/or space. It is not an uncommon subject for study, but it is unusual in that it is the only school of magic in which the majority of practitioners are female. This school can also be used to communicate across far distances, but attempts to contact or interfere with the past are almost always fatal for the magician fool enough to try. The patron goddess of this school is Queen Luna.

    School of Elementalism: A school of magic dedicated to the understanding channeling of basic elemental forces. Because of its practical uses in warfare, students of elementalism are often sought after by princes as battlemages. The school is relatively uncommon, but because of the lack of subtlety in their spells, elementalists often have an outsized place in the imaginations of the common classes regarding wizards. The patron god of this school is King Helios.

    School of Geomancy: A common school of magic, but one often viewed as superstitious and backwards by many urban scholars. Geomancy deals with the understanding of the earth and natural cycles, and slowly altering them to increase fertility, bring rain to parched ground, etc. Because its workings are so subtle, and occur over such long periods of time, many wizards deride the school as hedge magic performed by local witch doctors and wise women. Regardless, peasant farmers swear by the rituals. The patron gods of this school are the Earth Mother and Sea Lord.

    School of Healing: An extremely common school of magic which studies the bodies and humors of both men and animals. The name is something of a misnomer, since the same spell which may cure a man with a certain ailment by rebalancing his humors, might cause a healthy man to suddenly lose balance and fall ill. Colloquially, spells that sicken or harm a subject are sometimes referred to as the School of Harming, but the separation occurs only in the intentions of the wizard, rather than something intrinsic in the spells themselves. The patron god of this school is Vedio. However, the spirit of Affliction is often invoked by the Poisoner¡¯s Guild when they twist this school for their own purposes.

    School of Illusion: An uncommon school of magic dealing with the perceptions of living creatures and how to manipulate them. By the nature of their studies, illusionists are often feared and mistrusted by most common folk. Illusionary magic also includes the practices of hypnotism which are tightly controlled. Any attempt to directly dominate the mind of another through magic is dealt with very severely by law enforcement in most human lands, and yet the lure of love potions or other erotic bonding magic always draws those susceptible to temptation. Although the school of magic is not outright heretical, most wizards brought up on criminal charges of black magic come from students of this field. The publicly accepted patron goddess of this school is Francisa, the goddess of charity. However, some claim that this is merely a guise, and that many, if not all, illusionists secretly venerate the heretical God of Loss.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    School of Runes: An uncommon, but useful school of magic which delves into the fundamental mathematic, alphabetic, and symbolic principles which underpin all other arcane sciences. In universities most teaching is done with well-known rote signs, and some wizards go their whole lives without studying the secrets of runes. However, this school is necessary both to dismantle another spell safely, as well as to develop novel rituals. Good knowledge of this school often leads to a deeper understanding of magic in general, and allows the practitioner to weave bespoke variations of even common spells. The patron goddess of this school is Thesmos, goddess of reason and learning.

    School of Warding: A common school of magic dealing with the establishing of wards and barriers for safety, comfort, or organization. The study of warding also includes the study of travel across barriers. Practitioners are highly sought by princes for the designing of fortifications, vaults, palaces, roads, tunnels, and bridges. The patron deity of this school Bellus, the god of wealth, and commerce.

    School of Conjuring: This school is banned under Imperial law, and on this point the human successor kingdoms are in complete accordance with the Empire. Practitioners of this school are almost always burned as witches, whether they have signed a contract with a demon or not. This school of magic is still studied openly in distant places, and of course, is practiced in secret everywhere. It deals with the summoning of non-corporeal entities into the material sphere to bind them for service. Common speech refers to any item with a spell placed on it as ¡®enchanted¡¯, but under it¡¯s true definition, enchanting refers only to the binding of astral spirits into ritual fetishes. Because the summoned beings come from beyond the barrier of physical reality, the act is always one which comes with potentially disastrous consequences. This school is considered black magic, and thus has no patron deity. However, because of its association with witchcraft, many consider the Fiend to be the de facto sponsor of any studies into conjuration.

    An excerpt from Introduction to Secular Arcane Theory by Stuart Halsey. Published by the Queen¡¯s College at Fermont Press, 1599 ME.

    The occult sciences have taught us that all of creation is comprised of six dimensions, four spatial and two temporal. Of the four spatial dimension we are capable perceiving only three- those being length, height, and depth. The fourth spatial dimension cannot be seen directly, and can be detected only by its secondary effects upon the environment.

    Of the two temporal dimensions, our minds are typically capable of perceiving only one. That is to say, we remember the past. The second dimension is seen only in flashes by the majority of the population- perhaps you yourself have had the curious experience of ¡®remembering¡¯ an event even as it happens. Under normal conditions this future sight is severely limited to only a bare instant ahead of the present, unless augmented by magic. We shall not touch on the topic of spontaneously occurring ¨C or divinely inspired ¨C prophetic ability in this work, as they are poorly understood, and to date there has never been a rigorously tested and documented case.

    Occult sciences run along all six dimensions. However, it is the fourth spatial dimension ¨C and to a lesser extent, the temporal dimension of ¡®anti-time¡¯ ¨C along which the traditional acts of wizardry most often run. For it is only through magic that most people can perceive, if only for a moment, the true immensity of creation. I shall present an example which teachers have used in first-year classrooms since time immemorial.

    Fae-light is an unnatural color, existing between green and yellow on a spectrum, and yet it cannot be seen by human eyes except in twilight between day and night. Divine-light is an intense color of white-blue which can be seen only by elves. However, by growing a crystal prism with unique fourth dimensional geometry, both forms of light may be seen at any time by looking through it. (We shall explore the growing of these crystals in chapter 4.) That which should be impossible within a three dimensional spatial environment, is made possible through careful manipulation of the ''hidden dimension'' in space. No doubt students reading this work have already been amused by such simple experiments in their own childhood classrooms.

    Often, unfortunately, the lines of these ¡®hidden dimensions¡¯ are opaque in how or why they function. It''s through the ''hidden dimensions'' that the forces many of us have traditionally known as the Divine Emanations radiate. Ancient tomes of magic list spells only by a rote list of actions with a known consequence, but little thought was put into which actions were magically active and why. Small wonder then that superstition so flourished in our trade before the scientific revolution and dawning of the empirical method.

 Appendix C: A History of the Velian Civil War

    An excerpt from A Brief Medieval History of Velois vol. 2 by Master of Historical Divination Salvador Devalance. Published by University of Whitegate Press, 1649 ME.

    The War of the Bastards was a conflict between the Duc Philippe de Flan-Gothe on behalf of his nephew, Louis VII, and the Comte Louis the Iron-Hearted, who served as the guardian for the underage king Henri IV. And if history were so simple as that, this tome would be a brief history in truth as well as in title. To understand this civil war, we must first go back to its antecedent civil war.

    When we left the previous volume, King Henri III had just come to power following a series of brutal dynastic struggles. This on again off again domestic turmoil had gone on for decades, and the Priest¡¯s War was only its most recent flare up.

    Henri III came to the throne by accident, rather than by anyone¡¯s intention. He unified the kingdom only as everyone''s object of last resort.

    His uncle and elder brother had each coalesced a faction around themselves, and each systematically worked to execute anyone who could form a threat to their power. Far from sparing their own kin, family became their prime targets. Finally, the claimants met each other in battle and, by happenstance, each was killed within an hour of the other. Although neither side was aware of the fact until it was all over.

    The dynastic genocide left only a single claimant behind, a shy terrified boy of fifteen who never had a day¡¯s instruction of how to rule. He had been hidden in a monastery by his mother, before she and both of his two sisters were murdered by unknown assailants while traveling. The boy was always quiet and introspective by nature, and the colossal familial bloodletting he witnessed as a boy only exasperated these traits.

    His reign was marked by a determined avoidance of conflict. If this had been represented as a strong policy in pursuit of peace, he might have been more well regarded. However, his vassals quickly realized that it was actually the result of a weak and desultory executive force. They took advantage of the situation to increase their own power at the expense of the traditional rights of the crown.

    During his reign, Henri III fathered bastards of both sexes, but only two of his natural sons survived into adulthood. Soon after his official coronation, he married the widow Margaret de Emmoi. The new king''s wife was almost twenty years his elder, and gave him no legitimate children. She had also failed to produce heirs for her first husband, so it is almost certain that she was barren. Regardless, she quickly passed beyond her years of childbearing altogether.

    Despite this failure, their marriage was, to all indications, a happy one. When Margaret was taken in an outbreak of plague, the king was inconsolable. He fell into a deep despair and forewent even the pretense of trying to govern.

    In a few years, he also fell ill and it seemed that he would soon die. His ministers insisted that he must name a definite heir and legitimize one of his two sons. The king relented; one may presume out of a desire to be left alone to die in peace. He called for the mother of his youngest surviving son, Henri IV, to be brought to him.

    Jeanne was a peasant servant girl living at the royal palace. One can imagine her surprise at being brought to the king¡¯s room, only to be told that she was marrying him and would soon be queen, at least briefly.

    They were married, her son was legitimized, and a writ of succession was signed and witnessed. Later that night, the king died. The eleven-year-old boy was crowned, and power came to rest with a low-born dowager queen and a regency council.

    Whatever her nature before her brief marriage, the dowager queen quickly turned tyrant. Using her influence over her son, she shaped the regency council until, after only a few years, it consisted entirely of her own minions. She knew the precarious nature of her son¡¯s position, as well as her own, and responded with vicious retaliation at the slightest trace of dissent. However, this heavy handed approach only sowed further seeds of rebellion.

    Many landowners who might have been won over by careful diplomacy, were instead exiled from the king¡¯s court. Cast adrift, they quickly found themselves drawn to another locus of power. The Duc Philippe had been biding his time carefully for this moment. Rather than bend the knee to the boy king, he retreated to his own land with the new king¡¯s elder half-brother Louis VII.

    Now that the time was right, he emerged. The Duc Philippe declared that Henri IV had never been legitimized. The marriage to the dowager queen had obviously never been consummated after the vows had been taken, because the king died on the wedding night. He denounced the writ of succession as a forgery, and explained that his own signature had been extracted under threats of force. Supposedly, the day after the king¡¯s death. Therefore, by rights of primogeniture, the true king was his own ward.

    Louis VII was a lad of twenty-four, old enough to dispense with the need for a regency council. Besides this, his mother was the Duc Philippe¡¯s sister and their family was among the oldest and most noble in the kingdom. Furthermore, Louis VII was married to his first cousin, the Duc¡¯s eldest daughter. She had already provided many daughters to her husband, and was already pregnant with another child. Under Velian succession laws it was thus almost assured that there would be a legitimate heir to ensure continuity of rule. These advantages recommended themselves to the disaffected nobles who flocked to his banner.

    During the first year of the war, the fighting was very limited. Most nobles still preferred to remain neutral, so the armies mustered by each side represented only each king¡¯s personal retainers and closest allies. Although he had effectively declared the onset of hostilities with his proclamation on the illegitimacy of Henri IV, the Duc Philippe preferred to wait and gather his allies while his enemy came to him.

    The dowager queen Jeanne was happy to oblige. She first gave command of her forces to her lover, the sycophantic knight Ser William de Vermillion. He promptly departed on a punitive expedition, allowed himself to be lured into an ambush, and oversaw the destruction of the majority of his army in the first clash of the war. The battle was decisive, and Ser William returned south with one in ten of the men he had set out with.

    The commander hadn¡¯t even found the good manners to be one of the casualties.

    With the king¡¯s army routed there was no longer any force capable of stopping the rebels, and they began to raid freely, as allies flocked to their ascendant fortunes. Ser William continued to try and muster some kind of resistance, but only succeeded in aiding his opponents. Again and again, he insisted on mustering garrisons for pointless offensives, which only squandered their resources.

    Ultimately, it was winter that stopped the Duc, at least temporarily. Ser William was called back to Vermillion, and dismissed from his position.

    Now the dowager queen turned to the Comte Louis the Iron-hearted. Ser Ironheart had been a general in the previous civil war and brought great glory to his name. After the Priest¡¯s War, he served as marshal under Henri III, where he did his best to hold the kingdom together. Queen Jeanne had removed him from the position because he expressly refused to indulge in the courtly intrigues which she encouraged. Alas, she had no choice but to return to the old warhorse.

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    Ser Ironheart remains one of the most enigmatic studies in chivalry today. We can never know for certain what drove him to serve the queen he famously described a ¡°painted-up woman of absolutely no virtue whatsoever¡­ the notorious adulteress¡±.

    All we can know is what his sons claimed after the war. He felt his honor demanded that he must protect his king, whom he had acknowledged before the gods as a signatory of the writ of succession.

    Besides their change in leadership, the armies of king Henri IV had other reasons for hope as the campaigning season began again. Many nobles had indeed flocked to the cause of Louis VII, but those nobles had their own enemies. The rightful succession of Henri IV became an honorable cover for local feuds across the kingdom.

    Furthermore, during their ascendancy the forces under the Duc Philippe had not been discretionary in their raids for loot, and made enemies of many neutrals. It is only at this point the conflict became a true civil war as old feuds, simmering since the indecisive end of the previous conflict, suddenly began to erupt everywhere.

    The Duc Philippe and Comte Louis the Iron-hearted fought continuously across the whole of the next year, but never directly against each other. As armies proliferated, and fighting spread like wildfire, dozens of opponents presented themselves. Each of the two great commanders preferred to hunt weaker prey. As the next winter began, the Duc Philippe retained the initiative, but neither side had found a decisive advantage to suggest that victory might be near.

    The fighting had not gone unnoticed by Velois¡¯ neighbors, but none had yet interfered until this point. Teutonia was involved in a violent interregnum of their own, and in no position to do anything. Lusitan watched with growing interest. They had no interest in helping either king, but they did have an interest in extending the fighting for as long as possible. Seeing that Duc Philippe still seemed to hold the upper hand, they offered generous loans to the dowager queen at a time when both sides began to find their war chests running dry.

    At the worst possible moment, Duc Philippe fell ill. Near the beginning of the next campaigning season, he developed a severe case of consumption which left him hovering near the point of death. With his money exhausted, and his marshal incapacitated, Louis VII suddenly found himself bereft of friends. Fair-weather allies now moved to the side of his enemy, who suddenly seemed poised to bring war to its final conclusion.

    Once again, the armies of Henri IV marched into Flan-Gothe. They won easy victory after easy victory in a series of minor confrontations, and it seemed as though nothing could oppose them. With no other option available to him, Louis VII took personal command of his own army.

    The minor battles had been feints and delaying actions, while he gathered up all the forces that still remained to him. Finally, he risked it all in one last confrontation. When the two armies faced off against each other, Louis VII was outnumbered five to one. It seemed hopeless, but in fact, the fighting was not nearly so lopsided.

    The largest single contingent of forces on the field came from the elderly Marquis de Fer. The Marquis was an old and dear friend of Ser Ironheart, but he had not formally declared allegiance to either king. To date, he had carefully preserved his forces, and kept his army apart from the fighting. Before launching this endeavor, Duc Phillipe had concluded a marriage contract between the Marquis¡¯ son, and his own youngest daughter. These split alliances had kept the Fer-Mark neutral until that point.

    The Comte had gathered numbers for intimidation, but many of those numbers were feudal levies. These men were ill-trained, ill-equipped, and had already been held far longer than their oaths demanded. He also hired several mercenary companies, but as the fighting moved back into his favor, Lusitan withdrew their financial support. This left the mercenaries'' payments in arrears, and their loyalty questionable.

    Still, the Ironheart possessed a clear advantage as battle commenced- until he was struck in the shoulder by a stray arrow, and forced to retire from the field of battle. As he left the field, the enemy line was in the process of collapse, and all still seemed well.

    Within the hour, Louis VII had rushed into the heart of the battle himself and stabilized the line. Word began to spread through the army of Henri IV that their general Ser Ironheart was injured, and perhaps dead. Desertions began as a slow trickle, but by the evening they had become a flood.

    That night the old Marquis Louis de Fer and his son Jean ¨C who would replace him in just over a year, when his father died of what is believed to be a series of strokes ¨C both swore fealty to Louis VII. Neither the young rebel king, nor the Marquis¡¯ heir in waiting, could have imagined at the time how deeply their future rule would be defined by their opposition to the other. For the moment, at least, they were allies.

    The Duc Philippe began to recover, but even as he did so, he found he was no longer so vital to the war effort as he had once been. Louis VII led his army on a string of victories as he harried his enemies from Flan-Gothe. He wisely refused to over extend himself, and instead began preparations for a major offensive the next year.

    Ser Ironheart also still lived, but his wound turned septic and now he hung on the point of death. With no allies, and out of money, the dowager queen began a desperate secret negotiation with the Imperium. Finally, believing they had no other options, Henri IV swore a feudal oath to the emperor. The oath was kept a close secret to avoid frightening away the few domestic allies who still remained. It remains still a frequent topic of debate if the old Comte knew of the king¡¯s vassalage to the Imperium, but that''s a mystery now lost to time.

    One man who was aware of the secret alliance, however, was the Doge of Whitegate. The Republic¡¯s network of spies had thoroughly compromised the Imperial court, and nothing the Emperor did escaped the notice of their ancient enemy. Until this point, the Republic had remained neutral. However, with their ultimate adversary now in alliance with one of the two kings, they quickly aligned themselves with the foe of their foe.

    Louis VII launched a sudden strike on the capitol. His forces were light, but with most defenders dispersed for the winter, there was no one to stop him. Vermillion was under siege, but that siege was hardly complete due to the lack of men in the attacking army, and supplies were still coming and going easily. Regardless, the dowager queen panicked and sent an urgent summons for aid.

    The Imperial legions and the assembling armies of Henri IV made plans to rendezvous in the Velian Whitewoods. These plans were, in due course, passed directly to the Republic. Ser Ironheart remained in Vermillion to lead the defense from his sickbed. Ser William was again given a chance to redeem himself, by overseeing the link up of forces.

    As Ser William entered the forest to take his new command, the jaws of the trap had already closed.

    The attack on the capital had been a feint. While Louis VII led a small army to offer himself as bait, Duc Philippe took the bulk of their forces to form one arm of an encircling pincer movement. Republican forces from Whitegate formed the other arm, and together they crushed their enemies between them.

    Besides being taken by complete surprise, the forces of Henri IV were again hampered by the incompetence of their commander. For their part, the Imperials fared no better. The best of their veteran soldiers were still engaged, fighting in Teutonia. The army that marched into Velois was led by rich young nobles looking for easy glory, leading untrained raw recruits press ganged into service against their will.

    The result was a total slaughter. This time, at least, Ser William had the decency to be among those captured in battle. He was held for a ransom, but when the dowager queen refused to even consider negotiations for him, he was beheaded.

    The Doge and Louis VII concluded an alliance and the Republic made Henri IV¡¯s oath of fealty to the emperor public. Any hope of further loans from Lusitan vanished. With the heart of the Imperium exposed by the destruction of the legions, the emperor now disavowed his new vassal. He claimed that no promises of definite military assistance had ever been made. Incidentally he also withdrew his legions from Teuntonia, extending that nation¡¯s interregnum, and further weakening the Imperium''s influence over the election of the next Caesar.

    The new allied army joined Louis VII at Vermillion, and the city was then placed under siege in earnest. With no hope of rescue, Comte Louis the Iron-hearted violated his queen¡¯s orders and offered terms of surrender. Henri IV and his mother would renounce their claims and be allowed to go into exile, and their soldiers would be granted a royal pardon.

    The terms were accepted, but once he was allowed inside the gates, the new King Louis VII changed his mind. He immediately ordered his younger half-brother thrown into the dungeons, where he was later hacked to death. He allowed the former queen Jeanne to live, but kept her imprisoned. Royal pardons were extended to the soldiers, but only after vows of loyalty and a humiliating renunciation of past resistance were extracted.

    Ser Ironheart was horrified by this flagrant betrayal of terms, and refused to bend the knee to his new king. Louis VII ordered him tortured into submission, but the old knight escaped through suicide. A vial of poison was slipped to him in prison, supposedly by his old nemesis the Duc Philippe.

    Perhaps the old Duke had begun to realize that he no longer quite controlled the nephew he had just put into power.

 Appendix D: A History Lecture Regarding the Order of Slayers

    Excerpts from a lecture-transcript on the Order of Slayers, given by Master of Historical Divination Salvador Devalance at the University of Whitegate, 1638 ME.

    The Order of Slayers began as an association of dragon hunters arising during the bronze dark age. The exact historiography of their founding has long since been lost to mythology. However, modern archeological divinations have revealed a sudden increase in dragon attacks which coincides almost exactly with the centuries long dark spot in our written historical record. It¡¯s now considered likely that dragon strikes, and the resulting migratory patterns which they left in their wake, were directly responsible for the end of permanent elven settlement which we see in the bronze dark age¡­ [some audience noise]

    ...Outside of certain far-flung costal locations.

    It''s not then unreasonable that many elves, who were both formidable wizards and warriors, would choose to strike back at these enemies. It is also not unusual that humans and other hominines should appear in their ranks. Although we might question their supposed prominence within the order. The elves at this time held many other races in their thrall. To hunt a dragon is a military endeavor requiring many men acting under orders. Their slaves would be the obvious source of this manpower.

    What is surprising is how this shared hardship in the field appears to have broken down the barriers between officer and soldier, at least according to the ancient histories of Agrippa and all his successors. With all due respect to the father of history, this point is due further interrogation.

    Aaja the huntress, Angar the Giant, and the human Heroes of the Red Banner are no doubt dynamic stories. But Agrippa is by now well known to have used tremendous poetic license, as well as heavy syncretic tendencies, to create the vivid characters he portrayed. [some murmurs]

    Written records mentioning non-elven slayers have all been dated to the Imperial Era by modern divination. Still, we must in due course admit that - given the dearth of any records from the bronze dark age - absence of evidence is not necessarily evidence of absence.

    Nor were the Slayers a union of proto-suffragettes, as some sensationalists looking to sell lecture hall tickets have lately implied. [general laughter]

    When it comes to such legendary figures, it becomes difficult to separate the fact from the fiction. I have in my career ¨C I believe ¨C done something to provide genuine illumination of their true character.

    The earliest known record of the Order was found at an archeological site in southern Lusitan. [some audience noise]

    Yes, the well-publicized Turner expedition. [more audience noise] [disruptive person is removed from the hall]

    ...We may then briefly summarize the legendary origin of the Slayers from the so-called ¡®Kishar Steele¡¯. They were founded by Kishar, the First Among Equals. He was the first-born prince of the ancient elven kingdom of At-Lat, the richest and most powerful of all the elven city states from this period. The city was destroyed by dragons, and amidst the devastation, Kishar swore vengeance upon all dragon-kind.

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    His father would lead their people to join the other elven nomads, but Kishar refused to follow them in retreat. Instead, he gathered likeminded survivors from this attack and other dragon strikes. He began to mold them into a weapon with a single purpose. To annihilate dragonkind. Most of the common ¡®rules¡¯ of the Order are attributed to Kishar from this time.

    However, what exactly these rules consisted of vary by source. The largest and most detailed rules compendium was found in the records of a Teutonian monastery dating from the year 538 ME. It runs through forty-eight pages of restrictions- and then allowances for circumventing those restrictions. [mild laughter]

    The most common rules, however, do remain mostly consistent. Slayers are forbidden from hunting hominines for bounty. They must renounce land, title, or any other involvement in politics. Both rules appear on the ¡®Kishar Steele¡¯. As does a recounting of the famous story which Agrippa related to us, in which Kishar killed his brother as part of a dynastic feud, and his resulting justifications for violating his own rules.

    It seems the more things change¡­ [general laughter]

    As the iron age began to dawn, the Order of Slayers formed a crucial alliance with the newly expanding Imperium. It was this alliance which seems to have been the death knell for the master-servant relationship between the elven Slayers and those of other races. It was the young and growing Imperium that provided the strength and arms necessary to finally turn the tide against the dragons. Forcing them first down to the southern continent, and finally back across the desert into the lands they now inhabit today.

    With their original purpose now achieved, the Order began to turn their attention to the other monsters which threatened the innocent. Slayers had already killed many vampyres, loup garou, witches, and fae. In the absence of their draconic foes, these creatures now became the Slayer¡¯s prey. The hunt continued.

    This was the age of the great academies. At one time, there was a slayer academy in each province of the Empire. They taught both through books and physical exercises, turning out hunters by the class-load, to fuel their endless hunt.

    Then the Imperium¡¯s long decline began, and the decline of the Order with it. Most of the successor kingdoms made noises about continuing to support the Order and their academies, but in practical terms, their funding ceased almost entirely. Official Slayer records slowly begin to disappear following the collapse of the ancient Imperium, as the Order closed academies to preserve their remaining resources. Scattered enclaves carried on their traditions until roughly 8<sup>th</sup> century ME. Secondary references to itinerant monster hunters claiming heritage to the ancient Order continue for the next several centuries¡­

    And even today, in certain conspiratorial quarters. [general laughter]

    The most famous of these medieval quasi-slayers is undoubtedly the female knight Dame Veronique de Loix. Like so many other legendary figures, her true history has been muddled. Both by folklore, and later writers seeking to curry favor with those in power.

    During the high colonial era it was claimed that the royal house of Velois held ancestry from the revered Dame de Loix, through a supposed affair with the Marquis de Fer. This was an attempt to merge the royal family and mythical notions of the Velian patrie itself in the minds of the common people, through one of their most treasured patriotic symbols. The result was that the Lady Veronique became a favorite subject for the writers of the Romantic movement which swept Velian literature of the period.

    We do know that Veronique did appear to spend much time in the Fer-Mark, and that she received her ¡®pseudo-knighthood¡¯ from the Marquis. It¡¯s natural that rumors about them should run rampant through the court gossip of the time.

    However, there is no actual evidence that she and the Marquis were ever lovers. Outside of the idle speculations of artists and storytellers.

 Appendix E: Notes on the Calendar, Holidays, and Dating System

    The Calendar is divided into twelve lunar months of exactly twenty-eight days each. Additionally, there are holidays on each solstice and equinox which are not considered part of any month. Together these form a three-hundred-and-forty-day solar year. The years are thus also grouped into seven-year cycles, when the start of a new year coincides with a new moon. This event is known as a jubilee, and is considered the most profound holy day of all.

    Within Imperial and formerly Imperial territory every month is named after a particular constellation, each of which has superstitions associated with them.

    The Winter Solstice is a an important transitional holiday, which is considered neither a part of one year nor the next. It''s typically associated with family, but also acts of charity. The holiday is overseen by the goddess Luna. During jubilee years the celebrations are extended to the final day of the previous year, and the first day of the next year.

    The Stronghold is the first month of winter, and those born under this sign are said to be reserved and cautious.

    The Grail is the second month of winter, and those born under this sign are said to be gregarious and generous

    The Knave is the final month of winter, and those born under this sign are said to be tricksters and humorous.

    The Spring Equinox is associated with birth and fertility, and overseen by the Earth Mother. It''s typically celebrated with community dances and other festival activities.

    The Maiden is the first month of spring, and those born under this sign are said to be adventurous and affectionate.

    The Mare is the second month of spring, and those born under this sign are said to be healthy and libidinous.

    The Stallion is the final month of spring, and those born under this sign are said to be trustworthy and dependable.

    The Summer Solstice is strongly associated with Helios. It''s a celebration of both life and joy, marked by carnival performances and huge market fairs.

    The King is the first month of summer, and those born under this sign are said to be temperate and make excellent leaders.

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    The Warrior is the second month of summer, and those born under this sign are said to be brave and aggressive.

    The Dragon is the final month of summer, and those born under this sign are said to be passionate and driven.

    The Autumn Equinox is a harvest festival, overseen by the Sea Lord in his aspect as the Storm Father. It''s typically celebrated with community banquets and potlucks.

    The Hierophant is the first month of autumn, and those born under this sign are said to be wise and spiritually aware.

    The Tome is the second month of autumn, and those born under this sign are said to be analytical and intelligent.

    The Spider is the final month of autumn, and those born under this sign are said to be cunning and prone to insanity.

    Each month is further subdivided into four weeks of seven days each. Traditionally six days are devoted to work and one to rest. However, which day is considered the rest day varies by both religion and region.

    The days are as follows: Sunsday, Marday, Terrday, Albaday, Thesday, Orday, and Moon¡¯s Eve.

    Moon¡¯s Eve is always the final day of every week, and is the most common rest day, followed closely by Sunsday, the first day of the week.

    In human lands the years have historically been divided into the Imperial and Pre-Imperial eras, based on the semi-mythical founding date of the Imperial City. However, in Velois, Lusitan, Whitegate, and other human successor kingdoms that liberated themselves from the Imperium, they use the Modern Era dating system, which traces its origin to the break-up of the original Human Imperium.

    First day of the Maiden, 899<sup>th</sup> year of the Modern Era ¨C Veronique is born in the barony of Loix at midnight. Her mother¡¯s labor began the previous day during the spring equinox, which had been marked by the appearance of a red moon.

    Winter, 914 ME ¨C The Kaiser of Teutonia is taken by a sweating sickness, his only heir dies in the same epidemic within weeks. Due to feuds between the electors, the grand princedom would remain without a monarch for more than a decade.

    Spring, 915 ME ¨C The War of the Bastards begins in Velois.

    Summer, 918 ME ¨C The War of the Bastards ends. Louis VII becomes the sole king in Velois, after having his captive half-brother is assassinated in prison.

    Spring, 919 ME ¨C Master Slayer Aquinas is killed in battle with a loup garou, leaving Vero on her own.

    Summer, 919 ME ¨C Vero cleanses the tower of Kaer Longus for the Marquis de Fer.

    Autumn, 919 ME - Vero becomes the mistress of the Marquis de Fer. He raises her to the noble rank of Dame.

    Winter, 925 ME ¨C Vero arrives in Whitegate short on money after a misadventure under the Ruby Mountains. She works as a laundress there, and takes a room with the prostitute Theodora.

    Summer, 925 ME ¨C Vero destroys a coven of vampyres in Whitegate, and begins traveling with Dora as her common law wife.

    Autumn, 925 ME ¨C Vero reaches the city of Burgorad in the company of a rogue student named Ramiro.

    1349 ME - A Novice''s Catechism Regarding Luna''s Many Faces is published.

    1599 ME - An Introduction to Secular Arcane Theory is published.

    1638 ME - Salvador Devalance delivers a lecture at the University of Whitegate.

    1649 ME - A Brief History of Medieval Velois is published

 Appendix F: Notes on Planetary Alignment

    The spheres in this local sector of the aether can be described as follows. Planetary names favored by astrologists on the northern continent are presented first, followed by the astrological names preferred on the southern continent.

    Muspelheim ¨C Shehaqim

    A rocky and heavily volcanic world located nearest to the system¡¯s star. It¡¯s too small to retain anything but a mild exosphere, as a result it is marked by asteroid craters. It¡¯s outstanding features are it¡¯s rivers and seas of magma, and the clouds of pyroclastic ash. The planet¡¯s spin is very rapid, and both it¡¯s days and years are short.

    A few tiny moonlets surround this sphere, but their orbits are unstable. Several former satellites have already been drawn away into the pull of the central star, and it is only a matter of time before those that remain follow.

    Alfheim ¨C Vilon/Araphel

    A mid-sized rocky world, located second closest to the central star. It has a thick atmosphere, resulting in a runaway greenhouse effect. The outstanding features are it¡¯s acid rains, and the resulting lakes and streams of sulfuric acid. It¡¯s also marked by frequent thunderstorms, and occasional volcanic eruptions.

    This sphere has no moons.

    Midgard ¨C Erets

    A habitable world with a thick oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, full of liquid water. It is populated by several life forms, both plant and animal, some of which are capable of rational thought.

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    This sphere is orbited by the moon, Luna.

    Vanaheim ¨C Maon

    A mid-sized world with a thin oxygen atmosphere, and plentiful water. The sphere is tidally locked with a single day side eternally pointed towards the sun, and a night side trapped in eternal darkness. At the point closest to the central star, the terrain is rocky and barren. At the farthest side, it is covered by ice. However, in a small band running across the planet, is a twilight zone with a temperate climate and flowing water. Flora can be seen in this green area, but no evidence of animal life has yet been found.

    This sphere has no moons.

    Asgard ¨C Araboth

    A massive gas giant, this is the largest planet in the system. It¡¯s thick clouds are constantly in swirling with storms and lightning. The core is a hazy area of liquid metals.

    This sphere is surrounded by several moderately sized moons, all named for minor demi-gods.

    Nidavellir ¨C Makon

    A large gas giant, this is the third largest planet in the system. Like Araboth it is constantly swirling with storms and lightning. However, the center is a rocky core, kept under immense heat and pressure.

    This sphere has very many small moons and moonlets, all named for mythological humanoid figures. There is also a long and very distinctive set of mostly rocky rings.

    Niflheim ¨C Zebul

    A low-density gas giant, this is the second largest planet in the system. The winds here are the fastest in the star system. The center is a small core of exotic ices. Zebul and Raqia are unique, in that they orbit the central star at approximately the same distance as one another, but on mirrored radiuses from the other.

    This sphere has a few small moons, named after famous historical astrologists. There is also a very thin layer of mostly icy rings.

    Jotunheimr ¨C Raqia

    An ice giant, with a thick atmosphere. It is covered by a planetwide ocean of methane, covering a core of solid ice. Zebul and Raqia are unique, in that they orbit the central star at approximately the same distance as one another, but on mirrored radiuses from the other.

    This sphere has a few small moons, named for famous historical astrologists.

    Hel ¨C Sheol

    A small rocky planetoid on the periphery of the solar system, far beyond the orbits of Niflheim and Jotunheimr. It has no known atmosphere, and it¡¯s frozen surface is covered by impact craters.

 Glossary

    Affliction: A pejorative name for the goddess, or evil spirit, of poison, decay, corrosion, and sickness. Calling on her true name is an act of heresy. There is considerable theological debate as to whether she should be described as a goddess in her own right, or as only a powerful demon in service of the Fiend. Regardless, her works are generally considered to be evil, and her priestesses are hunted as witches wherever they are found. Their goal is to spread chaos, corruption, and decay wherever they can. Affliction is associated with the northwestern direction, hemlock, rats, offerings of mercury and arsenic.

    Bellus: The god of surplus, conquest, and wealth. Traditionally priests of this god were associated with hunting during the Imperial era, a holdover from their vital role in during humanities nomadic pre-history. Over time they came to be strongly involved in banking due to their religious exemption to usury laws. Their clerical laws are known to be very strict, as their role as an impartial third party is vital to their religious objective of most efficiently spreading economic development. Bellus is associated with northeastern direction, the color orange, clover, bulls, and offerings of bronze.

    Burgorad: A city in northwestern Teutonia, built in the foothills of the Star Mountains. Owned as a fief by the city¡¯s cathedral of Helios. It has traditionally been ruled de facto through a mayor, elected by a city council of the wealthiest merchants and craftsmen. The bishop of Burgorad is an elector in the selection of the Teutonian grand prince. Population: ~10,000

    Chimera: A mutated creature, created by melding together the bodies of different species of animal through occult science. The process is still poorly understood and requires large expenditures of blood to produce even twisted and weak results. Although the practice of creating chimeras has not been declared heresy outright, it remains a subject of great controversy. Many princes have banned the process within their domains on their own authority.

    Dora: Vero''s common law wife. She was born and raised in the city of Whitegate where she was employed as a prostitute.

    Dragon: Mythological creatures of enormous power. Legends claim that the first slayers were elven warriors who hunted these majestic creatures, but no definite evidence of a living dragon has been recorded in the Modern Era. Many believe that the plethora of slayers produced by the Imperial academies hunted them to extinction. However, certain wizards and university keep their fossilized remains on display.

