“These are very fine clothes,” Clementine said, feeling the smooth fabric between her fingers. “It should be easy to find out who made this. My, my, whoever was here is truly an amateur.”

“Are we certain it’s the witch?” the Marshal asked. The door and closet had been hacked to pieces to grant them entry.

“Yes, I can smell them – the stench of the arcane.”

“Apostasy, in the Capital of all places. Heavens have mercy on us.”

“Bring the innkeeper,” Clementine ordered one of the Marshal’s men. “There’s no need to be gentle.” The man was brought in by the scruff of his neck. His face was still blank, but in his eyes was primal fear. “I have confirmed that this was once the dwelling of an apostate witch. Do you know what that means?”

Silence.

“What happened? You seemed so familiar with the law a few moments ago.” Clementine was glad she wore a scarf that hid her grin as she saw the man start to crack.

“It means that we have the right to burn everything the witch might have come into physical contact with,” Marshal Bluewater interrupted grimly.

Leave it to him to ruin the fun. “We might have to burn down the whole inn, just to be safe of course.”

“Fine.” The man was close to tears. “What do you want?”

“Tell us everything you remember about the witch, or I direct the Marshal here to burn your whole establishment down.”

“There were two of them, came here yesterday at dusk.”

“What did they look like?”

“One of them was lean and tall with blond hair. She had weapons with her and she seemed to know how to use them. The other was a bit shorter, a Norda like you, with a head of fiery hair. She was pretty enough to be a courtesan; they managed to pay even though I overcharged them. I guess they were looking for a place to hide. Didn’t know they were witches.”

Could it be? “That courtesan, were her eyes blue or green?”

“Green, I think.”

“Do you know who it could be?” the Marshal asked.

“I’m not sure.” The people from the island of Nord all had fiery crimson hair. Her family, the Clearwater clan was of Nordic descent. They all had the same red hair, and like all other Norda, their eyes were an icy blue. The only green-eyed Norda I have ever seen was that wench from the library. Clementine had been frustrated when she hadn’t picked up any rumours of a new courtesan on the courtly scene. I must not jump to conclusions – the courtesan and the witch might still be two different people. “Marshal, have some of your men go through these clothes looking for anything that may help us identify the tailor. Afterwards, burn the whole place down.”

“Oi! You gave me your word you’d leave my inn alone.”

“I did no such thing and far be it from me to go against the King’s Law.”

The man spewed a litany of curses at Clementine as she walked away. Trance came up alongside her and matched her stride. “I never thought I would have to deal with apostates in the Capital.”

“Neither did I, Marshal. I cannot help but shake the feeling that this is a trap.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’ve said this before, but the Tulpa that attacked us at the council meeting was strong, stronger than any other summon that I have ever encountered. The witch we’re dealing with must be very powerful – and that means they’re old.” They emerged into the cool night air at the front of the inn. “An apostate cannot be that old and stupid at the same time. Leaving all those clues behind must be to lure us into a trap.”

“So they must be working with a tailor shop, and when we go in we suffer long and agonizing deaths.”

“That might be a possibility. We must be careful, Trance.”

“Indeed we must. I have an idea – since the clothing is most certainly a lure for a trap, what if we didn’t act on it?”

“What?”

“The apostates expect us to march about with our full strength looking for them and, quite frankly, we don’t have enough information on them. So we don’t take the bait.”

“So we do nothing?”

“While we wait for them to make another move.”

“Well, it sounds dumb but it’s as good a plan as any.”

“Agreed, though it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.”

A soldier walked up and handed Clementine a bag. Inside were about half the clothes they had found in the attic.

The marshal raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were to destroy everything?”

“If these clothes have been worn then I might be able to divine the wearer. It’s a long shot though, assuming they’ve done no counter divination spells on them. Anyway, I’m retiring for the night.”

“Be safe, my Lady.”

A crowd had gathered to gawk at the burning inn as Clementine left for her townhouse. In the windowless carriage, she felt safe enough to take off her scarf. She subconsciously felt the burn marks on her lower face and neck. She had been pretty once, but that courtesan had robbed her of her beauty.

Clementine had felt a fit of burning jealousy and hatred for the courtesan she had met at the library. Could she be a witch? She’s definitely the type to enhance her looks with magic – but how do I find her?

