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“I am sorry, Kasia, but too many of our men saw you in the house, and the priests are bound to have a spy here. They have spies everywhere, and they will kill all of us, and our families, if we don’t send you back. You know that.” Shaking his head, Gresha stood up. A single tear ran down his face. Kasia saw it, and she started to sob.

  Dochia arrived in her room at noon. During the day, she could enter and leave the Sanctuary through the three main gates, and there was no need for Ai to help her. The Wanderer had strong enough blood to use those gates, as did many other priests and acolytes of the Serpent.

  “Ai,” she called, knowing that the young woman was always listening.

  “Yes, Dochia.”

  “Umbra has agreed to meet you.”

  “When?” There was an eagerness in Ai’s voice that made Dochia smile.

  “Would tomorrow evening work for you?”

  “Yes. Do you know why he agreed? I know that it will not be easy for him to enter in a confined space, without windows.”

  “Perhaps he wants to see a new kind of magic, just as you do,” Dochia laughed.

  “I don’t think that we are similar,” Ai said, thoughtfully.

  “And that makes both of you even more eager to meet.”

  “How is Kasia?”

  “She is in good shape. I left her training with Irina. Our young girl is making good progress.”

  “Training is good. Soon, she must return and start to train here.”

  “Is that really necessary?” Dochia forced herself to stay calm. To breathe long and slow.

  “You are tough, Dochia, and the blood is strong in you, but it’s not strong enough for what you need to do. Kasia has strong blood too. You need help, and Kasia is stronger than you think. She is still young, indeed, but so were you once. Train her well. We should bring her here in two or three months. I will prepare a hidden room for her. Don’t worry; it will be in an isolated area where Meriaduk and the other priests can’t go.”

  “Would Kasia be able to leave the Sanctuary without you?”

  “No. At least, she can’t leave the hidden place without me, but she can leave the Sanctuary through the secret door. That door she can open. She has the blood.”

  “Ai,” Dochia said gently. “Don’t you see the flaw?”

  “The flaw you are thinking of is not real. I will always be here, until the Sanctuary is closed.”

  “Accidents can happen.”

  “There will be no accidents,” Ai said, slightly irritated, letting Dochia know that, when all was said and done, she was alone in her room.

  Close to the midnight, loud knocking disturbed the silence of the home that was now Kasia’s prison. Most of the men were already sleeping, after a hard day. They feared and hated Iovon. Now they only hated him. They hated him even more.

  “I hope you are not troubling us for nothing,” the sentry snapped, coming to the door. “Who is there?” His angry voice reverberated through the small hall and passed through the thick door.

  “The Serpent be with you, son. Open the door.” The voice, coming through the hard wood, was not angry, but the sentry felt it whipping him.

  “Yes, priest.” He opened the door and bowed deeply. As he did so, he saw the great silver insignia carried only by the Vicarius.

  The Vicarius touched the man’s brow in benediction and entered, followed by two more priests, who acted as his guards. A Vicarius never left the temple without guards. They were as important in Nerval as they were hated. Only Meriaduk was more important and more hated than them. In contrast to the warmth of the past day, the night had brought the first frost of the autumn, and the priests were dressed in rich, hooded pelerines, marking their rank, over their woolen clothes. Cold, the wind entered the house with them, through the open door. The sentry shivered from both fear and cold.

  “Thank you, Vicarius,” the sentry breathed. He was elated by the benediction; the priests were usually sparing with them, and coming from a Vicarius made it even stronger. Afraid to ask the reason for their visit, he waited patiently.

  “It has come to our attention that you are holding a young bird that flew the Serpent’s nest, a few weeks ago.”

  Who betrayed us? the sentry worried, sensing danger in the priest’s cold tone, a hoarse whisper, as if he had caught a cold before coming here.

  “Yes, priest; the girl is here.” It was Gresha who spoke his time, walking through the hall, and the priest turned toward him. Seeing the insignia, Grehsa bowed until his head was level with his knees. “Vicarius, please forgive me; I did not know who you were.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I am Gresha, the new leader.”

  “I wonder why we were not told about the girl. Rise.”

  “We sent a man to the temple, but he was turned away by the guards.”