    Elf-Steppe: Also called the Alfsteppe. East of the Imperium is an enormous open steppe, home to the nomadic elven khans. The elves keep a rigid caste system and consider humans worth nothing except as slaves. Although elven raids were frequent after the collapse of the Imperium, the strengthening of the human successor kingdoms eventually forced them back. Regardless, they remain a source of mystery and fear to most humans.

    Emmoi: A ducal region in northeastern Velois which borders Imperial territory. The area contains several moderately sized towns, and is considered very picturesque by the many Velian nobles who keep country estates there. There is a heavy military presence in the area, due to the proximity of the Imperium, and travel is very safe. Ruled by the hereditary Duc de Emmoi.

    Enyalio: The god of war, soldiers, competition, and athletic games. Most itinerant priests of this god travel with army or mercenary companies providing spiritual and medical aid to the soldiers there and sharing camp life with them. Sedentary priests of Enyalio operate gymnasiums for training in both the soldiering arts as well as general athletics. Only men are accepted as priests of this god. They are forbidden to legally marry, but they are permitted to carry on personal affairs and often keep common-law spouses. Enyalio is associated with the northeastern direction, stallions, and offerings of iron.

    Fer-Mark: A ducal region in northwestern Velois. The area is large and sprawling, wrapping itself around the northern end of the Ruby Mountains. While the Velian culture is dominant in the region, its political borders reach into both Umbrian and Teutonian territory. The area has a very strong martial tradition reaching back centuries, and its cosmopolitan nature is the result of previous conquests. The Fer-mark is the richest and most prosperous portion of Velois; the result of trade routes going around the notoriously impassible mountains, and the rich deposits of iron and copper in the foothills. Ruled by the hereditary Marquis de Fer, also known as the Margrave der Stahl, or the Duke of the Iron Marches.

    Fiend, the: The Fiend is the ruler of hell and the supreme master of all demons. His goal is simply to do evil by any means. He offers his power to witches in exchange for their souls, although he has no known goals of his own beyond simply causing destruction and misery. Worship of the Fiend is forbidden by all mortal governments, as it is directly antithetical to any form of law or order, even autocratic tyranny. His name is invoked colloquially only as a deliberate vulgarity. Lesser demons are some also referred to as fiends at times, and the distinct identification of specific demonic forces in religious texts is a notoriously inexact science.

    Flan-Goethe: A ducal region in northern Velois which borders Teutonia. The area is one of the major breadbaskets of the kingdom, and because of it¡¯s border with the Teutonia, it¡¯s also one of the most militaristic. The terrain is mostly flat, making it the ideal invasion route for anyone moving either north or south. There are few towns or cities, but the landscape is dotted with castles and fortresses. Although the soil is of excellent quality, the region¡¯s enormous military expenditure has consumed the greater part of their economic surplus in heavy taxes. The region is not impoverished, but their need for constant defense means they are not as prosperous as they could be. Ruled by the hereditary Duc de Flan-Goethe.

    Gibbering Dead: A colloquial term for an embodied undead which lacks any awareness or intelligence. These creatures might arise for a multitude of reasons, mostly associated with the improper handling of a corpse after death. Despite the natural fear associated with the state of undeath, the vast majority of gibbering dead are not dangerous. They can easily be destroyed with fire, or led into sunlight, to set the soul trapped inside the rotting body free.

    Greenvale: A small barony on the Velian edge of the Fer-mark¡¯s internal cultural boundries. The castle was built alongside a chain of others to protect the original borders of the Fer-mark. However, once the borders had been pushed into Umbria by the capture of Kaer Longus, these forts began to lose their relevancy and eventually became backwaters. Ruled by the hereditary Baron de Greenvale.

    Guild, the Poisoner¡¯s: A criminal organization. It consists of dozens of mostly independent guild-houses, which generally align their interests as often as possible for mutual benefit. The Guild do act as murderers for hire, as their name implies, but the greater part of their income comes from extortion. They threaten legitimate businesses, as well as small gangs of cutpurses and highwaymen. The Guild is also closely intertwined with the priestesses of Affliction, who serve as advisors and chemists. The priestesses are often suspected to be the true masters of the organization.

    Hominine: Principally, one of the four humanoid races still in existence, which are Humans, Elves, Dwarves, and Giants. The label hominine may also be applied to human-like extinct species as well, such as Neanderthals or Trolls.

    Helios, King: The Sun God and chief deity of the Pantheon. His worshipers are found all over the planet, but only in small numbers. His worship is deliberately restricted to only the elite, since only they are worthy to directly petition the King of the Gods. His human church is centered in the Imperium. Only men can become sun priests, and they are not permitted to marry or consort with women. Helios is associated with the eastern direction, authority, the color yellow, choleric humors, the element fire, sunflowers, lions, hawks, the high caste of elves, offerings of gold, and the male gender in general.

    Hollowstone: A county of moderate size which projects into the heart of Umbria, and is the furthest extent of Velian conquests in that country. Although it was owned at one time by a hereditary earl, the extinction of ruling family lead to transition into a democracy. Ruled by an elected Lord Mayor, but as a protectorate of the Marquis de Fer.

    Imperium: A nation located east of Velois, on the border between human and elven territory. At one time the Imperium ruled the majority of the human race, and most human languages are dialects of Imperial. The vernacular spoken in the Imperium is known as old Imperial, and is a trade language across the north. Currently, the emperor has direct control of only a small region immediately surrounding the Imperial City. The rest of his power comes from the nominal loyalty of the Kaiser of Teutonia, and the free cities to the south. Imperials are loathed by most other human nations, but have good relations with the elves, who they often trade with in slaves. The Imperium retains its prestige due to its continued role as the center of religious authority for the pantheon of gods worshiped even in the human successor kingdoms. The papal estates of both Helios and Luna are located within the Imperial City and together they have formed a single urban mass. Population: ~1,000,000 in the Imperial City district alone, ~4,000,000 including the other semi-independent city states and rural communities of the elven borderlands.

    Jean: The Marquis de Fer and Vero''s lover. He is the richest and most powerful landowner in Velois, and the king''s most prominent rival.

    Kaer Longus: A castle town in eastern Umbria. Its most remarkable feature is its high tower. It was originally built to control the point where the three nations of Teutonia, Umbria, and Velois meet, to prevent the incursion of foreign troops into Umbrian territory. However, it was quickly subdued by the Velians soon after its construction, and the land has been a fief of the Marquis de Fer ever since. Ruled by the hereditary Earl of Kaer Longus. Population: ~5,000

    Landtag, the: A confederations of merchants and craftsmen who exert economic, political, and military influence over southwestern Teutonia, eastern Umbria, and northwestern Velois. The monarchs of all those realms mistrust the organization, so the power of the Landtag often waxes and wanes by the ability of those monarchs to repress them.

    Loix: A small rural barony in southern Velois, bordering the Whitewood. The area is devoid of any major trade routes or towns, but is well known locally for its bountiful agriculture. The birth place of the famous medieval slayer Dame Veronique de Loix. Ruled by the hereditary Baron de Loix.

    Loup Garou: An individual under the curse of lycanthropy. A loup garou takes on the features of a wolf during the three nights of a full moon and is driven into a murderous rage. Although wolf curses are the most common, there are rare variations of this condition where the individual may take on the aspects of another animal such as a rat, boar, or big cat. In all cases, no matter the animal, the curse is levied in the name of the moon, and is driven by the change in lunar phases. The loup garou possesses tremendous strength and stamina. They also possess restorative abilities, unless wounded by silver. A loup garou may also display fear of wolfsbane, but the plant is not harmful to the creature by itself.

    Luna, Queen: The Moon Goddess and Queen of the Gods. Her followers are found all over the world, and are much more common than those of her husband Helios by design. The churches of the Helios and Luna are closely linked. As the moon reflects the sun, she is the intermediary between the lower social classes and the ruler of the universe. Her priestesses are renowned for their knowledge of midwifery and pediatric care. Under normal circumstances, only women can become moon priestesses. Men can be ordained only after undergoing ritual castration; the event is extremely rare, but does happen on occasion. All priestesses are also required to take oaths of celibacy. Luna is associated with the southern direction, the color purple, the element air, mimosa, lionesses, owls, offerings of silver, child care, and the female gender in general.

    Lusitan, Kingdom of: A large and powerful nation located on the western side of the Ruby Mountains. Its southern extremities reach the small isthmus which connects the northern and southern continents. The country reaches the coast in the west, and the Ruby Mountains in the east are almost totally impassible, which gives them powerful natural borders. In the north, however, Lusitan has easy access to Umbria giving them a natural avenue for military expansion. Ruled by a hereditary king. Population: ~12,000,000

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Merilla: A costal region in the Kingdom of Lusitan. It has little economic value, aside from the local vineyards which produce mediocre wines in large volumes. The region is principally supported by White Sea sailors stopping over in Port Merilla, which is the only local urban settlement. The region is ruled by the hereditary Vizconde de Merilla.

    Moros: The Divinity of Loss. The worship of this being was outlawed in the controversial ruling from the Grand Conclave of 880 ME. A crusade was called against their worshipers, who lived primarily in northeastern Velois and southern Teutonia, but also in communities around the Imperial City itself. The repressions were more brutal in Imperial and Teutonian territory, but the weak executive power of King Henri III allowed an internal conflict called the Priest War to rage across his own kingdom. The divinity is associated with the northwestern direction, wormwood, mules, and offerings of lead.

    Oasis Cities: A loosely aligned league of city states built along the northern coast of the southern continent. Each city is mostly independent, and cooperates with the league only so much as necessary to resist foreign invasion. Leaders have tried to turn the league into something more permeant on several occasions, but all attempts have failed. The governments of each city are unique, but tend towards dictatorships, either in the form of a hereditary monarchy or a plutocratic oligarchy. Population: ~11,000,000

    Order of Slayers, the: The order which Vero belongs to. Their history stretches back into antiquity as dragon hunters, but they eventually came to hunt all abominations and unclean creatures.

    Orphia: The Goddess of Art. She is the close companion of the Goddess of Reason and their faiths have a unified hierarchy. Besides her nature as an educator, she also acts as the patron goddess of courtly romance and altruistic devotional love. Priests of either gender may be ordained by the faith, but they are not allowed to marry. She is associated with the southwestern direction, the color red, sanguine humors, roses, doves, the human race, organic alchemy and offerings of glass.

    Pentarch: A master slayer who first encountered Vero in the Whitewood, where they hunted a dire wolf.

    Pict Highlands: A region of storm swept costal highlands to the west of Teutonia, and north of Umbria. The area is notoriously rough terrain, and it¡¯s sheltered from Teutonia by the southeastern arm of the Star Mountains. Because of these natural defenses, the Picts have a well-earned reputation for throwing back invading armies by endlessly harassing their logistics. The Picts have a clan-based government, but during times of crisis the clan patriarchs gather to elect a high king to lead them until the danger has passed. Picts are well respected for their martial prowess and many individuals have traveled south to hire themselves as soldiers. As a result, these mercenaries have an outsized influence on southerners¡¯ views concerning Picts as a whole. The western arm of the Star Mountains goes out into the Ocean where it forms a chain of islands, which have also been colonized by Pictish clans.

    Ruby Mountains: A nigh impassible range of mountains which runs north to south between the kingdoms of Velois and Lusitan. The last known dwarven nation is located beneath the mountains and jealously guards its territory, making the area dangerous to cross even in good weather.

    Sea Lord, the: The God of Oceans and Storms. He is the husband of the Earth Mother and sometimes consort of Queen Luna. He is most frequently worshiped in coastal regions where the economy depends on fishing or sailing, but also inland, where he is invoked for favorable weather in many farming communities. Only men are permitted to become priests of the Sea Lord, although they are permitted to marry. The Sea Lord is associated with the western direction, a very dark blue color, sea weed, octopi, the study of runes, and offerings of jade.

    Shadowtree: A castle built in the shade of the largest tree in the Whitewood. The area is very remote, and few people would know of its existence except that it was once ruled by the Baroness Stirba, styled the She-wolf of Shadowtree during her own lifetime. She would become more famous centuries after her death when she was proclaimed ¡®the most evil woman ever born¡¯ by the infamous philosophical salon and social club, the Hedonists Guild, in 1428 ME. Ruled by the hereditary Baron of Shadowtree.

    Star Mountains: The Star Mountains are located in western Teutonia, and form the natural barrier between human territory, and the forests beyond the mountain controlled by powerful ancient vampyres. Many of these vampyres have ties to the oldest human noble families. More than once, an undead has attempted the claim the right of an elector in Teutonia. The mountains are so named because they radiate outwards in a roughly starburst shape from a central point north of the Pict highlands.

    Templar: A knight of the temple. Every major religion in the pantheon maintains a church-militant. Although templars are knights, they foreswear all wealth, family, or title by taking monastics vows. What uses a templar is put to depends on the tenants of his faith.

    Terra: More commonly known as, the Earth Mother. She is wife of the Sea Lord, and sometimes consort of King Helios. She is the most widely worshiped deity in the world in terms of sheer numbers, however most of her followers are rural farmers and hunters with little political power. Priests of the Earth Mother have access to many lost spells, rituals, and natural cures; but thaumaturgists from highly analytical or hierarchical arcane traditions often balk at the level of superstition they find when studying the faith. Both men and women may be ordained as priests in the church. Priests are both permitted and encouraged to marry, even to one another. The Earth Mother is associated with the southeastern direction, the color green, wheat, bears, the lower castes of elves, fertility, geomancy, and offerings of living wood.

    Teutonia, Grand Princedom of: A nation located north of Velois, Umbria, and the Imperium. The country is geographically very large, but not as densely populated as the south. Because of its large size, the government of Teutonia is extremely decentralized. Unlike the successor kingdoms, Teutonia still pays nominal loyalty to the Imperial City. The Kaiser, referred to as the Caesar in the Imperium, is technically a vassal of the Emperor. However, the connection is more formal than practical, especially considering that the grand prince himself barely controls his own subjects. The Kaiser is an elected position, chosen by the largest landholders in the north on the death of the previous Kaiser. At times the man elected grand prince has been a bishop, in those cases he traditionally styles himself the Archbishop of Teutonia. Population: ~16,000,000

    Thesmos: The Goddess of Reason. Her church has a shared hierarchy with the Goddess of Art, and priests of both work together to bring education to their worshipers. Besides expanding the boundaries of knowledge, the church also provides their legal expertise as judges and mediators in most major human settlements. Priests of either gender may be ordained by the faith, but they are not allowed to marry. The goddess is associated with the southeastern direction, the color light blue, phlegmatic humors, lilies, pigeons, humans in general, inorganic alchemy, and offerings of copper.

    Umbria, Kingdom of: A small nation located at the crossroads between three major powers. Squeezed between Teutonia in the north, Lusitan in the south, and Velois in the east, Umbrian independence is under constant threat. In fact, the only reason they haven¡¯t be conquered outright is because no two powers can afford to allow the third to completely control the country. Ironically, the land is poor and swampy and constant fighting has left very little of value, other than the opportunity to outflank one¡¯s geopolitical rivals. Besides its other problems, Umbria is highly decentralized and many of the earls and barons also swear fealty to one of the three major powers. Although ruled by a hereditary monarch in practice, legally the kingdom remains an elected monarchy. King¡¯s moots have become a purely ceremonial affair, so long as the king produces a healthy male heir. However, in order to be crowned, the Umbrian king must still swear to uphold the ancient charter of the kingdom, which promises broad independence to his landholding subjects. Population ~7,500,000

    Valance: The capitol of the Kingdom of Lusitan. The city is located on the coast of the White Sea, and was founded as a colony by adventurers from the Oasis Cities. Although it is the residence of the king, the city is actually the independent fief of the Pontifex of Vedio, and owned by the church. Population: ~30,000

    Vampyre: An intelligent and corporeal form of undead. A victim drained to the point of death by a vampyre lays dead for a day before rising again as a new vampyre, under the control of the monster who killed them. They often form covens, with multiple spawn living in the same haven and serving a single elder. However, if the elder is destroyed, any surviving spawn are then free to leave and do as they will. The abilities of a vampyre vary, but they invariably become more potent with age. The weakest vampyres may be destroyed by a stake through the heart. Greater forms must be decapitated, exposed to the sun, or incinerated. The true origin of the most ancient ¡®original¡¯ vampyre or vampyres is unknown.

    Vedio: The Lord of Medicine. His priests are the undisputed masters of healing spells as well as more mundane forms of medicine. The church operates hospitals across the human world. His faith encourages cooperation with other religions, making his worship one of the most common, even if the depth of any individual¡¯s devotion is typically quite shallow. Only men may become priests of Vedio, although it is very common for women to serve as un-ordained acolyte nurses. Pressure to give women a greater role in the church is slowly building. Priests are allowed to marry, and encouraged to do so. Celibacy is viewed with suspicion, as is any other form of birth control. Vedio is associated with the southern direction, the color black, aloe, cats, healing magic, and offerings of sulfur.

    Veiled One, the: The Goddess of Death, also known as the White Woman, the Lady of Bones, as well as many other euphemisms. Her priesthood, the White Sisters, are masters of anesthesia, besides their more well-known services performing funeral rituals and abortions. Although it is extremely rare, men do sometimes become ordained priests of the faith. Her church-militant is known to be the most fervent hunters of undead on the continent. The Goddess of Death is associated with the center direction, the color white, bone, poppies, vultures, blackbirds, melancholic humors, astral studies, and offerings of marble.

    Velois, Kingdom of: A populous and militarily expansionist nation located on the eastern side of the Ruby Mountains. It is bordered by Teutonia in the north, the Imperium and elven borderlands in the east, and the Republic of Whitegate in the south. The kingdom has recently emerged from a civil war, the War of the Bastards, and is moving towards an absolute monarchy. The country is ruled by a hereditary monarch, and the law of Velois is unique in that it does allow for the crown to be passed to a female descendant in the absence of any male issue. Population: ~15,000,000

    Vermillion: The Velian capitol city, and one of the major cultural centers of the northern continent. The current city was founded during the age of the Imperium and named for the cinnabar which the city¡¯s artisans were famous for crafting sacred objects with. The city is owned directly by the crown of Velois. Besides the king, the city also contains the papal palace for the pontifices of the goddesses Art and Reason, making it a center of clerical and secular bureaucracy. The catacombs beneath the city are extensive; the largest library and set of archives on the northern continent are located beneath the temple district. The city¡¯s university is also among the most respected in the world. Population ~50,000

    Whitegate, Sovereign Republic of: A nation located on a peninsula extending south into the White Sea. The coastal city is the preeminent naval power on the planet and exerts control over most of the islands in the White Sea, as well as many of the formerly Imperial city states near the water in the elven borderlands. The city holds the papal palace of the pontifex of the Veiled One, who is the patron goddess of the city. The Republic is ruled by the Doge, and a council partially consisting of hereditary nobles and partially of elected representatives. Any member of the patrician class may be elected Doge, and the position is held for life. Voting in elections are open to all male citizens, but votes are weighted by economic class. Anyone born inside the city walls of Whitegate, or anyone who can prove the parentage of at least one citizen, is considered a citizen at birth. Citizenship may also be earned through service, often military, to the Republic. Population: ~100,000 city, ~2,500,000 republic total.

    White Sea: The White Sea is a body of salt water which separates the northern and southern continents. It contains many islands, mostly dominated by the Republic of Whitegate. However, Lusitan, the Oasis Cities, and the papal states of the Sea God also exert their own influence. The White Sea opens into the Ocean on the eastern side.

    Whitewood: A forest covering the point where the peninsula of Whitegate connects to the mainland. It forms the natural land border between the Republic and Kingdom of Velois. The Whitewood is actually something of a misnomer, the predominant species of tree are redwoods. The name honors the Veiled One, who is the patron deity of Whitegate. Most of the forest is controlled by the church of the Veiled One, but there are some nobles in the region as well, including the baroness of Shadowtree.

    Witch: A witch is a intelligent hominine which has voluntarily offered their soul to a being from beyond the terrestrial sphere (often a demon, but occasionally a fey or other spirit) in exchange for power. The term ¡®witch¡¯ can be applied to either men or women, but the term warlock may also be used to describe a male witch. Colloquially anyone who uses natural magic for evil purpose could be called a witch, but true witchcraft requires the invocation of an unholy spirit with whom the witch has formed a covenant.

    Wraith: An intelligent, but non-corporeal, form of undead. Even if a body has been properly opened to release the soul, an individual¡¯s spirit may simply refuse to leave the mortal world and become a wraith. A wraith ties itself to an emotional anchor. It can be exorcised either by resolving the bonds of passion which bind a wraith to the physical world, or by destroying their anchor entirely. A wraith may display multiple different abilities depending on their unique emotional resonance. Only those with strong egos can become wraiths. An individual without a strong sense of self, but who does experience a strong emotional death, may remain as a separate, non-sentient and non-corporeal form of spirit, known as a poltergeist.

 58. An Undesired Arrival - Prologue

    Pentarch stood in the Toad¡¯s office and waited for the loathsome little creature to acknowledge him. He stood at attention, and he kept his face and posture impassive to betray no signs of his impatience.

    The Toad made marks on his parchment for several more seconds before giving him the simple order, ¡°Report.¡± There was no change in his demeanor, and he continued his scribblings without looking up.

    ¡°The Lady Veronique ¨C or Virgil, as she introduced herself to me when we met ¨C has arrived.¡±

    ¡°She made it all the way?¡±

    ¡°She made it all the way here on her own, and lost consciousness soon after I brought her inside.¡±

    ¡°She required no undue assistance from you along the way?¡±

    Pentarch ignored the implication and answered honestly. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Good. We¡¯re glad to have things back on track after Von Richlau¡¯s unexpected involvement.¡± Pentarch strongly suspected that it was the Toad himself who alerted the undead Landgrave Von Richlau of Vero¡¯s coming before her arrival, or one of his minions. ¡°If he had killed her and taken the relic, or if she had given it to him, the consequences would have been disastrous. The Curia have asked me to commend you for your work bringing the artifact back to us safely- even considering its condition.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m honored.¡±

    The Toad finally looked up at him. Perhaps trying to tell if he was being disingenuous or not. He appeared disappointed by the lack of insubordination and turned back to his parchment. ¡°No loose ends left in Burgorod?¡±

    Pentarch was certain there were truth-saying spells in the room. He spoke carefully to tell as little as possible without being caught in a lie. ¡°The elderly maester she contracted to give her directions is still there, but it would raise too much suspicion to eliminate him. It¡¯s doubtful she told him anything compromising, and he¡¯s already on the verge of death as it is.¡± He avoided mentioning the drunkard Ramiro entirely.

    ¡°Hmm, very well.¡± The Toad sounded disappointed. ¡°Now that she''s here we need to decide what to do with her. You¡¯ve studied the girl, spied on her, spoken to her¡­ the Curia want to hear the impression you¡¯ve formed.¡± He seemed to be making it clear by his tone that it was the Curia alone which was interested, and that he himself cared not a whit.

    ¡°She can read and knows the most common dialects of Imperial, but shows definite signs of a struggle with anything besides Velian. That, and her bumpkin accent, suggests she was raised in rural Velois. She seems to lose the accent though when she wears women¡¯s clothes, because I didn¡¯t hear it when she was in Whitegate. It becomes more northern and refined. But not like at their capital, more like the Fer-Mark to my ear.¡±

    The Toad made a sneer, but Pentarch continued untroubled.

    ¡°She became apprenticed to Aquinas, an independent slayer we considered not worth recruiting, but I don¡¯t know how they met. He was a soldier and taught her how to fight and keep herself in condition passably well. But if it were not for the relic, they both would have died a long time ago. As it was, Aquinas was killed by a loup garou somewhere between five and ten years ago. Although no one who knows the full tale of exactly how or when is willing to say any more than that. She¡¯s operated on her own since then.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Why was her teacher judged unfit for recruitment?¡±

    ¡°Excellent physical abilities in his youth, and good survival skills- which he seems to have passed on to his apprentice. But he was illiterate, and showed poor natural aptitude for occult science. He was also judged unfit of character by the man sent to scout him. They were stricter about matters of honor in those days.¡±

    The Toad looked ready to respond at once, before he saw that Pentarch had paused to wait for him.

    At length, he declined Pentarch¡¯s invitation. ¡°Yes? Are you pausing for the profound moral lesson you¡¯ve dealt to sink in? Go on with your report, master slayer.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s clever, but not nearly so clever as she thinks. She¡¯s very determined, but that also makes her willful. Anti-social by disposition, but skilled at manipulating others. I suppose it was the Marquis who helped her develop that trait.¡±

    ¡°Do you consider that observation salient at the moment?¡±

    ¡°I suppose not.¡± He began again, ¡°It was the Marquis de Fer who gave her the noble title of Dame, when she spent half a year as his mistress. Every report I¡¯ve heard says that she knows how to behave in a courtly setting without embarrassing herself better than most slayers. And I do consider that a salient observation.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s politically compromised her neutrality, is that what you mean?¡±

    Pentarch smiled. He was sure the Toad wanted her dead; Pentarch also knew that he himself wanted her alive. Time would tell which one of them would be on the winning side in the end. In the present, he refused to allow himself to be baited.

    He continued as though he had not been interrupted. ¡°She has a strong natural aptitude for working magic, although she¡¯s had no formal training in a university. I don¡¯t know where she learned the occult sciences, or the full extent of her knowledge. Her master knew next to nothing. What he did know was so rife with superstition it may have done her more harm than good. Even self-taught, it was plain to me that she¡¯s more skilled than any apprentice we have at the fortress now. And more so than some of our trained slayers. She''s traveled extensively in the south, in the Republic, Lusitan, and the Oasis Cities. Places our Order hasn''t reached out to in decades, more than a generation.¡±

    ¡°Shall I interpret this as a request for her to be placed under your command?¡± The Toad asked the question like he was offering a favor.

    ¡°If that is what the Curia wishes. I believe she would be a valuable agent- after some further training. It wouldn¡¯t take more than-¡±

    ¡°-Noted. Is there anything else?¡±

    ¡°I observed her when she destroyed a coven of vampyres in Whitegate, and she did a fine job of it. She passed all the tests we set for her. She even destroyed that old leech Von Richlau in Burgorod along the way, despite him being forewarned. One thing I wouldn¡¯t know if she possessed until I saw her in person was adaptability, and I believe she has it in abundance.¡±

    ¡°Is that all?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my recommendation that we finish her training and list her on our rolls with the rank of journeyman. And, she may be the only one able to work with the relic in its current condition. That¡¯s all I have left to say.

    ¡°Understood.¡± The Toad waved him away. ¡°You¡¯re dismissed.¡±

    Pentarch turned on his heel and left.

    Before he was through the door, the Toad added, ¡°Be sure you keep an eye on her. It seems the Lady Veronique is something of a locus for¡­ ill fortune. And we all want her hale and healthy, isn¡¯t that right?¡±

    Pentarch closed the door behind him. The other side believed they were in a place of advantage; he was sure of that.

    It was all well enough. Pentarch could not say for certain that they had not amassed the superior force, but the fog of war could never be completely cleared until the battle was fully joined.

    The Lady Veronique would be awake soon, and then the next battle could begin in earnest.

 59. A Shrine to the Fiend Part I

    Vero found herself in a furnished tent. She could hear the sound of men and horses outside, so she thought that she must be in a large camp.

    It was the camp of the Marquis de Fer, she realized. There was his heraldry on the wall, an argent stallion on its hind legs against a vert field; and suddenly Jean was beside her.

    He held her hand and raised it to his lips to kiss it. He was smiling at her.

    She thought that she had been standing, but now she discovered that she was lying in a cot, and Jean was seated at her bedside. Everything was exactly as it had been.

    It occurred to Vero that she was in a dream.

    She wished that it was real, but it was not.

    Still, it was a pleasant dream, and not unwelcome after weeks of nightmares. Many of her memories were sharp and painful, but she did not feel she had anything to fear from Jean, at least.

    He kissed her wrist, then her arm, before leaning forward and kissing her shoulder, then the nape of her neck. All while she watched him curiously.

    ¡°You¡¯ve never taken a lover before, have you?¡± He sat back again, still smiling.

    ¡°I know how a man holds a maid when they¡¯re alone together, if that¡¯s what you mean.¡± It was strange how easily their conversation came into her mind.

    ¡°It¡¯s not.¡±

    Vero felt her legs and arm, which were covered in a hard cast of clay. All her memories were now in a jumble.

    Jean rose to his feet. ¡°When you¡¯re ready, you¡¯ll tell me.¡±

    Vero broke free of the clay. She felt no pain. It was, after all, only a dream. ¡°I¡¯m ready now!¡±

    She pulled herself into a sitting position and tried to climb out of bed. She nearly fell over, but Jean caught her.

    They began to kiss as they both tumbled down together, Vero knew not towards where.

    She tried to undress herself, but found that instead of a plain chemise, she was now wearing one of the confining elaborate gowns she loathed.

    She could no longer hear anything outside the tent, and no longer held any real indication of where she was, so she thought that she must be waking up.

    The dream was nearly over now, and yet she could not untie herself from this damn dress. She tried to summon up a knife or something sharp that she could use to cut herself free through force of will, but nothing presented itself.

    One by one, Vero¡¯s senses vanished, until the only thing she could perceive was the feeling of the tight knot in her fingers that just refused to come undone.

    Vero woke up in a soft and warm bed. Not for the first time, she was pleased to discover that she was not yet dead.

    Someone had stripped her of her sword, her armor, her bag, and her clothes, but she was still alive. She sat up and expected to find the world spinning, but it was not. She also expected to find some sudden pain to shoot through her as she moved, but again, it did not.

    She was in a bedroom with stone walls and a fire burning in its place beside her. There were no windows, and besides the fire there was no other light source, natural or otherwise. There was a vanity with a shining silver mirror sitting in the corner of the room. It looked very expensive. She had not seen anything of the sort since the season she spent at the estate of the Marquis de Fer.

    Jean.

    The memory of her dream flooded back to her, but there was no time for useless reminiscences. She threw off the blanket and examined her own body. She was not much more than skin, taut lean muscle, and bone, after her hard trip through the mountains, but she was still whole and healthy.

    To look at her, nothing seemed to be out of place.

    No-

    -She was missing the smallest toe on her left foot.

    Frostbite?

    She puzzled over it for a moment and stood up.

    The horror and revulsion at the disfigurement hit her with delayed effect. At once she checked all her digits again in rising hysteria, before feeling her nose and her ears to assure herself they were still there. Aside from the toe, she seemed to be all in one piece.

    Slowly the panic began to fade away.

    It was only a minor thing to lose after all. Things could have ended much worse for her.

    Atop the vanity were two sets of clothing. The first was a plain white cotton dress which looked very thick, but completely lacked anything resembling ornamentation. The second was a pair of rough leather breeches, and a vest with a wool tunic. There were plenty of well-padded coats, stockings, and cloth shoes with them.

    A heavy winter cloak hung on a peg beside the door, and a pair of well-worn boots were beneath them.

    She approached the Vero-in-the-looking-glass. The reflection was scrawny but fit, like a starving athlete. Her breasts were small, and she kept her fire red hair cut short. Aside from her lack of a phallus, she otherwise roughly resembled a young man. After traveling so far north her skin was very fair, although she could still see the faint lines where it was mottled by scars.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Jean once told her that her eyes were her most enthralling feature, that they shown like emeralds. She was not certain if he had intended for her to take him in earnest, or to treat it as a whispered nothing.

    Vero thought her face was too pretty.

    Not really beautiful, like an elegant woman ought to be. Not hard, like a man who should not be crossed. Nor even just ugly- which she also might have preferred. Rather she was pretty, like a little girl ¨C or a little boy ¨C depending on what one took her to be. A babyface, Mama called it.

    Vero realized that she had been staring at herself for several minutes. Her mind felt hazy, like she had received a hard strike to the head. She took the pants and tunic, and dressed herself. She found a set of fur lined gloves under the cloak, hanging from the same peg.

    The door was unlocked and she stepped outside.

    The cold hit her at once, and with such intensity that she wondered if the room was not placed under a warding spell to keep it warm. She even had trouble breathing for a moment before she adjusted to the temperature.

    As high up in the mountains as she was, it was actually relatively temperate for the moment.

    Her door led Vero out onto a stone palisade, which blocked the way leading into a tiny valley between two sheer peak walls. The room she woke up in was built directly into the natural cliff face.

    They were at the apex of the mountain range. In front of the wall was a steep descent down into the hills leading up to the mountains, and then down passed those snowy hills lay the civilized lands beyond. The whole scene was overhung by a blinding sun, traveling on an almost horizontal arc just over the horizon.

    There were a few men on guard duty, but they paid her no special mind. They hurried by so that they could return to the warmth of the gate house, built into the lower portion of the wall. Behind the palisade was a training yard filled with more men trying to keep warm with hard sparring. Past them, the enclosed canyon sloped gently upwards to the donjon tower, and several other surrounding outbuildings.

    Vero climbed down the palisade and tramped into the yard. She was not sure if it was warmer or colder there. The sun could not reach her, but neither could the blistering winds. She scanned the faces of each man she passed, looking for the one who brought her there.

    After a few minutes, she found him.

    Pentarch was very tall. With his severe aristocratic features, and his thin frame concealed behind a heavy cloak, he looked rather intimidating. His right ear was missing, as were the two smallest fingers on his right hand- although his gloves concealed that fact at the moment. ¡°You¡¯re feeling better now I trust?¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s my sword, Pentarch?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s in the special armory, with the rest of your things.¡± He gave her a wry smile and added, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯re not likely to confuse it with any other.¡±

    ¡°I want it back.¡±

    The smile was replaced by a frown, but Vero thought it looked more reticent than angry. ¡°I can¡¯t do that, I¡¯m under orders. We¡¯re not thieves. You¡¯ll get everything back that belongs to you in time, I promise.¡±

    Vero already felt frustrated at how helpless she was, and Pentarch¡¯s attitude only further soured her mood. She remained silent.

    ¡°I have instructions to take you to see the Curia right away once you¡¯ve woken. Since it seems you¡¯re experiencing no further ill effects from your climb up here, follow me.¡± Pentarch turned and began to walk away. When he noticed she was not following, he turned and sardonically added a simple, ¡°Please?¡±

    After a moment of indecision, Vero followed.

    All the edifices built into the canyon wall were also towers, but smaller than the donjon itself. Roughhewn stairs led up to their high entrances. Vero could only guess, but she presumed they were built such so that they could receive at least a few hours sunlight over the curtain wall.

    The smaller towers formed a concave semi-circle of structures, with the main tower in the center. The main tower rose so much higher than the others that its top crested out of the valley, and could probably act as a watchtower for the whole surrounding region.

    Vero decided she would try to go on the offensive, to see if she could provoke Pentarch into revealing more about who these people were, and what they wanted. ¡°Did you undress me yourself, or did you order one of your compatriots to do it?¡±

    ¡°Neither,¡± he countered easily. ¡°We have some domestics here.¡±

    ¡°You do?¡±

    ¡°Not many. I asked a servant ¨C a female servant ¨C to undress you and take your things.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t trust your own fellows?¡±

    Pentarch stopped. ¡°Oh, let¡¯s not play this game. I can see you¡¯re distempered, but you¡¯re certainly no blushing virgin, so don¡¯t act so coy. Whether you believe it or not, I¡¯d like you to trust me. Even little as I know of human interaction, I suspect taking advantage of an unconscious woman is not conducive to earning her trust.¡±

    ¡°Neither is stealing her sword.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t my decision. Pax, please. May we proceed now?¡±

    Vero shrugged her shoulders, and they walked once more. ¡°It must be difficult to maintain a good serving staff in so remote a location, I should think.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you should try and put your presumption about us aside.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know that I have any presumptions about you. All I know is that you¡¯ve been planting stories of ancient slayer artifacts to lure me up this gods-forsaken mountain.¡±

    ¡°I expect the Curia will allow me to explain everything once you meet with them. Assuming you behave yourself, that is.¡±

    At the ground level, the donjon was surrounded by an inner curtain wall. It would be the next line of defense in the event that the first wall was breeched. Pentarch took them over a drawbridge, which crossed a ditch filled with wooden stakes, into the small courtyard beyond the wall.

