CHAPTER 35

The room she was led to was ostentatious in decoration, the bed was a mounded heap of red and pink cushions, the bedcurtains frothed with lace. The walls were draped with hanging silk curtains, and there were erotic sketches in framed panels on the walls.

"You decorate yourself?" Katarina asked the girl sardonically. The girl shook her head. "The mistress." She replied simply. "She says it's all about setting mood, but the boys don't seem to notice or care." She replied simply. Katarina nodded as the piano started up downstairs.

"So how should we do this?" Katarina asked, pulling off her hat and shrugging out of her duster. The girl smiled. "You can put your coat and hat on the hook." She replied and pointed over at the large clawfoot tub in the corner. "I'll draw you a bath." She smiled coquettishly at Katarina. "It's not often I get asked for a massage, and it's just the mistress. You'll be my first real customer." She offered.

"What, you haven't serviced the men?" Katarina asked as she hung her hat and coat on the rack by the door.

"Pffft." the girl snorted. "Of course I have. I'm talking a proper massage." She corrected. "I've only given them to the mistress. The guys just care about pumping." She replied unselfconciously. Katarina nodded, and undid the hooks on her brigandine vest. The girl moved over to her, hands out as if to help, and Katarina shook her head. "I've got it." She advised comfortably. "Why don't you get undressed?"

The girl raised an eyebrow, and surprisingly blushed again. "Well, it's your coin, Lady. I'll do my best to oblige you." She encouraged, and slipped out of her dress easily.

The girl lit some musky incense, bathed Katarina, washed and brushed her hair, gave her wine and then stretched the taller woman out on her bed and went to work, singing under her breath.

At first Katarina was wary of everything. The room itself was too ostentatious for her to feel comfortable, the incense was strange and Katarina had been trained to be wary of unfamiliar scents. The wine helped, but Katarina tensed up when the girl first went to work on her shoulders and neck. The girl's light singing and gentle touch relaxed her by degrees.

Katarina was extremely relaxed and well on her way to sleep when the girl's gentle fingers brought her wide awake. Her eyes flew open; when had she rolled over? The rhythm of the girl's hand below her waist stopped at Katarina's jolt.

"What... what are you doing?" She gasped, and the girl blinked a couple of times.

"Should I... have not done that?" She asked carefully, pulling her hand away.

Katarina blinked a few times, and propped herself on her elbows. "I wasn't expecting that at all. What did you do?"

The girl's mouth fell open in shock.

"Well, I don't normally give massages naked, milady." She began carefully. "And this is a brothel. I thought that-, well, when you asked me to take my clothes off as well..." She trailed off. "I've never made it with a woman before, but you paid good coin. I figured I'd do the things I liked." She gave Katarina a careful look. "Are ya mad at me? Did I do wrong?"

Through this explanation Katarina's mind was awhirl. She blinked at the girl's question.

"No..." She trailed off slowly. "I don't think so."

"Well, did ya like it?" She asked. "Like I said, I've never done this with a lady before."

Katarina let out a shaky breath. "I think that was-" She trailed off and lay back down. "I liked it." she decided. The girl let out a shaky breath. "I'm glad." She eyed Katarina speculatively again.

"You've never... felt like that before?" She asked curiously. Katarina shook her head. The girl's eyes widened. "You've never touched yourself like that?" She asked, and Katarina shrugged. After a long moment, the girl bit her lip. "Shall I do it again, milady?" Katarina smiled, and the girl smiled in return.

Katarina woke hearing the soft tidal breath of the saloon girl next to her. She glanced at the girl in the morning light. The girl had been extremely gentle, she remembered. Her face burned at the things they'd done with each other through the night. She immediately regretted everything. She shouldn't have let the girl touch her like that. She shouldn't've let her do it again, or joined in and touched the girl in turn. She'd never done anything like that before, with a man or a woman. The whole night was a mess of regret and shame. She barely knew the girl.

