She felt Dora trembling in her arms. “You’re shaking, dear one. Is something wrong?”

  “No-” The answer came too quick and Dora must have known it. “-no, I’m fine.”

  “The fighting’s all over now, there’s nothing here to be afraid of.” Vero was dimly aware that she was dreaming, but this was a pleasant memory and she felt no desire to do anything but go along with it. She kissed Dora’s cheeks. “And I swear I won’t let anyone harm you.”

  “Oh, Vero.” Dora managed a small laugh. “You sound like some kind of knight from a story when you say such things. I confess, you did look rather dashing when you knocked down that Imperial brute.”

  “He was so drunk he practically fell down on his own, but I shall accept the compliment regardless. Undress and lay down on the bed, I'll give you a massage. Perhaps that will relax you.”

  “You don’t need to.”

  Vero kissed her again, lightly on the lips. “I know that, precious. I wish to.”

  Dora gave her a curious look and did as Vero had suggested. Vero sat on the bed and watched without taking any effort to hide her interest. Dora slipped out of her dress slowly, keeping as much of herself hidden as long as she possibly could. Was she teasing her deliberately, or merely out of habit? Dora let her clothes drop all at once and quickly lay down on her belly.

  Vero pressed hands to her shoulders with a pressure that startled Dora before she settled into it. After a few moments she had relaxed completely. Vero targeted muscles with deliberate precision, and eventually she could hear Dora humming with pleasure at the careful attention.

  “You have strong hands.”

  “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

  “No- it’s just right, I think.”

  “I could press harder, if you like.”

  “No, really. This is perfect. I’m surprised you know the masseurs’ art so well. You could make more money at mother’s theater than you earn as a laundress.”

  Vero kissed her spine. “I think she prefers her girls to be fair of face as well as deft of hand.”

  “Oh? I think you’re very pretty, Vero. Your teats are too small, of course, but your face is very fair- or so I think. You certainly have a lot of muscles, but that makes you stand out, so it could be considered a good thing. And I’ve noticed a lot of men like girls with Pict-hair.”

  “I believe that was a compliment- when taken in total.”

  “It was!” Dora said cheerfully.

  “Then you have my thanks.” Vero stopped a moment to take her hand and kiss it before resuming. She had advanced down as far as Dora’s lower back.

  “You know how to make ointments to treat the rash-”

  “And aren’t you fortunate for it.”

  “Yes, I know. And it’s why I allow you to take so many liberties with me. But as I was saying- once she knows you have skills as a cunning woman, I’m sure mother will hire you. I would tell her that she must. And it would probably bring you more business for your cures as well.”

  “Why do you wish to bring me to work for your mother?”

  “We’re good friends, aren’t we?”

  “We are very good friends, I hope.”

  “I think you're perhaps one of the best friends I’ve had, and I like to have you with me. That’s why I wanted to have your work with us. I didn’t mean to offend you- I know some women find our work objectionable.”

  “I wasn’t offended, only curious. I had that sort of work once, except that it was only for a single man. I could do it again, but I won’t unless it’s necessary.”

  “What a curious answer.”

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  “I’m a curious knight.” Vero shifted into the huskier voice she used in male guise.

  “Vero, what are you-?”

  “Vero has slipped away for the moment.”

  “Is this another game of yours?”

  Vero allowed her natural register to return. “Yes, that’s right. It was a knight who taught me how to massage a woman like this. He was very dashing- like something out of a story. Close your eyes.”

  “As you wish.”

  Vero put on Virgil’s voice once again. “I am a knight, and my family is among the oldest and most honorable in Velois.”

  “Hmm… how heavy is your purse?” Dora giggled.

  “As heavy as I choose, I refill it from my treasure vaults when it grows light. But you hardly noticed my purse when we met. My features are aristocratic and almost ruthlessly handsome, except for my eyes which are kind and smile along with my mouth when I grin. My shoulders are broad and my arms are strong. I often attend tournaments, and I well know how to handle my lance.”

  “We have one fortnight before the blood toll is missed and our actions here are uncovered,” said Heward.

  He, Pentarch, Isolde, Anna, and Vero herself sat in the main room of the church the next morning after the battle. Their other local allies were holding the guildhall to prevent anyone from realizing what they had done. They had sealed the entrance and dissuaded anyone from venturing in. There was no telling if any of the other villagers were spies for the vampyres, and they wished to control the flow of information as tightly as possible.