    Vero did not like to think how easy it might be the stumble into the dry moat. The drawbridge was slick with ice, and she could barely see the fire hardened ends of the stakes protruding through the most recent soft layer of snowfall.

    Vero considered herself an expert in personal combat, but only an amateur in mass field tactics. She only knew what she learned from observing Jean as a commander, and from hunting through the aftermath of the great battles from the War of the Bastards, with her former master.

    She supposed that the courtyard was intended to concentrate attackers into a killing field. She noticed a few archers huddled around fires burning on top the wall. The inner courtyard was empty, and its only remarkable feature was the massive set of wrought iron doors leading into the main tower itself.

    The great doors were opened, and beyond them was a large hall, which appeared more than big enough to hold all the residents of the fortress at once. As it was, there were only half a dozen figures eating at a table in the corner. Pentarch and Vero ignored the group and crossed the hall, with steps that tapped on the stone beneath them, and then echoed back on the high arches above them.

    In the very back of the hall was a curtain, and behind that curtain were two sets of stairs. The first led up to an enclosed mezzanine which overlooked the hall, and the second led down below ground. Vero could not see any way to reach the higher levels of the tower. She presumed they must be accessed from outside, via the top of the surrounding wall.

    At the curtain, Pentarch came to a halt. ¡°The Curia are waiting to see you upstairs.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not coming with me?¡±

    ¡°Only one person ever sees the Curia at a time, it¡¯s safer that way. The Curia are slayers who have grown too old to hunt. To preserve their minds as long as possible, they¡¯ve permanently altered their humors to extends their lives. Unfortunately, the process weakens their bodies. The slightest fever could kill them.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s down the other way?¡± Vero pointed at the stairs leading down into the mountain.

    ¡°The private quarters of the Curia. No one is allowed down that way.¡±

 60. A Shrine to the Fiend Part II

    Vero walked slowly up the stairs.

    She did not particularly like Pentarch, but at least he was something familiar. Now a cloak of dread hung heavy on her. She felt a wave of nausea pass over her, and needed to stop in front of the door leading onto the mezzanine.

    When it passed, she tried the door and found it locked. She knocked.

    A slit in the door opened, and two yellow eyes peered out at her.

    Vero waited to see if the eyes on the other side of the door would speak, but no words were forthcoming. So, she said the first thing that came into her mind. ¡°I was asked to speak to the Curia.¡±

    The slit slammed shut and Vero had just enough time to wonder if she said something wrong, before she heard a heavy bolt being unlatched and the door opened.

    On the other side was a creature so profoundly ugly that Vero could hardly believe that it was a man, and not some vulgar homunculus. He was just over five feet in height and completely hairless, even to the eyebrows. His eyes were widely set, and very large in a way that reminded her of a fish- or more like an amphibian, as he was on land at present. It was not just his eyes which were yellow, his clammy skin also appeared severely jaundiced.

    ¡°Enter, Lady Veronique.¡± He had a croaking voice like a frog, and was so enormously fat that there were rolls in his jowls which moved as he spoke.

    Beyond the disgusting little man were a dozen figures, or perhaps more. The room was dark and filled with smoke from burning incense, which made it difficult to see the far corners of the room and caused her head to spin. The figures shifted around endlessly, moving in and out of sight, and never stopping for longer than a moment.

    If there was a method to their movements, Vero could not perceive it. One at a time, a few would approach her before backing away again. Though like the tide, they were slowly drawing closer to her each time.

    When they came nearer, Vero could finally see them in detail rather than as shifting shadows. Each figure was in a deep cloak, which they wrapped themselves in tightly. They had no hoods, but on their faces they each wore a strange mask with a long beak that stretched out in front of them.

    In addition to the freestanding sticks of incense she could see around her, each beak also contained more burning incense. The mask guided the smoke to the face of the wearer, where it escaped through holes drilled into the helmet-like forehead.

    They reminded Vero of huge birds.

    She could just make out that, under their cloaks, they seemed to be constantly twitching and squirming. When they were close enough, they would whisper to her before retreating again.

    ¡°What is it? A human? Does it carry not a drop of Sylvan blood?¡± The first voice she heard sounded like a shrill male, but she was not quite certain which of the figures it came from.

    ¡°Test it.¡± The second voice came from a woman, who spoke with firm authority.

    ¡°She¡¯s human. And what does it matter?¡± The third voice was a frustrated sounding man.

    ¡°Test it.¡± The authoritative woman again.

    ¡°Perhaps you¡¯d like her to undress and prove that she¡¯s a woman as well.¡± The frustrated man.

    ¡°I¡¯d like it.¡± The shrill man.

    ¡°Test it.¡± Authority.

    Vero felt another wave of nausea come over her. She knelt down to try and find some fresh air under the smoke, to no avail.

    ¡°It¡¯s no good flower, give the imp some of your blood. It won¡¯t hurt but a pinch.¡± Frustration.

    ¡°Test it.¡± Authority.

    Vero felt too sick to do anything more than half listen, but the ugly little man held out a small razor and a glass vial to her. She examined the blade and it looked clean. She ran it along the tip of the smallest finger of her left hand and bled a few drops into the vial. The ugly servant took them away from her and left.

    The others gave her some peace at last, while Vero tried to regain her bearings. She wretched more than once, and would have vomited if she had anything in her stomach.

    After some time, she was not certain how long, the Curia¡¯s servant returned. ¡°She¡¯s human by at least seven degrees of descent. The slightest trace of elven heritage from her most distant ancestry, but no more or less than any other human. A greater portion of giant''s blood than the average, but still not much.¡±

    ¡°Yes, human. And what difference does it make?¡± Frustration.

    ¡°Now it is known for certain.¡± Authority.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get rid of it and be done with this.¡± Shrill.

    ¡°It has survived this long. It will be of some value to us. If we possess the wisdom to use it well.¡± This came from a cold man¡¯s voice; one Vero had not heard before this point.

    The Curia did not seem to be going anywhere on their own, so Vero posed her own question, ¡°Why have you asked me to come here?¡±

    ¡°It is impertinent.¡± Authority.

    ¡°She¡¯s young, and doesn¡¯t have an eternity of this endless dithering before her.¡± The frustrated man spoke again.

    ¡°Youth holds vigor- among other attractive qualities.¡± The shrill man preened.

    ¡°But age represents endurance; the truly ancient shall live forever.¡± Authority responded quickly, and Vero believed she sounded concerned.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°It¡¯s no good, I¡¯ve already changed my mind. I want to keep it and see what comes of it.¡± The shrill man.

    ¡°Is that empathy? Not from you, surely.¡± The frustrated man.

    ¡°It¡¯s flesh is warm. What did you call it? Flower? Yes! I can see the likeness now. Like a fly trap. Why does it smell like death?¡± Shrill asked.

    Authority responded quickly again, and sounded very severe. ¡°When the trap draws in the fly- it closes its lips around it, and the insect is destroyed.¡±

    ¡°Spoilsport.¡± Shrill.

    The cold man spoke again, and his voice cut through the cacophony to Vero. ¡°We called to you because we needed what you brought with you. Now we must decide what your fate is to be.¡±

    ¡°You believe I can help you.¡± Vero did her best to make it a statement of fact.

    ¡°Some of us believe,¡± the authority corrected her.

    The frustrated man came very near to her, and she could see he walked with a club foot. ¡°The forces of darkness are gathering, flower. Striga are now hunting on the dayside of the mountains with impunity. The eternal elector is pressing his claims to be included in the selection of the next Grand Prince of the North. Perhaps he even means to have himself declared Kaiser.¡±

    Vero scoffed. ¡°I can hardly imagine any elector would favor an immortal candidate- besides himself.¡±

    ¡°Enough! Tell it no more! It¡¯s not it¡¯s place to know more! We have all seen it now. The flytrap will remain in the fortress until deliberations regarding it are complete. The imp will send it a message and it will return here.¡± Authority issued her commands, and all whispering and movement stopped for just the space of a second, before resuming.

    Vero was not impressed. ¡°When should I expect these deliberations to finish? And I want my sword back.¡±

    ¡°Impertinent! And how badly I want to touch it!¡± the shrill man managed, between wheezing laughs.

    ¡°It will take a few nights. Perhaps a fortnight. And perhaps longer. But don¡¯t fret flower, my vote has already been cast,¡± the frustrated man cooed at her.

    ¡°As has mine, flytrap.¡± Authority. ¡°Now leave.¡±

    Vero felt the odd humanoid servant take a hold of her arm with shocking strength, and pull her away. She could not see any point in trying to resist, and she soon found herself back on the stairs. The door was closed and bolted behind her.

    Vero took a moment to allow her head to clear.

    She climbed down the stairs, and joined the small party eating in the main hall. Pentarch was seated with them, the other three were strangers. A few more who had been at the table were now gone.

    One of those remaining was a woman, and a very beautiful one, from what Vero could see under her thick white fox fur cloak. She had taken off a pair of fine ermine gloves to eat, and revealed slender hands covered in rings bearing arcane signs.

    She looked to be in her late twenties, or perhaps early thirties, but with sorceresses one could never be sure. She had long and very straight brunette hair. Her figure was stately, and did not give any impression of softness. Despite the conditions around her, she had found time to rouge her face, shadow her eyes, and paint her lips.

    The other two were men. Under their thick cloaks and armor, all she could see was that they looked like all the other soldiers in the fortress. The only defining characteristic she found was that one was rather large and heavier set than most, and the other was rather small and slenderer than most.

    ¡°There she is!¡± The thinner man stood up to greet her.

    ¡°Hmm.¡± The sorceress, at least that was what Vero took the woman to be, examined her very closely. ¡°I can¡¯t quite understand the Marquis¡¯ taste. Perhaps she makes very fine conversation.¡±

    The small man moved over to offer Vero space on the bench beside him. ¡°You¡¯re being rather unkind, magister. I think the Lady Veronique is very beautiful.¡± His voice was not fully matured, and while he did have a beard, it was rather patchy.

    Vero graced the lad with a smile, which made him blush. ¡°Thank-you, young Ser. It seems you already know me. What¡¯s your name, friend?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a Ser, only an apprentice here. My name is Conner. It¡¯s a very great pleasure to meet you, my Lady.¡± He hurried to provide her with stew, bread, and black beer, which is what they all were eating as well. Besides the sorceress, who had deep red wine.

    ¡°Thank-you, apprentice Conner. I¡¯m pleased to make your acquaintance as well.¡± The nausea had passed and Vero felt quite hungry.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be very welcome company, my Lady.¡± Conner¡¯s face appeared so open and earnest that Vero found herself taking a liking to the boy at once.

    Age had not yet turned his youthful innocence to cynicism.

    She tasted the stew. It was venison with potatoes, carrots, and onions. Simple, but very welcome. The food might be plain, but the silverware was genuine silver and the beer was poured into crystal carafes. She ate slowly, in case she began to feel ill again.

    ¡°Where do you come from, Conner?¡±

    ¡°Here, my Lady. My father was a slayer and my mother was one of the scullery maids. Look, I have a gold coin, my Lady, a real Republican Ducat.¡± Conner fished in his pocket and held out the coin to her. It was so chipped and worn no honest merchant would touch it, but from his demeanor the boy did not seem to know that. ¡°Is that enough? Please take it.¡±

    ¡°Why would I take your coin, Conner?¡±

    The young man seemed suddenly terrified. He looked towards the sorceress, who was stifling a laugh, then back at Vero.

    ¡°I was told- that is- I was under the understanding that you were a¡­¡± He stood up, glowing a deep red, and made a deep bow. ¡°I can see I was incorrect. Please accept my apology, my Lady.¡±

    Then, without waiting for a reply, Conner turned and fled the hall.

    The sorceress took a satisfied sip from her carafe as she watched him leave. Pentarch murmured something inaudible, before returning to his stew. The third man paid no obvious attention to anything that had happened.

    ¡°You seem to find humiliating the young man very amusing, magister.¡± Vero watched the sorceress carefully.

    ¡°You speak as though I planned this, my Lady. In fact, I warned him a single coin wouldn¡¯t be nearly enough for such a refined courtesan as yourself. The Marquis must have offered you a small pile of jewels before you gave up your charms to him, isn¡¯t that so?¡±

    ¡°Has anyone ever compared your demeanor to a particularly ill-tempered feline before?¡± Vero asked.

    The sorceress tried to look bored by her remark, and did not respond.

    Vero turned to the large stranger. ¡°And who are you?¡±

    He looked up at her. He remained quiet, but he made no effort to hide the fact that he was staring at her. Vero disliked his expression.

    Eventually Pentarch answered for him. ¡°He¡¯s Richard, one of the watch leaders for the permanent garrison here. And magister Isolde de Blois, whom you¡¯ve already befriended, is here as a representative from the Lodge of Illusionists.¡±

    Richard remained silent, but Isolde immediately protested her introduction. ¡°There is no Lodge of Illusionists. It¡¯s nothing but the paranoid imaginings of the uneducated, too small minded to understand the art, or those who practice it. I¡¯m an independent agent.¡±

    Vero poured herself more beer. ¡°If you¡¯re an independent agent, then who is your current paymaster? And what brings you here?¡±

    ¡°I represent a small social circle of mages who wish to see an end to vampyric incursions on our side of the Star Mountains.¡±

    ¡°And your principal school of study is?¡±

    ¡°Mentalism,¡± she confessed, using the polite terminology for illusionism only after making a sour expression. ¡°As it is for many of my confraters as well. If masons, or any other tradesmen, associate with one another on matters of common interest to all their profession- it¡¯s considered perfectly natural. Why should mages be placed under such special scrutiny? I think our stated goal is quite an obvious and practical one. Bankers and merchants often consult with one another on important issues related to the welfare of all, no one believes they¡¯re linked together in a grand conspiracy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not certain I agree, magister.¡±

    Richard suddenly rose to his feet. Vero thought he might have been about to object to something they said, but he seemed to have simply finished his meal. He never ceased staring at her.

    ¡°I¡¯ll find you later,¡± he said, before leaving the hall.

    ¡°Well, that was direct.¡± Isolde took a sip of her wine, then smiled. ¡°I wonder what his intentions might be.¡±

    Vero turned back to her. ¡°Perhaps if mages could refrain from constantly acting smug and unpleasant, they would face less discrimination.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. But we find it more convenient to polymorph our detractors into frogs. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me.¡± Isolde left her glass half empty, and also departed.

 61. A Shrine to the Fiend Part III

    ¡°Charming company you keep.¡± Vero finished her own glass, then checked the sorceress¡¯ carafe. It certainly smelled like a rich Velian red to her.

    ¡°May I?¡± she asked, and Pentarch nodded.

    Vero emptied the remaining contents of the glass onto the table where, as expected, it became indistinguishable from normal beer. She placed the glass in one of the empty leather pouches on her belt, and dropped it onto the stone floor, where she crushed it under her boot. She ground it there with her heel until it consisted of a fine powder.

    ¡°Are you quite finished?¡± Pentarch asked.

    Vero nodded, and returned the pouch of powdered glass to her belt. Then she served herself another helping of stew and beer.

    ¡°What did the Curia tell you?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Nothing, as far as I can tell.¡± Vero sunk her black bread in the stew, softening it enough to chew comfortably. ¡°They took some blood and told me they would call me back to them once they¡¯ve made a decision, whenever that may be.¡±

    ¡°Hm, probably not for a few months at least, I imagine.¡±

    Vero checked for any sign of jesting in Pentarch¡¯s face, and found none. ¡°Gods, I hope not. I don¡¯t think I could stand to be a prisoner here that long.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not a prisoner.¡±

    ¡°Are you certain? I¡¯m not permitted to leave and you¡¯ve taken all my things. What else would you call me?¡±

    Pentarch grumbled something, and seemed to be holding an argument with himself before eventually speaking, choosing his words very carefully. ¡°I, hope, that I can call you an apprentice. I wish the Curia had made their intentions more¡­ clear. But I suppose they have their reasons.¡±

    ¡°I already served one slayer apprenticeship. I have no wish to serve another.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m familiar with ¡®master¡¯ Aquinas and his¡­¡± Pentarch actually looked embarrassed, which Vero had not expected him to be capable of. ¡°¡­I¡¯m familiar with him. We keep a close eye on all independent slayers when we¡¯re able.¡±

    ¡°What about the charlatans?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re all charlatans from our perspective. That¡¯s no insult though, charlatanism is one of the many skills a slayer must learn. Those of you who also display potential in the other necessary skills are considered for recruitment. Most, like Aquinas, are judged unfit and rejected. You¡¯re a more promising candidate.¡±

    ¡°Who is it that decides who will and won¡¯t be recruited?¡±

    ¡°In your case? It was me. I¡¯m not certain who the master slayer was that dismissed Aquinas. I could look up the name on the original report in our records- if you wish to see it.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want anything to do with that bastard ever again. Are you the one in command here?¡±

    ¡°Yes and no. Our order is controlled by a council of all slayers who have risen to the rank of master. Those of us who still hunt, however, have a high mortality rate. The result being that the council is principally controlled by our oldest elven members. There are thirteen of them. And they¡¯ve been in this tower for centuries before you and I were born.¡±

    ¡°Those were elves?¡±

    ¡°Not as you expected them?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve met elves of the low castes before, and once- one of the high caste. None of them behaved like those creatures.¡±

    ¡°No, you¡¯re right. The Curia are old even for elves. They¡¯ve hidden in this tower while their contemporaries murdered each other and drank themselves to death. I doubt you could find an elf as old as any of them in the entire steppe. But while they continue to live on, they remain in ultimate command of the order. The Toad is our liaison to them.¡±

    Vero presumed ''the Toad'' referred to the vile little servant, it was an apt name.

    ¡°But contact with them must be strictly controlled,¡± Pentarch continued. ¡°I¡¯m one of four master slayers currently in residence here at the academy that may leave this tower without turning to dust and blowing away on the wind. And among us four, I hold command. If Konstantin or Demetrius return then I will relinquish that post to them, but that cannot be until spring at the soonest. And may not be at all, for a very long time.¡±

    ¡°All these fighting men are slayers?¡±

    ¡°No, besides the serving staff, there¡¯s also a permeant garrison here. Emphasis on permanent. They¡¯re all slayer¡¯s bastards or runaways. They haven¡¯t got the skills for real slayer work, but they already know too much to be allowed to leave. They¡¯re more prisoners here than you are. The only time any of them get to leave the fortress is to resupply our food stores.¡±

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    ¡°What exactly do you teach here?¡±

    ¡°I could show you. If you¡¯ve finished your meal, that is.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± Vero pushed away her trencher and stood up. ¡°One more question first, did I strike my head when I lost consciousness, after my arrival?¡±

    ¡°Have you been experiencing headaches or dizziness?¡±

    Vero nodded. ¡°And nausea.¡±

    ¡°Ill effects caused by the daemon which is bound into and under the mountain. We¡¯re protected inside the fortress. The symptoms should pass after a few days.¡±

    Out in the yard they passed by the men still sparring- ¡°We¡¯ve only just eaten, so we¡¯ll leave them for the moment.¡± -and Pentarch took them up a slick set of stairs, into one of the secondary towers built against the cliff face. ¡°This tower holds the library.¡±

    Inside the tower was a circular room with desks, chairs, and shelves stacked with books. It was a moderately sized room, but not very crowded.

    Vero was not certain why he kept coming to her mind unbidden- but the Marquis de Fer kept a larger collection of books at his estate. ¡°Is there any more?¡±

    Pentarch nodded and pointed her towards a hatch and ladder leading down. ¡°The sunroom up top is mostly for reading. These are just the new acquisitions and books in need of reshelving. Most of the academy is built into the mountain and connected by underground tunnels.¡±

    The lower level was dark until Pentarch lit a lantern for them. The next floor was crowded with shelves so close that only one person could walk between them at a time. Vero noticed another hatch leading further down.

    ¡°How many floors are there?¡±

    ¡°Two more like this, and then our librarian, master slayer Iosephus keeps the restricted books in his own quarters on the bottom level.¡±

    ¡°Restricted books? Such as?¡±

    Pentarch smiled sardonically in the flickering lantern light. ¡°I don¡¯t know. They¡¯re restricted.¡±

    ¡°Well, I hope we shan¡¯t have need for one of them. Since if we do, we won¡¯t ever know we have it.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll take the tunnels to the laboratory. Two floors down. Iosephus keeps odd hours and he¡¯s probably asleep, so try not to wake him.¡±

    They stayed silent until they reached the tunnel system. It ran in two directions, each slightly curved to turn inwards on each other. Pentarch led them down a path which Vero reckoned would take them away from the donjon.

    After several seconds, presumably long enough to take them too far to disturb the librarian, Pentarch spoke again. ¡°You were in disguise when you first introduced yourself to me. Would you prefer I call you Veronique or Virgil?¡±

    ¡°Vero is fine.¡±

    They moved into an alchemy laboratory. There were several fine sets of alembics, retorts, and crucibles of many sizes, as well as anything else one could need for occult experimentation. An area was also partitioned to serve as an infirmary, and Vero saw the implements for surgery.

    The only thing that seemed missing were reagents.

    ¡°Do you have storage nearby?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Cold storage isn¡¯t far from here. Food and spell components are kept there. Our wards for trapping heat wane in that part of the fortress. We keep our dungeons there as well. How much do you know about slayer magic?¡±

    ¡°My master taught me a few spells. He pretended to know more, but I don¡¯t think he did. Peasants call it blood magic, but it¡¯s no different than any other kind I¡¯ve ever seen or learned.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±

    ¡°Blood is the universal reagent. Even the sloppiest spell can work with enough blood shed for it. That¡¯s why they do so many animal sacrifices in the temples, besides the fact that priests need to eat. Scholarly wizards have the time and resources to minimize the use of blood in their rituals, but we don¡¯t often have that luxury.¡±

    ¡°Do you know why blood holds these special qualities?¡±

    ¡°Vitae sangris, blood carries the essence of life.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but human blood has something more, which gives it greater properties than simply patching shoddy spellcasting. Hominine blood also contains azoth, the spark of consciousness. It¡¯s azoth which allows us to think and reason. And mastery of azoth allows us access to powerful magics, which could never be achieved without the expenditure of one¡¯s own blood. There are certain rituals passed down from antiquity that only we know.¡±

    ¡°Can I take this as an offer to teach me these secret magics?¡±

    ¡°If you apply yourself to your studies here, and excel in them, you will learn. I offer nothing more, or less.¡±

    ¡°Who should I speak to for poppy milk? I injured my leg in a hunt a few months ago and it still pains me from time to time.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve heard. Medical supplies are strictly rationed here, we only use opium for surgery.¡±

    ¡°Very well then. I had a tincture with me when I arrived, at least return my own medicine to me.¡±

    ¡°When the time is right.¡±

    He tried to pass by her, but Vero took him by the arm. ¡°I need it, Pentarch.¡±

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t. And that is precisely why it¡¯s not being returned to you. Poppies are useful, but addictive. Every dependency you have is a weakness. We can¡¯t accept anything that compromises our slayers that way.¡±

    Pentarch forced his way past her and Vero followed, grinding her teeth. He took them down a long hallway in which the temperature noticeably dropped below freezing. They passed several turnoffs, and eventually the way grew marginally warmer. Then they came to a large door.

    They entered a wide-open ritual chamber with a dais in the center. There was no connection to the upper levels, but by Vero¡¯s reckoning from what she saw on the surface, there was a bell tower above them.

    The raised dais bore the basic dimensions of a magic circle etched in stone on it. There were permanent runes, more than one of which Vero had never seen before, as well as space for temporary runes to be rendered in chalk.

    ¡°This is the chapel- which also serves as our ritual chamber. Your new friend Isolde has been scheming to try and find her way in here since she arrived.¡± Presumably to procure rubbings of the glyphs on the dais, although Pentarch left this unsaid.

    ¡°Access is restricted?¡± Vero asked.

    ¡°To outsiders, yes.¡± She guessed that Pentarch intended this to be a compliment.

    On the wall, which Vero judged to be carved into the mountain itself, was a faded fresco depicting the pantheon. It covered one half of the circular chamber.

    The other half of the room, opposite the mural, was hard to look at.

    It was painted with lines and curves at unusual angles to one another, which made her head spin. They seemed to twist and dance as she moved. The wall was uneven on that side of the chamber, but even understanding that visual distortion, nothing she saw made sense.

    Vero realized that the image must have been deliberately reckoned in all four spatial dimensions. Hence her eyes could see only three quarters of the rendering at any given location, all while the point of focus was constantly shifting for reasons which were, quite literally, beyond her.

 62. A Shrine to the Fiend Part IV

    Around the perimeter of the entire room were shrines to each god. Some of the shrines hid themselves strangely in the un-illuminated half of the room, while others appeared as beacons there- amid the chaos. The collection of statues was eclectic, but many of them appeared far too rich for such a roughhewn space.

    The shrines met the fresco at its center point, where a statue of the Sun God stood directly in front of the magnificent backdrop of King Helios in fresco, descending from the clouds in glory.

    The king of the gods was depicted in traditional style on the wall, a large man in flowing robes with pure white in his beard and hair. A typical representation of divine authority, enthroned in power and majesty.

    The statue, by contrast, depicted a younger Helios as the avenging son. He was vaguely elven, but with clear musculature revealed by careless nudity. A depiction of the god in his aspect as a symbol of male virility. The statue was gold, but Vero believed it only to be an exterior coating. Even so, she thought the overall effect was rather marvelous.

    To the Sun God¡¯s right was Queen Luna. She was painted on the fresco with aristocratic features, and a harsh judging gaze. Above Her was a waning half-moon. Vero did not like the overall impression, tradition and the authority of a matriarch. She turned to the statue quickly.

    Maiden Luna was sculpted and plated in silver. She appeared to be a companion piece to the statue of Her husband, and was almost certainly carved by the same hand, or members of the same school. Soft curves and inviting eyes suggested beauty and female allure. She wore the short chiton of a female stadion runner, which reminded Vero of her own competition in the Lunar Games as a child. Around the neck of the statue was a pendant necklace, showing the waxing crescent moon.

    Vero much preferred the statue, but the stern picture of the Matron loomed up eerily over its shoulder, even as the rakish posture of the elven maid intrigued her. Vero would have preferred a shrine to Mother Luna, the protector and provider. Most prayers she knew in Liturgical were to Luna in Her full moon aspect, but Vero would make do and hope her goddess understood her intentions.

    She genuflected before the silver idol.

    It had previously been Vero¡¯s habit to only offer prayers once a month, except as necessitated for spellcraft.

    Crossing the valley to the fortress there was- difficult. Vero could almost believe that the Fiend really did live beneath this foul mountain.

    She prayed to Mother Luna then, but how could she expect the goddess to know her when Vero was such a negligent daughter towards Her? Vero resolved to be more diligent in her faith should she live. And live, it appeared, she had.

    When Vero finished her prayers, she noticed that Pentarch had moved to the central dais, and assumed a quiet meditative posture facing King Helios.

    Beside Luna on the fresco were Terra and Mare, depicted in traditional Imperial style as a tempestuous and feuding marital couple, dressed in patrician attire. Vero considered it a trite urban artisan¡¯s conception of natural forces.

    The statue of the Earth Mother at her shrine was carved from wood.

    ¡°Larch,¡± Pentarch helpfully informed her.

    When Vero turned to look at him, he gave no sign of having interrupted his meditation.

    The Earth Mother¡¯s face and fine features were indistinct, due to the primitive artistry of the workman. Her large breasts, and belly swollen to the point of bursting with child, were both more evident. It looked very old, and was probably the oldest statue in the room.

    The statue of the Ocean Lord was much smaller than most of the shrine idols. Despite its size, it might have been the most expensive of them all, rendered in pure jade. The figure was unique, the god was depicted covered entirely in silks, like a genuine high elven lord. Not even the face was visible, and the figure could only be identified by the trident he held.

    Next in order came Agape, the god of feasting and drunkenness. He was painted as a red-faced and round figure, chuckling with joviality at the quarreling lovers to the left of him. A clearly male patron of revelry.

    The associated statue was a bronze-cast hermaphroditic figure. It bore enlarged sexual characteristics, both male and female, carved out of ivory. The workmanship resembled that which she had seen in the Oasis Cities on the southern continent. The posture was very wanton and beckoned Vero to examine its finer details, but she refrained for the time being.

    If she wished, she could easily return when Pentarch was not present.

    Vero half expected the next image on the fresco to be defaced, but it was not. Moros, goddess of loss and sorrow, stood surrounded by abandoned babes, wretched orphans, and widows. Nearly all Imperial style images of the goddess were altered or completely removed when the Grand Conclave declared the faith to be heretical, some fifty odd years previous.

    Obviously, the censors never ventured out so far as this.

    It was a very contentious issue at the time, and a crusade was even declared on those who refused to recant their beliefs. Some of the fighting was still ongoing when Mama was a child. She told Vero stories about her Grandmother Veronique ¨C Vero¡¯s namesake ¨C sheltering refugees from the war and helping them cross the Whitewood into the Republic, where they could find a ship to the southern continent.

    Mama and Grandmother Veronique were much aggrieved that the Pontifex of Luna did not support their co-religionists in the Grand Conclave during the crucial votes. Grandmother Veronique even spoke in the peasant delegation during the general council of the church which ultimately removed that pontiff, Vero could not recall her name.

    The one who replaced her was called Joan, the fourth of that name. Often called Joan the Good.

    Mama told her that Joan the fourth was the greatest pontifex of their faith in two hundred years ¨C and Vero remembered that Pontifex¡¯s name as well, because it was Joan the second ¨C who had been styled Joan the Blessed. Unfortunately, Joan the Good had died since.

    She passed at the extremely venerable age of ninety-six, when Vero was only four years old. And then replaced nine times further since.

    It would soon be ten, if rumors about the current office holder¡¯s health were true.

    Vero shook herself out of her reverie, and turned to the lead statue associated with the forbidden religion. It was a small, spritely, almost gnomish figure. Somehow it seemed to obfuscate itself in the hidden angles of the room¡¯s dark half. She suspected it was crafted by the same Oasis City artist who rendered the dual-gendered lust idol.

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    On the southern continent such works were always made in pairs for feasts. They were sibling deities according to the southerners; the God of Debauchery was originally a woman, but she stole her brother¡¯s penis to use it herself. The now-genderless spirit of the sibling became a vengeful djinn of hangovers and unwanted pregnancies.

    Thus, for a feast to be blessed by the God of Revelry, they believed a statue of ¡®Moros¡¯ must be hidden in the house. If any guest finds it, they will suffer terrible misfortune unless they, in turn, hold another feast for everyone present. But, if it is nearing morning and the statue has not yet been found, the search becomes frantic. Because if it is not discovered by dawn, all of those present will suffer misfortune from which there can be no relief.

    Vero realized that walking through the strange side of the room was having odd effects on her mind. She stepped towards the mural in the sane part of the room again, and waited a moment for her head to clear.

    At the extreme end of the right half of the fresco was Termina- Vero bowed with respect towards the image.

    The wretches of humanity, which Moros looked down towards helplessly, turn to bones beneath the feet of the Death Goddess. The bones then collapse to ashes as the fresco ended. The divine figure was obscured by veils, but Vero avoided looking towards her face regardless.

    When she was certain that she had oriented herself again, Vero went back into the wyrd area, to search for the next statue in order. When she found it at last, she stood unreasoning for a moment.

    It was a woman, rendered in tin, and it was the color which first made her aware that something was wrong. The Veiled One should have been depicted in white marble, and was, immediately adjacent to the blasphemous image before her.

    Now that Vero had the sight of it, the marble statue stood out like a lighthouse to her amid the turmoil around it. She could use it as a landmark to orient herself.

    Threat of death has a way of clearing the mind.

    Once her eyes were off the heretical shrine for a moment, however, the evil talisman tried to hide itself again. Vero kept a dead reckoning sense for the general direction of it though, and eventually it was forced to reveal itself once more.

    When she had caught it; she made a sign of warding. Vero did not let herself lose track of it again, no matter how the room shifted, until she was safely back in the light half of the chamber.

    ¡°Why are you keeping such an abominable thing here?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± Pentarch turned to watch her emerge from the dark space.

    ¡°The Plague Goddess is evil. It¡¯s heresy to keep an idol of her.¡±

    He smiled, no doubt to tell her that he was waiting for her to say something to that effect. ¡°It¡¯s heresy to keep a shrine to Moros, but you had no objection to that.¡±

    ¡°That was all political. The followers of the Sorrowful God were persecuted unjustly, and treated with deliberate cruelty. The priestesses of Affliction and their Poisoner¡¯s Guild are criminals.¡±

    ¡°Oh? How did you come to know so much about things that happened before you were born?¡±

    ¡°Mama- my mother told me about the pogroms, the burnings-!¡±

    Vero started to feel very heated, but Pentarch interrupted her. ¡°-And in a hundred years no one will remember your mother at all. The excesses of the crusade will be an obscure part of history. And the worship of Moros will still be heresy. Or do you believe there were no pogroms and burnings when the worshipers of the Pestilent Goddess were declared apostate a thousand years ago?¡±

    ¡°They deserve to burn. There¡¯s no moral equivalency between the two at all. The followers of Moros were peaceful until the crusaders descended on them-¡±

    ¡°According to Mama?¡±

    ¡°She knew them! She spoke to them! And I have my own personal experiences with the Poisoner¡¯s Guild. They¡¯re evil. Not simply greedy, evil! They spread misery, disease, and corruption however they can. It¡¯s the central tenant of their beliefs. Their religion is abhorrent at its foundations. You may as well keep a shrine to the Fiend!¡±

    ¡°This whole mountain is a shrine to the Fiend.¡± Pentarch grumbled something else Vero could not hear.

    She prepared to say more, but Pentarch held out his hands as a sign of peace. ¡°Pax, Vero. I¡¯m only trying to make you think about why you feel as you do, rather than simply repeating your inherited prejudices. I wasn¡¯t aggravating you just for the pleasure of it.¡±

    ¡°Is there really a daemon under these mountains? I felt fingers prying at my mind when I journeyed here, but I thought-¡±

    ¡°-That it was something we had done?¡± Pentarch shook his head. ¡°We do use it as a guard dog, but we certainly weren¡¯t the cause of it. Nor do we control it. It¡¯s all we can do to ward this fortress against its influence. Think about that before you offend any goddess, even ¨C or especially ¨C one renowned for her cruelty.¡±

    Vero did not return to the cursed idol, and it was not auspicious to consider the Veiled One too often. She simply remained in the rational half of the room.

    On the fresco, at Helios¡¯ left hand, knelt two beautiful figures. They were a pair of conservative and scholarly dressed goddesses, Orphia and Thesmos. The two demurely cast their eyes downward from their king, and held each other¡¯s hand lightly to symbolize the union of their church.

    A name trailed on a streamer between them reading ¡®H-K-O--¡¯. It was faded, but Vero presumed it was the name of the mural¡¯s artist, almost certainly a follower of these divinities.

    There was only one shrine for both goddesses. The sculpture there was utterly beautiful. As a technical work of art, Vero considered it the most fascinating thing in the whole chapel.