Katarina rolled out of bed smoothly, distractedly enjoying the feeling of her thoroughly massaged and relaxed body. It felt as if everything was exactly where it should be. No cramps, no strain or tension. Everything moving exactly the way it was supposed to.

She tugged on her pants and shrugged into her shirt. The girl turned over. Katarina shrugged into her vest and strapped on her armored greave. The girl started to snore lightly. Katarina swung on her sword and gunbelts and took her time making sure they were positioned correctly, and then wrapped a mail skirt about her hips, making sure it didn't impede either her gun or sword draw. Katarina snuck a glance at the bed, the girl was sitting up, watching her quietly.

"...I" Katarina began and the girl nodded at her.

"Mornin' milady." She offered simply. "Movin' on?" She asked, and suddenly Katarina felt tongue-tied. What was she to say to this girl? She felt absurdly self-conscious and awkward. This was wholly new territory for her.

Katarina nodded, and the girl scrubbed her face with her hands. "There's a stall not far that sells kippers 'n' bacon sometimes." the girl offered, and glanced to the window. "This early there ain't much open for you to break your fast." She stepped out of bed and stretched languidly, and Katarina ashamedly couldn't help but eye the girl's curves with a hungry eye while her back was turned.

"You needn't look like that, milady." She remarked, turning to face Katarina. Her eyes rolled in her head extravagantly.

"Look like what?" Katarina asked, and the girl laughed unselfconciously, the effortless laugh of the type of woman who has gone far and seen much, as the saying went.

"Like you're sneaking out. Guilty. You paid me last night." She replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Katarina shook her head distractedly, and the girl's eyes clouded over in thought.

"Will you hie out after t'other'n?" She asked The Witch Hunter curiously.

Katarina stared at the girl, baffled at the sudden switch in conversation. "Sorry, what?" Katarina shook her head.

"Morgan." the saloon girl replied easily, and moved toward the nightstand and pulled out the drawer.

"What?" Katarina blurted angrily, stepping forward.

"Gretta shouldna taken you out back." The girl replied easily, speaking as if she weren't revealing some damning bit of evidence. "My room's're right over the door and the sound carries just so." the girl added. "Morgan Blackhand came through here a month're more back." She explained.

"Gretta said-" Katarina began and the saloon girl laughed gaily as she pawed through the drawer. "Cursed thing, oh where did you get off ta, ya wee bastid?" She muttered under her breath. "Gretta ain't the end-all-be-all, you know." She added as if it were the most common explanation in the world. "Though you'd suppose she'd remember him some." the saloon girl added, and pulled on a light wrapper. "Ah, right."

She stepped to a small closet, still chattering away. "We don't take much trade from the town, after all. Mostly we stick to the 'jacks. Most of the other girls don't do business outside the jacks, but coin is coin." She added with another ostentatious eyeroll. She approached the Witch Hunter with something in her hand. "He left me this. For luck, he said." She offered her hand, and Katarina held out hers. The girl dropped a metallic cylinder into Katarina's palm.

"What do ya think, milady?" the girl asked curiously. "Is it lucky?"

The Witch hunter eyed the bullet which was almost half the diameter of her own lead balls with distaste. She closed her hand around it and suddenly she was assailed by an uncomfortable feeling of doom with threads of despair seeping into her palm.

"It's not lucky." Katarina replied with a shake of her head. "It's death." She tucked it into her belt as the girls eyes widened in horror.

After a moment, Katarina stepped to her saddlebags. "I'll give you something better." She decided with a distracted smile.

"What's that?" The girl offered doubtfully.

Katarina pulled out a small bundle from her saddlebags and unwrapped it carefully.

"It's fragile, so be careful. I got caught in a thunderstorm and a bolt of lightning struck nearby." Katarina revealed by way of explanation, and unwrapped a lumpy, glittering tube about three inches long and as big around has her pinky finger. It glittered in the morning light with gold and blue flecks. "When I looked later, this was in the ground where the lightning struck." She put it in the girl's hands. "Learned men call it 'lightning glass'." She explained, and the girls' eyes lit up as she turned the glass over and over with her fingertips. "Much luckier than..." Katarina trailed off, and the girl nodded.

