Chapter 58

Inside the Port Authority building, Miriam ushered the unfamiliar Lady of the Church to a comfortable chair after making the arrangements for the crane, and began laboriously grinding up beans for a pot of brew.

"When Derrik returns, I'm sure he'll leap at the chance to get a carriage for you if you like, my lady." Miriam offered over her shoulder. The chair was empty. Miriam whirled around, startled, and took a relieved breath at the sight of the woman who hadn't ducked out, but instead inspected the message board on the other side of the room curiously.

"Those are just notifications, My Lady." Miriam explained, turning back to her beans. "Likely boring reading for someone such as yourself."

"You'd be surprised. A Witch Hunter can pick up things from the strangest places." Katarina mused absentmindedly, but Miriam was right. The notifications were straightforward and simple: Dock workers would be needed within a couple of weeks in anticipation of some nobleman's cargo. Three east docks were for loading heavy cargo, like lumber and ingots, the other three were for unloading similar heavy cargoes. The west side of the harbor was reserved exclusively for warships; basic cargo and passenger crafts were assigned the central docks.

Miriam shuddered at that innocuous statement. Witch Hunters were relentless killing machines that knew seven hundred and seventy-seven ways to kill a person, all horrific. They were tasked with rooting out heresy and witchcraft. Nobody who met one survived to tell the tale. Nobody. Shockingly, her brain made the connection only too late. The Lady, The one who had introduced herself as "Katarina" was a Witch Hunter. Miriam was doomed. It didn't matter that she'd lived an upstanding life without making any significant mistakes.., well, except for that time in primaries when she yanked out a fistful of one of her classmates' hair. Would a Witch Hunter know that? Could a Witch Hunter know that? Was she even now, reading her thoughts?

"Hmm. Know anything about this?" Katarina mused from behind her. Miriam let out a breathy little shriek as the taller woman dangled a yellowing flyer in front of her face.

WANTED: Katarina Pavlenko. A bare-sketch drawing below that, stamped with the Torch, the symbol of the Inquisition. A fading red X covered the entirety of the parchment. Miriam refocused on the parchment, at the red X. She let out a small breath. She might live through this.

"That order has been rescinded." She gestured to the stamp.

The Lady raised an eyebrow at that. "Ah. Interesting." She scrolled up the flyer and tucked it in a wooden scrollcase she produced from somewhere in the depths of her coat.

Miriam froze as her mind made another connection too late. Katarina Pavlenko, wanted by the Inquisition. Why would they put out a poster for her arrest and then rescind it? Katarina Pavlenko, the Lady of the Church who was standing right in front of her? Katarina Pavlenko, a Witch Hunter? Her mind blanched at the thought.

"Ah." Katarina replied, but inside she was wondering. There was no way an Inquisition order was rescinded. Not in her experience, she realized. There was never a point where the Inquisition suddenly stopped arbitrarily and said, "Whoops! We fucked up." If the Inquisition called, you answered. You did not come under the Torch with any expectation of coming out alive. There was no such thing as innocence, there were only varying degrees of guilt.

One of the great secrets of the Anglish Empire- and known to only to a few people- was the gradual, creeping loss of the entire continent of Rothgar, the former mainland only sixty-seven years ago. On the Sarkomand Highlands in the country of Lyonesse, several decisive battles were lost- and with them the loss of the great Jeweled Cities. Demons, undead, beastmen, mutants, and all manner of evil seemed to erupt from those shattered highlands. With the military beaten and in tatters, the Anglish Empire was forced to retreat again and again.

The Holy Church of the Anglish Empire grudgingly decided that the best decision was to abandon Rothgar and relocate the capital to the continent of Hesperia just across the Gulf of Mirras, and establish a new capital there. The port city of Darnell exploded, growing nearly overnight, and the laborious exodus from the continent of Rothgar began.

Even now more than sixty years later, massive ships filled to bursting with families and books, art and livestock ponderously crossed the gulf to seek a new life on the largely unexplored continent.