    It was composed of two pieces, one of copper and one of glass. They were both fashioned by a master of the craft, and in tandem, so that each blended and flowed seamlessly with the other. Neither piece could be separated without either cutting the metal or shattering the glass.

    The figures were abstract. Although they stood in the light half of the room, something about their form was reminiscent of the arcane geometry elsewhere in the chapel. Their soft curves reminded Vero of her final night with Dora.

    She left the girl in the last Velian city before the border. The inn with the absurd little room, which only just had space for a bed so small it could hardly accommodate two people. Still, that suited them just fine.

    Vero turned away before she could grow melancholy.

    In fresco, Vedio appeared in humble monk¡¯s garb. He tended to the garden of medicinal herbs from which he fashioned panacea, the divine medicine that could cure any illness.

    The statue at his shrine was of modest size, and fashioned from obsidian. Vero was uncertain about the origin of the craftsmanship, and the style of artwork was unfamiliar to her. Only the ordering of the shrines and the material used suggested that it was intended for offerings to the Healing God.

    The next pair of renditions had a wide dichotomy between them. Painted on the wall was the massive-shouldered smith, Bellus, toiling at his labor. At the shrine, cast in brass which very nearly mimicked the look of gold, was a wealthy merchant patrician dressed in the style of the Whitegate Republic.

    The technical craft of the statue was excellent, but Vero preferred the traditional rendition of the Industrious God.

    The next dichotomy was even wider. In fresco, Francisa knelt beside another gathering of widows and orphans, whom she sheltered behind the skirts of her plain home spun dress.

    There was no statue or sculpture at her shrine, only a clay pot. Despite being placed far into the dark half of the room; it was not difficult to find at all. It did not stand out quite so prominently as the Marble Woman, but Vero considered the pot a more auspicious anchor to use when traversing the unnatural space.

    Such vessels were created to collect goodwill offerings for charitable works. It was etched with rings of images showing narratives of Francisa performing acts of compassion. She fed orphan babes at her own breast and they grew into great heroes, she washed the bodies of the leprous with her own hair and they were healed, and so on.

    Vero checked the interior and found it empty.

    ¡°No worshipers of Lady Mercy here-¡± Vero had been lost in thought and started at the suddenness of Pentarch¡¯s voice. ¡°-so far as I know.¡±

    ¡°And what would you do with an offering if one was made?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not certain. Lothair is supposed to check it every time he sends for supplies, but he always finds it empty. Probably someone ¨C Lothair himself even ¨C would just take the money for themselves, if anyone was fool enough to leave any.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps then, you should make the speech you gave to me about not offending the gods again, more publicly.¡±

    He did not reply.

    Vero returned to solid geometry and examined the final figure depicted on the mural, the tremendous masculine form of Enyalio. He was painted in the nude, as befitted an athlete in the games. There was something greatly appealing to her in the taut muscular stance of the deity.

    Vero considered it the finest portion of the fresco.

    After some time spent in appreciation of male fitness, Vero steadied herself for a final journey into the odd space. The associated shrine was not hard to find. It held a large ugly iron work in the vague shape of a male warrior.

    She could not precisely explain how, but the way through to the War God seemed well trod. Vero believed it was likely one of the most frequented in the chapel. She saw nothing very appealing in it herself though.

 63. A Shrine to the Fiend Part V

    Vero did not give any sign that she had finished her examination of the shrines. ¡°And which do you worship?¡±

    She watched Pentarch¡¯s reaction from inside the dark space. Vero was tired of the way he kept setting tests for her and tut-tuting her like an indulgent schoolmaster since she had arrived.

    Before then as well.

    Now that she knew the true nature of the fortress, everything that happened before her arrival took on a new cast.

    The first fellow slayer she met since the death of her master was so welcome to her that she had not questioned it in the moment. He was curious about her, but as she was also curious about him. Nothing seemed odd about it at the time.

    How did a dire wolf come so far to the south? Had he led it to the Whitewood? Even infected it with rabies himself to make it a more dangerous test? What about the people that wolf killed?

    She did the tracking, she performed the workings to protect them before the hunt, and he even watched her skin it and preserve the organs. Then departing so suddenly¡­

    He claimed to have a contract with the Baroness Stirba, but that he needed all the money to pay off debts. Instead, he offered her the dubious tome which led her all the way out there. Vero never spoke to the Baroness, and she now seriously doubted the contract was real at all.

    He claimed the book would lead her to an ancient abandoned fortress of their order where she could salvage relics, or perhaps even lost formulae. Bait targeted specifically to lure her there.

    It was not an easy journey across half the continent. Especially as it had run mostly through Teutonia, plunged so deeply into a long interregnum that nearly the entire country had devolved into factions. The only thing that prevented a full-scale civil war was the sheer number of cliques, and the relative weakness of each warlord. That still meant local conflicts could erupt in any domain at any time. The roads were rife with brigandage, both by genuine outlaws, and by the robber barons who proliferated in the anarchy.

    Dora said that she heard Vero moving and found her already bandaged after that vampyre hunt in Whitegate, Vero was certain she lost consciousness the moment the elder was destroyed. How long had Pentarch been watching her?

    Vero realized she had become lost in thought.

    Pentarch was still declining to answer. He appraised her coolly, but not with any malice or frustration. Evidently, they had entered a standoff to determine who was the observer, and who was the observed.

    At last, Pentarch relented. ¡°Most of the fortress doesn¡¯t come here to pray at all. It¡¯s not very convenient to come out so far from the hall and dormitories. You notice no one has entered since we¡¯ve been here. It¡¯s empty like this most of the time.¡±

    ¡°But you must be one of the few who do come here, because you wouldn¡¯t know it to be empty otherwise.¡±

    The corners of Pentarch¡¯s mouth twitched upwards into his wry smile briefly, before vanishing again. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re right. No clever evasions then-¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°-I¡¯m simply not going to answer you.¡±

    Of course, in the end Pentarch remained the observer and she the observed. Vero was, after all, still a prisoner.

    He took them out to the courtyard where the men were still sparring, both with weapons and hand to hand. Others ran through a circular path of hard packed snow, and some lifted stone halteres to build strength. Finally, a small coterie practiced their archery on a series of targets.

    Pentarch took them to the marksmen and Vero examined the targets. They each showed a gambit of different skill levels. Only one had a bullseye, and every other shot in that same grouping was within the central circle.

    ¡°Excellent work, don¡¯t you think?¡± Vero was surprised to hear a woman¡¯s voice from one of the figures in the yard. ¡°The man who shot them must have been very skilled, isn¡¯t that so?¡±

    The woman in question stood taller, not only than Vero, but every man in in the yard- by more than a head. She must have had giants¡¯ blood in her.

    She was wearing heavy furs, as everyone was. From what Vero could see of her body beneath them, she was very full figured. Her medium length brown hair was kept tightly braided behind her. Vero thought she was an average beauty, but from the friendly cock-sure smile, she could already tell this woman was much fairer tempered than the sorceress had been.

    That made her much more welcome company, in Vero¡¯s opinion.

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    Vero smiled back. ¡°Indeed. Do you know the fellow¡¯s name? I¡¯d like to meet him.¡±

    ¡°Diana.¡±

    ¡°Strange name for a man.¡±

    ¡°So is Dame Veronique de Loix. Or is it journeyman slayer Virgil-no-surname? I¡¯ve heard conflicting reports.¡±

    ¡°It depends who I¡¯m speaking to. My friends call me Vero.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯d like to call you Vero.¡±

    ¡°I believe I would like that as well.¡±

    ¡°Master slayer Diana oversees training,¡± Pentarch stated blandly. ¡°You¡¯ll report to her after the morning meal, starting tomorrow. After myself and our librarian, she has the next highest authority.¡±

    Vero was impressed, but regulated her tone so as not to sound overawed. ¡°An important post.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right. It means I have a whole castle of men at my beck and call.¡± Diana made a sweeping gesture with her arm.

    ¡°And one woman now, it seems. How do your other charges find your discipline?¡±

    ¡°A few still chafe- most are used to it¡­ and a handful have come to enjoy it very much.¡±

    ¡°Archery is one of the things I want you to improve while you¡¯re with us,¡± Pentarch remarked idly. ¡°Diana is the best marksman we have.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve always used a crossbow,¡± Vero replied defensively.

    ¡°I know,¡± Pentarch countered. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯ll learn to use both the long hunting bow and the short elven style of riding bow while you¡¯re here.¡±

    Vero did not like the way Pentarch had already started issuing her orders, but she decided not to object for the time being. ¡°As you wish.¡±

    ¡°Good!¡± Diana gave a very toothy grin with slightly crooked teeth. ¡°It will be a fine thing to have another woman to speak to besides those empty-headed scullery girls- or that evil witch.¡± She spat on the ground.

    Vero felt much the same way. Only she did not say so out loud, or spit.

    Pentarch patted Vero¡¯s shoulder and motioned for her to follow him. ¡°I¡¯ll take you to meet the last master slayer in current residence.¡±

    They started to march back towards the great hall. This time they moved to the outbuilding on the reverse side from the library.

    Inside was a kitchen and Vero found it wonderfully warm from all the cooking ovens. There were several domestic servants at work there. It was mostly women, but there were also a few men whom Vero judged as either physically or psychologically unfit for more active service.

    Pentarch asked them for ¡®Lothair¡¯ and they were directed back underground, towards the cold storage. They climbed down into the tunnels from another passage inside the kitchens. Now they took one of the turns in the hall between the infirmary and the chapel. It became even more deathly cold as they went.

    At last, they emerged into a massive chamber which appeared to be a natural cave. It was filled with food stores, and there they found Lothair. He was taking inventory of the final deliveries, which arrived just before winter sealed them off from the rest of the world.

    Lothair was a squat figure, shorter than Vero, but very wide and solidly built. There was a certain piggishness in his upturned nose which, along with the near presence of so much frozen pork, made Vero think of him as a wild boar. He had a thick grey mustache which gave the illusion of tusks in the dim light. His head was also bald, so perhaps he might have been a walrus instead.

    They were both strong animals, so her first impression of the man was a favorable one.

    He must have been eager for the distraction, because he handed his records away to an assistant at once to speak with them. Lothair approached them with a limp and a smile almost as broad as he was.

    ¡°Old rascal, so this is the girl you can¡¯t stop talking about. Looks like a fit sort of filly to me, but I haven¡¯t seen her run yet.¡± He barked out a laugh and held out a hand to her. ¡°Lothair. Master slayer. Quartermaster. My job to keep you well fed. And you look like you could use some more flesh on your bones- if you don¡¯t mind my saying so.¡±

    He appeared to be friendly, and despite his off-color humor he was not leering at her. She took him by the forearm in a firm grip and he did the same.

    ¡°Vero. And I certainly won¡¯t object to having three square meals.¡±

    He stamped his good leg and rubbed his hands together. ¡°Good. Good. Going back up to the kitchens now. Warmer there.¡±

    Up in the kitchens Pentarch excused himself, and Lothair regaled Vero with a plethora of stories in the meantime. Their quartermaster was a man with such a love of conversation that he clung to it the way a shipwrecked man clings to flotsam.

    Vero learned that he was born a merchant¡¯s son in Teutonia. His family were not wealthy, but they certainly were not poor either, to hear him describe them. They spared no expense on his education, but he had the ¡®hot blooded temper of a young man¡¯ as he put it.

    When he came of age, he demanded his portion of the inheritance and left for Burgorod. His first priority was to lose his virginity. Which he did by way of a short girl with stumpy legs, but yellow hair, who took advantage of his inexperience to charge him twice her usual price.

    His second priority was to contact the provisioners for this very fortress. The slayers went to great lengths keeping their presence hidden, but they were required to send agents down into civilization to purchase supplies. They kept those supplies stored in certain secret locations until transport could be arranged to the fortress itself.

    Vero suggested that they must have some way to reach the keep easier than the path she cut through the wilderness, given the presence of the ¨C Thing ¨C under the mountain.

    Lothair replied with a look which told her he could not respond to any discussion along that line. He continued with his own story.

    He met with the slayers¡¯ purchasing agents he knew from his work for his family¡¯s trading company. When he found them, he threatened to expose them publicly if they would not take him to their academy.

    They immediately struck him over the head, and he considered himself lucky they did not kill him then and there. Instead, they tied him up and bundled him with the next shipment. He did not mind though, since he was being taken exactly where he wanted to go, he explained to Vero cheerfully.

    When he arrived, he told them how dreadfully boring he found his old life. Now he wished to train as a slayer.

    The master slayers of that time ¨C all dead now, he informed her, save Iosephus and Konstantin ¨C presumed that he was mad. However, as he had already arrived, there was nothing to lose by allowing him to try.

    He had not much aptitude for either combat or occult science, but through much diligence and effort, he managed a passing grade in both. Even if it was a close-run thing.

 64. A Shrine to the Fiend Part VI

    Occasionally Lothair would cease his storytelling to shout direction at the servants during their preparations for the evening meal. Many times, he called for heaping spoonfuls of something or another brought over to taste, and always insisted that Vero take a share and give her own thoughts.

    ¡°More sugar?¡±

    ¡°Calls for salt I should say.¡±

    They ate so much Vero doubted if she would be hungry for supper. She was sweating, sitting between all the cooking fires. It was welcome after the biting cold, but everyone in the kitchens drank tremendous quantities of watered-down light beer to stay hydrated.

    As a journeyman, Lothair had hunted mostly in Teutonia. That was before the long interregnum started, and when the land was still rather peaceful. This meant work was sometimes short, but he could count on the academy to keep him equipped and provisioned. The contracts he did take were typically very safe. Mostly he resolved minor hauntings and put down rabid animals.

    Vero envied the hunting ground he described. She often found herself torn between the risks of poverty or mortal threat.

    After twelve years, Lothair¡¯s luck ran out. He took a contract to hunt a creature which killed outlying farmers near a town on the other side of the grand-duchy. He presumed the creature to be a dire wolf.

    True, the bite marks did not look quite right. But he had always been rather slovenly in his tracking and identification of markings, and it never harmed him in the past. He decided that the simplest way to hunt the beast was to let it bring itself to him, by spending several nights in the area where the monster stalked, waiting for it to show itself.

    Nothing happened the first night, or the second. On the third, a storm descended on the abandoned farm where he made his camp.

    Not a terrible storm. By the standards of the north, where storms could become terrible indeed. However, there was wind and snow enough that a man could be lost a hundred paces from his home, and die of exposure before he found it again.

    Lothair was not worried at the time. He had enough food for days, and no intention of leaving his shelter until the storm blew itself out.

    Imagine his surprise when he heard a voice calling to him from outside. She must have been screaming to make herself heard over the howling wind, but to him it sounded like no more than a whisper, on the edge of perception. Yet, Lothair told Vero, he knew with certainty that it was the voice of a woman.

    He went to the door, and strained his eyes against the storm. Was he going mad? No, the voice came to him again, and he called back to her.

    Whoever she was, she was in danger. That much, he was certain.

    If he left the farmhouse, he might easily become lost. Then he would have thrown his own life away as well as her last chance at rescue.

    He called out again, and heard a reply pleading for aid. He believed he knew the direction of her voice, but for the gods¡¯ sake why couldn¡¯t she find her way to him?

    ¡°And what would you have done in my place, Lady Vero?¡± he asked.

    Vero considered the matter a moment. ¡°I suppose I would have anchored a rope to my shelter, and then gone out for more information.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I ever carried rope with me.¡±

    ¡°You should have. I always do.¡± Vero took a spoonful of the most delicious tomato soup.

    Lothair had stepped out alone into the snowstorm.

    He reckoned the woman¡¯s direction and walked in a straight line towards her. Several times he looked back to be sure his line of tracks led directly to the house, and tried not to let it unnerve him when the structure could no longer be seen. He called out again and again for the woman, but he heard no reply.

    Then, just as it seemed most hopeless, he saw a mound of snow a few paces away. It might have easily been a large boulder, but he rushed towards it and dug the outer layer of snow away.

    Revealed beneath, was a woman. Misty breath still came from her mouth, but her eyes stared forwards blankly.

    With no time to lose, he picked her up and put her over his shoulder. Then he turned and tried to follow his tracks back the way he came. Already the new snowfall was obscuring his path, and soon it vanished completely. Visibility was fading lower and lower.

    Lothair cursed himself for his foolishness. He was lost. Now they would both freeze to death together. Perhaps only yards away from their salvation, and never knowing it. He was sure he had been walking too long. He must have passed by the farm already.

    Should he turn and go back? But his path was straight.

    It was all hopeless¡­ hopeless¡­

    But, of course, then he found his shelter in front of him. He could hardly have survived to relate his story to Vero if he had not.

    Lothair burst back into the warmth of the house, and collapsed beside the hearth with the woman. He felt her skin, and it was deathly cold. Desperately, he tried to rub life back into her flesh and bring her back to her senses. He only then noticed that his belt had come lose in the storm, and his sword was now lost in the snow.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    But what could he do, with the storm so intense as it was?

    He tried to speak with the woman, but even when she opened her eyes, she seemed unable to understand anything he said. Instead, she appraised him like a wild animal. He assured her of his honorable intentions.

    The moment he turned away, the woman lurched forwards and viciously bit into his calf.

    Her strength was inhuman, and she had no response to pain. The battle between them was close, brutal, and took most of the night. Each time he forced her off she would immediately throw herself at him again, tearing away his flesh with her teeth and nails when she could.

    His only reprieves came when she stopped to consume the meat she stripped from him.

    Lothair watched in growing horror as he grew weaker, and searched desperately for a weapon. After hours of struggle, finally, he found a wood axe in the dark. He brought it down on her skull when she came for him the last time, splitting it open.

    Later, he discovered the full story. The woman was a possessed by a wendigo, a fell spirit which haunts cold and isolated places. They prey on the minds of their victims, and tempt them to commit acts of terrible sacrilege that would place the subject beyond the protection of the gods, typically incest or cannibalism.

    Then the wendigo would take possession of their victim¡¯s body.

    When the slayers traced the woman to her own home, they found the gnawed remains of two small children. Her own.

    They had been devoured the previous winter, after being trapped for months by heavy snow.

    Vero had never faced a wendigo before. Although she once faced a conjurer who became possessed by a daemon he summoned, and that was a close-run struggle. She did not envy Lothair his battle in the dark.

    Lothair¡¯s hunt was over, but his leg had already been half eaten. He could no longer work in the field, and he returned to the fortress. That was how, after many adventures and hazards, he ended where he began.

    Only now he held the title of master slayer, and managed the finances and inventory of the Order, rather than his family.

    ¡°Any regrets?¡± Vero asked, at length.

    ¡°About putting my leg into a dragon¡¯s jaws like a damn fool?¡± He smiled amiably and shook his head. ¡°No. It could have been worse, after all. I was never a good slayer ¨C not a bad one either, mind you ¨C but never a good one. If I hadn¡¯t been pulled in when I was, I would probably be dead by now. Most of the others I trained with are. And having tasted adventure, I no longer found it so sweet as I once believed I would.¡±

    They spent so long in conversation that the evening meal was already started in the main hall. They went to join the others and seamlessly continued their afternoon¡¯s feasting. Now they were sitting beside a returned Pentarch, Diana, and Philip- a handsome young man who sat near beside Diana.

    They passed the time in idle conversation, until Vero felt drowsy and excused herself to return to her room. She wondered if Pentarch would object to her leaving by herself, but he did not.

    Outside of the hall, the cold wind sobered away the pleasant haze of beer at once. The sun had set, and it was unearthly cold.

    She was half way along the courtyard, when it occurred to her that it was strangely bright at night. When she looked for the source of illumination, she found a ribbon of soft almost-green light, which remained held above the mountains.

    She realized it was Fae-light, although it was past the queer hour of twilight when it should be visible to human eyes without lenses. She searched for where it emanated from, or what spell held it in place, but could see nothing from her distance and the canyon walls were too sheer to climb. A passing watch patrol paid it no mind, so she presumed it must be a regular occurrence.

    The stairs were covered in a layer of frost, and Vero moved carefully when she climbed up to the top of the wall. She looked over the parapet at the softly rolling hills of snow, which reminded Vero of dough rolls before baking- or perhaps the pale curves of a sleeping woman.

    Vero realized that she must not have been completely sobered by the frigid air.

    The snow was deep and fluffy. She could probably let herself down the wall carefully enough to drop without harm. It looked as though it would be like falling into a sea of cotton. Of course, it would be much harder than that to escape without starving or dying of exposure. That would be why they did not feel it necessary to keep her under guard.

    She could build her own shelter, but a bedroll and tent would not go amiss if she could find them. Food and water would be more important. She already pocketed an impressive portion of her dinner, and done something to gain the trust of the quartermaster, so that project would come along in its own time.

    Her leg was already beginning to ache, so she would move faster if she could find poppy milk.

    There was one other defense she would need to pass.

    A daemon lived under the mountain, a powerful one. It plagued her with terrible dreams the entire fortnight she spent in the dread valley between the fortress and the ruins of the Von Richlau estate.

    The slayers knew a faster way than she came, Lothair all but confirmed that. It would need to be easy enough to travel for hauling cargo, they were exceptionally provisioned for the remoteness of the location. She would need to discover it, if she meant to escape.

    How was this lost order so well provisioned? The entire fortress had an odd sense of careless opulence, mixed together with all the rigid necessities for survival in such a harsh clime. Where did they find the money? She accumulated far more treasure in a few months as an aristocrat¡¯s mistress than she ever had or would earn by slaying.

    And did she even wish to leave? Vero did not trust the Curia or their impish manservant, but the others gave a more favorable impression. If the witch left, that would make it more pleasant company still. She came there for knowledge. Why should she now want to go the moment she arrived?

    It was the fact that she was not allowed to leave which rankled her.

    Pentarch did what he could to ameliorate the situation, but there was no disguising the fact that she was a prisoner.

    At the very least, she must remain long enough to retrieve her sword. Recovering the rest of her equipment would be helpful, but anything beside the sword could be replaced.

    If she escaped, would they pursue her? Or leave her for dead?

    Ramiro was waiting for her in Burgorod with her horse- so long as he had not drunk himself to death yet. If she could reach Burgorod, then she could get away completely. If they found her riding south, they would be sure she was running to the Marquis de Fer.

    That would not be a bad idea either, if she still felt trackers following behind her when she retrieved Dora. The explanations would be complex, she supposed, but Jean¡¯s army was certain to put off even the most determined pursuers.

    It would require swallowing a certain amount of pride, however. So, she would not use that card until she had no other reasonable choice.

    Vero shivered at a gust of wind. She put away her thoughts for the time being and returned to her room. Stoking up the fire place''s coals, she added more fuel until there was a comfortable blaze going. Then she undressed herself, and folded her clothes neatly for the next day.

    Finally, she slipped back into bed, and fell at once into a welcome slumber.

 65. A Womans Pride Part I

    Vero was riding a horse. She was wearing a dress and riding side saddle, which caused her some difficulty balancing herself. Jean held her steady from behind. They were riding his stallion together, so he must not have given her Papillon yet.

    ¡°We¡¯re nearly there.¡±

    Vero leaned back into him and closed her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m in no hurry.¡±

    The day was clear and cold. She felt Jean¡¯s stubble across her cheek. They came to a stop and Jean dismounted himself before helping her down. They were not alone, but Vero did not pay much attention to the others.

    A servant brought them their hawks. Vero was already wearing a gauntlet and wondered how it had gotten there, before concluding that she must be having another dream. Vero introduced herself to her bird. Whispering to animals took great effort on both their parts while awake, but it came to Vero easily in her dreams.

    ¡°You say you¡¯ve never gone hawk hunting before?¡± Jean approached her with his own bird perched on an outstretched arm.

    ¡°Oh, yes. We went together many times, don¡¯t you remember?¡± Vero released her hawk and Jean did the same.

    ¡°You command the animal like an expert. Slayer secrets, perhaps,¡± he mused.

    ¡°I can¡¯t answer that, not unless you foreswear all land and titles to become my apprentice.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to consider it. Are you a very harsh mistress?¡± Vero felt arms slide around her waist from behind.

    ¡°A hard mistress, very hard.¡±

    Their birds returned. Jean¡¯s held nothing, but Vero¡¯s clutched a fat rabbit.

    ¡°Impressively done.¡±

    ¡°I prefer to work more directly, with my own hands.¡± She reached her free arm behind her to show him what she meant.

    ¡°I see.¡± He kissed her neck. ¡°Perhaps I should find us more exciting sport.¡±

    ¡°I want you right now.¡± Vero struggled to get the gauntlet off so she could begin untying her dress.

    ¡°We¡¯re not alone. Isn¡¯t that improper?¡±

    ¡°So? This is my dream, not theirs. Why should anyone who only exists in my mind care what we do to one another? Don¡¯t you start being the coy one now, because that was me.¡± Vero had the gauntlet off at last. She went to work ridding herself of the dress.

    Jean was not undressing at all, but she did not want to bother with his clothes too, since she might be waking any moment. His mouth was free though so she kissed him.

    Already the crowd of people around them was imperceptible, and Vero was sure that meant she would be awake and back in that dismal fortress again. She wanted to just stay here; she finally had the dress off.

    ¡°Now, there¡¯s somewhere else I want you to kiss me,¡± she told Jean.

    But it was already too late.

    She had woken up.

    It took only a few days for Vero to settle into her routine at the fortress.

    She would wake well before dawn, and get dressed. Dressing itself took some time, given how many layers of clothes she needed to put on before venturing outside.

    The interior areas of the keep were well insulated, but the courtyard and walkways between the towers were cold enough to kill, except during the brief hours of sunlight. To make moving easier, most of the slayers traveled by the underground passages.

    Unfortunately, the guest quarters where Vero slept possessed only a single door, leading out to the open air. A lifeline had been tied to a bolt beside her door, which led to the nearest hatch and down into the gatehouse. This ensured that she could find her way, even in white out conditions, or if the trapdoor became buried by snow.

    First thing in the morning, she always went to the chapel to offer her thanks to Mother Luna, for protecting her through another night.

    After reciting her moonset prayers in rote Liturgical, Vero went to the great hall. There she ate breakfast with one or more of Pentarch, the boy Conner, Diana, her friend Philip, or even Lothair, if they ate late enough that he was finished with his duties organizing the kitchens.

    Once breakfast was over, one of the veteran slayers would give a lecture on some subject which they were an expert in to the rest of the congregation. Sometimes it might be an exposition on a certain type of prey, or it might be a dissertation on some recondite piece of arcane theory.

    It was presumed that the Curia watched them from their screened mezzanine over the great hall, but they could not be seen.

    When the morning lecture was finished, it was time for exercises. They used an indoor training room, located in another outbuilding between the men¡¯s and women¡¯s dormitories, until the sun was high enough to go outside. As soon as they were able, they moved out to the courtyard where conditions were less cramped. They always trained hard and sparred with full contact until past mid-day, once the sun started to set.

    Vero¡¯s performance left a great deal to be desired.

    She was still not acclimatized to the thin air so far up in the mountains, and not long after she arrived, she began to feel a terrible fever. Her leg was in agony, and many times she very nearly begged Pentarch for some poppy milk. Although he always refused her.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    The worse she told him her symptoms were, the more certain he became that she needed to purge the drugs from her body.

    Normal stamina exercises drained the energy from her muscles at once, and she could never catch her breath. She stifled her pride to work with light weights in her strength training to keep the correct range of motion.

    It was impossible to learn the bow in the state she was in, but Pentarch refused to give her a crossbow, so she only embarrassed herself again and again.

    When they sparred in close combat, she was too pitiful to match anyone but the novices. Diana typically paired her with Conner. The lad¡¯s skills were limited, but her body simply refused to respond as she wished. She did her best to trip him as soon as possible with her superior grappling knowledge, and then just press down on top of him to keep them both immobile.

    As the winter became deeper, eventually it was impossible to use the courtyard at all on some days. These events always lowered morale, and too many in a row created a growing sense of cabin fever. It was always terribly cold outside, even on the warmest days, but the fresh air and sight of sunlight had a salubrious effect on everyone when they could have it.

    Vero was usually thoroughly humiliated after her daily training and preferred to take her dinner alone in the library. There she studied the books with great interest.

    She never had access to such a large collection before. Jean kept a grand library at his estate, but most of those books were intended for entertainment rather than education. She loved hearing adventure stories and historical epics when she was a little girl, but as a grown woman she felt guilty when she spent time reading for pleasure. Reading to learn gave her no guilt, and she usually stayed in the library until it was time for supper.

    From time to time, she would encounter Iosephus, the master slayer who managed the library. He possessed elven features, but his hair was white and his body was so frail with age as to require a cane.

    He went to great pains to avoid speaking to anyone whenever possible. When one did need to speak with him ¨C for instance, to find a certain tome ¨C he would limit the contact to the bare minimum required by his duties. His glazed introspective eyes always made it clear that his view was still directed inwards, towards the personal world inside his own mind. His manners suggested that any disruption originating from the external world around him was a distraction to be dealt with as quickly and directly as possible.

    Vero preferred to read quietly and without distractions, so they got along together very well.

    At supper time, she returned to the great hall for the final meal of the day. Again, she ate with one or more of her regular companions. This was when she took her daily ration of strong alcohol and cannabis, both of which were given to everyone in the fortress in small amounts. They helped ease the soreness from the daily exercise, and the misery from her fever.

    After supper Vero had free time. She usually spent it drinking or smoking with the handful of people who seemed well disposed towards her until she felt tired.

    She learned that Richard ¨C the ill-tempered man she met on her first day there ¨C was the member of a gang who worked as informants for one of the factions within the Curia. None of them bothered to hide their hostility to her. Although their group was disliked by most of the other slayers, the spies were also feared for their connection to unseen masters.

    Aside from Pentarch and his allies, or supposed allies, the other slayers had no wish to stand beside a target. Everyone else remained as far from her as possible.

    That suited Vero just fine.

    Philip was the only man in the fortress she found handsome, and she was sure that was why Diana so visibly staked her claim to him when they were together. The other men were all either naturally ugly, or had become the victim of grotesque maimings on one of their previous hunts.

    Conner looked as though he might eventually grow into the sort of man who would interest her. The way he was always blushing and stammering near her, she was sure that she had caught his interest. But he was still too young and needed more filling out, in her opinion.

    Some of the serving girls were pleasant to look at, but they were even more frightened to come near her than the slayers.

    Vero was still less isolated than Isolde, who everyone ¨C Vero included ¨C wished to ignore entirely. The sorceress took her meals separate from the others and spent the rest of her time in her quarters, which was in a room like Vero¡¯s, located atop the opposite end of the wall from her own.

    The other slayers¡¯ main pass time, when they were not on duty, was gambling.

    Mama always told Vero never to gamble because it was a waste of money. She considered it good advice to follow, but occasionally watched the others.

    Pentarch introduced her to a board game which used colored stones to represent armies. It was based entirely on skill rather than luck, and they did not play for stakes. Vero had yet to win, but she enjoyed the games and felt certain that she was improving.

    When she started to feel the pull of sleep, Vero always bid farewell to her fellows right away. It was a habit for her to take her rest when she could, and never try to stay awake when she felt tired, unless it was a necessity. Fatigue could be deadly on a hunt, and she did not believe in courting the Veiled One.

    Before returning to her room, Vero stopped at the chapel for several minutes to pray, and meditate at the moon shrine as she waited for her thoughts to quiet themselves. Vero would rather have said her prayers to the moon Herself, but often it was cloudy- and it was always atrociously cold.

    When she did pray in the chapel, she tried her best to avoid looking at the wall of arcane angles. Even so, they drew her eyes almost like a compulsion, and did strange things to her fever-addled head.

    She perceived the full measure of them almost like a whisper on the edge of hearing. She felt her grasp had been stretched to its farthest extent, yet she could brush it only with her finger tips. The tendons were strained to the point of breaking, but the pull continued.

    When she did tear her eyes away towards the other half of the room, it did her no good.

    She now saw those same terrible lines and curves rendered behind the outward veneer of religious tradition. The two sides of the room were indeed painted as a mirrored pair, but only in one was the true immensity of the work fully laid bare without any veil of artifice.

    The whole thing hinted at some monstrous truth beyond her understanding, and when she came too close to it, a rising panic would start in her chest. The tremors would intensify until they became too much to bear.

    Then began the desperate search for Luna¡¯s light. Once she found it, she dare not let it go, for fear of the dark that was all around her.

    Slowly, the world would come back into focus. The Goddess always led her back from the brink of despair. Even in that cold faraway place, she was not alone.

    Vero repeated the cycle of terror and relief many times before she started to see.

    When she was done with her meditation, she returned to the guardhouse, forced up the trapdoor with a lever mechanism from under the accumulated piles of snow, and used the lifeline to return to her room.

    There she undressed, climbed into bed, and usually fell asleep almost at once.

    When she slept, Vero most frequently dreamed about Jean, but from time to time she also dreamed of others.

    There was Luiz de Valance, a priest of the Healing God she knew in Lusitan. He was not so handsome to her as Jean was, but he had a calm and even disposition. He made love to her with a mechanical efficiency Vero sometimes thought she felt more comfortable with than the passionate romanticism of the Marquis.

    And sometimes she dreamed of the dark haired and olive-skinned Theodora. They traveled together in disguise as man and wife, and she was now waiting for Vero to the south. On the northern edge of Velian land, where it became too dangerous to risk taking her farther.

    Those sorts of dreams were her favorite, and she often woke from them in a mood for vigorous exercise.

    Sometimes she was visited by the shades of those she had lost, Antoinette, Virgil, or Mama. These dreams made her sad, but she still felt more determined to press forward the next morning.

    Once she had dreamed of her former master. And she had not liked that at all.

 66. A Womans Pride Part II

    Vero spent two weeks adjusting herself to life in the keep and letting her lungs adapt to the thin air.

    She did her best to be unobtrusive and focus on her training. She was so short of breath and feverish that she had no other choice, but once she had acclimatized, she began to consider how to get her sword back.

    There was no hint of any forthcoming decision from the Curia. She had already put aside a collection of food scraps, not enough to get her to Burgorad yet, but she would have enough soon.

    Vero was reciting her morning prayers to Mother Luna when she felt the path forwards reveal itself to her. She realized her fever had broken.

    Vero confronted Pentarch again at breakfast.

    Looking over her trencher of eggs and bacon, she asked him directly, ¡°How much longer am I going to be held prisoner here?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not a prisoner, you¡¯re an apprentice,¡± he replied, without looking up from his own meal.

    ¡°The Curia told me it would only be a few days, but it¡¯s already been more than a fortnight.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve at least seen them. That¡¯s more than the illusionist has gotten. She¡¯s been waiting for the meeting she was promised for months now.¡±

    ¡°If you won¡¯t return the things you stole from me, will you at least tell me what you want them for?¡±

    Diana and Phillip made a show of being too preoccupied with one another to notice anything else. Conner looked uncomfortable.

    Pentarch remained implacable. ¡°Your use of the term ¡®stolen¡¯ is rather incendiary, and presumes an obvious and unquestioned status of ownership. I would rather use the word ¡®quarantined¡¯.¡±

    ¡°I can understand depriving a prisoner of her weapons and armor. But do you question the ownership of my clothes? My boots? My mother¡¯s prayer book? My breast cloth-?¡±

    ¡°Enough, Vero. It¡¯s the sword we need as you well know. I shall have the rest of your things returned to you, if you wish- aside from your opiates.¡±

    ¡°I do so wish. It may surprise you, but I would like to change my smallclothes eventually. So, it¡¯s only my sword you question my right to. I can assure you; my claim is genuine. It belonged to my master who inherited it from his own teacher. I took it when he died, it belongs to me.¡±

    ¡°And what was his name? The man who trained your master Aquinas?¡±

    Vero did not know his name, but she evaded the admission by reciting what little she did know of him. ¡°He was half an elf. His father taught at one of the ancient slayer academies before they were closed.¡±

    Pentarch looked bemused. ¡°Our noble visitor from the south cannot be unaware that she is standing in one of those slayer academies at this very moment.¡±

    ¡°Are you claiming that he stole the sword from here and then fled with it?¡±

    ¡°The Curia claims so- although I¡¯ve only had that second-hand through the Toad. If that is true, then it would have happened long before I was born.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°So, the Curia are both the accusers and my judges? In that case, my verdict should at least be a swift one. How much longer must I wait?¡±

    ¡°As long as it takes.¡±

    Vero found that answer profoundly unsatisfying.

