Chapter 6
The Devil on a Leash
Reginwald, Lothria
Each wing of Castle Reginwald had its own chapel besides the main chapel in the keep. The North Wing chapel became something of the personal domain of Bishop Friedman, where he could exercise his limited authority without interference from the Lothrian clergy. It was after compline, so he was alone except for a quartet of his warrior-monks hidden out of view. He was past his prime, but even on his best day, he would want to observe all due caution. Just because you put a collar on a tiger, you have not made it tame.
The doors opened and in walked a priest. He was a young man, but his hair had gone prematurely white. Likely it was a sign of his accursed nature, as were the eyes he concealed beneath lids that never seemed to be more than half open. The Bishop was loath to make use of such a creature, but fire must be fought with fire, poison for poison, curse for a curse.
The priest knelt, knowing his place well enough that he did not dare to profane the Bishop's ring with a kiss, nor seek a blessing that would be as a pearl cast before swine.
"How may I serve, Your Grace?" the priest asked.
The Bishop answered the priest's question with a question of his own.
"Do you know of Tancred Half-Elven, formerly the Court Sorcerer of Gotland?"
"There is not a one who practices the arts in the Eight Kingdoms who does not know of Tancred Half-Elven, Your Grace," the priest replied. "Most learned their craft at his feet or at least studied under those who did."
"And you?"
"I did not have the pleasure. I sought a master in the Far West, a sage of the ancient order of Scipio Archimago."
The Bishop did not care to hear by which heathen the priest learned his heathen arts. It was enough to know that he had no connection to Tancred.
"Tancred left behind a daughter," the Bishop said, "a fool of a girl with none of her father's discretion. She has given herself fully to heathen ways and would add folly upon folly."
"How so, Your Grace?" the priest asked.
"You are not to breathe a word of this to another soul, but the Witch Queen is in fact an unclean spirit possessing a woman named Loreley, formerly an apprentice of Tancred's. With her is a man named Maus, once squire of the Knight Champion Sir Burkhardt, who betrayed both God and his earthly masters for the sake of mortal love. It would seem that Tancred's will was that these two be saved and it is that very will that drives his daughter."
"The shepherd falls to the wolves and so his daughter seeks out the lost sheep. Is this not admirable?"
"Admirable!?" the Bishop scoffed. "A devil-blooded young harlot cavorts with evil spirits and then prances to the very gates of Hell! Is that your measure of what is admirable!?"
"It would seem my view was too shallow, Your Grace," the priest said. "I thank you for revealing what my eyes could not, would not see."
"Your tongue is slick with oil, but in your throat is poison," the Bishop said, not showing the slightest appreciation for the priest's conciliatory gesture. "Be silent and listen to my command."
The priest bowed his head obediently as the Bishop continued.
"You are to find the daughter of Tancred. There is little chance of her getting as far as the Witch Queen, but you are to see that it does not happen, nor is she to be allowed to fall into the enemy's hands. If she can be turned from her fool's errand, so be it, but if not, you know what must be done. Remember the Law of God. 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.'"
"The Lord's will be done," the priest replied. "And how am I to find this girl, Your Grace?"
"She may yet be in this city. Not far from the castle is a cottage used by the Court Sorcerer Kolman Curtmantle. He seems to think he can keep his whorings discreet there and lately he has been using it as a refuge for Tancred's daughter. Even if she is no longer there, surely there will be trace enough for you to follow after her with your... arts."
The word was bitter in the Bishop's mouth. He did not like calling witchcraft anything but the devilry it was, but there were times that called for prudence. Whipping a dog was good for discipline, but do it too much and you are likely to get bitten.
"Unless she is cautious enough to hide her presence, it should be enough for me to pick up the trail," the priest said.
"Then I will have a man guide you there," the Bishop said. "The girl is small, slight of frame, with beastly markings and dressed in skins. You will not mistake her for another."
"And these?" the priest asked, tapping his ear.
"Enough to set her apart," the Bishop said, "but not so great that her hair cannot conceal them."
"And her name?"
"She is called Lys."
"Lys," the priest repeated.
"Do not forget your purpose," the Bishop warned. "You are to stop her at all costs. She may not have her father's power, but it would bode ill for us if the daughter of Tancred were to be added to the numbers of the enemy. Should you fail, not only your life but also your immortal soul will be forfeit. Remember that well."
"May God judge me according to my faith and my works," the priest replied.
"Go," the Bishop said, "and whatever grace God may grant you go with you."
The priest bowed low, then rose up and bowed again, keeping his head low as he walked backward out of the chapel. He dutifully refrained from turning his back to the Bishop until he was out the door.
There was little fault to be found in his words or external displays, but it was the inner workings of his heart that were the more essential and it was these that the Bishop doubted most. When using poison against poison, the poisoner risks being poisoned himself. Perhaps once the Witch Queen and her evils were purged from the land, the Church would no longer have need of such an instrument as that devil in priestly garb.