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.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

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 – which were made from dark fabric – 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.