    Diana must have sensed as much, because she finally entered the conversation, in what appeared to be an attempt to mollify her. ¡°Don¡¯t be hasty. The longer they make you wait, the more time we have to prepare you.¡±

    ¡°Prepare me for what? I¡¯d be more apt to help you if you told me what it is you wish to accomplish. If you wish me to trust you, as you claim, you might do well to start by trusting me.¡±

    Diana may have entered the conversation to mediate, but when Vero challenged her, the shortness of the giantess¡¯ temperament showed almost at once. ¡°Trust must be earned. In capability as well as motive.¡±

    She had difficulty controlling her pride, Vero could use that. ¡°Then let me prove it.¡±

    A look flashed across Diana¡¯s eyes; she was intrigued. ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°I challenge you to a game of skill. If I win, you shall tell me what it is you wish from me. If you win, I shall silently do as you wish like a good girl, until you tell me to do otherwise. How does that sound to you?¡±

    Diana looked towards Pentarch. ¡°I wish to accept, but I¡¯ll refuse if you order me to do so.¡±

    Pentarch acted uninterested. ¡°Do as you like.¡±

    Diana grinned and turned back to Vero. ¡°Very well then, what shall our contest be?¡±

    ¡°As the one accepting the challenge it is for you to set the contest.¡± Pentarch appeared to be speaking to his breakfast. ¡°May I suggest an archery competition?¡±

    Vero stood no chance in an archery match, even if she were allowed to use a crossbow. Diana was magnificent with the longbow, better than anyone Vero had ever seen shoot before. Diana was just as aware of how uneven such a competition would be and waited for Vero to speak first.

    ¡°I issued the challenge; I¡¯m prepared for whatever that may entail. Diana has the right to ask for such a match¨C if that is the manner of contest she wishes to have between us.¡±

    Diana chewed her lip. ¡°You would prefer a competition in spellcraft, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    Diana had little aptitude for magic, and the contest would have been equally uneven in the opposite direction. Calling for a match like that would only backfire.

    ¡°No,¡± Vero answered. ¡°The simplest contests are the best in my opinion. My preference would be a direct fight without weapons. Either wrestling or pankration. That would be the fairest, I think.¡±

    Diana looked Vero up and down, judging the size discrepancy between them. She stopped chewing and the grin returned.

    They agreed to a pankration match that afternoon.

    Both she and Diana eased their way through the morning training. Vero took Conner to the ground by snatching up both his legs at once as soon as their sparring began. Then she held him down until their time elapsed. She spent most of her attention on Diana, and took note that her coming opponent was showing the same lack of interest in her grapple with Phillip.

    Vero already revealed that she was trained as a wrestler over the past fortnight. It was her preferred method for disabling Conner, and she mentioned it to Diana as a potential contest first to make her think that was how she intended to fight. To date, she had kept the depth of her technical expertise as a pugilist hidden.

    When the time came, they went to the indoor gymnasium and stripped down to pants, a shirt, and cloth shoes. It seemed half the castle was in attendance to watch, including Isolde and Richard. Pentarch and Phillip each stood by Diana and whispered advice into her ear.

    Vero stood alone. The stone under her feet was terribly cold and the room stank of sweat. Her fever was gone at last though, and she felt wonderfully alive.

    ¡°Good luck, my Lady.¡±

    Not so alone, it seemed. Conner came out of the crowd to stand in her corner.

    ¡°Thank-you, lad. Call me Vero if you like, I¡¯m not a proper lady.¡±

    Pentarch moved to the center of the space in which the contest would occur. ¡°You shall fight until one of you offers verbal submission to the other, until I judge you no longer capable of reasonable defense, or until you cannot return to your feet at my call. There shall be no striking with a closed fist to the head, nor gouging of the eyes. If your opponent places your joint into a position of pressure where they may break it, or if they catch you in a strangle, you shall honorably yield to them. If I order you to stop, you shall stop at once. Is this understood?¡±

    Pentarch turned to Diana, and she nodded.

    He turned to Vero. ¡°Is this understood?¡±

    Vero nodded.

    ¡°Then let combat commence.¡±

 67. A Womans Pride Part III

    Diana hunched forwards to put her head on the same level as Vero¡¯s. It was a clever stance to adopt. It took advantage of her superior height to keep Vero at a distance, where it was difficult for her to shoot in and take the giantess down by the legs.

    Vero intended to take advantage of her ability to out-strike her opponent on a technical level at first, but she believed her best chance at ultimate victory was to grapple and compromise a limb. She also assumed a low wrestler¡¯s stance.

    Her foewoman was easily considered the favorite to win purely by her obvious advantages in height, weight, reach, and strength. Vero¡¯s lungs had finally adapted to the thinner air so high in the mountains, and she hoped to surprise them with her stamina. She believed her own advantage lay in the hundreds of hours of training her master put her under in wrestling and pugilism, and in the force multiplier shock could give them.

    Diana was advancing forwards with slow and deliberate movements, but Vero held her ground and kept her guard low, inviting her opponent to strike for the head.

    Vero evaded a jabbing left palm strike. Then returned a counter hook with her strong right hand, which she stepped into a heterodox fighting stance with her right leg forward to deliver.

    Diana was stunned into halting by the blow, then uncertainly shifted between retreat and advance. Vero followed her foe with a swinging kick to the leading leg, using as much torque as she could manage.

    Then they were standing in front of one another and trading blows- an exchange which Vero was able to take the better of by timing her combinations, and just ducking her head away from reprisals.

    Diana backed away, and both of them reset themselves.

    Vero put her orthodox leg forward once again. She stood up straighter and crossed her hands over one another right in front of herself, for a long defensive guard.

    She could tell Diana had passing skill at pugilism, but it was not a match for her own proficiency. That in no way guaranteed victory, but it would give her time to find the weakness she could press.

    When Diana came forward again, she moved purposefully into a medium range for throwing hand strikes. She did not seem confident enough to try a kick. Vero presumed her opponent was worried that she would try to catch the kick, and use it for a single-legged takedown.

    Which was Vero¡¯s intention, if she did try.

    Vero rolled the hand strikes that did come off her shoulders, then threw back uppercuts and hard elbows when she could. She took the better of the exchange, and Diana tried to back away a moment.

    Vero followed and caught her with a calf kick, just before another similar pattern of hand strikes was exchanged. This repeated twice more, before her opponent decided that she must reassess her strategy; the crowd was goading her.

    Diana stopped moving backwards and straightened up her stance.

    The surprise of Vero¡¯s early successes kept her timid, and Vero would not let the opportunity pass her. She put out pawing palm strikes and feints at her opponent, while kicking Diana¡¯s leading leg from a comfortable range. She kept her movements chaotic, shifting back and forth with the natural rhythm she felt in her mind, often changing from orthodox to heterodox and then back again.

    Vero¡¯s opponent tried her own strikes ¨C and when they did land, they felt like hammers ¨C but they were slow, and Vero¡¯s own head movement felt effortless in the moment. Each strike seemed to just slip off her in the flow of combat.

    Finally, Diana chose to simply advance without stopping to force Vero back. She put out a relentless pace of palm strikes and Vero kept her guard up. Diana was pushing her towards the edge of the ring, but Vero evaded laterally. Being sure to move to her left, so that she would not be caught moving into an attack on her open side.

    With space behind her again, Vero worked to keep Diana away with kicks. Oblique kicks to the leg, which threatened to hyperextend her knee if she attempted to advance in a straight line, and front kicks to the body physically pushing her opponent back.

    The crowd was becoming more restless in their jeering; and Vero also heard Conner calling for her. Diana tried to rush in frustration, and Vero saw an opening she could use. Two wild haymakers were ducked by footwork and head weaving. Vero countered with two closed fist strikes to the solar plexus. The hits were solid, but Diana only grunted and paid them no mind.

    She was ignoring pain to close the distance, Vero realized, then the giantess had her.

    Her opponent wrapped both hands around Vero¡¯s head, and kept her held in a clinch she could not retreat from in time. Vero struggled to put her own arms between Diana¡¯s to push her off, but her foewoman¡¯s grip was tightly clasped.

    Vero felt her head drawn down; she saw the rising knee only briefly before it reached her.

    She raised her hand just in time to cushion the blow, but dark stars spread across her vision.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Her legs had collapsed under her.

    When her senses came back to her, she was lying on her back and Diana was pressing down towards her. Vero¡¯s body was already kicking upwards in instinct, and one blow crossed her enemy across the temple. It had not been a solid hit, but it disinclined her to follow Vero onto the ground.

    Diana backed away and allowed Vero to rise.

    Vero staggered up to feet when Pentarch called on her to do so. Blood was pouring from her nose after the knee strike, and she could only breathe through her mouth.

    Diana kept her orthodox stance, but Vero put her right leg forwards to switch back into a heterodox position. Attempting to control the distance, Vero went back on offensive at once with pawing jabs using her leading right hand. Many of the strikes landed, and Diana¡¯s lip was split.

    The giantess was momentarily winded, but Vero simply did not possess the strength in her arms to physically stop her. Diana pressed forwards again, and Vero was sent circling desperately to give herself space.

    She stopped.

    They were each moving towards their open sides, and Vero kicked quickly enough to catch Diana under the ribs with all the force of her rear leg before her opponent noticed the opening. There was a grunt of pain and an arm lashed out to catch her foot, but it was just a moment too late.

    Vero was already moving back the other direction, but Diana put herself off balance by grabbing at the foot. Vero hammered the side of her head with a palm strike.

    Her opponent was dazed and stumbled. She put a hand on the ground to steady herself.

    Vero saw weakness and moved to deliver a rising kick to her opponent¡¯s head. Diana sensed the attack and intercepted it with her free hand, then made a desperate attempt to wrestle Vero to the ground with the single leg she held.

    Vero kept her balance on one leg while she could, but the giantess was rising again and would inevitably topple her over backwards. She leapt into the air and threw all her momentum into a rolling kick aimed roughly at her opponent¡¯s head.

    If it had hit cleanly, the battle may have been over at that moment. But it only rolled over the top of Diana¡¯s brow.

    Vero was on her front and scrambled to her feet. When she saw her opponent again, she was shooting forward to try and wrap up Vero¡¯s lower half. Vero sprawled her legs outwards to remain in control, and tried to get her arm around Diana¡¯s neck.

    Her foe now attempted to disengage, but Vero remained clinched with her as they both rose to their feet. Vero changed her hold to secure one hook under Diana¡¯s arm. Then, after several moments of hand fighting, she gained a second underhook and could clasp her hands into a waist lock behind her opponent¡¯s back.

    Diana tried to bear down with her greater weight, and put a leg behind Vero to trip her. Vero was ready, kept control, and used the momentum to throw her foewoman over with a hip toss as she was off balance.

    Vero came down on top, while Diana fell flat on her back and lost her wind. She was horizontal over her opponent, and they were pressed chest to chest. Vero kneed her in the body several times with as much force as she could generate.

    Diana struggled animalistically, and Vero was able to trap her opponent¡¯s left arm between her legs. Vero then crawled forward, and held down Diana¡¯s right arm with the press of her whole-body weight.

    Her opponent no longer had a means to defend herself. Vero struck across her enemy¡¯s forehead with downward elbows again and again, while her lungs began to burn from the exertion. Her foe was bucking her hips to throw Vero off, but she held the crucifix position with desperate tenacity.

    Vero knew that she would not have the wind to maintain such crisp fighting for much longer. If she lost her speed, it would only be a matter of time until the giantess¡¯ greater strength beat her down. She had a chance for victory now, and would not release it willingly.

    Diana¡¯s brow was sliced open and Vero could see blood, though it did not stop her attacks.

    Then there was a tremendous buck and Vero was briefly airborne. Diana had thrown her off, but Vero still held an arm.

    If her opponent had a chance to recover, Vero would not have the strength to bring her down again. Diana struggled to scramble away, but Vero would not release her grip. She turned the arm inwards, so that it went behind Diana¡¯s own back with a reverse arm winding hold.

    Diana felt the pressure on her joint and attempted to roll away to relieve the pain, but Vero anticipated the escape attempt and pressed the trapped arm down. Then she began to crank with leverage.

    Vero held the superior position. Diana was stronger, but the vulnerable limb was totally isolated now. A break was moments away.

    It was her opponent¡¯s responsibility to yield. Vero would rather break the arm than lose.

    ¡°Yield! I yield,¡± Diana called out, with sullen disappointment.

    Vero released her hold and allowed the satisfaction of triumph wash over her.

    Diana was rubbing feeling back into her arm. The crowd noise was confused. Vero tenderly felt the contours of her nose, which still dripped blood.

    It was broken. A small enough price to pay for the sensation of victory, in her own opinion.

    Pain was a physical sensation from without and could be removed from her mind with discipline. The thrill of success ¨C and the agony of defeat ¨C came from within, and Vero found those feelings much more difficult to resist.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have underestimated you because you were so small,¡± said Diana. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to fight like such a wild cat.¡±

    Vero was used to hearing such claims to chivalry when she bested men. It seemed that even women felt the need to salve their own egos after losing a contest in which they expected an easy victory.

    Then she chastised herself for taking such an uncharitable attitude. There was every chance that she could have been the vanquished in Diana¡¯s place. The subject of her ire was also probably her closest friend in this place.

    ¡°It was an excellent contest. Thank-you.¡± Vero pulled herself to her feet and offered Diana her hand.

    The giantess appraised the hand. ¡°Magnanimous in victory? Ah!¡± She struggled to her feet on her own. ¡°I thank you for teaching me. It¡¯s better to have my pride shattered in the training ring then on a hunt.¡±

    Vero withdrew her hand. ¡°You taught me some things as well. Maybe I can teach you some more wrestling techniques later?¡±

    Diana forced a smile. ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡±

    She noticed that Richard and his companions were equally put out by the result. They whispered, none too quietly, that they believed the entire contest had been set up as they left. Vero did not allow it to bother her, she simply enjoyed her victory while she still held it.

    Conner brought some cotton to stop up the bleeding in her nose. He, at least, seemed happy that she won. When she thanked him for cheering her on, he turned a bright crimson.

    At last, she turned to Pentarch. ¡°I believe I may need a moment in the infirmary. We can discuss the matter of my sword after the bleeding has stopped. If that would be convenient for you?¡±

    Pentarch sniffed and did not rise to her bait. ¡°I always honor my bargains, journeyman.¡±

 68. A Womans Pride Part IV

    Vero followed Pentarch up the inner wall, and then up an exterior stone staircase into the highest levels of the donjon. The top of the tower contained a watch post for the guard, as well as an observatory for astrological studies.

    She did spend some time at the observatory, a total eclipse coming a few months after the new year, but she was familiar with the middle levels of the tower only liminally. They were quiet away from the main stairwell. Pentarch took her to a nondescript, but sturdy looking, wooden door, with an extraordinary lock.

    The lock was fashioned from brass, and covered in expertly crafted runes rendered with miniscule precision. The work was magnificent, and Vero would have needed days of unrestricted access to force her way through such an elaborate set of warding spells. She had only seen the like before on the treasure vaults of great lords or at a temple bank.

    Pentarch took out a large brass key- which he kept on a ring at his belt, along with a few other companions. He inserted it into the lock. She saw no glyphs or marks on the key itself, so she presumed that it must have been forged at the same time and with the same brass as the lock, to bind a sympathetic connection between them.

    Vero memorized the look of the key before he returned it to the others on his belt.

    ¡°This is your treasure vault?¡± she asked.

    Pentarch opened the door for them and it swung easily. ¡°This is our special armory. We have no treasure. And our true vault is designed such that anything placed inside of it can never be removed again.¡±

    ¡°What if you should later need something which you¡¯ve placed in a vault like that?¡±

    ¡°The things we placed in our vault, no one shall ever wish to see again.¡±

    Vero waited for Pentarch to enter first, then followed him. ¡°In the south we refer to such a place as an oubliette.¡±

    ¡°Oubliettes are for living prisoners. But I agree that the term does capture the intention.¡±

    There was a larger armory located in the underground tunnels, along with a smithy. The weapons and armor in this small room appeared exotic and specialized, not to mention much more expensive. All the pieces were well maintained.

    Vero could not name every type of weapon on display, although she could offer educated guesses at all their uses. She took notice of many pieces which bore the characteristic wave-like mottling that suggested they were crafted with Oasis steel. Others were plated in purified silver It made her wonder where they found all the money.

    He led them past everything to a long-lacquered box on a table. The box was made of fine maple wood, and its fastenings were silver. There was a small silver lock and Vero saw no wards on it, though they may have been hidden on the reverse side, or even along the internal tumblers- although that would risk grinding down the spell runes over time.

    Pentarch held a small unadorned silver key to match it, and again, Vero committed it¡¯s look to her memory. He used it to open the box.

    Inside was her sword. It was a hand-and-a-half weapon with a well-worn leather grip and sheath.

    All along the interior of the box were symbols in a clearly arcane orientation, although Vero could not recognize their purpose. They did not seem to be wards directed outwards. Whatever they were doing was manipulating unknown emanations inwards.

    ¡°What¡¯s the purpose of this box?¡±

    ¡°It is an attempt¡­¡± Pentarch said, as he took ahold of the hilt with both hands. ¡°¡­to restore-¡± He lifted the weapon with a grunt of effort. ¡°-the damage.¡± He just managed to get the sword out of the box before letting the far end fall to the stone floor with a heavy clang.

    ¡°May I?¡± Vero attempted to take the sword from him and he gave it to her.

    She lifted it easily with a single hand, only the sheath and hilt had any weight. She had been watching him lift it, and his effort was genuine.

    Pentarch nodded as though he expected as much. ¡°They believe they¡¯ll eventually be able to break the affinity the artifact seems to have developed with you. But who can know for sure?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps it can only be wielded by those pure of heart? But no- I can heft it without difficulty, so the explanation must be otherwise.¡±

    Pentarch gave her the smile he used when he wanted to avoid a more obvious display of humor. ¡°Whatever the reason for the sword¡¯s behavior- it¡¯s almost certainly why the Curia can¡¯t find enough consensus to order you killed at once, no matter what I might have to say about it. I will tell you that I''ve watched men I know are younger and stronger than I attempt to lift this thing and fail completely, while I was able to shift it at least slightly. Make of that what you will.¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Why go to all this trouble? Mine isn¡¯t the only enchanted weapon in the world.¡±

    ¡°Take out the sword.¡±

    Vero did as she was told. Beneath the leather sheath, the blade was forged of adamant and it held a vorpal edge. Arcane signs ran along both sides of the blade, etched in silver.

    ¡°The sigils, have you ever tried to translate them?¡± Pentarch asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve tried, but there are thousands of variations in Sylvan script and this one is very obscure. It¡¯s almost impossible-¡±

    ¡°The signs aren¡¯t elven.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°I said that they are not elven. They¡¯re trollish.¡±

    ¡°Trolls have been extinct for¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡± Pentarch waited for her to finish.

    ¡°...for a long time.¡±

    ¡°More than a hundred thousand years, if elven oral traditions are to be believed. They lived deep in the earth, deeper than even the farthest dwarven outpost. There they developed many spells, advanced forms of architecture, and metal working techniques we have long since lost. One of these secrets is the means of forging adamant, the unbreakable metal. Trolls lived during the time of the First Men, before the breaking of the races. Perhaps even before Luna set her daughters apart from the First Men to create womankind. Gods, daemons, and other spirits still walked the material world then, and it wasn''t uncommon to trap these forces- to bind them, into tools or weapons. They¡¯re all long since dead now, their power slowly leaked away over the course of centuries through the minutest imperfections in the craftsmanship. Mind you, that doesn¡¯t stop wizards from laying out huge sums of money for them.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen depleted fetishes on display at the Imperial acropolis,¡± said Vero. ¡°And at the High Basilica of Reason in Vermillion.¡±

    ¡°Trollish works are different, however,¡± replied Pentarch. ¡°Adamant is perfect and unbreakable. The spirits within these objects are bound for all eternity.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of anything like this before.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not surprised. Trollish weapons are rare, very rare. I¡¯m sure most wizards presume they¡¯re a myth all together, but they are real. You brought one here. Besides this one I know of only eight others in existence for certain. Two are owned by the oldest and noblest families in the Imperium. One is owned by the King of Lusitan. And another by the dictator of Golden-Fields on the Southern Continent. At least three are owned by elven khans, but rumor suggests perhaps there are more to be found in the Alfsteppe. And finally, the last is an object of study in the University of Whitegate.¡±

    ¡°And there¡¯s mine.¡±

    ¡°And there¡¯s yours,¡± Pentarch agreed. ¡°Return the artifact to the box, please.¡±

    Vero hesitated. Pentarch was watching her.

    The only way for her to leave at that moment would be to kill him. His hand was not even on the hilt of his sword, but he must have known that it would not have mattered while Vero held the weapon she now possessed once more. He could not scream loud enough to be heard from where they were. She could lock the body inside the armory to give herself plenty of time to collect her rations and escape from the fortress while she had darkness to cover her escape.

    The course of events flowed together very easily. He was not even reaching for his weapon.

    ¡°If this sword is so special. How did it ever get lost so badly for me to find it?¡± she asked.

    Pentarch was silent for a while before finally admitting, ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°I almost believe you¡¯re being honest for once.¡±

    ¡°I am. The Curia claims this sword belongs to the Order, but that it was stolen a long time ago. The thing is¡­ they¡¯ve known your master and all his predecessors carried this thing for years- so why is it that this year it suddenly becomes urgent to collect it? I don¡¯t know what the Curia is planning, I only know that I don¡¯t trust them.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t they your leaders?¡±

    ¡°The Curia have been locked up in their tower for centuries before I was ever born. They may have been great slayers once, but they¡¯ve lost anything that made them like us a long time ago. That doesn¡¯t change the fact that the rules of our order values seniority and experience. And while they remain in seclusion, they will always control the council of master slayers. We must move carefully. But please believe me Vero, I want to help you. I keep secrets because that is how we survive. I¡¯m sorry if that makes it difficult for you to trust me.¡±

    She was hesitating because she did not wish to kill him- and he knew it.

    Damn him.

    Vero put the sword away as he had asked. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t trust the Curia either. I¡¯m not opposed to helping you. I¡¯d just like to know what your goal is exactly.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve spoken to the Curia, that¡¯s more than Richard or any of his minions have ever done. What was your impression of them?¡±

    ¡°I think it¡¯s unnatural for anything, even an elf, to live as long as they have. Some were less twisted than the others, but I think there were a great many more of them than those that spoke to me. I presume those were too afflicted by their madness even for speech.¡±

    ¡°Hm, I think there is still some method left in all the members of the Curia. But in broad terms I agree with your appraisal. Twisted is an excellent word to use, they are all being twisted by something. It may be the Fiend, the one under the mountain, or perhaps it¡¯s some other force¡­ but it is clear that some are more far gone than others. I won¡¯t disguise the plain fact that I intend to use you as bait. The Curia are not a monolith. I¡¯m sure that the one¡¯s responsible for this twisting will try to attack you discreetly if we can prove your worth to the others. If we can draw out the source of the corruption and destroy it, perhaps the others need not be lost.¡±

    ¡°And what if the entire Curia is too corrupt to be saved?¡±

    ¡°Then I believe I would benefit by having you, and that sword, by my side.¡±

    Bait was usually the most vital component of any trap. Vero was not happy to be in the position herself, but it did not offend her either. She simply could not imagine why those madmen in the tower would even want to kill her in the first place.

    ¡°It seems as though our only goal at the moment is to keep me alive. If that is the case, I won¡¯t do anything to impede you. For the time being.¡±

    ¡°Gracious, my Lady.¡± Pentarch allowed the sardonicism to drip from his words as he led them back out.

 69. A Womans Pride Part V

    When she went to meditate after her prayers, Vero sat on her knees in the center of the magic circle. If she was right that the arcane geometry around the dark side of the room reflected the mural, then she should be able to find the same gods in it.

    She had been working to trace the outlines of the emanations drawn forth through the wyrd orientation of space during her afternoon studies. She felt Luna¡¯s light first, and used it as her anchor. With that, everything else could be held in place, and she could explore the hidden angles from a point of stability.

    It was a welcome thought that, even in this distant and desolate place, Mother Luna still shined over her.

    There was wisdom there, beyond the space which she could see. As Vero pondered the occluded dimensions, she found that by shifting her perception of Luna¡¯s light through her mind¡¯s eye, she was able to ¡®revolve¡¯ the fourth dimensional figure through the three dimensions which she could perceive visually. In that way she started forming a more complete notion of the whole.

    She still could not yet fully understand that which she beheld. Though the implications of what she had already come to know left her disturbed.

    Vero believed that tremendous dark magical power was moving all around the fortress. Perhaps this was normal for a mountain with such a powerful daemon ¨C she did not believe it was genuinely the Fiend ¨C beneath it.

    She planned to stay alert regardless.

    Vero eventually stood up and left the chapel. She had much to consider as she levered open the hatch onto the top of the wall. The wind was blowing fiercely, and she kept a tight hold on her lifeline when she returned to her room.

    Despite the dreadful chill, she paused just a moment to look at the night outside the fortress. The clouds were thick and dropping flurries of fat snowflakes. Luna was hidden from view, and the darkness moved in strange ways, hidden behind the falling snow.

    She went inside. It felt claustrophobic without any natural light, but also rather cozy. The room was warm and the bed was soft, so it was much nicer than she had the right to expect, given where she was. She stoked up the hearth before undressing.

    There was a knock at the door.

    She had only taken off her cloak, gloves, and boots, so Vero supposed she was decent enough. It was just a matter of letting them inside quickly enough to keep the cold out. She expected Pentarch, or maybe Diana, but it was Richard.

    Before she could say a word, he had a massive hand around her neck. In the other hand he held a knife. He forced them back into the room and closed the door behind him with a kick.

    ¡°If you resist, I¡¯ll kill you.¡±

    Vero did not have the breath to respond.

    Instinctively she tried to pry his fingers loose, but froze when he placed the blade of his knife just under her chin. She tried to kick him between the legs, but ¨C evidently expecting such an attack ¨C he kept his body horizontal to her. He held her like a doll and forced her into the corner.

    Trapped there, Richard bore down on her with his greater weight and left no room to move. He let go of her neck at last, allowing her to gasp for air. With his crotch pressed right up against her she could feel what his intentions were, if she had any doubt.

    Try as she might, she could not squeeze free. At the same time, Richard could not undress her without risking her escaping his grasp. After several minutes of grappling, he tossed her onto the bed and feverishly worked to remove his trousers while she was still stunned.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Vero took the pouch of glass dust she had prepared from her belt, and waited for him to approach. He did so with legs and phallus exposed, too intent on removing her own pants to notice the bag of crushed glass- until she forced it into his eyes.

    Screaming, he blindly backed away and fumbled for the door.

    Vero was not prepared to let him escape and retrieved the knife from the ground. She took a swipe at the offending organ, but Richard opened the door and stumbled out just in time. She only cut him along the back of his leg.

    He ran forward, still shouting and unseeing, until he collided with a soldier on guard duty. Vero could see more men being drawn by the commotion, so she grabbed her cloak and other things.

    When she came back out, a crowd had already gathered. Several figures eyed her with suspicion, Isolde was among them.

    Only Conner broke away from the others to approach her directly. ¡°Are you hurt, my Lady?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Pentarch also came near, and Vero showed him the knife she had taken from Richard. He looked at it and motioned for her to put it away without comment.

    More and more people continued to arrive, and it seemed the entire fortress was coming out in the middle of the night. Diana and Lothair assisted Pentarch in keeping order.

    Some of the slayers evidently knew something of the healing arts, and they took Richard aside to examine his eyes. The patient wailed, and the healers eventually led him away.

    After a few seconds of shock, he began to resist and rant. ¡°She blinded me! That bitch tried to murder me!¡±

    Conner left their side and followed Richard, shouting back at him. ¡°You tried to rape her, you bastard!¡±

    Richard, who had been turning in a directionless circle, oriented to the sound of Conner¡¯s voice. ¡°She tried to kill me!¡±

    ¡°With your own knife, which you allowed an unarmed woman to take from you.¡± Pentarch was speaking softly, but when he spoke, everyone else was so silent that he could be heard more clearly than the shouting. ¡°You¡¯re relieved of garrison duties immediately, with further disciplinary action to follow. When you¡¯ve recovered, we¡¯ll find you a role on the serving staff appropriate to your¡­ handicap.¡±

    The healers regained a hold on their charge and took him away. With the excitement over, the freezing night cold quickly dispersed the crowd.

    Pentarch took Vero back inside her room. She sat on the edge of the bed, but he remained standing.

    ¡°It seems you were right not to trust your own men,¡± she said. ¡°I want my sword back.¡±

    ¡°You know I am not the one who will make that decision. I¡¯m sorry this happened, but I did warn you.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to be assaulted in my own room. So much for the Curia not moving against me brazenly.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no evidence he was ordered to assassinate you. Everything appears as though a man had too much drink, then tried to force himself on a woman who has no legal recourse against him. It¡¯s laws that force us to be civilized, and without that force everyone just does as he pleases; gods be damned. Integrity exists only at the end of a master¡¯s switch. I¡¯m sure no one told him to kill you, they merely provoked a situation and hoped for the desired outcome to occur. No matter the result, they could then wash their hands of it.¡±

    ¡°Why such lax discipline then. Surely a guest is protected by the Laws of Hospitality, if naught else.¡±

    ¡°Rumor- damned rumor. Word has spread that no one will be punished for taking advantage of you, no matter how they choose to go about it. I¡¯ve done what I can to dispel them, but the fact that immediate disciplinary action against Richard is going to be stymied by the Curia will only seem to confirm it. Fortunately, you managed to administer some of your own punishment, but they may respond with greater force.¡±

    ¡°So, I should expect a whole gang of his mates to come after me together next time? Who¡¯s spreading these rumors?¡±

    ¡°The Toad, I¡¯m sure. I don¡¯t even know the names of most of the Curia, let alone which camp each individual falls into. They''ve been locked up in the tower and treating all the rest of us like children for as long as I''ve served the Order, they never communicate with any of us except as a group. But I¡¯m certain the Toad is a servant of the enemy.¡±

    Which enemy is that then? Vero did not say that aloud, only nodded. The only person she trusted at the moment was herself. And ¨C gods help her ¨C that drunkard she met on road, Ramiro. But only because she had no other choice left except to trust him.

    Pentarch opened the door to leave. Conner was still standing on the other side.

    ¡°Report, apprentice!¡± Pentarch barked.

    The lad was flustered and tripped over his words. ¡°I was- someone should keep watch on the Lady Veronique. I was guarding the door, Ser.¡±

    Vero could not help but laugh. ¡°You¡¯ll have frostbite in less than an hour standing in one place. Go to sleep Conner. I can defend myself; I promise you.¡±

    ¡°My Lady, I-¡±

    ¡°Go!¡± Pentarch repeated the order, and the boy obeyed at once. When the lad was gone, he turned back to her. ¡°Keep the door locked at night. If it¡¯s me, or someone I¡¯ve sent, we¡¯ll knock twice fast, twice slow, and then twice fast again. Understood?¡±

    Vero nodded.

    ¡°Pleasant dreams.¡±

 70. The Madness of Priests Part I

    ¡°It¡¯s headed north,¡± Ser Mattias stood up from the tracks and declared definitively.

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Jean did not sound convinced.

    Vero rejoined the hunting party from the tree where she had been investigating further tusk marks. ¡°There are two of them, one moving due north, another moving north by northwest.¡±

    Jean smiled at her and Ser Henri made an annoyed sounding grunt. Ser Mattias said nothing, and Jean led them forwards.

    Ser Henri kept a hard expression on his face and walked very near to her.

    ¡°You are stepping on my shadow, Ser.¡±

    ¡°I told the Marquis not to bring a woman on a boar hunt. My Lord may be prepared to allow you to place yourself in danger my Lady, but I am not.¡±

    ¡°Your concern is very tender, Ser.¡±

    Ser Henri made another darkly tempered grunt.

    Jean stopped them. ¡°It¡¯s just ahead.¡± He whispered.

    ¡°Mattias.¡± Ser Henri motioned him forward and Ser Mattias stalked ahead carefully with his spear ready. Vero watched him for a moment, but also prepared for the second boar she remembered would soon approach them from the west.

    Ser Mattias takes the first boar easily and shouts in triumph, Vero paid the matter no mind. The second boar was already charging out of the foliage.

    This time she felt no fear and lowered her spear, on which the pig obligingly impaled itself. She could not tell if events were moving faster or slower than they had played out in real time.

    She killed the animal easily and quickly this time, but when she looked up, she was only a few feet from Ser Mattias- still struggling to free his weapon. He looked at her in shock.

    Jean wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her. ¡°Wonderfully done!¡±

    Vero met his kisses with her own. ¡°I want you now.¡±

    ¡°What will Henri say?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care. He¡¯s only a dream figment anyway, he can go to hell.¡±

    ¡°What about the others?¡±

    If the rest of the hunting party was still there, then she could no longer perceive them.

    ¡°They can join us, if they like.¡±

    Vero felt as though she were falling.

    Vero woke and allowed herself the pleasure of a languid stretch before she climbed out of bed. Her feet sank into the thick carpet which protected her from the impossibly cold stone floor.

    She dressed herself. After their discussion in the armory, Pentarch managed to get her own clothes back to her. It was fortunate, because the set of the clothes she had been given were becoming quite rank. Vero would have held no objection to wearing the dress they gave her while her other clothes were cleaned, but she would have needed to manage that around her training time and did not wish the bother.

    It felt better to be in her own clothes again anyway. Vero preferred neutral colors when she wore men¡¯s attire, although she had a fondness for gay colors in women¡¯s dresses. Mostly she dressed for practicality in either garb. Thick wool and furs for warmth, and leather overclothes for durability. She kept the boots the slayers gave her, her own were practically falling to pieces.

    They also returned the money she brought with her when she arrived. She left most of her money back with Dora, so there were only a few quarters and a silver crown. It was still the sort of thing guards tended to pinch, so she was surprised to have it back.

    Finally, they also returned her personal effects; Mama¡¯s prayer book, a pendant Jean gave to her containing both their portraits in miniature, a lock of Dora¡¯s hair she cut for herself during their last night together, and a few other minor keepsakes she had acquired and retained some meaning to her. Only the pendant and perhaps the prayer book carried any monetary value, but everything was there.

    They did not return either her armor, nor her weapons, nor any of the climbing gear that might help her to escape back down the mountain, nor any of the components she might be able to use for spellcraft. Pentarch would not even trust her with the reagents to create her own weekly infusions.

    It was just as well. The formulae she used required many herbs she doubted they would have access to so far north in the mountains. Eventually she would have needed to devise substitutes to keep herself supplied anyway.

    When she asked who was preparing the infusions they gave her, Pentarch told her that Iosephus was concocting them personally. He was their foremost expert in both occult studies in general, but also medicine in particular. The blend he used was some composition of mineral salts, which she then dissolved in water to drink.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    It did make her feel very powerful. Even after a morning of hard training, she still recovered marvelously quickly. She also noticed when she undressed at night that she seemed to be gaining more muscle, surpassing the relative plateau she reached not so long after she left Jean.

