The silver dagger bounced and vibrated on the coffee table. Oros, standing behind the lady while holding a tray with a teapot and cups, turned pale. Gemma turned to the lady and bowed deeply her head, but didn't say a word.
Liaria looked at Gemma, who was paralyzed, staring at the floor, her face purple. She quickly made up a story to get out of trouble, praying that the twins would play along.
The woman ran to the table and picked up the dagger. She shoved it under Gemma’s face, close to tears, forcing her to watch at it.
Liaria stood between the two. Avoiding comment on how the dagger was already battered before their arrival, she put on her best innocent smile.
The boy's words softened the old woman a little, who, after muttering to herself, smiled at him. She sat down on an armchair and glared at Gemma for the umpteenth time.
Gemma picked up the dagger with shaking hands. She wrapped it in a cloth handkerchief that she kept in the purse hanging from her belt, casting nervous glances at the lady. Then she sat on the sofa next to Liaria, and began staring at the floor again.
Oros served tea to everyone and finally sat down in the armchair opposite Alana's. Liaria noticed that Gemma was still trembling, so she caressed her shoulder, hoping that at least she could hold the cup without spilling everything.
Liaria took a sip of tea. It was terrible, watered down and with no sugar. She glanced at Oros, who shrugged. The lady, on the contrary, sipped it with satisfaction. The chances that it actually was to her taste, or that Oros had failed to prepare a simple infusion were quite slim.
, she covered her nose.
The lady strutted. She left the cup on the tray and began to fan her face. Her previous outburst had messed up her bun, and strands of grey hair fluttered above what looked more like a swallow's nest than a noblewoman’s hairstyle.
Liaria gave Oros a meaningful look. He collected the cups, including Gemma's, who was silent and intimidated, almost having to snatch it from her hand.
Alana's unusually friendly manner towards Oros made Liaria sick to her stomach. The boy had put up a brave facade out of necessity, but it was obvious that he was at his limit and very uncomfortable. Liaria jumped to her feet.
Liaria took Gemma by hand and dragged her out, stopping every few steps to bow to the lady, who was sitting in the armchair, hidden behind her fan, with an amused look. Was that Liaria's future had she failed in her career? Would she have become a stingy old hag, an insufferable arrogant woman who spends her days abusing the less well-off and defaming the local priest? She didn't particularly mind the idea, but for the moment she preferred to stick to the main plan.
Once they were outside the fence of the mansion, Gemma freed herself from her grip with a sudden pull.
The girl was purple with anger. She was breathing heavily and was certainly fantasising about punching her in the face. Liaria raised her hands and took a step back.
The girl lunged forward. With a strength she would never have attributed to her, she grabbed her face, holding her cheeks. Liaria stood still, paralyzed by fear. The memories of all the times that her forked tongue had gotten her into trouble, that she had come to punches with Nene, often ending up battered and in tears, suggested her not to react. Her eyes swelled with tears, faced with Gemma's uncontainable fury.
Oros grabbed his sister by the shoulders and pulled her towards him. Liaria took the opportunity to free herself. She fell to the ground, on her knees, and tried to hold back her sobs. Fear clouded her mind for a few moments, but she slowly began to return to her senses.
At Oros' words, Gemma was on the verge of bursting into tears. A deep sadness darkened her face, but she was soon overwhelmed by the same anger that had driven her to lash out at Liaria.
Liaria got back to her feet. Oros had saved her, again. After a moment of contemplation, she took a step forward, still scared.
, Liaria said.
Gemma threw herself at her. With her superior weight, she easily knocked her to the ground. Liaria found herself on her back, overtaken by a crazy bitch who had lost her mind. She covered her face and started screaming.
The boy lifted his sister, who was panting like crazy. Liaria immediately stood up and took a few steps back, not anxious to be grappled again.
, she shouted in turn.
Calling a fellow soldier a "bastard" was considered one of the worst offences one could say, as most Church cadets were orphans. Liaria didn’t care as much, but not the twins. Gemma herself seemed to come to her senses, realising the gravity of what she had just said.
