Long, pale fingers flipped the empty vial over and over as Krossandra examined the makers mark on the bottom, printed in a script as fine as sinspider silk.

MELLORI FINE POTIONS

T/as Weeping Wallow Brewing Inc.

Approximately 1.0 Standard Dose

Product of Rosepalm Vale

LOT Number A27/MOU/STRENGTH17

Bottling – 27th Mourngust 5283

Net Content 4 oz

Drink Responsibly

She sniffed at the dried residue around the lip of the bottle, detecting a hint of raspberry mixed with something else…widow’s blood, perhaps? A common scent in these wicked times.

“And she took the body, you say?”

“I believe so, Your Holiness.” Pierro stood by the fireplace, sweating profusely from the heat of the flames, the scrutiny of the Cardinal, and possibly also the many serious wounds he was sporting. “I did not see it for myself, but there was nothing in the cell when we searched the prison after…err…”

“After you let her escape? After she slaughtered a dozen of your finest with her bare hands? After what, First Paladin?” Her dark eyes looked him up and down, noting the swollen black eye, the broken nose, torn moustache and fist-shaped dents in his armour. There was even what looked like a very large dog bite imprinted on the back of his gauntlet.

“After I failed in my duty to the One, Your Holiness.” The man’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly, the equivalent of a full-blown breakdown in someone as proud as Pendraken.

“Your duty to who?”

The sweating increased to a point where the weather wizards could probably detect it. “M-my duty to you, Cardinal…”

“Yeesss…” She put the bottle down and walked up to him, making full use of her height to make him feel as small and worthless as he had proven himself to be. “Even with all the power I have given you, and all the favours bestowed upon you by our Great God, you could not even stop a single, unarmed, human girl from breaking into the heart of our Order and escaping with a half-dead heathen!”

Pierro fell to one knee with a clang, furiously making the Sign of the One and bowing his head. “Forgive me, Holiness, I implore you! She was just….she was unstoppable! Whatever cursed magic filled her was very powerful. If you had seen it for yourself you would underst…”

“I know what witches magic can do, you fool!” she snapped. “What about the dogs? Did you even try to track her?”

“Well…yes…but…”

“But the intruder took my boys with her.” Kalila marched in, followed by her beaming Schnauzer, moustache freshly waxed and a little red ribbon tying off a lock of hair on her forehead. It trotted right up to the First Paladin, sniffed and licked his damaged gauntlet. “Willingly, it seems.”

Pierro sneered and pulled his hand away, struggling to his feet with all the speed of rising bread as he grunted in pain. “How dare you enter the Cardinal’s chambers without invita…”

“Shut up, Pendraken! I asked her to come.” Krossandra gave an elegant bow, a towering willow bending in the wind. “Thank you, Lady. We have a situation that requires your expertise.”

The shorter woman crossed her arms, adopting a stance not unlike a boulder. “You don’t need my help to catch an escaped prisoner.”

“You’re right. I don’t. Truthfully, I could not care less about her.”

Pierro’s jaw dropped. “WHAT? Then why am I…”

Krossandra rounded on him. “What I do care about are the many and complete failures of my First Paladin! Now shut up! I won’t warn you again.” She turned back to Kalila. “That girl was never the real target, nor was her husband.” She strode back to the table and picked up the bottle. “This,” she held it up for both to see, “this is what I wanted. I’m almost certain her brother supplied it. He’s a known monster sympathiser with connections to at least one known witch.”

Kalila raised an eyebrow. The Cardinal waited silently as she observed the younger woman. She could practically see the gears turning in her head. “You want the witch who gave her the potions? Is that it?”

“Precisely!” She tossed the bottle to Kalila. The girl snatched it out of the air, examining the batch stamp closely, then reached down to where her dog was pawing at Pierro’s leg. He was doing his best to ignore it, but there was no hiding his raging indignation at being sidelined and used as a scratching post. Kalila held out the bottle and the little dog sniffed it once and licked the rim, contemplated the taste for a moment, then violently pushed her face against the hole, slippery tongue twisting and probing as deep as it could to seek out any remaining residue.

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“So…you arrested a man on the assumption that his wife would try and rescue him with assistance from a witch who you knew to be an acquaintance of her brother?”

“More or less, yes.”

“And you hoped she would just happen to leave one of the bottles behind, clearly stamped with the witch’s location?”

“Our Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“Fair enough. Why not just interrogate the brother?”

Krossandra smiled and sighed inwardly, secretly relieved. Apparently the royal bitch wasn’t quite as clever or well-connected as she feared. “You don’t know who he is, do you?”

“Should I?”

“You spend too much time with those dogs, my dear. Raul Ferrison is the most dangerous dissident in the entire kingdom.”

Kalila shrugged.

“Raul Deathdodger? Raul the Resurrected? No? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

“Can’t say that it does. And if he’s so dangerous why don’t you just kill him?”

