St Errigal’s Shrine, healing house, vampire outreach center, and food bank is a very much multipurpose building a block from the great cathedral of Hekahuh near the center of Two Rivers. Both the cathedral’s grand spire and the domed marble roof of the capitol house are visible from the steps of the shrine. The detectives safely hitch their horses to a rail near the entrance.

Shaking rain from their coats, they enter the shrine. On the inside, the space is mostly open. A row of long tables flanks either side, with benches for seating. At the far end of the room is an open kitchen with a large hearth. To the right side of the entrance, stairs lead down into a basement. An injured strix man leans on crutches next to one of the tables, and a large black woman in vibrant green cleric’s robes attends to him. Light shines between her fingers where they hold his knee.

“Remember to keep off it as much as you can for the next few days,” she scolds as the detectives approach. “It’s healed for now, but it’ll be a little weak until you build back up the strength. Watch the landings.”

The strix says something in his language that neither Alton nor Cook can understand. The cleric looks up in their direction and grimaces. She grunts something back to the strix and stands. Her patient then spreads his dark wings and takes off for a perch in the rafters. The crutches clatter to the floor. Alton can see that the strix keeps his eyes on her from above. Ancient enmity doesn’t disappear easily.

“If you’re looking for healing then you’re out of luck, detectives,” the cleric stands from the bench. She towers above both of them, both tall and broad, built like a blacksmith. “That’s the last I can handle today and I don’t ask volunteers to work for clients who could get their magic for pay elsewhere.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re here for information instead.” Cook shakes the water from his boots before approaching the cleric.

“I might be able to help with that,” she agrees, extending a handshake to the two detectives. “My name is Neda Piareili. I’m the Follower in charge of this shrine. What information do you need?”

“We’re investigating the death of Marion Durandal,” Alton gets right to the point. “We’re told that Sir Durandal worked here last night, and just need to confirm his whereabouts.”

“He was.” Piareili gives the detectives a sideways glance. “You do know he’s a paladin, right?”

“And no paladin has ever falsely identified evil to smite?” Cook can hardly contain himself. He and the cleric exchange distrustful stares.

“We just need to confirm where he was.” Alton steps between them. “It would help him a lot for us to be sure he’s been truthful.”

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“Sir Durandal didn’t lie.” Piareili sighs, after a pause. “I had bribed him to spend time as an assistant healer during our meeting for Redeeming candidates.”

“You had him working with vampires?” Cook pulls off an eyebrow trick. Piareili narrowly misses his eyeroll. “Him? A paladin from the Strabthine no less.”

“I was using it to test his tolerance,” Piareili admits with a sigh. “I was sure that if he could work with candidates for Redeeming, he’d be able to tolerate whatever it was that brought Marion south.”

“What do you actually know about his daughter to use as such stiff leverage?” Alton recognizes the cleric’s tactic as valid, and takes her seriously.

“Honestly?” She doesn’t wait for an answer to that. “Not terribly much. She stopped by here pretty regularly after she first arrived in town, but hasn’t shown her face in a few weeks. I can’t say I actually know who her friends are, were, or whatever, but I know she was fascinated by all the undead she met.”

“Fascinated how?” Cook asks, “She wasn’t a necrophile, was she?”

“Nothing like that,” Piareili gestures appeasement. “She volunteered as a donor to a Redeeming candidate a few times, but I got the impression that it was just curiosity about something taboo, not a fetish.”

“How can you say for sure?”

“Funny thing about vampires,” Piareili chuckles, “they can taste virginity. The candidate she fed excused himself from therapy until we promised that he wouldn’t have to face her again. He was very embarrassed.”

“I know that you value your candidates’ privacy, but is there any chance you can tell us who he was?” Alton gives it a shot, even though she knows the answer.

“I can’t tell you who he is, but I can tell you who sponsored him.” Piareili doesn’t even have to look up the name in her records. “Clark Melpress is the current Redeemed helping sponsor a few of the latest batch. I trust him entirely. He wouldn’t vouch for a vampire that’s not dedicated to the process.”

“We know Clark. I’ll trust his word.” Alton expresses her satisfaction.

“And just to confirm, Sir Durandal was here all night?” Cook leads the questioning back to their goal.

“Not all night, but most of it.” Piareili admits at last. “I hired a cab to get him home at about the fourth bell. It didn’t seem safe to have him hiking back to his hotel alone even in all that armor.”

“He wore plate?” Cook asks with surprise.

“Of course.” Piareili shrugs. “I guess it made him feel safe around all the walking dead. He’d only lift his visor when he needed to talk.”

“Thank you for your time.” Cook ends the conversation and leads Alton out of the shrine by an elbow. When they’re back out in the rain, he turns and says to her, “There’s no way a knight without any squire could take off full plate fast enough to have had even the little sleep our suspect must have had last night to be in any shape to cast spells today

“True.” Alton agrees, “There is something suspicious about this. Is it possible that our victim was mistaken?”

“Maybe. We’ll have to confirm that with Doomweaver.”

“That shouldn’t take too long. Llyrr will forgive me being a little late.”