  “In that time, we must finish our business here,” replied Pentarch. “Or an entire cohort of vampyres will descend on us in numbers we cannot resist. We shall need to confer in private.”

  Anna shuffled to the kitchen of the church instinctively, but Vero touched Heward lightly on the shoulder to signal for him to stay. “I believe we should include the Fra in our conference. I trust him, and I’ve seen his skills in combat.”

  Then, before Pentarch could object, she added, “And as I see it, we need as many allies as we can find. It is going to be my neck in the noose, after all.”

  “If my noble lady will but give me a moment to speak-” Pentarch sounded terse. “-I believe it would be a fine idea to include another man at arms in our company, with my leg in the shape it is.” They removed the splinter and sutured the wound closed once the battle was over, but the bone was broken and he walked with a limp. “However, I must ask you to swear by the Graces of both Art and Reason, that you will not speak of anything you hear now to anyone outside of this covenant.”

  Heward nodded. “I am willing. But you should know that if your deeds be blasphemous, this promise shall have no hold over me.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Then I swear by Thesmos and Orphia that I shall not divulge any secret that you share with me here today. Now, perhaps you all can tell me what brought you north in the first place.”

  “We aim to destroy the Black Palatine,” Vero answered.

  Heward was taken aback. “I was sure it must have had something to do with him. But I presumed you must be on recognizance. You’ll need a much larger host than we can muster here to take his fortress.”

  “We don’t intend to take his fortress,” Pentarch reasserted himself. “All we need to do is get Vero inside. We’ve placed her blood under a spell to disrupt the creature’s undead humors and poison him from within.”

  “An excellent plan, I think,” Isolde remarked.

  Heward was less sanguine. “A tactic as dishonorable as its target- and it places the Lady Veronique in unacceptable danger.”

  Vero wondered if Pentarch would interrupt, but he allowed her to answer for herself. “Vampyres are abominations, and beyond all bounds of chivalry. They simply must be destroyed. By any ways, and by any means. And you know perfectly well that I’m not afraid to risk my neck, if I think the cause be a worthy one.”

  “I wouldn’t countenance allowing you to go on any suicide mission, my Lady. Whether you be willing or no.”

  “And I would not countenance accepting such a mission for such masters as I have at present. I have assurances this poison will kill the Black Palatine well before he kills me. But there’s no way to know what kind of state I’ll be in after an encounter like that. When their master is destroyed, the fortress will be in chaos. That’s when I’ll need your help to pull me out.”

  “How will you even be able to enter the fortress?” Heward asked.

  Pentarch answered. “We’ve brought reagents for spells to ward off hypothermia, and to take breath from the water as a fish does. There’s an underwater postern beneath Lake Adeana, fifteen miles hike from here. It leads to a long climb up a cavern, into the fortress undercroft.”

  “Where did you learn this?”

  “That I cannot tell you, because I do not know. Our informant’s identity is known only to the most senior members of our order.”

  “And shall we be following her the same way? Those are complex spells.” Heward sounded as though he believed Pentarch; Vero was not yet certain she felt the same.

  “We have only enough reagents to send one. The rest of us must force the main gate during the chaos. We've brought an illusionist with us to make the best use of their confusion. Vero will also be doing her best to secure the gatehouse from the inside.”

  The templar appeared unimpressed. “It sounds as though we shall be expecting the Lady Veronique both to slay the dragon, and then to rescue herself from its cave thereafter. Suppose she isn’t able to clear the gatehouse, alone? And hold it, while simultaneously opening the way for all of us?”

  “Then we must improvise,” Pentarch replied in a growl.

  Heward turned to Vero. “My Lady, this is madness. It’s a plan formed on hopes, and willfully ignorant of risks. I beg you not to take part.”

  “Well, I shall take part. I agree that my odds are slim, but they are extant. And I’m willing to risk my life on slim odds, so long as I’ve done everything I can to give myself the strongest chance at success. That’s why I wish to have your assistance when I’ll be at my most vulnerable.” Vero placed her hand on his. “May I rely on you, Heward?”

  She already knew his answer by the expression in his eyes, but he did his best to keep the rest of his face serious. “My Lady. I pray that we do not come to regret this.”

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