When approached from the sea, the first thing you'd notice of the city of Darnell once you berthed in the docks was the massive walls that ringed the city, a titanic wall forty feet high, and wide enough to allow two wagons to ride on the wall between the battlements. But even over the walls the grand buildings of Darnell loomed; off in the northeastern corner, build up against the mountainside, the grand Miskatonik University, the greatest school of magic in all of the Anglish Empire since the fall of the Jeweled Cities of Sarkomand. To the southeast was the Noble Quarter, a terraced area filled with the mansions of the wealthy elite, and in the center of the city, rising above them all, the grounds of the Grand Cathedral, the Church of the Golden lady, and the seat of power for the entirety of the Anglish Empire.

The southern quarters of the city were reserved for the laborers of the great city; the dock handlers, the farriers, the blacksmiths, the carpenters, the shops, the taverns, the inns and homes of the innumerable people that lived and worked for the city itself.

Katarina eyed the city from her carriage and rubbed her mouth with one hand distastefully. She loved the city, with its broad stone streets, cultivated parks, and magnificent buildings, but every single time she'd had to return to the city in the past, the Church invariably found ways to try and keep her there. The cartographers wanted her for their maps and knowledge of the various flora and fauna across the lands she ranged across, various factions wanted to pry from her all she knew of the beastmen, elves, mutants and monstrosities she'd encountered, and invariably a bishop or Landed Noble would attempt to enmesh her in one of their endless political schemes. It didn't change the fact that the city itself was a proud beacon of civilization, a beauteous landmark that stood apart from the uncountable miles of unexplored and untamed wilderness that made up Hesperia.

Katarina thought back to the last time she'd been in the city, and remembered the time she'd been kidnapped by a secretive order that existed within the church itself that called themselves the Twilight Lilies. They were a group of specially trained courtesans for the Inquisition, trained in song, dance, language, etiquette, espionage and assassination. She rolled her eyes at the memory and forced a small chuckle.

She only returned to Darnell now when it was absolutely necessary, and this time it was; if she wanted the charges against her cleared, she'd need to present her case before the Book of the Golden Lady.

What do you counsel? She asked the Saints, and after a moment, the decision came back: Patience. 'Patience' was nearly overridden with Preparation for war. They always counselled patience. Katarina was not a woman comfortable with patience.

She smiled down at Miriam. "Do you need help with your dress?" She asked curiously. "I think I got a little ..." She trailed off. "Impatient." She finished, and Miriam smiled at her but shook her head and continued lacing up the front of her dress.

"You know, if you smiled like that more often I'm certain your parents will stop bothering you." Katarina advised thoughtfully, and Miriam's jaw dropped open. "How did you know...?" She blurted, and Katarina blinked, startled. She hadn't known, the thought had just popped into her head spontaneously.

Katarina pointed at Miriam's hands. "You're not married. It's the domain of parents everywhere to complain when their adult daughter is unmarried." She replied simply. "My own does the same." She added, wiggling her bare fingers meaningfully, and Miriam nodded.

Katarina stepped down from the carriage, retrieved her pack and saddlebags, unhitched her horse from the rear of the carriage, and bid Miriam a cheery goodbye with a wave.

As Katarina strolled up to the gates of the massive cathedral, she ran through a mental checklist of her goals.

First and foremost on the list was the need to catch her sister. She'd lost a great deal of lead time on that with her trip to Rothgar, but she'd weighed that against reconnecting with her family, and the quest to recover relics of the long-dead saints.

The second priority was to systematically excise the corruption in the clergy of Norn. For that she would need the Inquisition's assistance, though if she approached the Inquisition, she would likely be arrested.

She had an urge to reconnect with her family and fill them in on the events that happened in Ardeal. She'd had that impulse a lot and nearly got on the boat with the refugees. She ruthlessly squashed it again. She could simply write out a letter and have it sent to the Pavlenko estate, she reasoned.

If she were lucky, she might be able to engage the services of High Lady Inquisitor Alayne. Alayne had been an instructor of hers when Katarina was an initiate, and she counted the woman as an ally. Alayne would be able to help her understand the changes happening to her.

