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 – and considering the company he has – 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.