“Again? Why bother? It didn’t work the first time. We do watch him closely, though. Long story short, he had an intimate past with a witch, was executed for heresy, then brought back from death by magicks most foul. I’m told he left the city recently. Gone for three days, and almost immediately upon his return…” She waved a hand at the walking bruise that was Pierro.

Kalila pulled the bottle away from the dog who was still frantically licking at it. “Enough, Ava.” She read the label again. “Rosepalm Vale. That’s near Voldahurst?”

“Yes, about a half day by boat, if you can find one. Unfortunately the Blackhoof Clan passed through over the winter, I doubt there’s anything left of the village.”

The look levelled at the Cardinal spoke volumes without a single word being exchanged between the two women. Krossandra heard it clearly. My father would never have let that happen. Every day you’re in change is another pointless purge, another innocent executed, another county lost. Damn you, bitch, and damn the One!

Kalila stood up. “Well, you know what they say about Minotaurs.”

“Mess with the bull, you get the horns?”

The young woman shook her head. “Not quite what I was thinking.”

“Oh? Then wha…”

“Bullshit might get you to the top, but it won’t keep you there.”

They stared at each other long and hard, each waiting for the other to blink. Eventually Pierro cleared his throat. “If I may, Holiness…” he stepped carefully between the two women, risking dismemberment beneath their knifelike gazes. “I can secure passage up the Wallow for Lady Kalila, a yacht from my summer estate on the far side of Riverfall. I can also provide an escort to ensure this witch is safely apprehended and returned to you for…err…questioning, I suppose?”

The Cardinal placed a spiderlike hand atop the Paladin’s head. A cold light engulfed him and he gasped as the sweat all over his body froze into tiny shards of ice. His nose straightened with an audible crack, the black eye faded away, and his torn first-rimmed moustache reaffixed itself to a lip that was rapidly tuning blue as the man shivered violently. She removed her hand.

“What a generous offer. I’m sure the Lady would appreciate your company on such a dangerous journey.”

“A-A-Actually, Holiness, I w-w-was going to s-s-send…”

“Very generous indeed. Make haste then, Pendraken. I expect you back before the third spiral of Sleptember.”

* * *

Dried blood flaked off Louisa’s forearms as she unstrapped the makeshift harness from one dog and secured it to the other, then checked the litter. Cyril was still unconscious, which was maybe for the best considering the severity of his wounds and how bumpy the journey had been since leaving the main road. He groaned occasionally and spoke in his sleep, though she could never quite make out the words. Her own grief was safely bottled away for the moment. The initial shock and anguish at finding his mutilated body had been temporarily assuaged by her rampage in the cathedral. The blood of her victims still clung to her, staining her clothing and hair a ruddy brown.

Forcing her gaze away from the blood-stained bandage wrapped around his eyes, she saw Raul coming back down the trail, crouched low with an arrow nocked. Trouble ahead. She put her hand on her sword’s hilt but left it sheathed. The shining blade was very inconvenient when you were trying to be stealthy.

Her brother crept up beside her, keeping his voice low. “Four roblins. Three spears, one crossbow.”

Louisa cursed under her breath. Roblins were a furry, racoonish subspecies of goblin with a pathological need to steal and plunder, not unlike the common seagull, but they tended to be much less noisome about it. They were not unnecessarily violent, recognising the value in leaving a victim alive to be robbed again at a later date, but that didn’t make them harmless.

“Can we go around?”

“Not without adding another hour or two. The only one crossing over the Wallow for miles is at the end of this trail.” Raul looked down at Cyril. “He’s not looking good. The sooner we can get him to the doctor the better.”

She swore again. “Fine. How do you want to…”

The dogs’ ears suddenly perked up and stared into the woods as the birds fell silent. The siblings looked at each other, both full of grim determination, and starter to slink forward.

Before they could advance a dozen steps a guttural shriek broke the silence, followed by another, and another, and another.

“Four, you said?”

“Yeh…”

More noises filtered through the trees. Flesh-tearing, bone-snapping sounds. Louisa took a deep breath, unsheathed the shining blade, and charged forward, confident her brother had an arrow ready to loose on whatever awaited them.

She burst from the undergrowth to face a scene from a nightmare. There might have been four bodies here, if you could piece them back together. That was a big if, considering how small and many the pieces were. Red and brown patches of fur, crimson hunks of flesh, strings of organs and splintered bones littered the small clearing, some of them still convulsing. The smell of offal was overpowering.

Louisa gagged. “What in the hells…”

Something moved in the canopy above her. Raul’s arrow whizzed by and thudded softly into the unseen thing. Branches bowed and leaves rustled as whatever it was released a high-pitched squeal and fled, the sound of its passage rapidly fading away and leaving them alone with the shredded remains of the roblins.

Louisa sheathed her blade and gave a low whistle. “Any idea what that was?” she asked her brother as the dogs slunk out of cover to stand by her side, one of them dragging the litter, both snapping up chunks of meat.

Raul’s eyes were still scanning the canopy. “A reason for us to hurry up.” He nocked another arrow. “Come on, the ford isn’t far.”