"It's beautiful, milady." the girl breathed. "I can't take something so valuable." she decided, and made to give it back to the taller woman, who refused it.

"It's a curiosity." Katarina replied, a ghost of a smile on her face. "Not valuable, magical, or useful, but... pretty." She added, and the girl nodded, and took the tube and placed it on her night stand and then stepped up to the Witch Hunter.

"Tell me of Morgan." Katarina instructed, and the girl nodded. "He came and took his trade. Nice enough but a bit on the gloomy side. Always distracted like his mind was set on other things."

"He say anything?" Katarina asked, and the girl rolled her eyes.

"Duh." She replied simply. "All men are talkers, even those say they ain't." she replied easily. "He was always going on about how he'd 'escaped her hooks' and what. Guess some girlfolk meant to tie him down." She added. "Had his eye set like he was expectin' someone to pop up behind him. Offered to take me away 'n' give me a ring." She laughed at that. "As if I'd leave."

"He have a gun?" Katarina asked, and lifted her own out of her holster by way of description. The girl shrugged. "It was longer. On his shoulder, like." She replied, and Katarina nodded. A rifle.

"Are ya set to leave, milady?" the girl asked in a much softer voice than before. "I could .... give you another massage, like." She offered. "And then breakfast, if ya fancy. Madam Gretta feeds us well. I could get you some breakfast." She appeared to think. "Is it Windas?" She asked the air. "If it's Windas, madam will have coffee. You ken coffee?" She asked curiously. "It's right tasty. Wakes you up between the ears, it does."

Katarina shook her head at that. "I'll be movin' on." She replied simply, and the girl nodded again. "You come back this way again, you come on by." She offered with an inviting smile. "I should like to massage you again, sometime."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Katarina hurried downstairs, around to the stable, and was on her horse and trotting towards the forest in record time, her heart and head awhirl with boiling emotions. She was about to enter the forest when she remembered her promise to Dillon, the fresh-faced guard from the day prior.

She was in no condition to bring along a guard, she argued. She'd just done something wholly out of character for herself and everything was boiling and frothing about inside her. She especially didn't want anyone around her until she could figure out what the fuck she'd done and why.

She'd given her word, she argued. She'd be forgiven. She could give him any reason or excuse and he'd swallow it, she debated. No, she objected, her word was her word.

"What would you do, Master?" She asked the air, as the debate raged inside her. After several long minutes of hemming and hawing, she screwed her face up irritably and she spat.

"Stop fucking around and do what needs to be done, you daft cunt." She growled in a deep voice, and then offered a lame half-smile. "You always give the worst advice." She muttered, and turned back to town. Besides, the whole reason she'd come to Norn in the first place was because it was the last place her sister had been at, before going rogue. She needed to stop off at the local church and get whatever information they had on her.

Remembering the lesson learned in Aston, she resolved to speak to the Arm of the Sword representative rather than the local bishop or pastor; whomever it was that headed the Arm of the Sword in this particular town.

From the saloon she could see the monolith of the great church of Norn. She should have come here as the first step in her investigation of her sister, but she'd been bone-weary and wanted to secure lodgings before she faced the church itself. Every time she'd been in a church as a Witch Hunter, nothing went the way she wanted, and if she was to face an uphill battle, she at least wanted to be well-rested before she began the struggle.

The Church of the Golden Lady had assigned Alsabet to Norn to take accounting of alchemical materials that were used in various magical pursuits, according to the notes Araya provided. Probably a very boring assignment because it likely required very little magical talent. She'd apparently just walked off the job and was never seen since.

Katarina urged her horse onward and made her way to the Church of the Golden Lady in Norn, a massive building of carved stone, lavishly and ornately embellished.