    On a man, Vero would have found the body rather comely. As she was¡­

    And there were some other disadvantages to the new infusions. Her temper was always threatening to run away with her. Her libido felt like it was even more overactive than usual. Her last woman¡¯s blood came heavily, and she had terrible cramps.

    She put this last complaint to Iosephus¡¯s lack of understanding regarding feminine humors, but it also came when she was still suffering from a terrible fever, so perhaps that was the true cause.

    Vero checked that she still had Richard¡¯s dagger with her, hidden under her cloak. It was still there.

    When she opened the door the cold hit her at once, but she was ready and put her head down to follow the lifeline through the dark. The night watch in the guardhouse were huddled around their fire and took no notice of her.

    She said her prayers in the chapel and went to breakfast. She was no longer setting aside food to use as rations for an escape, at least for the time being.

    The day¡¯s exercises went easily and her archery was beginning to improve. She was surprised when Pentarch followed her as she took her mid-day meal to the library.

    ¡°You¡¯re stepping on my shadow, Ser.¡±

    ¡°There was no need for me to order you to the library as you were already going there on your own accord. I was content to let you pursue your own free studies while you were still climatizing. Now that it seems you¡¯re physically fit, I wish them to take a specific bent.¡±

    ¡°And you intend to give me these lessons yourself then?¡±

    ¡°Unless you¡¯re capable of immaculately conceiving the knowledge I require you to possess. Then, yes- I was intending on teaching you myself.¡±

    Vero had not taken instruction from anyone since she was an apprentice. She knew well the power of knowledge. However, she also knew that the acquisition of knowledge required an admission of ignorance, which was a sign of weakness, carrying all the dangers that showing weakness could bring.

    She replied with a noncommittal, ¡°Hmm.¡±

    When they got to the library Vero expected some kind of lecture, but Pentarch only selected a series of books for her to read from the lower levels.

    ¡°Speak, if you have need of me.¡± With that, he sat nearby to eat his own meal while reading his own book.

    Vero checked the title when he looked away, it was a chronicle of the campaigns waged by Ser Hugh of Karlan.

    The books he selected for her were more scholarly. Treatises on the balance of humors, with a particular emphasis on the circulation of azoth through the medium of vitae sangris- blood. Vero was already an expert in the topic, but her knowledge was more practical- focused on direct causes and effects. These books tended towards the theoretical and she found them very dry.

    After hours of dull reading, Vero sat back and was disgusted by her lack of progress through the thick stack of tomes. They were written in old Imperial, for the most part, which she could read. But there were frequent digressions into Liturgical, or Sylvan ¨C once, the Sand Speech they use in the Oasis Cities ¨C none of which Vero knew.

    They also called for knowledge of how to work numerical geometry through four spatial dimensions, while she had only mastered the means to calculate length, width, and depth.

    She looked over towards Pentarch, who had changed his own reading material for a collection of Imperial poetry. ¡°This isn¡¯t all some ploy to stay near me in case the conspirators attack again, is it?¡±

    He looked up at her over the top of his book. ¡°You think I have nothing better to do? Conner is the one meant to be watching you.¡±

    ¡°The boy?¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t noticed him following you? I¡¯m disappointed, apprentice.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen him loitering near me once or twice- I didn¡¯t think anything of it.¡± Vero presumed that she had simply become a source of adolescent admiration to him. ¡°He¡¯s no danger, so I didn¡¯t take any special notice.¡±

    ¡°Anyone can be a danger under the right circumstances. Be more observant in the future.¡±

    ¡°As you wish.¡± She paused before asking, ¡°Why are you here then?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m waiting for you to admit you haven¡¯t understood the first thing you¡¯ve read this afternoon and ask me for help.¡±

    Vero had a very cross reply in mind, but she stifled it.

    She had understood some of what she read that afternoon, though not much. It was purely by happenstance that the first collection was filled with particularly complex theses on the capacity of a physical liquid such as blood to carry weightless-formless life essence. She may not have understood exactly why blood held such potential, but she suspected that the author lacked a complete grasp of the subject as well.

    ¡°Surely, you could have simply offered your help without needing to be asked.¡±

    ¡°I could have. But that would have required me to submit myself to your endless witticisms, as you tried to convince us both that you know all of this already.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not so proud I can¡¯t ask for help when I need it.¡±

    ¡°I know you¡¯re not. Just proud enough that you¡¯ll make us both waste an afternoon, while you stare at books you don¡¯t understand awaiting divine insight. Once you¡¯ve decided that you do need that help, you¡¯ll ask for it, and then I¡¯m sure we shall get along famously.¡±

    Vero bit her tongue. He was right that there had been nothing keeping her from asking for assistance. She decided that getting angry about it would only make things worse.

    ¡°I need help.¡±

    Pentarch snapped his book of poetry shut. ¡°There we are.¡± He laughed. ¡°Did you really believe I was here to act as your knight protector? I suppose that was why you were so prickly when I followed you.¡±

    ¡°I was prickly because I thought you might be getting ideas.¡±

    ¡°Ideas about what?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve overheard some fellows in the Toad¡¯s faction discussing their own theories about why you¡¯re so interested in me. Although I don¡¯t know if they actually believe them, or if they¡¯re only spreading them for malice.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m beyond any such concerns.¡± Pentarch spoke with such bold plain candor that Vero believed him, even though she knew better than to believe that kind of promise from any man- or any woman.

    ¡°You¡¯re an individual of rare discipline.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to trust my sense of decency. Not all of my scars and amputations are visible at a glance. I sustained a certain injury during a hunt for a wereboar.¡± He did not say more, but there was no mistaking what he meant.

    Vero was not sure exactly how to respond. She thought that it would be polite of her to offer some kind of condolences, but she was not sure how to put any such offer of sympathy into words.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry?¡±

    ¡°Not as sorry as I am, I assure you.¡±

    There was a commotion coming from the gatehouse. It was loud enough to reach them faintly, even in the library. Pentarch stood up and went to the door before then stopping to listen.

    He drew his sword.

    ¡°An alarum has been called.¡± He rushed out of the room.

    Vero wanted to rely on something more substantial than her dagger. She grabbed the heavy iron poker out of the fireplace before following him.

 71. The Madness of Priests Part II

    Several others joined them as they raced across the outer courtyard to the main gate. The great doors were closed, and Vero presumed both portcullises were dropped beyond them, but she could not see anything past the doors.

    That included the intruder.

    The other slayers readied themselves around the gate as though it might burst open any moment, although there was no sign that it was about to do so. Pentarch wasted no time with the others and ascended the outer stairway at once. Vero followed him.

    At the top of the wall were the guards who had raised the alarum with their longbows drawn. They aimed them down towards a single solitary figure which stood a few meters away from the wall and looked back up at them.

    ¡°Identify yourself!¡± Pentarch called down.

    ¡°We tried that already, Ser,¡± one of the guards informed them. ¡°He won¡¯t reply or say anything. Perhaps he¡¯s mute?¡±

    ¡°And what are the chances of a mute coming alone to our hidden daemon-plagued fortress?¡± Pentarch replied brusquely.

    ¡°Probably about the same as any other type of person coming alone to your hidden daemon-plagued fortress,¡± Vero offered.

    Pentarch motioned for her to be silent- but the moment she had spoken, the figure called up to them. ¡°Is that the Lady Veronique de Loix? I''ve come to see her; may I be allowed inside?¡±

    Pentarch turned to her and Vero leaned forward carefully to study the figure. She could not make out his clothes or his figure beneath his heavy cloak, but his face was uncovered. He was a clean-shaven young man with shaggy curling hair that was blond under all the grime.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen him before,¡± she informed the others.

    ¡°Raise the outer portcullis and open the great doors,¡± Pentarch ordered. ¡°Keep the inner portcullis down, and close the outer once he¡¯s beyond it. Keep oil by the murder hole, but wait on my order.¡±

    The others went about fulfilling his orders. Vero and Pentarch descended back down the stairs and stood face to face with the golden-haired youth, albeit with the portcullis between them. Now that she was closer, Vero could see that beneath his cloak the young man wore the garb of a White Priest.

    ¡°Is that you, Lady Veronique?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m her brother Virgil. Why are you looking for Vero?¡±

    ¡°Your brother lies at peace with my Mistress. It is you my Lady, it must be- because I have been led here for this very reason.¡±

    Vero made a sign against mental intrusions and silently ran mantras over her surface thoughts, to act as a shield.

    Pentarch imposed himself between them. ¡°And why are you looking for the Lady Veronique?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± The priest looked past Pentarch at Vero. ¡°I assumed that you would tell me why I had been called to you when I arrived.¡±

    He gazed at her with such earnest sincerity in his countenance that Vero felt some remorse that she could not fulfill his request in some way, no matter how absurd it might sound.

    He saw that she had nothing to say and nodded solemnly. ¡°Now I can see that is not the case.¡±

    Pentarch interposed himself once again. ¡°Who is it that called you, and how?¡±

    ¡°She approached me only at night, sometimes in dreams. She had many forms. She appeared to me as a hooded figure, as an albino raven, and as a pale horse among others¡­ but I knew it was Her by Her presence as it came down upon me. She showed me the Lady Veronique. At times she was attired as a traveling cunning woman, and at times like a man as she is now. I believed that I would either find her dead and her spirit in need of tending. Or that if she was alive, I would be given some instruction from her. I see now that I must be patient and pray.¡±

    Vero could hardly believe what she was being told. ¡°I can¡¯t direct myself most of the time, much less another.¡±

    ¡°How did you find this place?¡± Pentarch cut in.

    ¡°I read the entrails and they showed me the way.¡±

    ¡°Necromancy!¡± One of the men called out, and a few began to make movements to attack at once- before Pentarch ordered them to hold with a gesture.

    ¡°I am an ordained haruspex, there was no blasphemy,¡± the priest explained. ¡°I apologize, I can say no more for the time being. I have allowed passion to color my vision and I must learn patience.¡±

    ¡°You claim to be a haruspex, but you''re obviously no White Sister.¡± Pentarch tried to continue his interrogation, but the priest was no longer paying attention.

    ¡°He¡¯s a liar and a maleficar, we should kill him now!¡± It sounded like the same voice which had first called him a necromancer, one of the Toad¡¯s spies. His name was- William, Vero believed.

    The first shout set a chain of others into motion, which soon became a general confusion about what ought to be done. Some thought they should kill him right away, others thought he should be tortured for information and then killed, and a few of the more merciful believed they should put him into a dungeon until they could learn more.

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    For his part, the priest took no interest in the proceedings. He just stood still and quietly studied Vero with a detached expression.

    ¡°There are-¡± Vero started speaking almost before realizing that she had done so. ¡°-there are White Priests- male White Priests, in the Republic of Whitegate. In the city itself. It¡¯s uncommon- but I have seen them. His clothes look right. They mostly involve themselves in administration rather than thaumaturgy, but his claim to be a genuine haruspex isn¡¯t impossible.¡±

    ¡°You think he¡¯s telling the truth?¡± Pentarch inquired, once he settled the rest down.

    ¡°I can¡¯t say one way or the other. Only that it¡¯s possible.¡±

    Pentarch nodded. ¡°We''ll keep him in a dungeon until we know more. Put him in one of the warm cells and bring him food and water. Have a message sent to the Curia explaining the situation with a request for further orders.¡±

    There was no argument from anyone, although the same men who were always discontent with Pentarch¡¯s leadership grumbled as they left.

    Vero watched them take the priest away. He went without resistance, but seemed to take no notice of anything occurring around him.

    ¡°I want to be with you when you interrogate him.¡± she said.

    Pentarch turned to her. ¡°That saves me the trouble of ordering you to accompany me.¡±

    He was wearing his smile again.

    The three of them were alone in the little interrogation cell. Pentarch called it one of the warm cells, but it was still cold enough to chill Vero¡¯s bones. All of them had been quiet since Vero and Pentarch entered the room.

    The silence was obviously meant to intimidate the priest, but Vero felt it the heaviest, or at least she believed that she did. Perhaps one, or both, of the other two were experiencing some kind of inner turmoil.

    If so, they did not show it.

    In the end, Pentarch spoke first. ¡°Name.¡± He made the word a command, rather than a question.

    ¡°I am Father Alexius.¡±

    ¡°Surname.¡±

    ¡°Priests of the Veiled One are not permitted to keep their family name.¡±

    ¡°You were not born a priest.¡±

    ¡°No, Ser.¡±

    ¡°What surname were you born under.¡±

    Alexius said nothing, but looked hopefully towards Vero.

    After weighing her options, Vero chose to fulfill his unspoken request to intervene. ¡°He can¡¯t tell you. In the Republic politics between the big merchant families are incredibly vicious. The church keeps their traditions about matters such as this very strict- to maintain their independence.¡±

    Pentarch listened to her, but kept his attention pressed on Alexius. ¡°You are no longer in Whitegate.¡±

    Alexius bowed his head, still a picture of serenity despite his surroundings. ¡°The gods have no interest in the borders of mortal kings.¡±

    ¡°No, but priests often do. Very well-¡± Pentarch sat down in a chair opposite the priest. The remains of the meal he ordered brought for the prisoner was on the table between them. The priest took a loaf of bread and some water, but left the rest uneaten. ¡°-why are you here?¡±

    ¡°I have told you this already,¡± Alexius replied.

    ¡°Tell me again.¡±

    ¡°I came to find the Dame, Lady Veronique.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because my Mistress, the Lady in White, bade me to do so.¡±

    ¡°And why is the Goddess of Death searching for the Lady Veronique?¡±

    ¡°My Mistress searches for nothing; She instructed me to seek the Lady Veronique. I do not know why, but I am content to hold my place in Her great plan. I will be told all I need to know at Her discretion.¡±

    ¡°How did you find us here? And how did you reach us?¡±

    ¡°Our queen in heaven-¡± He pointed skywards. ¡°-lit my path, and guided my way. Our mother in the earth-¡± He pointed groundward. ¡°-kept me warm close to her breast, and protected me from those who would do me harm.¡±

    ¡°I doubt even one deity would bother to interfere in our affairs on this world. But you expect me to believe that no fewer than three goddesses brought you here?¡±

    ¡°Is it any more likely that a madman wandered here on his own and unaided?¡± Vero asked.

    ¡°The gods protect madmen,¡± Alexius offered.

    ¡°Enough!¡± Pentarch slammed his hand down on the table. ¡°We¡¯ll pry the name of the creature which sent you here to spy on us from you eventually. I¡¯ll give you one last opportunity to spare yourself any torture. When I come back to ask these questions again, I promise you that it will be far more painful.¡±

    ¡°My mind is free and open. Every word I have spoken to you was said with total honesty. The sorceress observing us from the adjoining room will confirm all this to you, once you ask her.¡±

    Vero could swear that she saw Pentarch¡¯s eye twitch.

    ¡°He told you the truth. I sensed no deception from him.¡± Isolde sat in the center of the magic circle she had drawn in chalk on the floor.

    Pentarch made an uncertain grunt, before following it by asking, ¡°Are you sure of it?¡±

    ¡°Why even ask me to observe him if you aren¡¯t going to trust my conclusions?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a great deal that¡¯s unusual about this madman. Perhaps he¡¯s better at shielding his mind than you are at piercing it.¡±

    ¡°No one knows more about lies than an illusionist,¡± Vero observed. ¡°I don¡¯t know any truth-saying magic, but I watched his face and his motions. I saw no signs of deception either.¡±

    Pentarch made another grunt which sounded no more convinced than his previous. ¡°Well, there¡¯s nothing more to be done then.¡±

    Isolde started obscuring the signs in the magic circle and paid no more obvious attention to them. Vero suspected she was still listening, however.

    ¡°What do you intend to do with him then?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Pentarch answered.

    ¡°We can order the sorceress out of the room, if you don¡¯t wish to state you plans in front of her.¡±

    Isolde sniffed audibly, but said nothing.

    ¡°I just did state my plans in front of her. I plan to do nothing. He came here to find you and did so. Now he wishes to be left alone to meditate. I intend to leave him in that cell until he wishes to tell us more. Otherwise, he¡¯s welcome to rot in there.¡±

    The fellow had a pallet, and evidently, more than enough food to satisfy him. So, Vero supposed she had no reason to fear for him.

    Alexius was certainly mad, and the gods demanded one show charity to those inflicted with insanity. He was also a priest besides, or had some power they could not understand. Something led him into the mountains, and then across the Fiend¡¯s Dread Valley, unharmed.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t seem to wish to leave his room. Couldn¡¯t we find some better hospitality to offer him?¡±

    Pentarch gave her a curious look she was not able to interpret. ¡°We could¡­ but I wish to keep him under lock and key. He¡¯s now the third uninvited person to arrive at our hidden fortress in the recent past. Of those three, I also trust him the least ¨C and considering the company he has ¨C that¡¯s some accomplishment.¡±

    Vero did not wish to give him the satisfaction of laughing at his jape, and restrained herself to a smile. There was no mirror to see herself in, but she suspected it looked akin to those ironic grins he kept making at her.

    Isolde sniffed again, and more audibly than the last time.

    Vero and Pentarch left her and returned to the library. There was not much time left before the evening meal, but she still made more progress with his aid than she had the entire afternoon up until that point.

    They went to supper together and played the game with the colored stones again. This time Vero came very close to victory. Although she still came up just short once more.

 72. The Madness of Priests Part III

    The next few days were happy ones. Now that she had her wind, her training was much more fruitful. Lothair even recommended that she give one of the morning lectures to the assembly. She chose the topic of footwork and head movement in pugilism as her subject.

    In the afternoons Pentarch put her spellcraft through its paces. Their study sessions were dense, but Vero believed that she learned more about humorism in the past few weeks with Pentarch than she had in the previous several years.

    The priest Alexius refused the say any more, and remained in the prison cell. Vero visited on a few occasions, and he seemed perfectly at peace with his position.

    She suggested that she could speak to Pentarch again about improving his conditions, but he asked her not to bother. He was very happy where he was for the time being. She decided that if he was content with his quarters, he could have them.

    It seemed that once a week was passed from his arrival, everyone in the fortress was content to merely forget the insane priest in the dungeons. No one even mentioned him in idle talk any longer.

    Vero might have liked to do the same. However, in the scriptures, Mother Luna commanded her children to take compassion on those afflicted with madness or a simple mind. Vero made it a point to share her midday meal with him before going to her studies in the library with Pentarch.

    It was, after all, she who he supposedly came to such a long way to find.

    Pentarch encouraged the association, and told her to report all Alexius said back to him. Vero did not like the idea of acting as a spy, but the priest assured her unprompted that she was free to repeat anything he told her.

    He came from the Republic and, according to him, he was a ward of the White Sisters since he was a very young. He was given to one of the merchant quarter temples, and raised by the priestesses there.

    It did not appear to trouble Alexius, who felt a personal calling to a religious vocation. He could have gained a secular position with any of the great merchant houses through his education and church sponsorship.

    There was something utterly authentic in his words and manner that she had never seen before. Vero witnessed thieves and would-be rulers pose themselves as holy men, she knew the many tricks and rhetorical devices they used.

    There was none of that in Alexius. And something in his quietness reminded Vero of the holy aura Mama taught her emanated from the prophets during the age of the scriptures.

    Though Vero was still wise enough to remind herself that madmen also sometimes comported themselves with an air of supreme confidence, counseled by the delusions which existed only in their mind. She would still need more proof if she was going to start believing in the miraculous powers of saints and bodhisattvas.

    Alexius sometimes asked questions about her, but something gave her the impression that he already knew the answers before he asked the questions, even if that could not be. He was most interested in her prayers, although they did not worship the same goddess.

    She was careful not to tell him anything about the chapel, but she could swear he had been in that room before. He frequently made curious offhand suggestions, which were always innocent on their own, but reminded her of those things she saw moving in the occluded side of the chapel.

    Mama also taught her there could sometimes be insight hidden in madness, but that such could only ever be determined in the retrospect. It served no purpose to become distracted staring into the mouth of chaos.

    ¡°Have you been sleeping well, my Lady?¡± Alexius asked.

    ¡°Yes, very well. Better-¡± than out in that dread valley.

    ¡°The dark presence under this fortress troubles you, does it not?¡±

    Vero had no intention of answering that question, she countered with one of her own. ¡°What do you know about the force inside these mountains? Is that what drew you here?¡±

    ¡°I told you what brought me here already. I know the power here is an old one, and utterly evil. I felt it testing my defenses as I passed through the valley. I can perceive it even now.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re warded here inside the fortress.¡±

    Alexius shook his head. ¡°From somethings, but whisps of its power pour in through the gaps and coalesce in forgotten corners. I know you are determined to stay in this place, but I urge you to look after you own wellbeing. It¡¯s not safe here, and it becomes more dangerous the longer you stay.¡±

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    Vero thought of the Curia. How long had they been in that tower?

    ¡°Have you been keeping your prayers?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°This fortress is a dangerous place. A very dangerous place for everyone.¡±

    The slayers were given a free day to celebrate the winter solstice.

    Food rations were lifted for the holiday to provide a banquet in the main hall. They served honeyed ham wrapped in a crust of dough, baked to a perfect golden brown. There were dried figs and other fruits alongside, and Vero found it all delicious. Spiced wine flowed generously, and the air smelled of a savory mixture of food and cannabis from pipe-smoke.

    Vero kept company with Diana, Philip, Conner, and Lothair. They each traded hunting stories until it was well advanced into the afternoon.

    Through a pleasant alcohol haze, Vero pondered if Diana and Philip restricted their love making only to one another, or if they were open to taking other partners. As the cups of spiced wine came and went, Philip was more and more handsome to her. She was also becoming fond of Diana; she admired her strength and force of personality.

    Although Vero was not certain how to broach such a topic. Sexual morals were much more conservative in the north, and she did not wish to offend.

    In the evening Vero drifted away into the library, where she sought out a copy of the Lunar scriptures written in old Imperial. She was just going back to the reading room on the top floor, when she nearly knocked over Iosephus in the tight hallways of books. He appeared startled to see her, but Vero avoided a collision between them. A tome on optics was in his arms, no doubt preparation for viewing the eclipse.

    With a grunt he mumbled, ¡°Didn¡¯t expect anyone here today.¡± He did not seem to be talking directly to her or anyone else, but it was still more conversation than anyone could usually drag from him.

    ¡°Mama always used to read us stories from the scriptures on holidays. I wanted to read them myself. Happy new year to you.¡±

    ¡°I see. Are you religious?¡± Vero could not recall Iosephus ever asking her a question before.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, I suppose I want to be. I don¡¯t pray as often as I should, but I¡¯ve been trying to do better.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± He sounded disappointed. ¡°Do as you wish.¡±

    Vero supposed he was an atheist. He specialized in magic, and those who studied wizardry rarely honored the gods.

    ¡°Master slayer¡­ have you spoken to that strange priest?¡±

    He looked at her a moment before replying. ¡°I have observed him. We did not speak.¡±

    ¡°What did you make of him?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s mad. There¡¯s no question of it.¡±

    ¡°He seems to have strange powers of insight.¡±

    ¡°Mad men often do. There are many answers to be found in chaos, that¡¯s part of its allure.¡± Iosephus turned and left.

    Vero presumed that was the end of their conversation.

    She went back up to the reading room and lost herself in the Book of Luna the Wanderer. It was her favorite of the Lunar scriptures, because it contained several adventures of the Golden Legion.

    She read until she felt tired, then went to the chapel for her vesper prayers. Finally, she slipped into bed for a very welcome rest.

    The next morning Vero woke in high spirits. She bid the guards on patrol a happy new year and went down into the chapel. It was as quiet and solemn as ever.

    Vero recited her prayers in rote Liturgical, exactly as Mama taught her, before the image of Luna the Maiden. They were a child¡¯s prayers of supplication to Mother Luna for protection from nightmares and other evil visitors during the night.

    She felt self-conscious repeating them to the statue of the rakish young woman who appraised her with worldly eyes, but they were the prayers she knew best. The clouds were too thick over the fortress to pray to the moon Herself. Besides the fact that it was much too cold to do so comfortably, no matter the weather.

    Vero started momentarily when she heard footsteps approaching the chapel. Since her first day in the fortress with Pentarch, she had never seen another slayer join her there, although she knew the sun worshipers held a service at mid-day. As a woman, she was not permitted to be present.

    Conner entered the room nervously.

    Satisfied that it was not an enemy, Vero returned to her prayers. Conner walked to the iron shrine of the War God and Vero put him out of her mind.

    When she had finished the appropriate repetitions of her prayers, Vero paused for a few moments of silent meditation. She counted her breaths and tried to release all the residual tensions in her muscles.

    Vero was not certain how much time passed, but at length she opened her eyes and returned to her feet. She was surprised to see that Conner was still there. He was peering into the offering jar for the Charitable Goddess, but he jumped and approached her when she stood up.

    ¡°Someone left a silver crown; can you believe it?¡± he commented sheepishly, to cover his embarrassment.

    ¡°I left it.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    She had put it there the previous night, mostly as an experiment to see what would happen to it. Vero left and he followed her silently. They walked across the entrance to the fortress¡¯ cold storage, and Vero felt the chill air pull the hair on her arms and legs to attention.

    They were beside the dungeons when she saw three hooded figures blocking the way in front of them. The strangers were all slayers by their garb, but the hoods ¨C which were made from dark fabric ¨C obscured their identities. They were still far enough away that Vero spared a moment to look over her shoulder. She confirmed that there were two more behind her to prevent any retreat that way.

    They were not wearing swords, but each of them held a club.

    Vero gripped her knife under her cloak. ¡°If you be friends, show you faces.¡±

    They did not say anything.

    ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this? What do you think you¡¯re playing at?¡± Conner was trying to sound irate, but Vero noticed a light trembling in his voice as he spoke. His confusion seemed genuine enough though, so at the least he was not another enemy.

    ¡°I presume that I¡¯m the one you want. Let the boy go,¡± she said.

    The man in the middle, who Vero took to be their leader, shook his head.

    ¡°He¡¯s not involved in this,¡± said Vero.

    Finally, the leader spoke. Unfortunately, the voice was muffled by his hood and she could not recognize it. ¡°Put the boy in one of the cells until we¡¯re finished. Beat him if he resists.¡± He was talking past them, to the two men blocking their way back.

    ¡°Go to the Fiend!¡± Conner balled his hands into fists as he shouted.

 73. The Madness of Priests Part IV

    The hooded men must have seen enough signs of hostility to commence their attack. Vero grabbed Conner by the arm and pulled him into the dungeons. The heavy oak door was unlocked, and she slammed it shut behind them. There was no bar on the door, so Vero pushed herself and Conner against the entry to brace it.

    The door shuddered and opened part way.

    It slammed closed again, but not before an arm and leg pressed into the gap. There was a solid grunt of pain- followed by shrieks of agony.

    Vero worked her knife with deep and methodical slashes along both the exposed limbs. The arm and leg attempted to withdraw, but with both her and Conner pressed against the door, they remained trapped.

    The door burst open again and this time Vero pulled them back into the hall. There were empty cells to either side. The first man fell into the doorway grabbing at his open wounds in desperation.

    The blood leaked through his fingers in rivulets.

    She kept her knife held out ready in front of her. The four remaining able men were momentarily disinclined to step over their wounded companion and rush her.

    Vero heard Alexius¡¯ voice call out in warning, but she could not turn away from her attackers to find his cell. ¡°If you pursue this path, it can lead only to your own destruction!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have much choice!¡± she called back, with her weapon still raised.

    ¡°I was speaking to them, my Lady. Several deaths will soon occur, but I do not see yours among them.¡±

    Vero still felt in danger, no matter what the madman had to say.

    She heard Conner scrambling somewhere behind her, but she could not turn to see what he was doing.

    The largest attacker pushed his way through the others and moved in first. He was trying to move cautiously and lead the others, but Vero advanced on him and forced him back with quick cuts at his hands and forearms. He was preparing to strike back at her with his club when he tripped over his wounded companion while moving backwards.

    The next attacker charged over the first two. Vero tried to retreat again to gain space, but he was too quick and lunged forwards to catch one of her legs. Then, with an expert move, he swept her down and trapped her lower half under him.

    Vero struggled to regain her wind, while her foeman continued to crawl forwards to try and mount her. Once she had her breath back, she used her free leg to push herself away.

    She took her knife with both hands and jabbed it down into his head with all her might. Juddering shocks ran through her arms each time the blade deflected gruesomely off the hard bone on the top of his skull.

    He tried to defend himself with his arms, but he could not see her attacks as he pressed her down with his chest and head to prevent her from escaping. Nothing could be heard any longer besides the screaming.

    The two able-bodied men passed the doorway, but Conner intercepted them wielding a fallen club. He struck one viciously on the head before they knew he was there. The man was wounded and stood on weak legs.

    Vero momentarily had cause to hope that they might come out of everything well after all. Then the largest hood struck Conner on the side and shoulder several times to knock him against the wall. The other man recovered himself and joined his companion in beating Conner to the ground.

    Vero brought her knife down again hard, and felt something give.

    Her knife was tightly lodged in her attacker¡¯s skull. There was a brief shudder as his spirit left his body.

    She wrenched his limp form off her using her knife¡¯s grip for leverage. She then tried to free the weapon itself, but it was lodged too tightly in the head hidden behind the hood.

    Even if they held no hope for victory, Vero intended to do her best to injure or kill as many of her assailants as she could before she fell.

    If they intended to rape her, she would be beaten unconscious first. If they intended to kill her, then she would leave as many marks as she could for Pentarch to find them after.

    The largest of them held down Conner. He continued to struggle, but to limited effect. There was no telling what they would do to him now, but perhaps she could distract them long enough for help to arrive.

    The one Conner had hit still seemed to be unsteady on his feet. He moved to advance on Vero in cooperation with his last fresh companion, but she suspected that behind the fabric he was glassy eyed.

    She was back on her feet, but there was no more room behind her. Breathing was difficult, the air was so damn thin.

    Vero raised her arms to guard her head and advanced on the weaker enemy. The more damage she did, the more likely Pentarch would be able to find the culprits. She was sure he would avenge them.

    For the sake of the boy at least, if not her own.

    Vero moved to circle around the side of her target. She used his body to shield herself from his companion as well as the cramped surroundings would allow. Then she clinched the back of his head with her left hand, while he made only feeble and confused attempts at defense. He had lost his weapon somewhere amidst the fighting.

    She pulled his head down sharply and uppercut him with her free hand, using a closed fist and as much force as she could muster. He fell to the ground stiffly, in a manner Vero found unnerving to watch, and he did not move. His right knee came down beneath his own weight and was pulled out of its socket.

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    Her muscles burned and ached for a moment¡¯s respite.

    A bat struck her hip and Vero felt her leg buckle under her. She turned the fall into a semblance of a grab at her next opponent¡¯s leg, but this only resulted in further blows across her head and back with the club.

    Repeated strikes eventually robbed her of any coherent resistance, and he easily pinned her down under him.

    For a long time, she could perceive only a long dark tunnel and sudden jolts of pain all over her body. There was a light ahead of her and it grew until she was awake again.

    Vero was laying on her stomach. Her head was turned over and her cheek was pressed to the stone floor. She felt a club across her shoulder blades and force behind it, holding her down.

    Conner was unconscious, laying beside the man with the head injury and disjointed leg. That one had pulled off his hood, and she saw it nearby, flaked with vomit. She recognized him as one of Richard¡¯s circle, Herman.

    Vero remained still to avoid alerting them that she was awake, but all the attackers were more concerned with themselves.

    The man in the doorway was trying to apply a tourniquet to himself and stop the bleeding. From the way he was haranguing the others, she was sure he was the leader. He was shouting for Herman to put his mask back on.

    Herman did not respond, and Vero doubted he knew where he was at the moment. He looked blankly at the dead body in the corner. ¡°Get up. William, we need to go¡­ William-¡±

    ¡°No names! Put the godsdamn mask on right now!¡±

    ¡°Wake up. It¡¯s not so bad¡­¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s dead, imbecile!¡±

    There was sobbing, more shouting, and Vero felt hands trying to pull down her trousers without removing her belt first, making only slow progress.

    ¡°Forget that! Kill her- we need to leave immediately!¡±

    ¡°What about the boy?¡± the one over her asked.

    ¡°What about William¡­ he¡¯s hurt¡­¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s dead!¡±

    ¡°I think-¡± the big one began.

    ¡°Kill them both!¡± the leader interrupted.

    The man on top of her stopped fumbling with her pants. ¡°If Pentarch finds William¡¯s body he¡¯s as good as caught us.¡±

    ¡°He needs help¡­ he¡¯s hurt¡­¡±

    ¡°Look at him! She put a dagger through his skull! He¡¯s not hurt- he¡¯s dead!¡±

    A new voice cut through the din. ¡°Explain yourselves now!¡±

    Vero turned her head to see master slayer Iosephus stood over the injured leader. He held a dagger, but rather than pointing it outward, he held it threateningly over his left palm.

    No one moved.

    ¡°She killed William-¡± the leader began, before realizing that wearing a hood over his face would undercut his pleas of innocence.

    He pulled it off to show himself. ¡°I know how it appears, but we only came for retribution- for how she maimed Richard. We only intended to give her a beating, but she¡¯s Pentarch¡¯s whore and he put the boy here to watch her every move, so we had to wear these hoods. He attacked us first so we gave him some rough treatment¡­ but this witch killed William! Same as she would have murdered Richard, if he hadn¡¯t been able to escape the trap she lured him into! She¡¯s like a wild animal- she¡¯d kill any of us without a thought if we don¡¯t stop her!¡±

    ¡°A judicial tribunal will be assembled to resolve this,¡± Iosephus stated matter-of-factly. ¡°Everyone shall put down their weapons and surrender themselves to me.¡±

    ¡°Pentarch will use the potential for sickness to keep the Curia hidden away, and then use Diana and Lothair to control any tribunal!¡± their leader countered.

    Iosephus¡¯s voice was steady. ¡°If your actions are just, they will vindicate you before any jury.¡±

    The three men still capable of rational action exchanged glances between themselves, coming to what Vero considered, an irrational conclusion. Then everything began happening at once.

    The leader tried to lunge upward and pull the elderly Iosephus down where he could come to grips with him. Iosephus had already opened his palm and drops of blood fell through the air.

    The big one readied his club and positioned himself to watch their prisoners, as directed by the man atop Vero. Meanwhile, that final man tried to climb off of her and move forwards to assist his captain.

    Vero was waiting for just such a moment. As he was imbalanced, she bucked her whole body as violently as she could, and caused him to stumble down on the blood slick floor. He fell badly and knocked his head on a cell door, leaving him momentarily stunned.

    Iosephus was too old to pose any physical threat, even to a wounded man. Still, his voice rang out clear, speaking in Sylvan tongues Vero could not understand. An undulating started where his blood met the pools and splatters which already covered the battleground.

    Vero tried to push her aching body to move, to rise to her feet, but every muscle suddenly seemed to be screaming in agony to her. Above the cacophony of pain, she felt the she sharp strike of a club across her back.

    The man Vero had unbalanced was the first of them to notice what was happening. To steady himself, he laid a hand beside where the largest droplets of enchanted vitae sangris landed, spreading the power within out through all the expended blood.

    It used the life essence it fed on there to fuel the spell¡¯s further exponential growth. Vines started to emerge, studded with wicked barbs, and soon became a mass of brambles covering his wrist.

    It was the victim¡¯s screams that drew Vero¡¯s eyes to what was occurring. He tried to pull his hand free in panic, but that only let the brambles tear further gashes and drink more of his fresh blood, spurring deeper growth to seek out the rest of his succulent flesh. They were spreading faster than he could move, and eventually covered him completely.