Least important, but likely the most troublesome would be what she'd been putting off since Higgenfal: renewing her Writ and Warrant. The moment she became visible to the various powers that moved in the Alstroemeria, she would find herself up to her neck in all sorts of machinations.

As far as short-term goals were concerned, she needed to make sure she stayed as far away from all the various factions and cliques in the Church that wanted to manipulate or use her to further their own agendas.

Katarina had become something of a fugitive of the Church in the past few months for reasons unknown to her. She'd been given an assignment: hunt down her younger sister, a mage who had run away from the church. Once she began the assignment, she'd been told to abort that assignment, something that had never happened in all her years as a Witch Hunter. She decided to ignore the command to abandon the assignment, after which she had been told that she was under pain of arrest by the Inquisition, a truly baffling chain of events.

She'd gotten sidetracked from her mission several times, however. First with a mystifying series of visions, accompanied with convulsions, then with an encounter with a former Witch Hunter that left her critically wounded, culminating in her reuniting with her family, people she hadn't seen in twenty years.

She went to perform a task for her family, and ended up travelling to the ancestral home of the Pavlenkos, the country of Ardeal on the neighboring continent. In Ardeal she'd found the ashes of a cremated saint, and was given a sacred quest; to retrieve the remains of the sacred saints of old.

Having fulfilled her divine quest, she arrived in Darnell, a sense of foreboding weighing on her shoulders.

Katarina nodded to herself as she threaded through a cluster of people. She'd head to one of the smaller temples on the grounds of the Alstroemeria, compose her letter to her family, and then from there turn herself into the Inquisition.

At the front gate to the Alstroemeria she was stopped by a burly mountain of a guard. Everything about him was thick, from his bull-like neck, to his massive shoulders which strained his uniform, to his hands, big as whole hams. His nose was a lumpy, misshapen potato, a veteran of many a fistfight. Katarina was as tall as most men, but he overtopped her by about half a foot.

"Where do you think you're going?" The guard yelled at her. "Keep your hands where I can see them." He leveled his mancatcher at her threateningly like a spear, even though it was a simple wooden staff with a hooked end like a shepherd's crook, designed to catch in someone's clothes, or hook someone's foot, or around the neck to subdue them.

Katarina's first instinctive response was to draw her weapons and ask questions later. Instead, she suppressed the urge growing in her gut and restrained herself, spreading her arms wide and away from her weapons, glaring at the guard as his compatriots moved to flank her.

"What's all this about?" She demanded. "I'll have you know that-" She started to say, but was cut off by a new voice.

"You're under arrest for obscenity." One of the other men interrupted as he approached from the guardhouse, wiping the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief. He was older, and his uniform bore a couple of braided knots on the breast; an officer. "You're to be fined and flogged for your vulgarity." He replied arrogantly, hand on the pommel of his short sword.

"What law is this?" Katarina asked, and the men grouped in a loose semicircle about her gaped at her in astonishment. The officer straightened subtly and spoke as if quoting:

"Whoever does in a public place an indecent act, or an act contrary to public morals, or wears an obscene outfit, or is found to be causing an annoyance to public feelings, shall be punished with flogging which may not exceed forty lashes or with fine or with both." He intoned. She noticed other people had stopped passing through the gate to observe what was going on.

"And what obscenity do you think I've committed?" She inquired, folding her arms and frowning at him.

"Righteous women that love and fear the Goddess have no desire to wear trousers. Now disarm." He demanded curtly.

Katarina let out a breath. She expected this sort of behavior, had gotten used to it to a certain degree, but it was still frustrating every time it came up. Women did not wear pants or trousers except for certain circumstances, like horseback riding or certain expeditions, like sport hunting, and even then, they wore a specially divided dress with an overdress.

Witch Hunters often dressed with no regard for social rules, and because of their status and importance to the cause, the Church was more forgiving of their lack of social decorum. This didn't often translate well to the local guards or militia of a small town or village, however this was Darnell, the seat of the Anglish Empire; they should have known.