The Church of Norn was very much like its counterpart in Aston, though in the traditional Gothic style she'd grown up with in Darnell. It was megalithic in size and ponderous in appearance. Massive stained-glass lancet windows, tall and narrow with peaked tops, flying buttresses, and everywhere, shockingly, wrought iron gates and fencing. It was a monument of ostentatious wealth and authority.

It was almost an exact duplicate of the Alstroemeria, the great Grand Cathedral in Darnell, though somewhat smaller. Its extravagance was vainglorious, posturing for might and prestige. The carved stone, the bas reliefs, the minarets, finials, the fencing, all of it bespoke of the overarching power of the church.

Katarina eyed it distastefully. The roads that led to the church were cobbled stone, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes to see that all the other roads in Norn were packed dirt and planks of wood. The city itself was mostly wood and brick in the frontier style. There was a clear segregation between the people of the church and the citizens of Norn. Katarina wrinkled her nose at this separation. There was no separation in Darnell; the meanest beggar and the wealthiest noble were welcomed and sheltered in the Church with equal measure.

She rode her horse up to the gate, which was unguarded, but closed. She tested the gate; it appeared to be locked. Another mystery. Why would the church be closed to petitioners? This was wholly against church protocol.

She reached through the gate and investigated the lock with her hands. It seemed like a standard latch rather than a lock, no real security. Still, though, most people wouldn't think to unlatch the gate in this fashion. More to the point, they shouldn't need to.

A closed gate had to have been closed for a reason. She disengaged the latch and kicked the gate open. It groaned as it opened, shuddering on its frame. She swung back into the saddle and rode her horse right up to the steps of the church. She hopped out of the saddle lightly, patted the side of her horses' neck comfortingly, and trotted up the granite steps.

She tugged on the doors; disappointingly they were unlocked. She'd held the secret goal of using her magically enhanced strength to tear the doors from their hinges. The fact of the church being closed up and locked away from the people of the town didn't settle with her. The church was a place of refuge, a place of sanctuary, a place of safety, security, and strength. Most importantly, it was supposed to be open and accessible to all. She took a breath, settled her feet and hauled on the doors as hard as she could.

The ponderous doors flew open and cracked loudly against the porch as Katarina strode in. As she came into the church proper, one of the men broke away from a small cluster of them and moved to intercept her. He was thin and narrow, with a shaved head and bold eyebrows.

"Hey, you can't be coming in here." he warned, hand outstretched in forbearance. She marked him as a junior pastor by his robes.

"Bullshit I can't." Katarina replied, running her eye over the mosaics on the walls, the rich tapestries that hung between the windows, the rows of candelabras with polished brass mirror reflectors.

"No, I'm telling you, you can't come in here." The pastor repeated.

"And I'm telling you that the Church is supposed to be an open and welcome refuge for all." Katarina replied hotly. "Tell me I can't come to the Church of Norn one more time. Tell me I can't worship at the feet of the Golden Lady. Tell me I can't beg aid and succor from the Church of the Golden Lady." She demanded challengingly, walking right up to him and physically imposing herself in his space. He took a few frantic steps backwards as she advanced, but she matched his speed, keeping herself right in his face, right in his space intimidatingly.

His whole face clenched as if he'd bitten something sour as he took in her outfit. "Your manner of dress is obscene." He spat through clenched teeth.

Katarina ignored this proclamation. "Where's your chaplain?" She asked, raising her voice and ostentatiously looking around. The men and women that stood around in small clusters avoided her gaze. The pastor's frown deepened. "Why should you need to speak with him?" He asked, and Katarina raised an eyebrow.

"'Why' is my business, and none of yours, 'pastor'." She sneered as he spied her sword.

"Weapons are not permitted in the Church of the Golden Lady. If you can't abide the rules, I will have you flogged." He remarked bluntly. Katarina's eyes lit up at this and she gave him a predatory grin.