    The big man was distracted by his companion¡¯s plight, and she used the opportunity to retrieve one of the fallen clubs from the floor. Vero did not believe she could stand, so she took aim at the blackguard¡¯s kneecap and swung with all the strength she had left.

    Black spots covered her vision. Her foe fell with a cry and his weapon was knocked from his grasp. Then the vines were over both of them.

    Vero¡¯s base survival instructs urged her to wrench herself free and flee, but she held still and allowed the vines to slowly crawl over her. She clenched her chin tight to her chest and attempted to protect her bare skin as best she could. In moments, it had engulfed her totally, and the entire room around them blossomed into a massive briar patch.

    She heard struggling and cries of pain, but all she could do was lie in an exhausted heap on the floor.

    Eventually, all the free blood was drunk up. Iosephus¡¯s chanting faded away, and as quickly as they had sprung up, the vines began to desiccate. When they cracked and crumbled into dust all the blood spilled by the battle had vanished.

    Herman remained completely still and took no notice of them; Conner was unconscious and also looked mostly unharmed. The big thug was covered in painful looking lacerations and pale from the blood loss, but he was still alive.

    The one who was nearer to the center of the vines had been literally torn open and drunk dry in his vain struggles against the questing plants. The leader of the hoods was also dead. His throat was slit, and it looked too clean to be the work of a vine.

    Iosephus pulled himself to his feet with remarkable dexterity. ¡°Remain here. I¡¯ll send someone to assist you.¡±

    He left before Vero could manage a moan in response.

    She pulled herself over towards Conner. He had several ugly looking bruises, but he was still breathing. She carefully tried to wake him. ¡°Conner, can you hear me? Are you well?¡±

    There was a murmur.

    ¡°Conner, can you speak?¡±

    ¡°I- yes¡­¡± When he opened his eyes, they were glazed.

    They waited together for Iosephus, who returned with Pentarch and several others.

    ¡°I tried to warn them.¡± She heard Alexius remark somberly from his cell. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t they listen?¡±

 74. Those Desires Which Are Natural Part I

    There was music, and sounds from a crowd of people.

    She was sitting in the great hall of the Iron Keep, hereditary home of the Marquis de Fer. A dance was in progress. Vero was wearing a flowing dress and Jean held her hand.

    He stepped forwards and pulled her after him. ¡°Let¡¯s join them, my love.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like to dance.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll dance together.¡±

    She did her best to step and whirl, and her natural dexterity kept her from making a complete fool of herself. When possible, she held herself very tightly to Jean.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to dance any longer. Take me up to your room so we can be alone together.¡±

    Without realizing it, they must have changed partners, because she suddenly realized that she was dancing with Mattie. He took no notice of anything she had said.

    This could only have been another dream. If so, then one man was as good as another.

    ¡°I owe you my life,¡± he said.

    ¡°I was simply in the right place at the right time, Ser.¡± She started kissing Mattie¡¯s neck.

    ¡°Regardless, I won¡¯t forget it.¡±

    She tried to maneuver his lips to hers with lethargic difficulty. For a moment she believed that she had succeeded, until she realized that it was now Ser Frederic she was dancing with.

    ¡°You¡¯re displeased by something, my Lady?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t find Jean.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s here. But there are many people between you and him it seems. You certainly weren¡¯t this cold dancing with Mattie a moment ago.¡±

    ¡°A spymaster shouldn¡¯t advertise his work.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps not, but I wasn¡¯t implying you were a target of my espionage. It was simply an observation.¡±

    ¡°At this point I¡¯d be pleased to lie down with anyone. It¡¯s just that you all keep moving so much, I can¡¯t keep ahold of you.¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯ll find that it¡¯s you who¡¯s moving.¡±

    They changed partners again, and she hoped that she would be with Jean. Instead, she found herself with the wizard Aeolus, who was red faced and clumsy from drink. Her lack of expertise began to show and they made very poor partners.

    ¡°I think, perhaps, that young Ser Mattias has become rather smitten with you.¡± He annunciated very slowly and deliberately to make himself understandable.

    Vero was becoming short tempered with her dream. ¡°Yes, I know all about that. Where is Jean?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re very beautiful, Lady Veronique. Are you certain that my husband is truly the one you want?¡± As he spoke, she realized that it was not Aeolus at all, but rather the Marquise Marie.

    ¡°My lady, I-¡±

    ¡°Shh.¡± The Marquise motioned for her to be silent, and she now found that they were alone together in the hall.

    ¡°This is a dream.¡±

    ¡°So it is.¡± The Marquise kissed her across the cheek.

    She fell limp in the Marquise arms, but the noble lady showed no signs of strain holding her up. Slowly they sank down to the floor as the Marquise kissed her again and again. She continued to sink through the floor and plunged into blackness.

    The kiss was the last thing she felt.

    Vero woke up slowly.

    There was never any telling which of her senses would come back to her first when she woke up that way. This time it was her sense of feeling. She felt pain all over.

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    The next of her senses to come back was taste. Her mouth felt fuzzy and disgusting, and there was a metallic tang which made her want to retch.

    The third was olfaction. Wherever she was, it stank of medicinal concoctions. Tempered, at least, by the blessed relief of a few dry herbs.

    Vero tried to open her eyes. One was swollen shut, but the other fluttered and revealed a blurry figure sitting beside where she lay. She could not see who it was, but she was so miserable at the moment, that she could only wish it was someone beautiful and kind who had come to care for her.

    ¡°Dora?¡± Vero heard her own moan, so that was the last of her physical senses to return.

    That meant she must really be awake. She wished that she was not.

    ¡°You¡¯re awake! That¡¯s good!¡± The voice did not belong to Dora. It was female, but much deeper and more forceful than little Dora was capable of.

    Vero blinked with her good eye to clear her vision. The smiling form of Diana slowly came in focus before her. It seemed she slurred Dora¡¯s name so badly that Diana had not noticed.

    ¡°Hurt.¡±

    ¡°I know. Do you remember what happened?¡±

    Vero stretched her mind and the events came back to her. ¡°Men in hoods¡­ Conner- is he alright?¡±

    ¡°Yes, he¡¯s fine. He¡¯s just over there.¡± The bed next to her was occupied by a figure turned away from them. ¡°He¡¯s still sleeping. He must have got it from them even worse than you did. Or maybe you¡¯re just a harder nut to crack.¡± Diana gave a sympathetic look. ¡°Pentarch wanted me to ask you to give your testimony about what happened- but if you¡¯d prefer to wait until you¡¯ve had more time to recover¡­¡±

    Vero shook her head and related the events of the battle as accurately as she could recall them. Diana took them all down on a piece of parchment, and Vero noted that she was lettered. When she was finished, Diana brushed Vero¡¯s hair out of her eyes for her, and Vero reflected that it was nearly time for her to shorten it again.

    The touch of Diana''s hand felt warm. Vero nuzzled against it, instinctively seeking the comfort of human contact. Speaking took most of her strength, she could feel slumber coming towards her once again.

    ¡°Are you well, Vero? Can I get you anything?¡±

    ¡°Will you hold me? Not tightly, I¡¯m in too much pain to stand it. I think I''ll be going back to sleep soon, but I¡¯d like to have someone warm with me. Perhaps that sounds foolish.¡±

    ¡°No, not at all. If you wish¡­¡± Her tone sounded closer to placating than honest, but in her present condition, Vero no longer cared.

    Diana eased herself carefully into the infirmary cot and put her arms around Vero in a gentle embrace. Vero rested her head against Diana¡¯s chest and closed her eyes.

    It was Vero¡¯s often stated opinion that the finest pillow one could lay one¡¯s head against was the breast of a beautiful woman. Diana was not particularly beautiful using the standards by which Vero judged women¡¯s appearances, but then, neither was Vero herself. However, the way Diana towered over her in size reminded Vero very much of her mother.

    Whenever she injured herself as a child ¨C which was very often, because of how frequently she would roughhouse with her brother ¨C no hurt ever felt as terrible while Mama held her.

    She could feel the strong muscles in Diana¡¯s arms, and she also liked the giantess¡¯ forward attitude. Diana may not have been beautiful, but Vero admired her in the same manner she admired the men who attracted her. She wanted to give Diana a kiss, but thought better of it.

    There was a hand rubbing her back, and Vero easily fell back into sleep.

    When Vero woke up again, Diana was gone.

    Conner was still in his own bed. Iosephus sat across the room and appeared to be brewing something in the alchemical apparati. No one else was present.

    Underground it was impossible to know what time of day it was.

    The pain across her body was still there, but it had subsided since her previous bout of wakefulness. Vero checked herself beneath her blankets. None of her major bones were broken, although she must have fractured something in her right hand, because it had been tightly wrapped to keep it immobile. Her face still felt puffy, but she had at least some vision with both eyes again.

    Someone dressed her in a chemise. Was she wearing that when she told her story to Diana? She had no memory of it.

    Vero tried to stand.

    Iosephus noticed her movement and turned an eye towards her. He said nothing, and made no move to stop her.

    Pain shot all through her, but her legs held up under her. She had been in worse states before. It was lucky she came through as well as she did. She ought to be thankful.

    She ambled over towards Conner and sat down beside him. His face was badly swollen and both his eyes were blacked.

    She checked the rest of him. His right arm was encased in hard clay to stabilize the bones until they knit themselves back together. Prayers to the Healing God written were written across the cast in Liturgical. Vero recognized the spellcraft in them to speed the mending for open fractures of both the ulna and radius.

    The lad had come off worse than she did. Unlucky.

    They were after her, he only happened to get in the way. It was brave of him.

    She had hoped she could convince them to let him go, or that she could keep them distracted long enough to let him slip away. Getting help would have been more useful to both of them than getting into a brawl beside her- but there was probably never any chance of getting him out past them anyway.

    The boy had enough courage to fight even when he knew they were almost certainly going to lose, and that spoke well of him, in Vero¡¯s opinion. They only escaped by fortune this time. In that case, there was no telling which of them paid the luck to pull their necks out of the nooses.

    You weren¡¯t able to protect him.

    Was that her responsibility? She thought of him as a boy, but he was obviously already out from beneath him mother¡¯s apron. Why should she feel the need to become his elder sister?

    Vero had no notion why she should feel guilt. Except that he happened, by chance, to be injured worse than she. Also, that he received those injuries doing something brave on her behalf.

    Another victim left behind you.

    He was still alive. He would recover with time and be well again. Vero said the prayers of healing she knew and lay down next to him. The cot was just as small as her own, but Conner was far smaller a companion than Diana.

    She cradled him gently to her chest.

 75. Those Desires Which Are Natural Part II

    They stayed in the infirmary all the next day.

    Conner finally woke late in the morning. Diana was summoned and took his statement as well. Lothair brought them their meals and ate with them, keeping up an unrelenting torrent of conversation. She noticed that none of the master slayers ever left them alone in the infirmary, so perhaps they thought another attack might be forthcoming.

    Pentarch brought books down to the infirmary, and they were able to study in the afternoon as normal. It was a blessing because lying useless in bed had already begun to drive Vero mad.

    She was halfway through an elven treatise on the nature of the opposition between sanguine humors ¨C warm and wet ¨C and phlegmatic humors ¨C cold and dry ¨C with focus on their interactions within the human body. She pondered why elves would write a treatise on human biology rather than their own- until she learned of the procedures they used to test their theories.

    When her studies were finished, they played his game with the colored stones together. Vero was becoming an expert at shuffling her pieces around the board. She still had yet to win, but she came very close more than once before he found some crucial flaw in her defenses she overlooked. Pentarch¡¯s tactics were methodical, grinding, and mildly craven in Vero¡¯s opinion. Even when she lost, at least she still played with dash. It was just infuriating the way it always came to naught against his careful positioning.

    ¡°What have you done about those bastards who attacked us?¡± Vero asked, while her opponent considered his move.

    Trapped in the infirmary as she was, it was almost impossible to get any news from the outside.

    ¡°The ones who escaped the ill-fated ambush with their lives, you mean?¡± Pentarch countered, in his typically infuriating schoolmaster tone.

    ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m interested in all of them. Have the ashes of the dead been spread yet? If not, I should like a chance to piss in their urns.¡±

    He brought his pikes to bear against her cavalry. ¡°I understand your anger. But I¡¯d advise you not to be so flippant about the men you¡¯ve killed. News of the battle has already inflamed tensions between the cliques, and I don¡¯t want you making things worse.¡±

    Vero and Conner each had replies on their tongues, and spoke over one another to deliver them. ¡°They attacked us!¡± ¡°I only killed one of them.¡±

    Pentarch ignored her, and replied to Conner¡¯s outburst. ¡°So you and Vero claim. And Iosephus backs you, for his part of it. Except that we are known to be allies. The others have already started claiming that this was a grand conspiracy by all of us to attack them.¡±

    Vero snorted derisively. ¡°A clever ploy I had. To take a lad without a weapon and someone¡¯s grandfather- with the intention to ambush a group of men armed with stouts clubs, who were only just innocently roaming the halls in hoods.¡±

    ¡°Of course, all the physical evidence supports your claims, but it¡¯s inconvenient to let facts stand in the way of a good story. I¡¯m sure that I¡¯m the one being blamed for that. If you all are liars, then I am a liar too, and we¡¯re all liars together. I planted all the evidence and hid all the assassins¡­ somewhere.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous!¡± Conner was outraged.

    ¡°Not to anyone who has already made up their mind,¡± Vero answered.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t underestimate a man¡¯s ability to invent any conspiracy, no matter how wild. Particularly if the alternative is to accept that evidence has proven him wrong,¡± Pentarch added.

    ¡°They won¡¯t go free, will they?¡± Conner sounded more hurt than worried.

    ¡°I should have made sure all of them were dead.¡± Vero observed blankly.

    ¡°This world is a harsh one, but there¡¯s no need to succumb to cynicism. The other attackers are currently languishing in the dungeons. Lothair, the Toad, and I will convene a judicial tribunal to determine their punishment. I¡¯m certain the Toad will do his best to ameliorate their sentence, but I believe that they shall be occupying prison cells for some time yet. I still recommend that both of you be circumspect when discussing the incident.¡±

    Conner turned over in his bed and pulled his blanket over himself.

    ¡°And how long shall I have to wait before the next attack comes?¡± Vero asked. ¡°I don¡¯t enjoy serving as a live target.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s our suspicion that they¡¯ll try something more subtle next time. The chaos they¡¯ve caused already has started to upset the neutrals who typically prefer to stay out of leadership politics.¡±

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    ¡°You may consider me chief among them,¡± Vero quipped.

    ¡°And I,¡± Conner added from under his blanket.

    Pentarch continued, ¡°I¡¯ve charged Lothair with preparing all your food personally. I¡¯ve ordered your room sealed, and I intend to have Iosephus go over it from top to bottom searching for curses before you sleep there again.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Vero advanced the infantry to defend her flank.

    She intended to do her own search of that room before she lay her head down there again.

    Diana promised to take her and Conner somewhere special that evening, to celebrate their recovery.

    Vero thought the lad might be too weak to join them, but he insisted he was alright. She needed to help him into his boots.

    Diana led them through a natural cavern accessible from one of the upper layers of the donjon. The cave eventually took them into a thin valley, which snaked through the sharp peaks that surrounded the fortress.

    There was only space enough for them to walk single file, but they were at least shielded from the wind. Large flakes of snow lazily glided down from the dark sky and occasionally reflected the aurora of light, the glow of which could only be seen indirectly.

    Then they emerged out into a wider area with a small pool of liquid water surrounded by slushy snowmelt. Steam slowly drifted upwards from its surface. Vero heard stories of mountains which carried their own heat and ran with warm water even in winter, but she had never seen an example before.

    ¡°Wait back there.¡± Diana directed Conner the way they had just come. ¡°Undress and we¡¯ll tell you when to come out.¡±

    Vero remembered the difficulty the lad had putting on his boots in the first place. ¡°Can you manage?¡±

    Conner blushed and assured her that he could. They waited for him to go out of sight before taking off their own clothes.

    Diana was bulkier than Vero and the hair on her legs was coarser. Her breasts were much larger, and Vero could not help but also notice that her nipples were frozen to hard points by the chill air. Not traditionally beautiful, perhaps, but Vero still admired her thick frame and the clear musculature in her arms.

    She slipped into the pool and Vero quickly followed her. The water was scalding after stepping out of the freezing snow, but Vero adjusted herself and found a comfortable position to sit in with the water up to her shoulders. Her aches began to subside almost at once into a slow throbbing.

    ¡°You can come out now, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re cold enough!¡± Diana called out.

    The lad rushed towards the spring, holding himself to keep warm as well as he could. Vero self-consciously averted her eyes until he had submerged in the hot spring, although she noticed that Diana did not.

    The giantess was grinning broadly. ¡°No need to be embarrassed lad. I¡¯m sure it gets larger in the summer.¡±

    Conner avoided looking at either of them, and Vero decided to let him be.

    ¡°How many in the fortress know these hot springs are here?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Diana laid back and let the nobs of her knees and toes break the surface. ¡°¡­not many. All the master slayers, the two of you- now. And whatever paramours have earned their way out here- I can tell you Philip has been here, at least. I can¡¯t tell you for certain who else the other three might have brought. Iosephus doesn¡¯t seem interested in that sort of thing. Too old now, probably. I¡¯m sure Pentarch must have a lover hidden somewhere among the maids- although I don¡¯t know her¡­¡±

    Diana did not seem to be aware of Pentarch¡¯s impotence. Or perhaps it was not so complete an incapacity as he led her to believe.

    ¡°¡­Lothair has brought at least two girls here- that I know of. Probably more. He¡¯s a rascal, that one. Has he tried pinching your bottom yet?¡±

    Vero shook her head.

    ¡°He will if you give him the slightest reason to think that you¡¯ll let him get away with it. He gives up if you tell him ¡®No¡¯ firmly enough, but make sure it¡¯s a very firm ¡®No¡¯. Unless you are interested, that is. Not a looker to be sure, but he knows how a woman likes to be handled better than most men- or so I¡¯ve heard.¡±

    Vero assure Diana she was not interested.

    She held up the lamp to try and see what was at the bottom of the spring. Vero could feel a shelf of flat stone directly beneath her, but it was too dark to see any more. ¡°How deep does this spring go?¡±

    ¡°Gods know,¡± Diana answered. ¡°There are a few crevasses down there, but the spaces aren¡¯t wide. You¡¯d risk getting trapped and drowning if you tried to explore it. I should think it would get hotter as you go deeper as well.¡±

    ¡°From what source does the heat emanate?¡±

    ¡°No one knows. I think Pentarch suspects it¡¯s the Fiend, somewhere under the mountain.¡±

    ¡°Do you believe that the Fiend really resides under these mountains?¡±

    ¡°Some sort of evil spirit? Unquestionably. The Fiend, as in, the supreme personification of evil? I think that¡¯s something of a stretch. Pentarch might believe it really is, but he¡¯s rather religious. Us giants concern ourselves less with otherworldly things than you smaller folk.¡±

    ¡°Does it not concern you that this pool might be caused by an outflowing of daemonic power?¡±

    ¡°Why would a daemon wish to create something so wonderful?¡±

    ¡°To bait the trap.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly the type of miserable thinking that will keep you alive forever.¡± Diana dismissed the notion and closed her eyes.

    Vero turned to Conner. ¡°Are you well? Not feeling faint, are you?¡±

    Conner shook his head. ¡°No, my Lady. Only a little sore.¡±

    ¡°You may call me Vero, if you like. Jean insisted on gifting me a title. I¡¯ve never seen the need for a surname.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my honor to be allowed to use your title, Dame Veronique- unless you command me to do otherwise.¡±

    ¡°I command nothing, do as you like.¡±

    ¡°Thank-you, my Lady.¡±

    ¡°The boy has less of a sense of adventure than you do.¡± Diana fetched water and wine skins, along with crude wooden traveling cups from her bag.

    Conner became flush and looked away when she briefly emerged from the water. Diana poured a cup for each of them.

    ¡°It¡¯s medicinal,¡± she informed them.

    Vero found it very sweet and pleasant. Diana kept her cup full, and Vero soon felt lightheaded. The wine and heat did relax her muscles, and her pains continued to fade until they were only a mild discomfort on the edge of her perception.

 76. Those Desires Which Are Natural Part III

    The wine affected Conner even more than Vero, and he started to doze. She kept a firm eye on him to be sure he did not slip under the water and drown. The pleasant buzzing in her head also led her closer towards Diana.

    ¡°How did a giantess come here in the first place?¡± Vero asked. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that it¡¯s not as uncommon for women to become hunters or warriors among your people as it is with us, but you seem to be the only giant within the Order.¡±

    Diana laughed. ¡°Yes, I sometimes forget that humans want to treat their women like they¡¯re made from glass. I suppose we¡¯re so used to being much stronger than other races that the marginal differences between male and female lose their relevance. I¡¯m only half-blood, mind you. My mother is over a foot and a half taller than I am. And she told me they sometimes made fun of her for being short as a girl.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it must have taken some bravery for a man of human proportions to court such a lady.¡±

    ¡°Well, we Vangrians have interbred with giants for millennia. Among us, he was considered a human due to some Imperial roots in his family tree, but my father was nearly seven feet himself.¡±

    ¡°I wondered how a giant came by a name like Diana. I¡¯ve heard stories about your people, but I¡¯ve never come so far north before.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s obvious enough in the lackadaisical way you pronounce your old Imperial.¡±

    ¡°Is it true that you have no kings?¡±

    ¡°Yes and no. Each tribe has a jarl, who rules as a king does- more or less. The jarls of southern tribes have even been known to act as electors in Teutonia. However, we pass no rights or privileges through heredity. The clan elders select the new jarl, typically when the previous dies. But they also assemble to remove a living jarl, if he proves himself unable to lead. Life is very harsh on the tundra, so we show less tolerance towards incompetence in our leaders than you do in the south.¡±

    ¡°A wise attitude, whether one¡¯s climate is harsh or not.¡±

    Diana smiled at her. ¡°I¡¯m glad you think so.¡±

    Vero put a friendly hand on her knee. ¡°Do your people often become slayers?¡±

    ¡°About as often as any other type of person, since the academy closed itself off from the outside world. Many Vangrians and giants served proudly in the old days.¡±

    ¡°How did you come to join the Order?¡±

    Diana¡¯s face turned hard, but it did not seem that Vero herself had caused the offence. After a moment of silence, she spoke. ¡°Almost two decades ago now, very soon after I first grew into a woman, Konstantine came to our clan while hunting a draugr. What you call a vampyre in the south.¡±

    ¡°I know the term.¡±

    Diana continued. ¡°Even then, Konstantine was the eldest of our order to still draw free breath. Along with Iosephus, he¡¯s the only full-blooded elf still among the Order not locked up in that damn tower.¡±

    Diana spat, as was her habit. ¡°He¡¯s more than a thousand years old, or so he told me. Although he still looks fair enough to my eyes for such a fossil. We were traveling the tundra, following the mammoth migration. My father was our clan elder, and sensed the vile presence even before the slayer¡¯s arrival. Konstantine sought shelter with our clan, and requested hunters to assist him in bringing down the abomination he sought. I know you¡¯ve lost the ancient traditions in the south, but we still follow the old ways, and my father agreed at once. I was among those to accompany the slayer, along with my mother, and my husband.¡± She paused.

    Vero had obviously tread upon a difficult story to retell. ¡°You don¡¯t need to say more- if it troubles you.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t profit a woman anything to let the past control her. We went with Konstantine, found the creature¡¯s resting place, dragged it out into the sunlight to burn, and celebrated our easy victory. We didn''t know that the draugr had foreseen our arrival, and blooded a decoy to lure away our best warriors. When we returned to our camp the next day, we found a slaughter- without bodies. That night the draugr fell on us with the animate corpses of my clan. I watched my mother kill my own father to grant him the final rest that striga denied him.

    ¡°The battle was ruthless and lasted almost the whole night. The draugr murdered Ragnar, my husband, with his own hands. He might have even killed Konstantine, if I hadn¡¯t stopped him with an arrow through the heart. When the sun finally rose, there were less than a dozen of us left.¡±

    ¡°I lost¡­¡± Vero began, before trailing off. ¡°My own story is similar¡­¡±

    ¡°They all are. Our profession is no more natural than those we hunt. A living creature only comes to it by certain means, and they¡¯re few in number. My mother led the remains of our clan to join the maiden-clan she was born into- but I could not go with them. My father and husband were dead, and someone ¨C something ¨C needed to pay that blood debt. I knew one destruction could never satisfy the yawning void I felt in my heart. I intended to exterminate those foul creatures until nothing preyed in the night, or until I fell in battle.¡±

    ¡°You became apprentice to Konstantine?¡± Vero asked.

    Diana nodded. ¡°He refused, at first. I don¡¯t think any slayer with a remaining shred of dignity in their breast could do otherwise. But he saw the look in my eyes, and knew it too well. I followed him¡­ learned from him¡­ and became close to him in the way men and women do. I never laid eyes on this fortress until I was already nearly a journeyman- he trained me himself. I only came here as a formality to end my apprenticeship- not so different from you, perhaps.

    "Should have brought another skin...¡± Diana drank the greater part of the first by herself, and her words were beginning to gently slur together. ¡°...two wineskins for three people- not enough. Nor enough for two and a half people either.¡± She barked a laugh.

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    ¡°Pour it into one cup, and we can share it,¡± Vero suggested.

    ¡°Sensible girl. Putting your mind to something useful, at last!¡±

    Vero ducked herself under Diana¡¯s arm to take a sip of wine, and did not remove herself when she was finished. ¡°Do you ever go on hunts? Now that you hold a rank like master slayer, I mean?¡±

    ¡°So many questions! I sometimes forget you haven¡¯t always been one of us.¡±

    Vero leaned against the giantess and rested her head across Diana¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It makes me happy to hear you say that. You¡¯re one of the few here I would like to consider a friend.¡±

    Diana had a funny sort of smile on her face. ¡°I think you may have had too much to drink.¡±

    ¡°No, not too much-¡± Vero¡¯s fingers started to explore the interior side of Diana¡¯s leg. ¡°-but answer my question.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sometimes. But not when so many masters are away from the fortress.¡±

    Her fingers played along Diana¡¯s thigh. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here with me now. How long has it been since you last left?¡±

    ¡°Two years now. And it feels it. I hope Demetrius returns soon- but I won¡¯t go on another hunt until your matter has been settled.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re very kind to me.¡± Vero kissed her cheek. ¡°Where has he gone- Demetrius. And when is he expected to return?¡±

    ¡°He went down into the Pict highlands. There''ve been stories of hauntings coming from there, probably barrow wights. But there¡¯s hardly any civilization there- no offense intended. I only meant that there¡¯s no way to know what¡¯s really happening. Stories are becoming less frequent, so he must be hard at work. He¡¯ll return when he¡¯s finished, with a whole flock of new apprentices, if I know Demetrius.¡±

    ¡°My father came from the highlands, but he stayed in Velois when he married my mother. I was raised there.¡±

    ¡°I though some root of your own family tree must come from there when I saw your hair. Pentarch¡¯s looked just the same before it turned grey. He would have been the one to go on that barrow wight hunt- Pentarch I mean¡­ but he was ordered to watch you. Listen Vero, that tickles¡­¡±

    Vero continued to kiss Diana along her face and down her neck. The giantess eventually needed to wrap her arm around Vero to hold her back.

    ¡°You taste so sweet; you must be sweating wine.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve had enough wine,¡± Diana replied.

    ¡°I told you I haven¡¯t.¡± Vero squirmed playfully, but Diana kept her hands pinned with a single armed embrace. Diana offered her the cup for another sip, which Vero accepted. ¡°But I promise I won¡¯t try to kiss you again so long as you hold me closer to you like this. What about the master who trained you? Where has he gone?¡±

    ¡°Konstantin is the next eldest after Iosephus- the next-eldest of those of us that can still stand fresh air, I mean. Not that Iosephus does so often. He¡¯s more than half an elf, but not enough that he isn''t considered low caste. He was already old when he brought me here as a novice. He left for the Alfsteppe more than a decade ago.¡±

    ¡°Has he sent word? Why haven¡¯t you sent a party to search for him?¡±

    ¡°Iosephus and Pentarch say he often stays away for long stretches of time. They knew him before he took me as an apprentice¡­ but I plan to leave and do as you suggest very soon.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps we could go together. I can make myself pleasant traveling company when I chose to.¡±

    ¡°You would be very welcome.¡±

    ¡°Hold me with both arms, won¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°No, I think you should sit further away.¡± Diana held Vero out at arm¡¯s length. ¡°If I wanted to bring a woman to my bed, there are several scullery maids who don¡¯t protest no matter who tries to tumble with them. My desires only extend to those that are natural between women and men.¡±

    Her words were not harsh, her eyes suggested something more like pity. Vero thought that might be worse.

    She slunk back at the rebuke, saying nothing. Diana was one of the few people in the fortress whose personal esteem mattered to her, so Vero hoped she had not offended her irrevocably.

    Regardless, she still accomplished her goal of learning the location of the remaining master slayers. Offended or not, at least Diana had not noticed anything suspicious in Vero''s interrogation.

    She had no intention of going into the Alfsteppe, but some of her possible escape routes could have taken her near the highlands. She decided that if she needed to make an escape, she would stay as far to the east as she could until she passed through Teutonia.

    Conner almost fell asleep, so Vero helped him out of the water. She dressed herself quickly, then helped Conner back into his own things. The lad obviously could not hold his wine, because he was out on his feet.

    Diana packed up everything they brought with them, and they all trudged back towards the fortress.

    Conner needed to pause and make water. He managed without Vero¡¯s help for the most part, fortunately, but then he fell into a snow bank on the way back to them and she needed to help him up.

    They returned to the infirmary, and Diana bid them goodnight before returning to her own quarters. Lothair was there to act as the night watch. He worked on his records and accounts to pass the time.

    Vero helped Conner back out of his boots once more and into bed.

    ¡°May I ask you something personal?¡± she whispered, quietly enough that Lothair would not overhear them.

    ¡°Anything you wish,¡± Conner answered, at a similar volume.

    ¡°Have you ever left this fortress?¡± The air around her felt very chill after the warmth of the hot spring. Vero slipped under the blanket beside Conner.

    ¡°Yes, on occasion. Lothair sometimes lets me accompany him on supply missions to our warehouse in Burgorod... down the ferry to the hidden farm¡­¡± He instinctively nestled into an embrace in a wine-soaked stupor, like a babe seeking its mother.

    The ferry to a hidden farm? That was an interesting piece of information for him to let slip. Questioning him about it further risked him noticing what he had done, but the lad obviously knew the way to this ferry, and that she could use.

    ¡°You¡¯ve never been farther than that city?¡± she asked.

    ¡°No¡­¡± His voice sounded lonely a moment, before brightening. ¡°...but once I reach the rank of journeyman, I¡¯ll be able to go where I like.¡±

    ¡°Do you actually wish to become a slayer?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°You never chose to be born here. If there was another way for you to leave here besides becoming a slayer, would you wish to take it?¡±

    He thought about it a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Didn¡¯t- I mean- don¡¯t you want to be a slayer?¡±

    ¡°For me, it¡¯s not a matter of want. I believe that it is my purpose in this life to hunt monsters. But I also know better than anyone that it¡¯s a hard and cruel life. You¡¯ve had a better opportunity than most to see the human wreckage this profession leaves behind. In a decade ¨C or maybe sooner ¨C that could be you. I would not wish this life on anyone that does not choose it of their own free will.¡±

    ¡°Well, it seems I won¡¯t have that choice. But I am determined that I won¡¯t be trapped here forever as part of the garrison¡­ or one of the domestics.¡±

    He was still gawky and awkward as he grew into his body, but handsome. Vero pondered the lad¡¯s age. How old was he?

    The same age when your master took you.

    Too young.

    Much too young.

    Vero put the matter out of her mind entirely. ¡°Do you have any brothers or sisters?¡±

    Conner shook his head.

    ¡°The dark elves of the south believe that any man who stands with you in the face of death is your brother. I would be pleased to call you my brother, if you wish.¡±

    ¡°Of course, my Lady.¡±

    ¡°Now, my only condition is that you stop calling me that. If you must be formal from this point on, call me your elder sister.¡±

    Vero wrapped him up tight in her arms, and he nestled against her chest. The drink was already putting him to sleep, and his words slurred as he lost consciousness. ¡°Sister... love¡­ you¡­¡±

    Vero closed her eyes and joined him in slumber.

 77. An Invitation to a Hunt Part I

    The tall buildings of Whitegate loomed up around Vero and kept her in shadow, despite the fact that it was just after mid-day. She looked around, waiting until the meeting she knew would occur, finally came.

    ¡°Hello, are you looking for someone?¡±

    The woman was beautiful. She had long dark hair, as well as an olive complexion, and a very shapely figure amply displayed by her revealing green dress. She was short, and soft, and kind.

    Vero reminded herself not to gawk, and smiled in as friendly a manner as she could. ¡°I am. Do you live here?¡±

    The woman smiled back. ¡°I do, my name is Theodora. Who are you looking for?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, perhaps it¡¯s you.¡± Dora looked confused, so Vero elaborated. ¡°I¡¯ve just arrived in the city and I haven¡¯t much money. I was told I could find a cheap room in this district.¡±

    ¡°Oh, where do you come from, friend?¡±

    Vero took Dora into her arms, but the girl did not appear to notice. ¡°I¡¯m Velian, from the barony of Loix, just north of the Whitewood. My name is Veronique.¡±

    ¡°How long will you stay here?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not certain. Long enough to earn some money, at least.¡± Vero kissed her neck, but Dora still appeared not to notice.

    ¡°I have a room. I live there alone, but you could stay there with me, if you like.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have much to pay at the moment, but when I¡¯ve found employment-¡±

    ¡°Ah! My mother has taken care of everything for me, I don¡¯t need any money. I can take you there now, if you like.¡±

    ¡°Gods bless you, Theodora.¡±

    Dora started to walk forwards and led her by the hand. ¡°Call me Dora.¡±

    ¡°I will if you promise to call me Vero.¡±

    Pentarch released her from the infirmary in the evening. Conner was still recovering from several fractures and needed more time to mend. Vero promised to come back and visit him the next day.

    They went through the chapel on their way back to her room, and Vero asked for time to say her vesper prayers. Pentarch agreed to wait for her in the gatehouse.

    Vero recited her rote prayers at Luna¡¯s shrine, then went to meditate.

    She quieted the noise in her mind and tried to find some order in recent events. Mama always told her that every problem holds a solution. She only needed to find it.

    A third of the fortress wished her dead. Another third wished her alive, and the final third wished to be left alone. Of the three groups, Vero felt she understood the motivations of only the last.

    She had an interest in keeping herself alive, of course. However, that was for reasons of self-preservation. What motivated the others to try and protect her?

    What about that strange mad priest? He must have some power which they did not understand, or how else could he have come there? Unless he was merely an agent of another, hidden, force. If that was the case, was Father Alexius aware of his shadowy patron, or not?

    And how was the sorceress involved in everything? Vero had a hard time imagining that a member of the most notorious conspiracy of wizards on the continent just happened to be present at the precise moment in time everything else was occurring.

    Yet, random chance did take a hand in events from time to time. The tighter the plots around her were, the more she would need to rely on random chance to provide her that crucial window to escape through. She might need to ignore her paranoia to take advantage of that chance when it came.

    She also might blunder blindly into a trap.

    Vero returned to the madman, for a moment. Father Alexius claimed to be a White Priest. She adjusted her position to face the shrine of the Veiled One in the extra dimensional space. It was directly opposite the shrine of Helios, and the white marble statue stood out in the dark there, shining like a lighthouse.