  “Had your man no mouth to speak his duty? Or is that just a convenient excuse?” The priest fixed a pair of ferocious eyes on Gresha, who stepped back as far as the wall behind him permitted. All he could see of the Vicarius were vicious eyes and a large, blond moustache.

  “I swear by the Serpent that we sent a man to the temple today,” the new chief of the band breathed. I should have waited for a few more days, before taking the lead, and let that piece of shit deal with this.

  The Vicarius pulled a Maletera from his pocket, and both men in front of him froze, terror in their eyes. “Bring me to the girl. You,” he pointed at the sentry, “leave the hall. My priests will take care that no one disturbs us until this little affair is done. Pray that I don’t want to see you again.”

  The man tried to move, but his feet did not obey him, and Gresha had to kick him hard, before saying, “Yes, Vicarius. Please follow me.”

  The man left the hall crawling on all fours, under the guards’ mocking gazes, while the Vicarius and Gresha climbed the stairs.

  Kasia could not sleep, yet she was not really awake; she was in a state of mind filled with unwanted things. Perhaps she was afraid of sleeping. The stairs squeaked outside, and she started. Her trained ear heard two people coming up. They have come for me. She panicked, and realized there was no escape. There is one, she finally thought, and a sad smile spread on her lips. At least this will keep Dochia safe. She moved fast toward the window and reached for the lock to open it. The first one was easy to open but, because of the cold winters, all the windows in Nerval were doubled. She grabbed the knob of the second window, listening to the footsteps climbing stairs. They are almost here. The lock was stiff, and she could not open it. She tried again, shaking it with both hands. It did not open. She smashed her elbow into the glass, breaking it. A shard cut through her arm, but she ignored the pain; she would be dead soon, and pain no longer mattered.

  “Here,” Gresha pointed at the door. “It’s not locked.”

  “Guard the door. I need to fix her mind before we leave.” The Vicarius waved the Maletera in front of Gresha’s eyes, and he leaned against the wall, unable to speak, terror overwhelming him. His wide eyes followed the priest through the door. Poor Kasia, he thought. It’s not my fault. That idiot Iovon made this mess.

  There was a muffled cry in the room, then a brief fight, then silence. Gresha would have liked to listen through the closed door, or even to go in and look, but he thought better of it. After five long minutes, the Vicarius left the room, without looking back. Her shoulders slumped, Kasia followed, a few moments later, walking like a somnambulist. Gresha saw no life in her eyes, and he said a muted I am sorry. Void of will, the girl did not react in any way. Her left arm was bandaged.

  “A little wild, your bird,” the Vicarius said, his voice still hoarse. “She tried to jump through the window, and cut herself on the broken glass. We need her in good shape in the Temple, to please the Serpent, and I lost precious time bandaging her. Keeping her safe was your job, Gresha. You are lucky that I arrived in time. This is your second failure. The Serpent doesn’t like failure.” Playing absently with the Maletera, the Vicarius fixed his ferocious eyes on Gresha
, who pressed himself against the wall, eyes half closed.

  Downstairs, the guards grabbed Kasia by the arms and pulled her out of the house. She offered no resistance. Before he left, the Vicarius turned toward Gresha.

  “The girl’s escape from the Temple was a kind of ... embarrassment. I am counting on you to keep your mouth shut, even if other, lesser priests come to inquire about her. You will speak only if Meriaduk requests information about this case. Until then, you must forget everything. Make your men understand that too. Carelessness may endanger their families. Ah, and Iovon. I want you to dispose of him. Make sure that his body is never found. Be careful, Gresha. No more failures; one body or two, it doesn’t matter much to me. The Serpent bless you.”

  “Yes, Vicarius.” Gresha bowed deeply and stayed like that until after the priest had vanished into the night, his steps slow. Hearing nothing, he finally straightened and unsheathed his knife. Then he closed the door. “At least this I will do it willingly. For Kasia, not for that bloody priest.” I wish I could kill the priest too. The thought was so wicked that he did not dare to voice it, and shook his head to dislodge the blasphemous idea.

  Chased by the cold wind, the priests and the girl moved quickly through the city, and when the house lay far behind them, Kasia straightened and looked around her, saying, “Oh Dochia, I would have never thought of such an escape. I will be in your debt all my life.” She embraced the Wanderer and stifled a sob.

