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 – before yesterday’s meeting – 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 – to judge from their letters – 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.