    She felt tension tighten her stomach. She turned her head to find Luna¡¯s light as necessary to calm her mind, but pressed on towards the Lady of Bones once more as soon as she could.

    It doesn¡¯t do to consider the Death Goddess too carefully. So many shades follow you already.

    Vero did not believe that Father Alexius had lied to them.

    As a rule, she did not believe that the gods took a direct hand in the world of mortals. At least not since the age of the scriptures. She had seen too much suffering to believe otherwise.

    If the divines were willing to take action in the material world, why did they not simply attend ecumenical councils and resolve disputes before they could become inquisitions, pogroms, or crusades? Why did the gods not simply explain what they wished from men?

    What was that priest? Who was controlling him?

    Or was he only an abnormality? A freakish occurrence of chance with no bearing on any of the plots around her?

    The oscillation of lines and curves began to speed their rhythm.

    If he was a wild factor, how could she use him to cause cracks in the conspiracy? The dark spaces beyond the walls beckoned to her, and offered their secrets. Without moving her body, Vero seemed to project her mind forward into that twisting black fog, towards that marble pillar.

    He would be there at a key moment.

    It occurred to her that the spellcraft in the chapel warped not only spatial dimensions, but temporal ones. She could see the momentous event ahead of them through the currents of backflowing time. Father Alexius would share that moment with her.

    Vero could make out no detail of the event. She did not perceive it as physical space. Rather it was a blossoming, in which many possible paths and choices connected into a single point, before then dividing back into ten thousand shifting strands once more.

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    She looked at so many strands and felt a terrible chill in them. She realized that she no longer lived within them. She searched for those in which she still felt the pulse of her own life force, but as she drew nearer them, she found only fear, misery, and revulsion held within.

    It was so frustrating to see only in time, with no sense of place. She continued to search ¨C strand by strand, in growing mania ¨C to know that there was some outcome where she was not dead or in horror.

    No matter how she tried, each future only offered her abject suffering, or the empty certainty of death.

    The future looked so horrible that without consciously willing it, Vero found herself projecting away, towards the safe comforts of the past.

    The sweet release in a lovers¡¯ arms. Veils were parting.

    Mama¡­?

    Fool girl!

    Vero had a momentary sensation of falling, before jerking herself upright.

    She must have dozed off while meditating. Vero yawned, then went to leave and hoped she had not kept Pentarch waiting too long.

    He made no comment when she reached the gate house, and they went out onto the wall together. Pentarch unlocked the door and opened it. Vero waited for him to go inside first, then followed.

    The hearth-fire had gone out, and the room was cold. Nothing appeared out of place. Someone even took the time to fix up the sheets and blankets on the bed; Vero never bothered.

    Everything looked to be put in its place. Except for a bit of soot on the floor around the fireplace.

    Pentarch held out a keyring. There were eight identical iron keys on it.

    ¡°I¡¯ve confiscated every key to this room.¡± He took one key off the ring and put in in a pouch on his belt, then handed the rest to her.

    ¡°Iosephus is certain the room is safe?¡± she asked.

    ¡°He spent the whole day in here going over every inch in detail. He assures me that you¡¯ll be perfectly safe.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll forgive me if I don¡¯t take you at your word.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t respect you if you did.¡±

    Vero lit the fire with her tinderbox. ¡°I suppose I shall be hauling my own firewood in here from now on. If we don¡¯t want the domestic staff coming and going.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll order them to leave it for you in the guardhouse. You will need to bring it in here yourself, however, yes. I¡¯ll have one of the men, or perhaps Diana, meet you here every morning. You¡¯ll be escorted back here in the evening as well.¡±

    ¡°You could have put those measures into effect the moment I arrived.¡±

    ¡°I presumed you would have chafed at the matter of a chaperone.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m chafing at it now.¡±

    ¡°So, I was right. I did send the boy Conner to watch you. Not that he needed much encouragement in that regard.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s very sweet. And also, still just a child. I don¡¯t think much of the way you put him into danger.¡±

    ¡°I hoped that the presence of any witness meant that there would be no danger. To date, I confess, I had not expected such blatant viciousness. Typically, our enemies use subtler ¨C though no less deadly ¨C means. I''m still not certain what this change in tactic portends. If Conner does become one of us though, then he¡¯ll be no stranger to danger. He''d best get used to it now.¡±

    ¡°And how long do we go on like this? I warn you that I must be gone by the end of spring at the latest. There¡¯s a woman waiting for me.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re speaking about the one you introduced as your wife when you were still pretending to be Virgil, I presume.¡±

    ¡°I introduced her as such, and so she is. She cooks my food, cleans my clothes, and we lay down together at night. What would you call that?¡±

    ¡°As you wish. I¡¯m doing my utmost to ensure that you return to her as soon as possible. I¡¯ve been asked to see the Curia myself tomorrow. Perhaps we shall see some movement towards securing your freedom. The true details of these attacks have had time to circulate, and the mood of the men is not with the Curia¡¯s dithering. They can¡¯t ignore that for long, so they¡¯ll need to do something.¡± The fire had finally flared up enough to start emitting some heat. ¡°You should get some rest. You¡¯re back to physical training again tomorrow morning.¡±

    Vero nodded.

    Pentarch went to the door. ¡°Pleasant dreams.¡±

    And he left.

    Vero listened to the ambient silence of the room for a moment. Nothing seemed out of place.

    She went back outside to relieve herself while she waited for the fire to grow. She was only gone for a few minutes, but she still made sure to keep the door locked while she was gone.

    Once she was back inside, she locked the door again. Then she took off her boots, gloves, and cloak. She sat down by the fire and tried to stoke it up as quickly as possible.

    Nothing seemed out of place.

    For no other reason except to keep warm, Vero moved around the room and examined the walls and floor for traces of spellwork. There were minor charms to keep out the cold, but Vero noticed nothing suspicious in them. No matter how thoroughly she examined them.

    There was nothing under the bear skin rug, nor behind any of the furnishings. The furniture itself was clean, even in the clever spots hidden between and under the drawers where cunning sorcerers liked hide spells.

    The fire had really come to life by the time Vero started moving the bed, and she even began sweating from the exertion. There was nothing on, in, or under the bed either. Vero even felt a little guilt for how thoroughly she had upset the well-ordered bed clothes left for her.

    She shoved the bed back roughly where it had begun. Then threw the sheets, pillows, and blankets back on it, before collapsing on top of them.

    The room was now nicely warm. Vero eventually got up again to undress. Once she was out of her day clothes and into her sleeping shift, she flopped back onto the bed. At last, she was content that perhaps there really was nothing amiss.

    She yawned and stretched with languid movements.

    The change in her weekly infusions was making her libido even more overactive than usual. She was also brimming with confidence and enjoying it.

    Let all those bastards come at her, she knew how to deal with their lot. She already killed one and blinded another. See what happened to the next whoreson that tried something.

    Vero closed her eyes and saw the naked form of Phillip take shape before her mind¡¯s eye. His proportions mostly came from her imagination, so they might have been exaggerated. Vero did not care. His face was handsome, his body was well-muscled, and he was ready for her service.

    ¡®Dame Veronique!¡¯ he tsked.

    Even when she killed in self-defense, the faces of the dead often troubled her in her dreams. This time she felt nothing.

    The law of nature was to kill or be killed. If it was they who chose to abandon the ethos of civilization, they could not then claim immunity from the consequences.

    Phillip dissolved and Diana took his place, with her heavy breasts and strong arms. No imagination was required. Vero already saw every inch of her, and committed each of them to memory.

    ¡®How shameless. How wanton. Trying to steal my man.¡¯

    The fantasy of Diana¡¯s arms wrapped themselves around her.

    I wish that I could make it up to you. I could be so sweet to you, if only you would let me.

    ¡®You¡¯ll be my little sweetheart? My woman?¡¯

    Oh, yes! Anything for you, my love.

    The judder of the penetration went all through her, when her blade cracked into his skull. Vero intended to kill all her enemies eventually, but she would wait for the right opportunity.

    She did not enjoy thinking that way about something human, but it was they who had declared war. And it was they who had sunk at once to war¡¯s lowest degradations of character. Death was no less than they deserved.

    The figure of Diana faded. She was replaced by Pentarch.

    He was younger, the lines in his face were softer. His hair was no longer grey, but red. He reminded her of her father.

    She was safe there in his embrace. She wanted to just sink into his arms forever, and¡­

    Nothing seemed out of place.

    Except for the soot!

    The maid had even made the bed, but the stove was covered in soot.

    Vero jumped out of bed and put out the fire.

    She looked up the chimney. The way was not straight, so she could not see the outside. The way became narrow just beyond the mantle of the fireplace, but there was a lip on the interior side.

    The spell work was very thin, but she eventually found the signs.

    She could not be certain what it was intended to do. She saw scrying magic in it, but there was much unfamiliar about its workings. If there was a curse in it, she had no notion what it was.

    Silently, and without any wasted movement, Vero went to her pack and brought her tool kit back to the fireplace. She carefully circled the spell with her own wards to mute it.

    It took a couple of hours of careful labor, sitting painfully on her knees, but at last it was done. She climbed out of the fireplace with stiff limbs. The room was agonizingly cold and she lit up the stove at once to warm it again.

    Pentarch asked Iosephus to search every inch of this room for spells or curses. Was he negligent?

    The soot suggested that whoever hid the spell came in after the domestics set the room right. Iosephus and Pentarch would have supervised the cleaning after their search.

    Which one of them set it? Or did Iosephus set it under Pentarch¡¯s orders?

    Someone had set it.

    Vero went back to bed, and went to sleep with her dagger under her pillow.

 78. An Invitation to a Hunt Part II

    The next day, during their afternoon studies, Pentarch told her that the other master slayers and himself would meet her in the chapel during her vesper prayers.

    When Vero arrived, she found Pentarch, Iosephus, and Diana in conference with one another. They were speaking in hushed voices and did not acknowledge her, so Vero kept a respectful distance and offered prayers to Luna. The tapping of his cane on the stonework announced Lothair¡¯s presence before he arrived.

    When they were all present, the entire group reassembled in the center of the room. Iosephus took a dagger and ritual bowl; he opened a cut along the palm of his right hand and allowed the blood to drop into the bowl. Then he handed the bowl and weapon to Pentarch who did the same. The process continued until everyone had offered their blood, including Vero.

    Although she did not know the purpose of the ritual, she also did not see that she had any choice other than participation.

    When the bowl traveled the length of their circle and returned to Iosephus he spoke a few snatched phrases of Liturgical and Sylvan before upturning it over the dais. The blood splattered across the stone surface, which had already been marked in many places with runes in chalk.

    Then he announced, ¡°It is done. We will not be interrupted.¡±

    ¡°I have Conner under orders to watch the sorceress, just in case,¡± Pentarch whispered to her, before stepping forward to chair the meeting.

    Vero resisted a smile.

    ¡°The Curia have come to a decision about your case. You and I have been assigned a hunt. If we are successful¡­¡± Pentarch smiled depreciatingly towards her. ¡°¡­your apprenticeship will be ruled to have been valid and you shall be granted the rank of journeyman. At that point, you¡¯ll be permitted to come and go from the fortress as you please, theoretically. I can¡¯t guarantee they won¡¯t try something new. But if they do, we¡¯ll be in a stronger position to deal with them.¡±

    ¡°That all sounds fine enough, but I don¡¯t trust them. What is this hunt?¡± Vero asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re right to suspect them. If my guess is correct this is only another attempt to kill you, and possibly me as well. How much do you know about the Black Palatine?¡±

    Vero knew him, but by reputation only. ¡°He¡¯s the most powerful vampyre in the world, or at least the most powerful who allows himself to be known publicly. He was an Imperial before his death, but that was centuries ago. He rules the land on the other side of these mountains and holds several lesser vampyre lords as feudal vassals.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s about what I expected. Iosephus can tell you his complete biography as we know it-¡± Iosephus drew in a breath, but Pentarch rushed to forestall him. ¡°-as that will take some time, you should go to see him later. Everything you said was correct, but recently he¡¯s been trying to press his claims as an elector again. And the longer this interregnum continues, the more likely his chances at success become.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡± Vero had seen Teutonia in a religious mania on her journey. She hardly thought them on the verge of granting any concessions to an undead prince.

    ¡°If this political stalemate continues, anything that breaks it will eventually be looked on with favor. But I agree that such a coup does not seem to be imminent. Our task shall be to destroy him now, before it comes any closer.¡±

    ¡°Surely, if it was so simple, it would already have been done long ago.¡±

    ¡°Correct. Hunters have been sent before; none have ever returned. This time we have intelligence that he¡¯s placed himself into a vulnerable position outside of his personal domain. He¡¯s taken up residence near the dayside of the mountains with one of his vassals, to pursue his schemes. We intend to use this opportunity to poison him.¡±

    ¡°How does one poison a vampyre?¡±

    ¡°With great difficulty, and willing access to one of his blood sources.¡± Vero began to feel a creeping sense of anxiety as Pentarch continued. ¡°We¡¯ve developed a ritual. A very carefully crafted ritual, intended to alter the humors within a subject¡¯s body. Their blood becomes a dormant yet virulent poison to the vampyre who feeds from them.¡±

    ¡°And what happens to the subject themselves?¡±

    ¡°They will be unharmed by the ritual. The poison should work fast enough that the vampyre won¡¯t have time to kill them.¡±

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    ¡°Who created this ritual?¡±

    ¡°The Curia developed it themselves. I can¡¯t tell you anything more than that, because I don¡¯t know any more. I don¡¯t like that anymore than you do, but there¡¯s nothing more to be said about it. We have examined the ritual thoroughly, however, and it we believe it will work as they say it will.¡±

    ¡°Are we going to test this ritual before we attempt to use it against the most powerful undead monstrosity in the north?¡±

    Lothair answered her, ¡°The poison is specialized to a specific subject. It won''t work on any other striga, but we are sure that it will work.¡±

    ¡°I understand your concerns,¡± Pentarch was doing his best to sound convincing. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you¡¯ll be any safer here if you refuse the hunt. This way we can at least force the Curia to offer you some kind of a conclusion.¡±

    ¡°Will I have my things returned?¡± Vero asked.

    ¡°Everything except for the sword.¡± Vero was prepared to object, but Pentarch halted her by raising his hands. ¡°I know you aren¡¯t happy about that either, but the matter isn¡¯t open for debate.¡±

    Vero had already decided that she did not want to spend a moment longer inside that fortress, but she was not certain this hunt was the best way to make that escape a lasting one. ¡°I don¡¯t object to the hunt itself, but I don¡¯t trust the Curia or their plan. They wouldn¡¯t send us if they thought we stood a chance of success.¡±

    Pentarch nodded. ¡°I tend to agree. They¡¯ve forbidden me from taking another slayer with us, but I have an idea where we might find an ally they wouldn¡¯t expect. Besides that, we shall simply need to trust our own wits and abilities.¡±

    ¡°Show me this ritual.¡±

    ¡°Magister, we wish to have words with you.¡± Pentarch took the seat across from the sorceress.

    Vero stood behind him silently, with her arms folded across her chest.

    ¡°Have the Curia come to a decision?¡± Isolde asked, with faux-civility.

    ¡°About your matter? No. And they never will.¡± He spoke very brusquely.

    ¡°Your training in the arts of diplomacy are sorely lacking, master slayer.¡±

    ¡°They intend to delay and make no reply until you give up and leave.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t give up.¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯ll stay here forever, unless you come with us.¡±

    Isolde¡¯s face grew a bemused smile. ¡°What are you plotting, Pentarch?¡±

    ¡°I know wizards are fond of treaties, and documents, and agreements, and signatures, but that¡¯s not how things are done here. You personally came here to see slayer magic first hand. I can offer you that. Your association of friends wants an alliance to stop the undead hunting on the dayside of the mountains. We¡¯ve been given a mission by the Curia to destroy the one responsible for sending them in the first place. If you join us, I will take it on my own authority to grant you equal access to any intelligence about their activities recovered as part of that task.¡±

    ¡°And who is ¡®we¡¯ exactly?¡±

    ¡°Myself and Vero.¡±

    Isolde shook her head, bemused by the notion. ¡°The three of us alone against the Black Palatine in his own demesne? You¡¯re completely mad.¡±

    ¡°All it takes is one assassin to kill someone. Even an emperor,¡± he countered. ¡°And there is a plan.¡±

    ¡°What is this plan?¡±

    Pentarch stood and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you only if you swear an oath to fulfill our quest. And only after you accompany us to the other side of the mountains.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like a very favorable deal for me.¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯ll remain here until your associates realized you¡¯ve failed and they recall you. If you¡¯re even allowed to leave, that is.¡±

    Isolde appraised them both with a very cold expression. ¡°I take back what I said about your diplomacy. It seems you¡¯ve mastered the very meanest form of negotiation.¡±

    ¡°Do we have an agreement, or not?¡±

    Isolde sighed. ¡°It seems I have no choice.¡±

    Vero stayed on her guard against attack, but it seemed that once word of her suicide mission was out, the slayers preferred to let the vampyres deal with her.

    Pentarch returned her armor and all her equipment, aside from her sword. Even her poppy milk, which she put away without using. When she asked for some blade longer than a dagger, he told her to meet him at his room in the men¡¯s dormitories that evening.

    Vero had avoided visiting Alexius since her time in the infirmary. If she was leaving though, she thought that she ought to at least say good-bye.

    There was a strange look in Alexius¡¯ eyes when she arrived. ¡°Are you well, Lady Veronique? I haven¡¯t seen you since the attack.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m alright now. I wasn¡¯t hurt so bad as Conner, fortunately.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear about the boy. It¡¯s a shame those men chose the path they did. They left you no option except to defend yourself. Their deaths are not on your conscience.¡±

    Vero smiled. ¡°I won¡¯t turn down your religious license for the act, but I¡¯ve already absolved myself in my own mind.¡±

    ¡°All is well then.¡±

    Vero picked at the dinner she brought with her. ¡°I¡¯m going to be leaving for a time ¨C I can¡¯t tell you where ¨C I¡¯m not sure when I shall return.¡±

    Alexius was not surprised, Vero actually thought he was waiting for her to tell him as much. ¡°I must go with you, my Lady. I was sent here to find you. Until we learn why, I think it would be best if I stay as close to you as possible. The dark presence that lingers here makes these mountains very perilous, and I fear for your wellbeing.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s absolutely no way Pentarch would agree to that.¡±

    ¡°You could convince him. This thing you¡¯re going to do is dangerous, is it not?¡±

    She was a slayer; his guess was hardly a prescient one. ¡°Yes, very dangerous.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going over to the nightside of the mountains.¡± Statement, not a question.

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a priest of the Veiled One, I¡¯ve studied death all my life. I swear that I can be of some use to you, and I won¡¯t slow you down.¡±

    He looked rather frail, but he made it all the way to the fortress and showed no ill-effects. Demonstrably, he was sturdier than he looked. They were so shorthanded; it was possible he actually could be of some use- although Vero could not believe she was considering it.

    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ speak with him about it this evening.¡±

    ¡°I ask for no more.¡±

 79. An Invitation to a Hunt Part III

    Vero met with Iosephus in the library reading room. He wordlessly led her down to the bottom level and into his private room.

    It was filled with books over every shelf, table, chair, and even the bed. Several of them were from the library above, but a few looked like personal journals. He showed no indication of offering her any hospitality.

    ¡°I prepared a record of all our intelligence regarding the Black Palatine.¡± He handed her a rough bound folio. ¡°Some of that information is restricted. Familiarize yourself with it, but leave it here.¡± He said nothing more, and paid no further attention to her.

    Vero watched him pick up an astrological tome regarding eclipses, then flipped through her own book. The Black Palatine lived in the time of the old Catholic Imperium, centuries before the free successor kingdoms left the empire to forge their own destinies.

    This portion of his life was well documented, considering the age of the records. His early childhood was a mystery, but he was adopted into the emperor¡¯s own house as a young man. The name he was adopted under was Varrus, but whatever his birthname was had been long since lost to time.

    He was a warlord for his adopted father, and was eventually granted the title of Ceaser, which was at that time the supreme head of the Imperial Legions, beneath only the emperor himself. His campaigns were well chronicled; efficient, but brutal. He ruthlessly crushed dissent on the borders and led punitive campaigns into the Pict lands and modern Teutonia.

    His wars brought the Imperium¡¯s borders to their maximum extent, but his conquests were unstable and impractical, too expensive to maintain. Several decades after his death, the emperor-general Justinian brought the Imperium back to more defensible borders and ushered in the final Imperial golden age.

    Even before his death, Ceaser Varrus was remarkably unpopular in the Imperial City itself. Iosephus included many political tracts from his contemporary opponents. Those views were biased, so Vero didn¡¯t trust them implicitly. She took their rumors seriously at least, if not literally.

    His foes associated him with high taxes, deliberate cruelty, and black magic. He frequently ordered his slaves executed for minor mistakes, consorted with witches, and took unseemly social habits from the barbarians he oppressed. Or so the pseudo-intellectuals of his time claimed.

    Eventually, he became so odious to the Imperial elite that the emperor was forced to strip him of his rank. Instead, he used Varrus'' reputation to new advantage by making him the Imperial spymaster. It was at this time he took the name Black Palatine.

    His tactics as a spymaster relied on assassination, torture, and extortion. This also won him no friends, and he often kept himself safely away from the Imperial court. Near the end of his life, he retreated to the northwestern edge of Imperial territory. Very close to where she was presently, in the Star Mountains.

    Already he had openly disavowed all the gods, and in exile made no attempt to hid his affiliation to dark magic. Several attempts by religious authorities to sanction him were circumvented by the emperor he served.

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    At last, the Black Palatine publicly announced that he had transcended humanity as a vampyre. The hows were obscure, although the Slayer Order of the time named several elder vampyres they believed could be responsible- each of those striga had since been put to the torch long before Vero¡¯s own time.

    The Black Palatine certainly did not act like a newly spawned vampyre in a coven, and immediately set out to pursue his own personal agendas. Although, Vero thought perhaps he could still have been a pawn of a greater undead, who may or may not have been destroyed since.

    Open vampyrism was too much to be stomached, and he was at last declared apostate. There was a brief civil war over the affair, but few flocked to the Black Palatine''s blood-soaked banner. In the end he retreated back across the Star Mountains, and played political games with the other vampyric voivodes there.

    Over time, he came to dominate the night side of the mountains, but his attempts to reach out to the dayside were consistently rebuffed. Slayers brought down many of his contemporaries and elders, but somehow, they never reached him.

    After studying it at length, Vero closed the folio. Iosephus had moved on to a tome on the mystic potential in borders, barriers, bridges, and portals.

    ¡°Are you finished?¡± Iosephus asked, without looking up from his book.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± He closed his book. ¡°You should be careful, Veronique. There are many great fools in the Curia who do not wish you to return alive from this hunt.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve surmised that already, but thank-you for your warning. You are certain I¡¯ll survive altering my blood into this poison, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, absolutely certain. That¡¯s the first thing they¡¯d try, but none of them has ever been a match for me in spellcraft. It¡¯s important, to me, that you return here safe and well.¡±

    Vero had not expected such warmth from the old elf. ¡°Thank-you. I¡¯m glad to have at least some friends in this place.¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ perhaps we shall have more pleasant times when you return. We can watch the eclipse together.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡± Vero reminded herself not to be too quick to trust. He was one of two men who could have left that spell in her room. ¡°Did you know the Curia before they secluded themselves in that tower?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ a long time ago.¡±

    ¡°What can you tell me about them?¡±

    ¡°They are men and women the same as any other. They were neither the strongest, nor the wisest, nor the bravest, nor the most cunning. They merely lived the longest. Chance became experience, experience became authority, authority granted power. They¡¯ve used that power to survive, but only by a slender thread of spider silk. Nothing matters to them any longer, except extending that life. It makes them dangerous; it also makes them blind.¡±

    ¡°Do you think they could turn to vampyrism as the Black Palatine did?¡±

    ¡°A few would, small minded dullards. I¡¯m sure they¡¯re the ones trying the hardest to have you killed. Most of them have more sense than that. They want eternal life- true eternal life. Not endless death, and that¡¯s all the curse of the striga brings. They¡¯re the ones we need to prove your value to. Once you come back alive, they¡¯ll see how critical to our order you really are.¡±

    Vero had never heard any emotion from the librarian before this moment, and the sudden passion in his mild grandfatherly voice surprised her. It made her reweigh the balance of her suspicions.

    ¡°Do you trust Pentarch?¡± she asked.

    ¡°He¡¯s superstitious, sanctimonious, and predictable. Unlike almost everyone else here, he¡¯s exactly what he claims to be. I trust him in so much as I consider him a known factor. He¡¯s with us as regards to keeping you alive, and that¡¯s what¡¯s salient at the moment.¡±

    And yet someone left that spell. If Iosephus was the liar, would he not try and turn her against Pentarch? Iosephus¡¯ earnest defense of Pentarch only made the leader of their group seem more suspect.

    Vero moved to leave.

    ¡°Be safe, Veronique.¡±

    ¡°And you.¡±

 80. An Invitation to a Hunt Part IV

    The apprentices, servants, and the garrison all slept in a single common room. Journeymen slayers were permitted private sleeping cells to use in pairs. Only the master slayers were granted the privilege of solitary rooms somewhere in the fortress. Iosephus slept beneath the library, Lothair''s room was adjacent to the kitchens, Diana and Pentarch each had a private chamber in the women¡¯s and men¡¯s dorms respectively.

    Vero heard a catcall as she passed through the dormitory, but when she turned and faced the culprit directly, he declined to say anymore. The sudden retreat drew some laughs from his companions.

    She knocked on Pentarch¡¯s door, it was unlocked and opened. Pentarch let her inside, then closed and locked the door behind her.

    The room was small. There was no free space, only a bed, a long trunk, and a cramped writing desk with a few books atop it. The place smelled strongly of Pentarch. It was a cleaner sort of smell than the dormitories outside, and not totally unpleasant.

    ¡°Sit down.¡± He motioned her to the chair at the writing desk.

    They were pressed uncomfortably close as she sidestepped past him, but they each found a place to sit once they had space.

    ¡°I¡¯ve asked Isolde to cast divinations and find us a window in the weather to depart through. It won¡¯t be easy crossing to the other side of the mountains in winter, but we know a way through that should be passable. Lothair has already arranged supplies for our excursion.¡±

    Vero decided to come to her point directly. ¡°The priest Alexius wishes to accompany us.¡±

    His reaction was predictable. ¡°Absolutely not.¡±

    ¡°I think we ought to seriously consider the proposal.¡±

    ¡°This hunt will be difficult enough without introducing an uncontrollable rogue factor.¡±

    ¡°There are already so many uncontrollable rogue factors, I don¡¯t see one more making a difference. In fact, if this hunt has been planned to fail ¨C as it seems it has ¨C then we must rely on these random factors to have any hope at success.¡±

    ¡°The way I know is the easiest path through the mountains, but that doesn¡¯t make it easy. Especially not in winter. We shall already need to account for the sorceress, I don¡¯t want to have to carry the priest¡¯s weight as well.¡±

    ¡°He certainly doesn¡¯t look fit, but you can¡¯t deny that he somehow made it all the way here through the mountains in winter- and he arrived in better shape than I did. I¡¯m confident he¡¯ll hold up alright, and we could use another hand with our party so small as it is. He¡¯s not a slayer, so it won¡¯t violate your orders from the Curia to take him with us. The White Sisters have studied the secrets of death for thousands of years, and I¡¯m sure one of their brothers will have some use when we¡¯re surrounded by vampyres.¡± Vero believed everything she said, although she still doubted it would be enough to convince Pentarch.

    He paused and considered the matter for a long time. ¡°Very well, I¡¯ll tell Lothair to prepare a fourth pack of supplies.¡±

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    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Your reasoning is sound. I tend to approach problems conservatively, but things are getting desperate and it may be time to start accepting greater risks.¡±

    She was surprised, but not unpleasantly so. ¡°Well, that¡¯s alright then.¡±

    ¡°Now, we should come to the reason I called you here.¡± Pentarch unlocked his trunk with another key from his belt. Vero marked its size and shape, it currently sat two aside from the armory key on the ring.

    He opened the trunk, and removed a longsword from inside. ¡°I took something of yours, it seems only fair that I give you something of mine.¡±

    Pentarch held the sword out to her.

    Vero took it. The scabbard and grip were both plain leather, but the cross-guard bore markings. It was some form of heraldry, she believed it was probably the crest badge of a Pictish clan.

    ¡°Is this your family?¡± She pointed at the heraldry.

    ¡°It was. A slayer has no family or titles. You know that.¡± He sat on the bed and sounded tired.

    There was not room to draw the sword entirely, but she pulled it free far enough to check the quality of the blade. It was different metal than the plain wrought iron cross-guard. She was surprised to see the wave-like mottling, which identified it as oasis steel.

    ¡°Fine workmanship.¡± She put the sword away and mounted it on her belt.

    ¡°Take good care of it, journeyman. I shall want it returned.¡±

    ¡°Well, it seems we have something in common then.¡±

    ¡°More than one thing, I suspect.¡±

    ¡°This mission is a plot to kill you as well?¡±

    ¡°There are many members of the Curia who would shed no tears if I also did not return, but that¡¯s not what I meant. It was your father, wasn¡¯t it? Who gave you that hair?¡±

    Vero¡¯s hand instinctively went to the shock of red over her brow. It was past her eyes; she needed to cut it before they left.

    ¡°That¡¯s right. Mama was Velian.¡± Vero was not certain why she volunteered the second piece of information. Perhaps to subtly inform him that she also considered herself to be a Velian.

    ¡°Do you know which clan you belong to?¡±

    ¡°No. Father said he didn¡¯t have a clan any longer. That was why he stayed in the south with us.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to claim to secretly be my grandfather, I hope.¡±

    He wry smile developed all the way into a complete laugh for once. ¡°I¡¯m not old enough to be your grandfather.¡±

    ¡°Uncle then.¡±

    ¡°If we have a relation, it¡¯s not a close one.¡± He ceased to laugh. ¡°Every member of my former house is already dead.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m- sorry to hear that. My parents are dead. My brother as well.¡±

    ¡°How did it happen?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to discuss that.¡± Vero moved to leave.

    ¡°It was your fault, wasn¡¯t it?¡± His question brought her up short.

    She spun on him at once. ¡°What do you know about it?!¡±

    ¡°I know what it¡¯s like to be responsible for the death of someone you care about.¡± There was no antagonism in his tone, only weariness.

    ¡°They were killed by griffons, bred by a careless and cruel wizard. He neglected them until they escaped. They killed Mama, and Father¡­ and Virgil.¡±

    He raised an eyebrow hearing her brother¡¯s name, but said nothing of it. ¡°But you could have saved them. If you had been faster. If you had been stronger. Wiser, perhaps.¡±

    ¡°I was only a little girl! What was I supposed to do?!¡±

    ¡°Then why do you blame yourself?¡±

    ¡°Who says that I do?¡±

    ¡°Your actions do. You would never have made it here if you didn¡¯t have something behind you, driving you onwards. Our profession is not a natural one, it attracts only fools and broken men. And the fools die quickly. I can see that haunted expression you try and hide behind your eyes.¡±

    ¡°I wanted to see the griffon¡­¡± Vero felt her eyes water, but she did not cry.

    ¡°Yes¡­?¡±

    ¡°Mama left the church to find me¡­ and¡­¡±

    ¡°And she¡¯s that shade your running from? She doesn¡¯t blame you. No one does. But I know that won¡¯t keep you from blaming yourself.¡±

    Vero felt like all the anger had just bled out of her. Now she only felt as tired as Pentarch sounded.

    She ambled towards the door, but stopped. ¡°Who did you kill, Pentarch?¡±

    ¡°My daughter.¡± He said no more, and Vero left the room.

 81. Interlude 1: Alexius

    Alexius was sleeping in his cot when the Lady woke him. She roused him gently, but he opened his eyes and sat up at once.

    She told him that Veronique and her allies were coming to see him.

    Alexius climbed out of bed and approached the door. It was locked, of course, but he probed beyond with his mind and slowly formed an image in his head. Once the image was completely clear, he began to manipulate it, adjusting everything until it was all in perfect alignment.

    There was a light in the hallway, and two guards throwing dice. Alexius heard their thoughts without trying to. Carefully, he altered them, molding them like clay. Just like the tumblers in a locked door, they fell into a perfect alignment.

    Then they fell silent.

    When a man first goes to sleep his thoughts are quiet, like death. It takes time for the dreams to begin.

    The three of them are surprised to see the guards asleep on duty, but pleasantly so. They wish to go unseen. A wise precaution.

    Veronique is sent to fetch him. The door gently swung open.

    She was troubled that he was awake and ready for them. Alexius chided himself, he should have expected that. It also raised the alertness of the other two.

    The illusionist in particular had many plots they feared to have revealed.

    For the first time in years, Alexius felt a creeping sense of anxiety. That passion was clouding the clarity of his vision.

    The Fiend was more powerful than he believed possible.

    He¡¯s awake, Veronique thought.

    ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± Veronique said.

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    ¡°My sleep was troubled by restless dreams. Are we departing now?¡±

    Yes. Give him the pack.

    ¡°Yes, this is your pack.¡±

    Alexius took the bag and put it on his back.

    It¡¯s too heavy for him.

    ¡°Can you manage?¡±

    It was extremely heavy, so he made it light enough that it placed his body only under a minor strain. ¡°Yes, just needed a moment to settle the weight right.¡±

    The master slayer was questioning his decision to bring the priest with them, but he would not alter it. Alexius had seen to that, but no more.

    Alexius learned, through painful experience, that it was best to directly alter others minds as little as possible. Only when forced by extreme circumstance. It was much wiser to guide their decisions, and let intrinsic motivations propel their actions.

    He needs to keep quiet, thought Veronique.

    ¡°We intend to leave unnoticed,¡± said Veronique.

    All her hidden suspicions about everyone in the fortress, himself included, played across Veronique¡¯s mind. Alexius was already familiar with all of them.

    ¡°I understand. Shall we go?¡± His lack of emotion perplexed all of them, but they were too concerned with their imminent departure to dwell upon it.

    They passed the guards and left by a hidden postern in the food stores. The night was cold, but still. One might even imagine there was no such thing as sound on such a night.

    Out in the open and in the quiet it was easier to hear the voice of the Goddess.

    All paths into or out of the valley were closely watched and warded. Yet they passed unnoticed. Pentarch led them away from most observers, and Alexius shielded them from the rest. Even, and especially, those Pentarch was not aware of.

    Then they were outside of the fortress and beyond the magic of those who dwelt there. It was a relief to leave that corrupted place; the castle polluted by old things too afraid to sleep, and die even for a moment. However, even as he freed himself from one aura of oppression, another presented itself.

    The Fiend under the mountain sensed him at once. It felt his presence and it desired him.

    It was bound deep under the rocks and soil, and it could sense the world of men only faintly. It saw only echoes and shadows, but Alexius knew his soul shown out so brightly that the Fiend could not help but see him- even in its world of endless dreams.

    Alexius could feel tendrils probing and grasping for some point of leverage, a weakness it could take and twist, but he was not afraid. Alexius walked with the Lady, and the Fiend could not reach him. The Fiend threatened and cajoled him, but his mind was still.

    Images of riches appeared before him, a kingdom with men-at-arms willing to kill or die by his command, beautiful women offering him their bodies.

    Alexius ignored them and the Lady led him onwards, towards his destination. The Fiend raged, but Alexius did not allow himself to feel pride.

    He served the Goddess, and that was enough.