She dipped her hand into her shirt and displayed her holy symbol. "I'm a Witch Hunter in service to the Golden Lady, guardsman. You have no authority over me." She stated firmly. "Now let me pass."

Time seemed to come to a halt for a moment, and then the officer seemed to choke back his words.

"Let me see your Writ." He stubbornly demanded. Katarina sighed but handed over her Writ and Warrant obligingly enough.

"What's in the packs, Lady?" The first guardsman, the mountainous one with the mancatcher, demanded suspiciously, glaring out from under his cap.

"What's in my packs is my business and none of yours." She replied irritably.

The man nodded while inspecting her paperwork. "You shouldn't ask that of a Lady of the Church." he advised his subordinate as he finished examining her documents.

He nodded back. "Well enough, then. Sorry for the trouble. I'll send a runner ahead for you." Each sentence was short, curt, and bitten off, as if he wasn't used to speaking. He stepped back and waved her on.

One of the guards flanking her on the left sidled up to her, and spoke in a low voice.

"Forgive him, my lady." He urged in low tones. "He's not used to being overruled." He added apologetically.

Katarina smiled a little at this. "Thanks for all of your hard work." She said in a loud voice, and shouldered her pack, and draped her saddlebags over the other, much to the irritated consternation of the huge guard. Likely he'd been looking forward to pawing through her things, despite his superior's admonition.

If Katarina could have gotten away with it, she'd've ridden her horse right up to the front doors of the Alstroemeria, the Grand Cathedral, but Darnell was a lot less forgiving than outlying towns like Norn and Aston. She'd be dragged down by catchpoles and flogged and fined. No need for that, now. She could comfortably and safely stable her horse at the Church.

As one walked onto the temple gardens, the headquarters of the massive empire that spanned five continents, they would feel both awed and welcomed. The gardens surrounding the massive Cathedral of the Golden Lady in Darnell were open and inviting, with wide open spaces, exquisite sculptures, and verdant lawns. The grounds were bordered by a low stone wall, worked and carved into vines and leaves and large golden lilies, the symbol of the Goddess, with several large, welcoming entryways.

At the same time, there was also a subtle sense of order, of force being imposed. There were paved walks through the carefully tended lawns and rigidly controlled hedges, trees, and flowerbeds, and everywhere you looked once you stepped onto the sanctified grounds, you were reminded that you stood on land consecrated in the name of the Golden Lady. Statues representative of the various aspects of the Golden Lady could be viewed in sequence as one progressed through the temple grounds, the Shield of the Defender, with two swords sheathed behind the curved arc, the Lily of fertility and growth, and the Kneeling Woman of healing and song.

The temple grounds were huge, spanning several square kilometers, a city-within-a-city, with many large, ornate buildings. Each building was devoted to a specific aspect of the Golden Lady, where various members of her most devoted clergy trained. There were barracks and training grounds for her sanctified troops, dwellings for her priests and clerics, administrative facilities for the church, and two chapels.

What drew the eye though was the massive cathedral at the heart of the grounds. It imposed its bulk everywhere, six massive cathedral wings crowding around a central locus with the central spire rising even higher. It was mountainous, the wings hundreds of feet high with dozens of stories concealed within. The architecture was in the traditional gothic, with tall, narrow windows, pointed arches, ribbed vaults, flying buttresses, and towering spires.

Such an arrogant thing. Man, in his overweening pride, reaching for the heavens. A dry voice spoke up inside her.

The woman who stepped onto the smoothly-ground basalt pathway seemed to ignore the sculptures and tended gardens as she strode briskly across the grounds. She walked quickly with a ground-eating stride, unhurriedly, neither hurrying or idling, ignoring the winding pathway, and cutting across the grass directly.

She strode through the low hedges and across the cultivated lawns and flower beds without regard for the basalt paths, ignoring the shouts and yelps of acolytes and gardeners as she moved. She didn't bother heading for the Grand Cathedral, the great six-lobed many-storied building that rose a thousand and a half feet into the air, proudly declaring the might and majesty of the Empire through its heavily ornate and massive size.