Liaria shrugged. A burst of anger crossed Gemma's eyes again, but once again Oros came to her rescue.
Gemma looked like she was about to jump on her again. Liaria tried not to appear scared, believing that it was better to restore order and complete the task. She would have made Gemma pay for her insult at another time, when she would no longer have been useful to her.
, Oros said.
She took a moment to compose herself. That moron Gemma had soiled her clothes and the cape given to her by the quartermaster. She didn't say anything about it, to avoid arguing again, but she wouldn't forget it too easily.
She pointed to the modest two-storey farmhouse that stood in front of the mansion.
The stench of goat dung filled the dirt courtyard inside the farmhouse, accessible through a narrow arched tunnel, made of dry stone. The poorest families often built similar buildings and lived next to each other, sharing some spaces, such as the courtyard or the latrine, to help each other out.
The courtyard was surrounded by log walls and heavy wooden doors, probably the stables, but no sounds came from inside, only the smell of manure. The shepherds had certainly left, and the courtyard, overlooked by a wooden balcony, surrounded by a rough railing, was gloomy, dark and silent.
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They heard footsteps pounding on the wooden walkway. Liaria looked up, her eyes by then accustomed to the darkness, and was dazzled by the sunlight coming from the opening above the courtyard. A corpulent woman appeared from the balcony, her round face wrapped in a grey veil.
The woman shuddered at that announcement. Common people were genuinely frightened by the stories about their Order. Liaria took a step forward and put a hand on her chest.
The woman sighed, and finally smiled at them. Liaria gave a satisfied look at Gemma, who purposely ignored her, turning away.
After a moment of reflection, the woman agreed. She pointed them to a crude ladder that led to the balcony. They climbed up, finding themselves on a narrow walkway. Numerous small doors overlooked it, and for some reason it was much warmer up there.
The villager was wearing a filthy apron and had a sweaty face. She carried a bucket full of water with her, dragging her feet. Her unhealthy appearance made Liaria fear the worst, so she wanted to hurry up to meet the little girl, to ascertain her state of health, and then leave that den of God knows what disease as soon as possible. They followed their guide into a narrow corridor that led out of the building, grey and dark, marked by nothing other than the occasional door of an apartment. They reached the deepest and most isolated one, since it was good practice to keep the sick as far away from others as possible. However, someone had to look after the little girl, and judging by her condition, and the fact that she was the only one present in the entire farmhouse, the woman with the veil had certainly been assigned to her care.
The aunt of the alleged Saint immediately became suspicious. Unexpectedly, Gemma rested a hand on her shoulder, and smiled at her.
The woman sighed and put the bucket on the ground. From a large pocket of her apron she retrieved a small leather waterskin. She dipped it in the bucket until it was full, then handed it to the boy.
Finally, the woman agreed to let them enter. She inserted a heavy iron key into the lock and unlocked it. The rickety door opened, and from inside came a musty, sweaty smell. The room was dark and warm, except for a glimmer of light coming from the barred window at the back of the room.
Oros entered the room first and approached the window. After a few moments of fumbling in the dark, he managed to open the shutters. Sunlight flooded the small, bare room. The log walls were full with shelves, carrying empty glass bottles. In the centre of the room stood a large double bed, very worn out, in stark contrast to the austere appearance of the rest of the house. Next to the bed there was a chair and a table. On the latter, a partially burned candle and a book had been left.
Lucrezia emerged from the covers. She was a little girl with short brown hair, a pale and sweaty face, to the point that one could make out the veins under her skin. Her blue eyes were reddened and she appeared to have a severe fever. She was wearing a white nightgown, also soaked in sweat, and her voice was hoarse, almost a whisper, as if struggling to leave her pursed lips.
The woman left the room and closed the door behind her. Liaria motioned for Gemma to stay next to her. She sat down on the rickety chair and smiled at the little girl.
The little girl hesitated. She sat up with difficulty and rested her back against the pillow, sinking into it as much as she could.
