For a moment, Yuki thought things would escalate. Somehow, the man would accuse them of something, ask questions they couldn’t answer, or blatantly accost them for no reason. Nothing of the sort happened. Bee got the food and ran back to their table. Still holding Whisker, Yuki followed the two other girls out of the inn. The man glanced at them leaving, but soon returned to his food and drink.
The mood in town had changed again. It was charged, somehow. There was this undercurrent of expectation and fear. Was it related to the church people? Yuki remembered the pyre. She hugged Whisker closer. It was better not to provoke those people.
Bee led them around a meandering route. They walked through alleyways, crossed roads, and jumped over fences. She led the girls behind a thicket which hid an opening in the otherwise solid rock face.
Bee waved them closer and walked in.
It was some sort of hidden grotto. A scattering of small trees covered the area. It wasn’t dark; there was an opening in the ceiling that let sunlight in. Scattered about were a blanket, an old pair of shoes, a rotting bag, decaying paper, and old clothes—all too big and too old to belong to Bee.
“What is this place?” Jenny asked.
Bee just scratched the back of her head and shrugged. “I found it some years ago. It’s only bad when it rains.”
Yuki wanted to explore, but the shapechange decided that now was the time to end. One moment, she held Whisker. The next, she was looking at the bigger rabbit and her adorable twitching nose. Yuki might have squealed. Just a bit.
“This place seems good enough,” Jenny said in the local language. “Will you wait for me here?” She asked Bee. The girl nodded. Jenny turned to Yuki, switching to the old language. “Biscuit, I’ll see if I can buy livestock for the magic. And see about repairing my crossbow. I might take a while to return, be safe, alright?”
Yuki stopped her nuzzling of Whisker and looked at Jenny. She nodded. “Be safe. Don’t do anything suspicious. That churchman scared me.”
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Church templar Robert Thomasson finished his meal. It was good food. The owner knew her craft. He could taste the careful blend of spices used to preserve the meat during the salting process. He got up from his chair, paid the woman her well-deserved coins, and bowed again in apology.
“Thank you for the meal, ma’am. And I apologize for the door earlier.”
The matron just brushed him off. She took his coin and went to serve another patron.
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Robert stepped outside the inn. He closed his eyes and breathed the fresh air. This was a beautiful town. Even if they had a lurker infestation. According to the church, the late Baron hired a group of mercenaries to kill two of the things which were harassing his livestock. And now another attack on the town? Those creatures are solitary hunters. If there’s more than one, there’s a nest nearby. It wouldn’t be the last of the attacks. Shame he wasn’t here for that. More urgent matters to deal with.
It was still hard to believe that in this day and age someone openly defied the church and king. The Baron’s life force had been usurped according to the Inquisitor's reports. A summoning contract drawn in blood left at the entrance of the manor. The guard was killed by entropy magic.
Two different styles of magic. He picked the paper with the name. “Jennifer of Ravenshade.” The new Baron blamed everything on the girl. Thank the gods, the priest kept his mouth shut and didn’t alert the Baron about the facts they already knew.
Robert intended to ask questions about Jennifer to see what could be learned. She was their only lead—or she was. Now they had another, the girl with white hair. Maybe people forgot; it had been years. But the signs were all there: unnatural hair and eyes, the shape of the face, and the way the girl moved.
The girl had the gift. This took priority over everything else. He didn’t see any madness in her eyes or actions. And she was young. Too young, maybe. It was possible the girl hadn’t awakened to her magic yet. Robert hoped that was the case. The madness was an insidious thing. Paranoia, hallucinations, extreme fits of rage, cannibalism, obsessions, murderous rampages. The list went on and on.
If the taint wasn’t too severe, depriving the sorcerer of their magic usually was enough to bring them back, even if it was a process that took years or decades. Most refused, and quite violently at that.
Robert retrieved his bell. Invoked a prayer to his god. Pleaded for the girl's life. He begged that it wouldn’t be too late. The bell rang. A sound only he could hear. He held it between his fingers and followed the noise.
He didn’t know how the bell worked; only that it did. It was a gift from the Inquisitor. The man had been vehement about the restrictions. The bell could be used only once a day. No more than three times a month. Anything else invited disaster. Robert never questioned the man’s wisdom. He obeyed, and only used the bell in extreme cases.
This was one such case. The girl’s life was worth it.
His heavy steps led him on a circuitous route. More than once, he had to backtrack to avoid trespassing in places he shouldn’t. Other times, he had to go back and search for a different path when the sound of the bell simply stopped. It took hours, but such was the nature of the gift.
Robert stared at the opening in the wall. The bell’s reverberations were strongest here. The girl had gone inside. He pocketed the bell and donned his shield. It paid to be ready, even if he didn’t believe it would be necessary. With one final prayer, he ducked down and walked inside.
The grotto he walked into wasn’t what Robert had expected. He scanned the place, trying to find the girl. Near the entrance, he found a discarded set of folded clothes. On the far side of the grotto, the thin, freckled girl looked scared. Wide eyes fixed on his sword, she held the gray rabbit—the one missing the horn—the one the white-haired girl had carried before.
Another quick scan revealed old, decaying clothes and other things. Robert didn’t have time to pay attention to them, he needed to find the white haired girl.
From behind the freckled one, a small, unassuming white rabbit hopped. Looked in his direction. White, luxurious fur. Red eyes. The rabbit didn’t behave like a rabbit.
“God dammit!” Robert cursed.