Instead, she headed for a small temple located just within the walls of the Alstroemeria itself, a chapel that had been set aside for people who needed to write and send correspondence across the Empire. Ostensibly it was for everyone, for any Anglish person of good moral character, but in order to use the service, you first needed to be literate. Most of the people from the Anglish Empire couldn't read or write except for the Nobility, and they often employed mages of their own to send their correspondence.

Katarina composed her letter to her parents, filling them in on the details they needed to know about what had happened to the homeland, omitting the details they didn't need, and letting them know of the interactions with the lon Pavlenkos outside of Wallachia as well as possible strategies with dealing with them that they likely didn't need, finished with well-wishes and signed her name with a flourish.

An out-of-breath guardsman in the lighter gear of a scout pounded into the hall outside the apartments of the Grand Cardinal and was immediately halted by the Grand Cardinal's personal guard.

"I have a message for the Grand Cardinal!" he gasped. "Most urgent! Highest priority!" He wheezed.

"On whose authority?" the older man asked gruffly, holding out his offhand in a warding off gesture.

The Guard, hands on knees, wordlessly passed a wooden scrollcase to the guard. "On order of the Grand Cardinal." he wheezed, sweat dripping down his face.

The Grand Cardinal's guard read the orders quickly and nodded. "Catch your breath, man. And wipe your face." He ordered, holding out a handkerchief.

The scout nodded and took the proffered cloth and wiped his face, and took a moment to calm down.

"Okay, I'm good." He weakly advised the guard, who eyed him carefully.

"You sure?" He asked dubiously, and the scout nodded.

The scout stepped into the Grand Cardinal's apartments and relayed his message in four words.

"She's here, Your Grace."

The Grand Cardinal nodded. "Excellent, thank you." She replied easily. "You may send in my guard when you leave." She replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, and the scout nodded, bowed, and left.

Her guard captain stepped in after the scout left. "Call an emergency meeting of the Book. We'll have it in the High Court." The Grand Cardinal ordered, and he bowed, fist to heart.

After sending her correspondence, Katarina trekked across the compound to the Basilica of the Torch, the home of the Inquisition of the Church of the Golden Lady, the Torchbearers.

The Basilica was a massive hexagonal building with a rounded dome in the center, festooned with tall, narrow minarets, lancet windows, and bas relief carvings and surrounded by ever-burning torches.

Upon entering the great double doors, she was immediately set upon by a young woman who was of a height and build with her, which came as a surprise. Katarina towered over most women, and some men as well.

"Your name, please?" The woman asked in a brisk, no-nonsense fashion. Her eyes were inscrutable cobalt chips, and she wore her hair in a functional braid like Katarina herself, but there the resemblance ended. The woman was beyond robust, she bulged with muscle.

"Katarina lon Pavlenko. Witch Hunter, Inquisitor, Knight and Lady." She replied succinctly, adopting the woman's no-nonsense attitude.

"Impressive." The woman replied, sounding wholly unimpressed. "Clearance?" She demanded, and Katarina rolled her eyes.

"Throne-Tredici." She replied dryly.

"Your reason for coming to the Torchbearers?" The woman didn't blink.

"Two reasons: I wanted to open an investigation into Norn's clergy, and I wished to see High Lady Alayne."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "The first is easy enough. Come." She indicated, and walked briskly, skirt swishing. "We must first verify that there is no current or pending investigation. Can't have multiple investigations that interfere with each other." The woman explained. Katarina nodded.

"And the High Lady Inquisitor?" Katarina prodded. The woman glanced at Katarina, and then away. "What reason would you have to see her?" she asked.

"She's a mentor, a confidant, and friend." Katarina returned. "She nearly steered my path from the Witch Hunters to the Inquisitors."

"A shame she failed, I'm sure." The woman replied curtly, and led Katarina into a room filled with filing cabinets and cupboards.