Katarina let out a chuckle. No matter where she went, some things always remained the same. She lifted her gun from her holster and dangled it in front of the pastor's face. "Take it from me, boy." She offered challengingly, and he took a step back from her, swallowing. "What're you waiting for?" She dared, eyes flashing. "Go on, take it." She urged, a predatory grin on her face.

He immediately stepped backwards again, hands raised in a warding gesture. "I didn't, I mean-" he began, and She cut him off with a slashing gesture.

"Your chaplain, warpriest, whatever." She stated flatly. He nodded numbly, and gestured for her to follow.

"Lady, what- what brings you here?" He nervously asked over his shoulder.

"Again, that's my business and none of yours, boy." She replied curtly. "You've no authority over me." He grimaced and bobbed his head servilely.

Instead of reaching the chaplain or warpriest in the temple, they were intercepted by the head pastor. The head pastor of the church was a wizened old man with a bald head. He was scrawny, stick-thin, and he was hunched in on himself, which lent him an insectile sort of appearance. His face looked like old candlewax, melted and dragged down by the relentless force of gravity.

He sneered at her as he approached. "Witch Hunter is it, eh? Well, your kind were ever an impertinent lot." He waved dismissively at her, clearly unimpressed. "Who did you say you were hunting?"

Katarina snorted silently. "I didn't." She replied rudely, just to see his reaction. As he grimaced at her, she added, "I hunt Alsabet Pavlenko." She raised an eyebrow interrogatively. "Why, did other mages leave with her?"

He nodded reluctantly. "Two others. One of them might've been her lover."

Katarina nodded. "I'll take their files too. I'm on my way out of town now."

His mouth twisted sourly, but he waved one of the acolytes over and passed along the request.

The pastor returned with a couple of folders filled with papers and a glimmer in his eye.

He grinned at her. "You're Katarina Pavlenko." he said by way of greeting, and she nodded. His grin reeked of smug self-satisfaction and looked altogether unwholesome.

She gave him a nonplussed expression, clearly unimpressed. "I'm the only living Witch Hunter on the continent." She replied dryly, recalling the information passed to her by Gretta. "It's not that hard to single me out." She added a dismissive wave.

"Where is your priestess?" She added. He gave her a guarded look. "Why?" She raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand how that's any of your business, pastor." She remarked pointedly. "Now, where is your priestess?" She repeated, unconsciously touching the butt of her gun. He grit his teeth and muttered under his breath, but she caught it anyway: why do you have to be such an obnoxious bitch?

"She left." He replied to her question. "A month or so ago. To Darnell. We've had no word from her since."

Katarina sighed. If she wanted to speak to someone of her dreams, she'd need to backtrack to Aston or go to Darnell. She didn't like either idea. There should have been a proper priestess there, someone schooled in the Arm of the Healer, the part of the Anglish faith dedicated to teaching and healing. Katarina's friend Frederika had trained to be a priestess.

"Fine. Any Ladies of the Church?" She asked. They wouldn't be as skilled as a proper priestess, but they could check her over.

"No, none." He replied simply.

Katarina briefly entertained the idea of heading north to Aston, and then east to Landeck to visit Frederika. She had no reservations at all of submitting herself to an examination at her hands. Frederika was practically a sister to her. She let go of that idea with a degree of real regret. It'd been ten or so years since she'd seen Frederika, and she missed the willowy girl, but it would take her weeks out of her way.

One of the lesser pastors came puffing up to him with the files she'd requested.

"I'd gotten a missive from Darnell yesterday about you." He held the papers away from her. "Your investigation of Alsabet Pavlenko is hereby suspended. You are..." He paused and licked his lips, an odious gesture, Katarina decided. "You are strongly instructed to dispatch straightaway for Darnell." He smirked.

Katarina's eyes narrowed at this. Darnell had apparently grown insistent in their need to honor her. She shifted her weight and lunged, hand flickering to snatch the folders from his grip.