Oros approached the bed and handed the waterskin to the little girl. She grimaced, but finally accepted it and took a tiny sip. She made a disgusted face and left the waterskin on the table.
, she whimpered.
Liaria shivered. She turned to Gemma, whose expression was even worse than hers. It certainly didn't take an expert to understand that something was wrong with that little girl. Hoping she was wrong, Liaria dared to ask the fundamental question.
Liaria smiled again. Scaring the little girl was the last of her desires, but she had to invent an excuse to talk with the twins.
Finally, Lucrezia smiled back. Her little teeth were blackened, as if rotten, and she even looked like she had been bleeding from her mouth recently.
Liaria called the twins back to her. They left the room and found themselves facing the little girl's aunt, who was waiting at the end of the corridor, looking worried.
Oros looked at Liaria, who nodded. She thanked her good fortune for having given her at least one smart and cooperative companion. Gemma, on the other hand, still under her arm, was visibly seething with anger. As soon as Oros and the woman turned the corner, the girl freed herself from her grasp.
Liaria looked at her seriously, and anger left Gemma's body.
Liaria reached for Gemma's waist, who instinctively tensed. She touched the old silver dagger hanging from her belt, wrapped in a handkerchief.
Gemma stared into space for some time. Liaria put a hand on her shoulder, hoping to encourage her. In truth, she saw an opportunity in that scenario: if she had returned to the barracks reporting that she had not discovered any Saints, she would have simply received a kind word and perhaps some coins in return. But if she had purged a damned, prevented the spread of the plague…
The Knights' protocols called for their intervention in the most extreme cases of damnation. Usually it was up to an Inquisitor to decide whether to involve them or not, but there were no Inquisitors nearby. It was a perfect situation: she could have made a hard decision, and if she had got results, she would have impressed her superiors. She just needed a plan so she could avoid liability if things went wrong.
They returned to the little girl's room. Lucrezia sat up slowly, her gaze was full of anticipation.
Gemma stood behind her, visibly nervous. Liaria would have preferred to share her plan with her, but she was certain that if she had done so, that bigot would have opposed it, especially if she had managed to guess her real intentions. She held out a hand to her for the dagger, and she, unexpectedly, obeyed.
Liaria revealed the dagger. The little girl was surprised by it and her enthusiasm vanished in an instant.
She brought the dagger closer to the little girl and rested a finger on the flat part of the blade, to show her how to do it. Lucrezia hesitated, but she looked finally convinced.
The little girl's hand, trembling, touched the silver.
A scream pierced the air.
Lucrezia withdrew instantly, holding her hand, and moaning in pain. She curled into the pillow, her eyes welling with tears.
Liaria didn't hesitate, and neither did her partner. They surrounded the little girl's bed, who watched them in terror.
Gemma grabbed the little girl by the shoulders, who screamed and tried to wriggle, but she was very small and weakened, and she couldn't resist. Once she was pinned to the bed, Liaria leaned over her, dagger in hand.
She pressed the flat of the silver blade against Lucrezia's forehead. The girl began to scream and fuss. Her cries made both Knights' blood run cold. In an instant, a horrible scar formed on the little girl's forehead, as if she had been exposed to flames.
Gemma stared at her in shock. Saving the damned meant purging them, purging them meant taking their life away with the silver blade of an Inquisitor.
Liaria handed the dagger to Gemma, who, shocked and absent, took it in her hand. With her free hand she continued to hold back the servant of the Evil One, who was begging and calling out for her parents.
Gemma watched the little girl, who tirelessly screamed, scratched her arm and tried in vain to push her away with all her strength. Liaria began to sweat, both for the situation they were in and for fear that Gemma would back out, thus ruining her entire plan.
Gemma looked at her bewildered. She was close to tears and was visibly shaking. The salvation of the soul was a serious matter, so serious that it was considered common sense to exchange one's life for it, if necessary. Nonetheless, Gemma was understandably hesitant to take the life of a little girl, who, naively and under mysterious circumstances, had given up her soul to the Evil One.