"Norn." The woman muttered, pawing through scrolls. "There was an inquisitor sent out there to keep an eye on the lumberjacks sent to clear the forests, but I don't believe there is any investigation of the clergy itself." She declared, and held up a trio of scrolls.

"If we can confirm no active or pending investigation, then all correspondence with the Church of Norn will be open to you as Inquisitor. You will be in charge of, and responsible for the investigation." the woman raised an eyebrow and held out her hand expectantly. "Your Inquisitorial Seal."

Katarina dug about in her packs for her seal, which she rarely used, and handed it over, a palm-sized medallion with the Shield of the Defender embossed on one side, and a pair of crossed torches on the other.

The woman took Katarina's seal, and noted the particulars of Katarina's request. As she wrote, the woman spoke up. "We no longer have a High Lady Inquisitor." She said in a disinterested voice, as if the news were of no consequence.

"What? What happened to Alayne?" Katarina goggled at the news.

"There are no public details, aside from the notification of her retirement. There are rumors and speculations enough." The woman returned curtly.

"Hmm. What sort of rumors?" Katarina asked, and the woman glanced at her, and picked up her seal.

Handing it back, she glanced to the side. "One rumor is that she went against the Book. Another is she was forced to resign, or resigned under protest. The others I will not repeat."

"Is she still in the city?" Katarina asked. "As I said, she was both mentor and friend. I haven't seen her in ten years."

The woman stared at her as if she were stupid. "I'm an Investigator, Angel-Quattro. You really think I have that information?" She demanded truculently, and Katarina jolted. That was the first real definable emotion she'd seen out of the woman.

"I retract the question." Katarina replied. The woman nodded. "If you head upstairs and speak with one of the Lord or Lady inquisitors, they may be able to release that information to you."

Katarina nodded her thanks, and trotted up the spiral staircase to the second level.

Katarina learned that the former High Lady had retired to her estates in the southeast Noble's Quarter, and immediately set out to locate her. While she was technically a noble, she had to get past the gates of the Noble Quarter by use of her Inquisitorial powers, as the House of Pavlenko was not represented in Darnell and she did not have an appointment.

The noble quarter of Darnell was a rich district of estates that was walled off from the rest of the city. There were only two entrances, both staffed with a detail of guards to make sure only the right sort of people were permitted entry.

All of the roads were paved, with yellow-stained paving stones picking out the fleur-de-lys in regular intervals.

Every Noble House represented in Darnell had an estate, and each estate flew their house banner as if competing with its fellows, and each estate was bordered with high stone walls, or if they were exceedingly prosperous, wrought-iron. Those that had the audacity to demonstrate such ostentatious wealth were simultaneously hated and envied, the slow greed that churned in the bowels at the sight of all that iron was nearly all-consuming.

The man that opened the door to Katarina's bellpull was immaculately dressed; starched shirt with tasteful ruffles of lace at throat and wrists, black silk waistcoat brocaded with gold in a swallow's eye pattern, snow-white gloves and lapels. A pair of spectacles were perched on his nose. His thinning hair was steel gray as was his eyebrows and eyes.

He gave her an indifferent once-over, starting with her enormous leather hat and ending at her dirty boots and massive, oversized duster. He tucked his hands proprietarily into the discrete pocket of his waistcoat.

"I am not certain how one such as yourself made it past the guards at the bottom of the hill, but never let it be said that the Alhambra are without charity." He said by way of explanation, and fished out several silver sovereigns.

"That should suffice for a hot meal and bath at any establishments in the city." He added, not unkindly.

Katarina accepted the coins, tucking them into one of the capacious coat pockets. Overhead, a trio of small birds chased each other in the cloudless sky, chattering in their mystic language. She also displayed her Inquisitor badge.

"I am Inquisitor and Boiyar Katarina lon Pavlenko." She replied. "Is the Lady of the House in?"

He blinked in shock. An Inquisitor, dressed like an itinerant cattleman. He was certain he'd never heard the like before.