His mouth fell open as she took them and replied, "I've no time to be "honored" by the Alstroemeria." She added, referring to the grand cathedral of the Holy Church of the Anglish Empire. "They want to waste my time with ceremony; I'm a Witch Hunter and I've a job to do. It's clear which takes priority."

She opened the folders and skimmed the documents. As she read, her brow furrowed. These were months old. How long ago had Alsabet left? If she'd left the day Katarina was assigned her file, then the files were woefully out of date. If the files were as fresh as could be, then Alsabet had left with her cadre of mages months ago. Why the delay? If Alsabet and the other two mages had a head start of months, then there was no telling where she could have gotten. Was this just shoddy accounting?

Katarina pretended to skim the pages while she thought. A closed church, important records out of date, reports delayed; this smacked of some plot. What was it? Simple greed? Heretical practices? She weighed the costs of opening an investigation into the church against her pursuit of her sister, and decided that her sister had the higher priority. She made a mental note to return, however, and nail them to the wall.

His face twisted under her scrutiny, but he nodded. "You're going to defy the Church? Fine." he replied. "It's not my responsibility to look after the Arm of the Sword, anyway." He replied with an angry sneer. She nodded and waved dismissively, turning to leave.

As she was leaving, he spoke up. "We found a number of pages written with her hand in her room; they're in her file. It might be a clue as to her whereabouts."

She nodded, disinterested. She'd already learned everything she'd needed.

"Your investigation has been suspended, but your Writ and Warrant have not." He stated, stopping Katarina in her tracks. "Before you leave, I must insist you help us deal with a certain... eyesore." He added, his voice thin and hard. "That immoral honkytonk at the edge of town, as you head out towards the lumber camps." He said by way of explanation. "It's vile. Foul. A pit of lawlessness and savagery."

Katarina furrowed her brow- she wasn't certain what a 'honkytonk' was- but the greater confusion came from his seeming inability to do anything about it. Was he not the Pastor of the area? Was there not a town militia?

"I don't understand, pastor." Katarina asked curiously. "Don't you have authority here? Are you not responsible for the townsfolk?" She urged. "I have no idea what a..." She hesitated over the unfamiliar word, "'honkytonk' is, but if it as lawless and immoral as you profess, why has it been allowed to flourish?" She asked pointedly. "Are you not in charge?"

He gaped at her, disbelieving. His mouth worked, but nothing came out.

"Let's start over and try this again." She encouraged. "What's a 'honkytonk', exactly?"

He managed to find his voice after a long moment. "A saloon." She shook her head. He sighed the kind of sigh one gave the extraordinarily stupid. "It's a barrelhouse. A bawdy-house." He tried, and she shook her head, the terms unfamiliar.

"Sorry, I haven't been in this part of the world in several years." She reported. "I don't know your slang."

He sighed again. "It's like an... inn. Or tavern. They serve strong drinks that cloud a man's mind and leads him to stray from the Goddess' holy purpose. There are also ... women of questionable virtue there. They play unsanctioned music and get up to all manner of lawlessness and sinning." He paused. "There's also gambling. Games of chance. Things of dice and cards." he added. Oh, she knew exactly what place he was talking about.

"Is it a violation of Anglish law?" She asked curiously. His thick lips compressed together.

"It ought to be." He replied. "It's an affront. An offense."

Katarina raised an eyebrow. "Does it go against the good word of the Golden Lady?" She asked, and he grimaced. "Not in any specific sense." He replied grudgingly. Katarina let out a longsuffering sigh.

"The Law and the Word are there to protect us from the lightless blasphemies of the faithless and the terror of the Void." She replied patiently. "They are not chains with which to bind us." She explained, and then paused. "I've already been there. Mistress Gretta is a welcoming hostess." She added with a grin. "Much more welcoming than you've been, in fact. You want to look for an affront to the Golden Lady, you should look no further than your own Church."

Outside, Katarina whispered a brief prayer to the Golden Lady, pulled a coin from her belt, and flipped it. If it was heads, she'd head into the forest. Tails, she'd head to Darnell.