The woman nodded and left for one of the two back rooms. Fra Heward then introduced each man in turn. “You’ve already met Vladimir Mikhailovich, this is Ivan Roscovich.” Ivan had the look of a healthy man, but his right hand and arm showed signs of terrible burn scars and did not move well.

  “Anton Roscovich.” He pointed to a younger and smaller version of Ivan, without the disfiguration.

  “Mikhail Ivanovich.” A tall man, but pale. His clothes hung loosely on him, like someone who had lost much weight.

  “Sergei Konstantinovich.” An unremarkable man, besides having a large nose which had been broken sometime in the past.

  “And Vladimir Vladimirovich.” The boy, who was also pale, and appeared very anxious to Vero.

  The woman returned with four beers for Vero and her companions. “This is Anastasia Rosconova, she’s Anton and Ivan’s sister and has also been assisting us.”

  Anna was plain, but not ugly. She dressed to look unassuming, but Vero imagined that she might look very fetching in the right attire. The precise workings of clothes, jewels, and cosmetics were an enigma to Vero, but she enjoyed seeing the results they could produce on others.

  Or the lass might look better still in nothing at all.

  Vero realized she was gawking and turned her attention back to the templar. “This is dame, cunning-woman, and slayer; the Lady Veronique de Loix, whom I knew before coming north to do my penance. Perhaps you could introduce your own companions?”

  “This is master slayer Pentarch, who leads our hunting party. Alexius of Whitegate is a priest of the Veiled One.”

  Vero noticed the men stiffen, and she imagined warding signs being made under the table.

  Fra Heward bowed his head respectfully. They followed different gods, but Vero remembered the knight being utterly devout, and reverential to any man or woman of faith- regardless of religion.

  “And the woman is Isolde, an illusionist,” Vero finished, with as little emphasis as possible. “But what is this business about penance? What is it you’re doing out here, Brother? I did tell you that you should have let Jean explain everything to the bishop for you.”

  “It was very gracious of you to suggest such a thing to the Marquis, my Lady. And even more gracious for his lordship to offer me asylum. But I live to do the will of the gods, not to seek my own worldly interests. My lack of understanding, and lack of knowledge, led to failure. What good is repentance, if it is not put into action- by learning how such a thing may be prevented from ever happening again?”

  “I don’t understand. What is your penance exactly?”

  Mother Luna forgave all her children, so long as they came to her in genuine contrition- other gods demanded specific labors. The form of penance varied by both faith and by region. Charitable works, fasting, repetition of rote prayers, or even self-flagellation were most common.

  All gods could also be satisfied with tithes, or at least so most priests believed, it seemed.

  Vero often envied the simple and direct instruction of other religions. She never knew when she came to Mother Luna if her contrition was really genuine.

  “When I have sufficient knowledge to return with," he answered. "Enough that any who learn from me shall be assured to understand and avoid my error. I will then have the interdiction placed upon me removed and can be accepted back into the regular ranks of my order.”

  “Forgive me. That sounds rather vague and ephemeral a goal.”

  “I tend to agree,” he stated mildly. “I spent many months searching catalogues of books in church libraries, and then the better part of two years researching our present knowledge of spirits, witches, and the living dead by traveling from university to university. I suspect much has been hidden away in restricted places- where a fallen templar could not be trusted with access. What I did find was more a collection of superstitious rumors than true scholarship. I came north to learn from firsthand experience, and I now have a partially assembled book written, disassembling fact from folklore. However, when I saw the state that these people lived in, I was determined to do more than simply observe.”

  “How long have you been in this town? How much can you tell us about the vampyres in the region?” Pentarch had now decided to take the lead in the questioning, which suited Vero fine.

  She trusted Pentarch to ask all the important questions, and not having to speak allowed her to take the measure of their hosts. Anastasia arrived back with their beers, but then disappeared into the backroom again.

  “I have been here two months now, and I’ve been traveling this side of the mountain since last spring. Everything on the night side of the mountains is controlled by the Black Palatine to some extent, principally through his vassals. The vampyre ‘counts’ rule openly here. Some are the Black Palatine’s direct spawn, and I think he would have us believe they all are. But I have reason to suspect that at least some – perhaps most – are from independent or even sibling lineages to his own, and have only sworn feudal bonds to him.”

  “I wonder if such oaths are even more frail than those given by mortal princes,” Isolde observed, from behind her cup.

  Fra Heward continued without taking undue notice. “This town is part of the demesne of the Countess Elizaveta. Her castle can even be seen from the top of the church in good visibility.”