"Inquisitor?" He repeated dumbly. Katarina nodded. "It's imperative you direct me to the Lady of the House, my good man." She urged, taking his hand and folding several silver sovereigns into his hand.

"For your haste." She urged in a low voice.

"Lady-" He began brokenly. "Mistress Evangeline is not receiving guests today." He stuttered briefly.

"I'm certain she'll make time for an Inquisitor." Katarina replied simply.

He let out a despondent sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. "As you say." He replied.

"You can announce me." She advised. "I hold the Ardeal title of Boiyar of House Pavlenko, and the Church titles of Knight, Inquisitor, Lady, and Justicar Witch Hunter."

He gave her a second once-over, perhaps disbelieving a road-stained woman dressed as a man carried those titles.

"Please avail yourself of the sitting room as I announce your appointment." He urged, inviting her into the house. Katarina gave the massive, ponderous High Gothic exterior a cursory glance. The estate was beyond wealthy, it was ostentatious. The Alhambra family was both wealthy and powerful.

The floor was polished marble with deep, rich rugs woven with the wing-and-flower motif of the Alhambra family. Eight hundred years ago, the house symbol was merely a seething mass of Gloriosa Lily vines, up until a young woman with the auspicious name of Celestine came forward into the Golden Lady's authority.

Her family had been richly rewarded for producing the only Living Saint in Anglish history, and subsequently, half-folded wings were added to the motif.

The staircase was a heavy, ponderous mahogany with malachite inlays in each step. A truly spectacular glass and crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling in the main hall. That much glass alone could buy a thousand ships, armed and crewed by the most savage merchant marines to be found.

The waiting room was a richly appointed study, with a small library that was both magnificent and intimidating. The tomes were bound in wood, in leather, in wood with metal and gem-studded inlays. The couches were plumply stuffed leather. A carafe of wine rested on the cabinet set aside for such things; Katarina uncorked the carafe and poured herself a generous splash.

"That's an excellent vintage," an older woman's voice spoke up behind her. "De Cazanove's Citrus is truly a miracle of wine."

Katarina turned, drink in hand. "I'll take your word for it." She said by way of explanation.

"Might you explain why you're here, Inquisitor?" The woman asked testily. She was a full head shorter than Katarina herself, faint lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her blonde hair was streaked with gray, and arranged in a coiffure that looked to have taken an hour to assemble, a silver web draping the carefully plumped and plumed hair that was gathered at the nape of neck.

"Katarina, please." the Witch Hunter urged. "I'm not here under an official capacity." She gestured at one of the seats in the study. "Sit a spell, and I promise I'll be out of your hair-" She paused. "I'll be finished quickly." She finished simply.

The woman eyed Katarina archly, dryly amused that the Witch Hunter would command her in her own home.

"So you used your Inquisitorial authorities just to gain entrance to my estate? Bold, but not unexpected for one so young." The woman replied drily.

Katarina set herself opposite the other woman.

"I regret we haven't been introduced." Katarina began smoothly. "I am-"

"I know who you are, Inquisitor." The woman replied indifferently. "I am Lady Evangeline of the House of Alhambra. I am the current head of the house. You said this would be brief; let us hope you are a woman of inestimable punctuality and brevity."

Katarina took a swallow of the wine and raised an eyebrow. As the woman said, it was delicious. She opened one of the flaps of her saddlebag, and withdrew a small dark leather pouch.

"I came to restore something that belongs to the Alhambras." Katarina replied, and opened the pouch and dumped the contents into her hand and spread it out across a square of dark velvet. A thin chain of platinum and teardrop cabochon sapphires greeted the other woman's vision. Fragile chains of platinum formed a laddered web from which the teardrop sapphires hung. In the heart of the web was the unmistakable seal of the Alhambra House.

Evangeline gave her a troubled glance. "There are no missing pieces from the family vaults." She began. "I've never seen..." She trailed off.

"Yes you have." Katarina replied challengingly. "The last woman to wear this piece was-" She began reluctantly, but Katarina halted at the thick atmosphere of thunderous shock from the other woman.