Liaria obeyed. The fact that Gemma had resigned herself to carrying out her task made her breathe a sigh of relief, so she decided to indulge her and assist her.
The little girl sobbed, shaking, but little by little she calmed down. Gemma released her..
Lucrezia gave a fleeting glance at the water skin placed on the table. Her face had become a mask of tears, to the point that Liaria found herself reconsidering her entire actions. Was she really convincing Gemma to purge that poor little girl? She felt sick in her stomach, and she had to hold back from retching.
, the girl protested.
Liaria felt her head spinning. Contrary to her usual behaviour, she hated that she had gotten it right. She was more than certain that Lucrezia was not a Saint, that she had not spoken to the Archangel, but to His bitter enemy, the Evil One. Elora's memory, memories of that terrible night in which her Saint, her friend, had succumbed to temptation, came back to torment her. She looked at Lucrezia and saw Elora in her. She was one step away from being moved to pity, but it would have been a terrible crime to protect her. If only there was another way…
Contrary to her, Gemma, initially scared, finally seemed determined. She sighed, looked at the dagger, then looked at the little girl.
Liaria hesitated. She caught the same hesitation in Gemma's gaze, who was certainly experiencing the same emotions as her. She forced herself to regain her composure, to remember that the salvation of a soul was at stake.
She climbed onto the bed and towered over the little girl. She sat on her legs and grabbed her arms, pinning her completely against the mattress. Lucrezia began to scream, beg, call for help again, making Liaria feel as if they were in the wrong.
The little girl's trembling voice touched her heart, her crying was contagious. Liaria's vision blurred with tears as she listened to Gemma mutter an incomprehensible prayer, drowned out by the high-pitched screams of the damned.
<... God welcome those who have turned their backs on you, for...>
Gemma brought the dagger close to the little girl's chest, who was breathing heavily. She had exhausted her meagre strength, and lay helpless under Liaria's weight, sobbing and pleading in a low voice. Her fragile figure appeared ephemeral as if it could break at the slightest touch. She was the very image of delicacy, an exhausted, battered and terrified little girl, who would awaken the instinct to protect her even in the coldest, most heinous of people. It was so unfair what was happening to her. Liaria wished there was another way to save her. She would have gone to the ends of the world to find it, she would have broken rules, given up her career, just to not be there at that moment, holding that poor, miserable little girl who had done nothing wrong, except wanting a better meal than usual. She hated herself deeply for having come to that, and she was sure that Lucrezia hated her too, rightfully so. The sight of her resigned look broke her heart. She felt the urge to hug her, reassure her, and take her away, to safety, far from the Church.
She didn't dare to look further. She closed her eyes.
She felt a snatch beneath her, a gasp. Lucrezia was shaken by spasms for a few moments, then finally stopped moving.
There was silence. No screams, no pleas. Then a metallic sound.
She opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. Under her lay the lifeless body of Lucrezia, the nightgown torn on the chest. A red stream of blood had soaked it, and dripped between the fabrics until it reached the mattress. Her wide, still eyes stared at her, her pale, bloodless face forever frozen in a grimace of pure terror.
To her left, Gemma had collapsed to her knees. She covered her face and cried her eyes out. The bloody dagger lay next to her.
Liaria took several deep breaths, finally managing to find a little calm. She got out of bed and knelt next to Gemma. She caressed her shoulder.
Gemma lowered her hands. She was shocked, trembling, but her face changed immediately. She became ferocious, purple, out of her mind.
, she replied.
Gemma stared at her hands and started shaking again. She looked at the dagger, then at the small lifeless body lying on the bed.
, she realised.
Liaria didn't dare say a word. She wasn't happy or proud of what had just happened either. She firmly believed she had made the best decision, but she shared her partner's feelings.
She offered Gemma a hand to help her get up, but she refused. The woman picked up the dagger, cleaned it with the handkerchief and hung it on her belt. Her gaze fell once again on poor Lucrezia, as did Liaria's.