  “You are more resourceful than you think, Kasia.” She tried to kill herself to keep me safe. Dochia gently stroked the girl’s hair, before embracing her too. “Your time may come sooner than both of us want to happen and, next time, it may be that you are the one who saves me.”

  “Are you not afraid of the Maletera?”

  “What Maletera?”

  “The one you carry in your pocket.”

  “That is just a sphere made of stone, and another lesson for you. It’s all about perception. Sometimes the object in one’s mind replaces the real thing. You just need to look confident, as if you really have it. Perception is a powerful tool, able to shape its own reality.” For a few moments, Dochia stopped both speaking and walking, and her hand moved over her face. “That bloody false moustache was making me itch,” she laughed, placing it in her pocket.

  Two months later, sensing that Kasia’s memories of her painful experience in the Sanctuary had started to fade, Dochia thought it was time to take the next step she had agreed with Ai. “We need to start your second round of training,” she said, tentatively. Kasia’s fighting training was going well, and the girl showed both native talent and willingness to learn.

  “In the Sanctuary.” The girl’s eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared, fear and resolution etched together on her face.

  “When you feel ready.”

  “I will never feel ready, but I will do everything you want if I can help other children escape.” And kill Meriaduk.

  Chapter 12 – Cleyre

  Cleyre was not expecting guests so early in the morning. Not that she really had guests, but Reymont’s spies came from time to time, to check on her. The Secretary would have liked to kill her, but he was afraid of the Assassins. The fear that Codrin had planted in his mind was still there. No one dared to defy the invisible order of the Assassins. For three weeks now, she had been confined to her room. Sometimes it was Albert and Reymont who came to see her and to ask, with false joviality:

  “How are you today, Cleyre?”

  Sometimes it was Nicolas, the only one she still felt she could trust. The Spatar of Peyris had his own worries; Duke Albert did not trust him. Or more to the point, Reymont, the Secretary of Peyris and the Hidden Sage of the Circle, did not trust him. There were rumors that Nicolas would be soon replaced by Sandro, the second Spatar of Peyris but, confined to her room, Cleyre had not heard them.

  She wished that Costa would come and see her, but he was not allowed, and Reymont, unbeknownst to Cleyre, had punished her friend. Costa had been demoted and was no longer allowed to lead a company overseeing one of the city’s gates.

  The man who entered her room was unknown to her. He stared at her, a wicked smile on his lips, the kind of reaction a man has when he buys a good horse or a woman when she buys new jewelry. He was tall and thick and moved clumsily. Two guards in Peyris colors followed him. Hidden in the corridor, Reymont watched, laughing silently.

  “You have the wrong room,” Cleyre said coldly. “Leave.”

  Saying nothing, the man hit her hard in the stomach, knocking her down.

  “You will be my wife, and must learn to behave.”

  “I will not marry you,” Cleyre said, rising to one knee.

  The man struck again, but this time she was prepared and ducked under his arm, moving away from him.

  “Stop her,” the man said.

  “You will not touch me,” Cleyre growled at the soldiers.

  “My dear, Cleyre,” Reymont said, entering the room. “Why are you always trying to make things difficult? The Duke had arranged your marriage. Grand Seigneur Veres, here,” he gestured toward the man, “will be your husband. He will soon own Midia, which was his father’s castle.”

  “I won’t accept this marriage,” Cleyre said defiantly, knowing there was not much she could do.

  “I am afraid that you have no choice.” Reymont’s mouth smiled, his eyes did not. “Take her.”

  This time the soldiers obeyed the order, dragged her out of her room, and forced her to walk from the palace until they arrived at the Ducal Church in Peyris. The Duke was there, along with the priest and his acolytes and some servants from the court.

  “My dear niece, you look lovely, today,” Albert said, a smile on his lips; one that he thought charming, though most people thought it only exaggerated his stupid looks. “I’m sure it will be a wonderful ceremony. Proceed.” He nodded at Reymont first, then at the priest.

  The priest started his long discourse about Fate and her dedication to family. “Cleyre Peyris, do you take this man as your husband?” he finally asked.

  “No,” Cleyre said flatly, and the priest’s eyes widened.