The carriage rolled to a stop and Clementine walked out. She did not speak to any of her servants because she did not need to speak to them. They did their chores and left the house neat for her. Clementine went to her study and laid all the clothes in the middle of the room. She took out chalk and scribbled the holy symbols in a circle around the pile of clothes. The marking shone with a soft glow, then erased themselves. I see. Either they have strong counter-divination spells or these clothes have never been worn before.

She sighed as she returned to bed. Sleep came easy for her, and soon she was floating weightless in a dreamless slumber.

A messenger came for her in the hours just before dawn. She had been summoned by Chancellor Redfield. The messenger had also stressed the urgency of the situation, and would not allow her to get changed. Extremely rude, but I can’t lay a finger on one of Redfield’s men.

She found Chancellor Redfield, Marshal Bluewater, and Spymaster Whitemoss in a room in the dungeon, examining a naked body on a table. The corpse’s skin was a deathly blue with the veins clearly visible as dark lines.

The Chancellor looked about the room and addressed them. “Now that you are all here, let me tell you what is known. About an hour after sunset a priest was leaving the Eastern Ginawaine Temple when he stumbled on the body.” That was about the time we were burning the inn… “He immediately let the bishop know, who in turn reported the matter directly to the Captain of the city guard. Aside from us, less than ten people know about this. Lady Clearwater, I would have your thoughts. What happened to this man?”

“I can’t rightly know.” Clementine did a quick scan of the body. “I don’t see any wounds. Help me turn it around.” With Trance’s help, they flipped the body. The deathly pale skin was spotless. She took out a small dagger from its place at her hip and sliced at a vein. Nothing came out. “Naturally, I will need to perform more tests, but it seems this man spontaneously lost all his blood. I’ve never seen anything like this…”

“My brother reported the same kind of victim. Could it be the undead he said eluded him is now in the Capital?” Marshal Bluewater asked.

“Possibly, and that Tulpa that attacked us was just a distraction.”

Blank faces stared at her.

“I think the witches did this, they purposefully let themselves be tracked down so while the strongest soldiers were busy hunting for witches in dozens of tailor shops they would commit this murder on the other side of town, with no fear of being caught.”

“Looks like we were right not to follow the clothing,” Marshal Trance said. “Not that it mattered anyway.”

“All this is news to me.” Chancellor Redfield stroked his stubbled chin. “Marshal Bluewater, I expect you to file a report immediately. Meanwhile, I want Scholar Clearwater to find out as much as she could about the victim’s body. Spymaster Whitemoss, I want you to find out anything you can about these witches.”

With that, they dispersed, leaving the corpse to Clementine. She spent the rest of the day prodding and testing. She could not smell any arcane magic on the body. A spell strong enough to completely drain someone’s blood should have left an overwhelming stench. Whatever did this was either bafflingly powerful arcane magic that could fool her nose, or it was a physical action. Then why does the body bear no scars?

Come evening she was tired and no closer to answers as she was in the morning. Her servants had already left for the night. They had prepared dinner for her which she ate in silence. She felt a presence watching her and she instinctively looked up. Just outside the window, a bat was hanging from a branch – its red eyes staring at her. The hairs at the back of Clementine’s neck stood up. She quickly finished her meal and left the room.

Clementine took a bath and cleaned her teeth, as she did daily before bed. She threw herself onto her bed, ready to welcome sleep once more. I have to catch those witches as soon as possible.

Clementine noticed a pair of red eyes on her ceiling. It was a bat, hanging down, staring at her. How did you get in? Clementine sighed and closed her eyes. The ceiling was too high for her to do anything about the bat. Clementine felt a mental pressure, like if she was being watched by a hungry wolf.

When she opened her eyes she saw a pretty girl with red hair and green eyes standing on her bed, staring intently at her. Clementine tried to scream but a firm hand covered her mouth, smothering any sounds she made. She tried hitting and scratching her assailant, but the girl was fiendishly strong. Is this how I die? Are you going to steal all my blood?

Clementine resigned herself to her fate and awaited the killing blow. The beautiful girl on top of her spoke: “You and I need to talk, Lady Clearwater.”