The next day, during their afternoon studies, Pentarch told her that the other master slayers and himself would meet her in the chapel during her vesper prayers.

  When Vero arrived, she found Pentarch, Iosephus, and Diana in conference with one another. They were speaking in hushed voices and did not acknowledge her, so Vero kept a respectful distance and offered prayers to Luna. The tapping of his cane on the stonework announced Lothair’s presence before he arrived.

  When they were all present, the entire group reassembled in the center of the room. Iosephus took a dagger and ritual bowl; he opened a cut along the palm of his right hand and allowed the blood to drop into the bowl. Then he handed the bowl and weapon to Pentarch who did the same. The process continued until everyone had offered their blood, including Vero.

  Although she did not know the purpose of the ritual, she also did not see that she had any choice other than participation.

  When the bowl traveled the length of their circle and returned to Iosephus he spoke a few snatched phrases of Liturgical and Sylvan before upturning it over the dais. The blood splattered across the stone surface, which had already been marked in many places with runes in chalk.

  Then he announced, “It is done. We will not be interrupted.”

  “I have Conner under orders to watch the sorceress, just in case,” Pentarch whispered to her, before stepping forward to chair the meeting.

  Vero resisted a smile.

  “The Curia have come to a decision about your case. You and I have been assigned a hunt. If we are successful…” Pentarch smiled depreciatingly towards her. “…your apprenticeship will be ruled to have been valid and you shall be granted the rank of journeyman. At that point, you’ll be permitted to come and go from the fortress as you please, theoretically. I can’t guarantee they won’t try something new. But if they do, we’ll be in a stronger position to deal with them.”

  “That all sounds fine enough, but I don’t trust them. What is this hunt?” Vero asked.

  “You’re right to suspect them. If my guess is correct this is only another attempt to kill you, and possibly me as well. How much do you know about the Black Palatine?”

  Vero knew him, but by reputation only. “He’s the most powerful vampyre in the world, or at least the most powerful who allows himself to be known publicly. He was an Imperial before his death, but that was centuries ago. He rules the land on the other side of these mountains and holds several lesser vampyre lords as feudal vassals.”

  “Yes, that’s about what I expected. Iosephus can tell you his complete biography as we know it-” Iosephus drew in a breath, but Pentarch rushed to forestall him. “-as that will take some time, you should go to see him later. Everything you said was correct, but recently he’s been trying to press his claims as an elector again. And the longer this interregnum continues, the more likely his chances at success become.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Vero had seen Teutonia in a religious mania on her journey. She hardly thought them on the verge of granting any concessions to an undead prince.

  “If this political stalemate continues, anything that breaks it will eventually be looked on with favor. But I agree that such a coup does not seem to be imminent. Our task shall be to destroy him now, before it comes any closer.”

  “Surely, if it was so simple, it would already have been done long ago.”

  “Correct. Hunters have been sent before; none have ever returned. This time we have intelligence that he’s placed himself into a vulnerable position outside of his personal domain. He’s taken up residence near the dayside of the mountains with one of his vassals, to pursue his schemes. We intend to use this opportunity to poison him.”

  “How does one poison a vampyre?”

  “With great difficulty, and willing access to one of his blood sources.” Vero began to feel a creeping sense of anxiety as Pentarch continued. “We’ve developed a ritual. A very carefully crafted ritual, intended to alter the humors within a subject’s body. Their blood becomes a dormant yet virulent poison to the vampyre who feeds from them.”

  “And what happens to the subject themselves?”

  “They will be unharmed by the ritual. The poison should work fast enough that the vampyre won’t have time to kill them.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Who created this ritual?”

  “The Curia developed it themselves. I can’t tell you anything more than that, because I don’t know any more. I don’t like that anymore than you do, but there’s nothing more to be said about it. We have examined the ritual thoroughly, however, and it we believe it will work as they say it will.”

  “Are we going to test this ritual before we attempt to use it against the most powerful undead monstrosity in the north?”

  Lothair answered her, “The poison is specialized to a specific subject. It won't work on any other striga, but we are sure that it will work.”

  “I understand your concerns,” Pentarch was doing his best to sound convincing. “I don’t believe you’ll be any safer here if you refuse the hunt. This way we can at least force the Curia to offer you some kind of a conclusion.”

  “Will I have my things returned?” Vero asked.

  “Everything except for the sword.” Vero was prepared to object, but Pentarch halted her by raising his hands. “I know you aren’t happy about that either, but the matter isn’t open for debate.”