  Before someone else could react, Veres hit her hard in the stomach, and she doubled over in pain.

  “Young man,” the priest said, helping Cleyre back to her feet, “this is the Church of Fate, and violence is not permitted here. I understand her reticence to marry a man like you.”

  “Mateus, marry them,” the Duke said.

  “She does not accept the marriage.”

  “Who cares about that? Just marry them. I order it.”

  “I am afraid that I can’t do such thing. It would be against Fate. Marriage requires mutual acceptance and willingness. This man must be educated first. He has brought shame to the church with his violence.”

  Veres grunted and, as always when he was thwarted, a dark anger filled his mind. He stepped forward to hit the priest. At the last moment, the guards restrained him.

  “Bishop,” Reymont said, nodding at the Chief of the Church in Peyris.

  “Mateus, this marriage was ordered by the Duke. It is a political matter of great importance for the Duchy. The will of a stubborn girl can’t prevent the will of the Duke. She is not allowed to endanger the Duchy with her foolish behavior. I order you to marry them.”

  “I apologize, Monsenioris, but I can’t bless this marriage. The man is not fit for it. He must be educated.” His voice was calm, but hard lines creased Mateus’s cheeks, and he poked a finger at Veres.

  “From this moment, you are no longer the head priest of Peyris. Leave the church.”

  “As you wish, Monsenioris, but the Church of Fate will only lose by enacting such a sham marriage; you are abusing your power, and disregarding Fate,” the priest said calmly and walked away.

  Encouraged that some still had enough courage to oppose both a sham marriage and the Duke, and still hoping, Cleyre bowed slightly to the priest, who answered with a sad smile. It took the Bishop another two hou
rs to find an obedient priest and then Cleyre found herself married, for the second time, against her will.

  Once the ceremony ended, she was escorted to a carriage where a coffer filled with her clothes was already waiting, and ten minutes later, she was leaving Peyris, followed by her new husband and twenty-eight soldiers, three of them given to Veres by Aron. There was an old woman in the carriage too. Cleyre ignored her.

  Veres spent the entire journey watching her, a lascivious look in his eyes. Cleyre ignored him and, as he had been advised by Reymont, Veres tried to ignore her too. He couldn’t. Twice Ferko, the captain who the Secretary had sent to escort them, had to intervene to keep Veres away from her. He was a tough soldier, and Veres, with all his desire to have her, did not dare to confront him. Cleyre was not easy to impress, but this loathsome man’s gaze made her skin crawl. They arrived at the obscure Eagle’s Nest fortress in the evening. Of all of them, only Ferko knew the place; he was an old hand who fought for more than twenty years for Peyris. It was an isolated fortress, in a narrow valley at the foot of the White Mountains. Ferko did not like the place, but Reymont had promised him a Knighthood, if things went well. He did not like the guardian’s role either. Veres was to tame Cleyre without harming her. During the journey, Ferko started to doubt that. Veres had the subtlety of a bull in rage.

  “Without harming her too much, that is,” the Secretary had said. “I want her to ... heed my advice when she returns. I represent the Circle in Peyris. You should not forget it either, Ferko.”

  The old gate screeched when one of the five soldiers guarding the place opened it. Inside, both Cleyre and Veres grimaced at the sight. Apart from being decrepit, the place was as functional as it was ugly. She was not an expert in fortifications, but even for her it was clear why Albert and Reymont had chosen the place. It was easy to defend. Thirty-three soldiers could keep a large army at bay.

  After dinner, Veres had ordered her to her room under guard, through corridors thick and smoky with the haze of greasy torches, and there was no way she could escape. He had her trapped. Cleyre knew that he was coming for her, and her eyes searched the room for something she could use. The window had metal grates. There was only a bed, a table and two chairs in her room. The chairs were chained to the table. Just to do something, Cleyre searched the bed too. She found nothing under the mattress or the bedsheets. She listened hard, but the walls were so thick that she couldn’t hear the voices of the guards in the hall. On the road, she had recognized two of the guards; they had fought under her father’s command once, and they nodded discreetly at her, when their eyes met. That was all. Her father was dead, there was a new Duke, and they did not want to risk their lives for a girl in disgrace. Maybe later, she thought hopefully.