  Vero realized that castle was their destination. This Countess Elizaveta was the vassal whose home their prey resided in. She had just assumed that it was a man until that point- not that it made any difference.

  Anastasia emerged again with a simple porridge in trenchers for them. Vero let her hand brush Anastasia’s when her serving was delivered, and whispered a quick, “Thank-you, beautiful.”

  The girl did not seem to know what to make of the advance, and Vero suspected any efforts she made in that direction might be a lost cause. She re-disciplined herself to focus on the task at hand.

  “My friends have told me that things were still relatively peaceful here, by the standards of this place, until several years ago. Each settlement was required to pay a blood tithe to the Countess, but I’ve learned that it’s standard practice here, and the local people do not find it as abominable as we do. They select a young healthy person each fortnight and send them to their mistress. The next day the subject returns to them anemic, but alive. The vampyress let the humans choose their own to send, and deaths were rare. In the past eight years things have gotten worse. Now things have become so bad that vampyres terrorize people in their own beds at night.”

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  Eight years matched well with the start of the interregnum in Teutonia. Was the Black Palatine calling more vampyres to the border areas? Perhaps even breeding new undead to build an army?

  Vero decided that whatever her feelings about her fellow slayers were, the destruction of the Black Palatine was a cause worth pursuing. For these people’s sake, if no one else's.

  “And matters are still becoming more dire. This church was gutted last winter, and a shrine to their blood heresy was erected in this very town, with an undead priest now in constant residence. A group of human cut-throats work for him, and he keeps them satisfied by allowing them to take their fill of plunder and deliberate cruelties.”

  At the mention of 'deliberate cruelties', Vero noticed several changes at the table. Anton looked towards his sister, before she quickly turned away from the group. Ivan tried not to notice, but unconsciously ran a hand along his burn scars. All the other locals stared at the floor.

  She catalogued the reactions in her mind, but made no comment.

  “Since I’ve arrived, I have been waiting for the opportunity to destroy this creature, but he had too many men for me to face alone. Even during the hours of penumbra that passes for daylight here, when the vampyres grow lethargic. Most of the town is too frightened of reprisals to do anything, besides these five- six if you count the boy. And Anastasia helps as well. I’ve been training them to fight since I arrived. Now that you’re here, I believe we have the numbers to destroy them, if you’ll join us.”

  Pentarch dismissed the notion at once. “We have our own hunt to conduct, we can’t risk allowing our presence to be known.”

  Vero could hardly believe what Pentarch had just said, and objected by instinct. “Our purpose is to destroy vampyres, shouldn’t we eliminate as many as we find? This will give us a secure place to prepare for the final hunt.”

  Pentarch was not pleased to have his authority questioned in public, but as he took in a sharp breath to reply, Alexius spoke. “The Lady Veronique is correct. We must end this heresy.” He spoke very softly, but there was clear and unambiguous power in his voice.

  Everyone was silent for a space, until Pentarch tried to speak again. “Very well, we shall help. But we must move cautiously to secure any books or documents in the priest’s possession, they may contain valuable intelligence on our true target. And no one may be allowed to escape. At all costs we must prevent any report on our presence here being delivered to the castle.”

  Everyone agreed and they all made plans for an attack the next morning. The latest blood tithe had been sent that very night. It was to spy on them that the templar and Vladimir Mikhailovich were stalking through the forest. Fra Heward offered to let them sleep in the church, where he and the three siblings resided. They accepted the hospitality. The other local residents in his coterie had their own homes in town.

  When they finished the porridge – bland, but not inedible – they laid out their bedrolls. The men slept out in the main room of the church, and Anastasia slept back in the kitchen. Fra Heward kept a pallet in the other back room, which had been the priest’s bedchamber when the church was open.

  The templar offered his bed to Vero, but this had set off Isolde at once. The sorceress needed privacy to prepare her spells and charms if they were going to confront a vampyre priest and his cult.

  She presumed this was the next move in their game of one-upmanship, but the whole thing suddenly seemed very tedious to Vero, who preferred to sleep beside the warm stove anyway. If Anastasia was there to keep warm with her, all the better.

  Isolde took the private room. Fra Heward slept out in the main room with the others, and Vero retired into the kitchen with Anastasia. Inside, a curtain was hung over the doorway to give them privacy. In the closed space, the recent cooking made the whole room delightfully warm, and it smelled of herbs and food.

  “A very pleasant accommodation you’ve made for yourself here,” Vero remarked. “Considering the circumstances.”

  “You are very kind to say so, my Lady.”