  Vero had already decided that she did not want to spend a moment longer inside that fortress, but she was not certain this hunt was the best way to make that escape a lasting one. “I don’t object to the hunt itself, but I don’t trust the Curia or their plan. They wouldn’t send us if they thought we stood a chance of success.”

  Pentarch nodded. “I tend to agree. They’ve forbidden me from taking another slayer with us, but I have an idea where we might find an ally they wouldn’t expect. Besides that, we shall simply need to trust our own wits and abilities.”

  “Show me this ritual.”

  “Magister, we wish to have words with you.” Pentarch took the seat across from the sorceress.

  Vero stood behind him silently, with her arms folded across her chest.

  “Have the Curia come to a decision?” Isolde asked, with faux-civility.

  “About your matter? No. And they never will.” He spoke very brusquely.

  “Your training in the arts of diplomacy are sorely lacking, master slayer.”

  “They intend to delay and make no reply until you give up and leave.”

  “I don’t give up.”

  “Then you’ll stay here forever, unless you come with us.”

  Isolde’s face grew a bemused smile. “What are you plotting, Pentarch?”

  “I know wizards are fond of treaties, and documents, and agreements, and signatures, but that’s not how things are done here. You personally came here to see slayer magic first hand. I can offer you that. Your association of friends wants an alliance to stop the undead hunting on the dayside of the mountains. We’ve been given a mission by the Curia to destroy the one responsible for sending them in the first place. If you join us, I will take it on my own authority to grant you equal access to any intelligence about their activities recovered as part of that task.”

  “And who is ‘we’ exactly?”

  “Myself and Vero.”

  Isolde shook her head, bemused by the notion. “The three of us alone against the Black Palatine in his own demesne? You’re completely mad.”

  “All it takes is one assassin to kill someone. Even an emperor,” he countered. “And there is a plan.”

  “What is this plan?”

  Pentarch stood and shook his head. “I’ll tell you only if you swear an oath to fulfill our quest. And only after you accompany us to the other side of the mountains.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a very favorable deal for me.”

  “Then you’ll remain here until your associates realized you’ve failed and they recall you. If you’re even allowed to leave, that is.”

  Isolde appraised them both with a very cold expression. “I take back what I said about your diplomacy. It seems you’ve mastered the very meanest form of negotiation.”

  “Do we have an agreement, or not?”

  Isolde sighed. “It seems I have no choice.”

  Vero stayed on her guard against attack, but it seemed that once word of her suicide mission was out, the slayers preferred to let the vampyres deal with her.

  Pentarch returned her armor and all her equipment, aside from her sword. Even her poppy milk, which she put away without using. When she asked for some blade longer than a dagger, he told her to meet him at his room in the men’s dormitories that evening.

  Vero had avoided visiting Alexius since her time in the infirmary. If she was leaving though, she thought that she ought to at least say good-bye.

  There was a strange look in Alexius’ eyes when she arrived. “Are you well, Lady Veronique? I haven’t seen you since the attack.”

  “Yes, I’m alright now. I wasn’t hurt so bad as Conner, fortunately.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about the boy. It’s a shame those men chose the path they did. They left you no option except to defend yourself. Their deaths are not on your conscience.”

  Vero smiled. “I won’t turn down your religious license for the act, but I’ve already absolved myself in my own mind.”

  “All is well then.”

  Vero picked at the dinner she brought with her. “I’m going to be leaving for a time – I can’t tell you where – I’m not sure when I shall return.”

  Alexius was not surprised, Vero actually thought he was waiting for her to tell him as much. “I must go with you, my Lady. I was sent here to find you. Until we learn why, I think it would be best if I stay as close to you as possible. The dark presence that lingers here makes these mountains very perilous, and I fear for your wellbeing.”

  “There’s absolutely no way Pentarch would agree to that.”

  “You could convince him. This thing you’re going to do is dangerous, is it not?”

  She was a slayer; his guess was hardly a prescient one. “Yes, very dangerous.”

  “You’re going over to the nightside of the mountains.” Statement, not a question.

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m a priest of the Veiled One, I’ve studied death all my life. I swear that I can be of some use to you, and I won’t slow you down.”

  He looked rather frail, but he made it all the way to the fortress and showed no ill-effects. Demonstrably, he was sturdier than he looked. They were so shorthanded; it was possible he actually could be of some use- although Vero could not believe she was considering it.

  “I’ll… speak with him about it this evening.”

  “I ask for no more.”

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