"And you brought it here." Evangeline whispered, slim hand going to her chest. She nearly seemed terrified of the thing. The woman raised her eyes to Katarina's. Bafflement, shock, amazement, curiosity warred on her face.

"You could have demanded anything of the Church. It's certain they would laud upon you as many honors as they have the House of Alhambra." She paused. "More, perhaps. This is a relic, Katarina. It is greater than anything that has come to the House of Alhambra in eight centuries." She shook her head. "Why bring it here, to us?" She paused, and an amount of dry humor asserted itself. "Unless you intend for the House of Alhambra to bestow those honors?" She amended.

Katarina raised an eyebrow. "Certainly not. It's not mine. It belonged to the Alhambra family before Celestine made it famous. There's no reason that it shouldn't belong to the Alhambras again."

"Why?" She asked finally, eyeing the necklace fearfully.

Katarina leaned back in her chair, relishing the comfort.

"For two reasons, but those reasons come with a price, Lady Alhambra."

"Of course it would. Name it, anything." Evangeline replied immediately.

"Two things: I need you to swear absolute secrecy, and I would love more of that delicious wine."

"You can have it all. Every drop." Evangeline replied without hesitation.

"And the other?" Katarina's eyes flicked to the butler of the Alhambras.

Lady Alhambra turned to the steel-eyed butler that had greeted the woman at the door.

"You have heard nothing. You have seen nothing. You will leave. Leave and make sure there are no gossiping maids at the eaves." Evangeline snapped curtly. The man made a curt nod and left; Katarina busied herself with giving herself another generous splash from the carafe. Delicious.

"I was..." Katarina paused, deciding what to say, and took a drink. "I was compelled to return that necklace by the last one to wear it. She gave it to me, and commanded me to return it to the House of Alhambra."

Evangeline slumped sideways in her seat in a total faint.

It was one thing to hear from the Church that there were Saints, people of such perfect and remarkable conformation that the Goddess chose them for herself. It was quite another to know that one had spoken to someone. Given them commands.

Katarina took another long swallow. It really was a fine wine. She eyed the crystal decanter. She might be able to help herself to a third glass, if she was careful and quiet.

She shook her head. The bargain was for another glass of wine and Evangeline's silence. She shouldn't press it.

Evangeline stirred after a few moments.

"Welcome back." Katarina greeted sardonically as the woman patted and primped her hair.

After a long silence where the Lady Evangeline adjusted the sleeves on her dress, eyed the necklace, eyed the closed doors of the study, looked at her hands, the bookshelves, at everything except for the necklace on the low table between them, she finally spoke. "You want me to keep this secret."

"That's right. Don't tell anyone how it came to be in your possession. Not for a while." Katarina urged.

The woman gave her a puzzled glance. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Inquisitor." She finally managed.

Katarina gave a wry twist to her mouth. "While I do hold the rank of Inquisitor, I am a Justicar Witch Hunter. If you publish that I retrieved that necklace, then I will be incapable of doing my true job." Katarina explained. "I'm hunting a particularly troublesome Witch. If word gets out, the Church will sequester me- and that Witch will go free, unpunished."

"Surely some other Witch Hunter-" The woman began, but Katarina shook her head. "I'm all that's left." She replied simply.

The woman took several slow, deep breaths to steady herself.

"So you... you would turn down Sainthood so that you could ... complete your work?" She asked, baffled.

Katarina nodded. "I don't ask you to understand. But this is something that needs doing."

Evangeline barked an angry laugh at this. "The Alhambras don't know duty? Responsibility? We gave up our greatest treasure to the Church to train as a paladin, and exulted as she mounted the heavens with golden wings." She argued hotly. "What you ask is easily given, Lady Witch Hunter. We will keep your confidences."

Katarina nodded and stood, slinging her packs and saddlebags over her shoulder. "Then I'm done here. I apologize for the disturbance." She gave the older woman an impish smile. "Thank you for the wine. You were absolutely right; it was spectacular."