  “I don’t have much concern with titles, you may call me Vero, if you like. Your name is Anastasia, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, my La-” Anastasia must have been wondering if Vero’s offer was really a demand, or possibly a trap. She started again. “-Yes, my name is Anastasia Rosconova.”

  “You have a surname?”

  “Not a family name like the great houses have. It’s our custom here for even peasants to take their father’s name after their own.”

  “I see. May I call you Anna?”

  “Of course, my Lady.” Anna was in such a rush to be of service she said ‘my Lady’ without thinking, and immediately appeared to regret it.

  Vero smiled and paid it no mind, so that the girl knew she really did not care what she was called. She laid out her bedroll right next to the stove where it was almost as warm as a summer day.

  “It looks as though the vampyres have ransacked this place, but it still keeps heat well. I would have expected them to destroy it.”

  “This is a holy place. They’ve defiled the surface, but they feared to linger. They still avoid it, which is why we meet here.”

  “What god was worshiped here?”

  “The Hearthlord.” That was the name they knew the Healing God by in the north. Heat was important to survival here; Vero was sure there were deep insulating wards woven throughout the entire structure.

  She noticed that Anna positioned her own bedroll in the far corner of the room. “Wouldn’t you be warmer here by the stove?”

  “I don’t wish to crowd you.”

  “Nonsense. And we shall be warmer still if we sleep near to each other.”

  “Thank-you, my Lady.”

  Anna moved her things back toward the stove and Vero undressed. “Do you patch clothes for your brothers?”

  “Of course, would you like me to stitch something for you?”

  Vero laid down her sword, hidden under her cloak, next to her bedroll. And on the opposite side of her from Anna.

  “Yes, I’ve had some hard traveling in these of late.” Vero put her other clothes into a pile. “If you have the time.”

  “It’s no trouble.” Anna sucked in a quiet breath when she saw scars down Vero’s body, but she was too polite to make a comment of them.

  “Thank-you Anna, that would be very fine.” Vero untied the silk fabric binding her breasts and unwound it with a free release of breath like she had not taken since they left the fortress.

  “Lady Vero?” Vero considered this a positive movement from ‘my Lady’.

  “Yes?”

  “Why do you wear men’s clothes and hide your breasts?” Anna asked the question like she thought it must be common practice for all southern women, or perhaps only among the aristocracy.

  “Because I’m on a hunt at the moment. When I’m at my leisure I much prefer a plain soft dress, and to not have a clamp around my chest. Dressing this way does have its advantages though. I detest riding a horse side saddle. It keeps cold winds from blowing between my legs when I climb a mountain. At times it makes dealing with most men, and some women, much simpler. And at other times it makes dealing with some men, and most women, simpler… it depends what one is trying to accomplish.” The heat was making Vero feel pleasantly drowsy. “And one can hardly be expected to wear a dress in a wrestling match.”

  Anna laughed for a moment, and Vero thought it was a very pretty sound. “Do southern ladies often wrestle one another?”

  “Oh…” Vero laid down on her bed, and put the blanket over her to cover the crisscross of thin white lines. “…most don’t. Those of us who do have ways of finding one another. And I’ve convinced a few women who didn’t think they’d like to wrestle to try it with me. I dare say I also convinced them to enjoy it well enough. And I enjoy wrestling with men as well. When they know how, which some men don’t.”

  “My brothers were always wrestling with each other when they were boys, but it never seemed something I would care to try.”

  Vero knew they had started to talk about different things, but Anna was too innocent to notice, and Vero could not help but smile.

  “Why are you smiling?” Anna finished moving her own bedding and began to undress herself.

  “You’re very pretty.”

  “Thank-you.” Anna accepted the compliment without the slightest trace of self-consciousness, so Vero thought she had better give up.

  She was right about the girl looking better free of her wardrobe, however. Anna had the healthy wide hips and heavy drooping breasts of a peasant girl, but her skin and hair were both fair due to the climate. Vero had seen more beautiful women, but not recently.

  Anna covered herself in a plain chemise before laying down to bed, and Vero decided she had definitely better give up.

  “How did you and your brothers come to live here?”

  “Our father was the priest here. We’ve lived here for as long as I can remember.”

  She used the past tense, and Vero thought that she should not pry farther. At least for the moment.

  Vero put an arm around the girl, and she curled up against Vero’s side at once. “Pleasant dreams, Anna.”

  “Good-night, Lady Vero.”

  The girl must have been comforted by the contact between them, because Vero felt her go to sleep almost at once. Several minutes later, Vero drifted to sleep herself.

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