The insolent girl was thoroughly irritating me. Bursting in unannounced, interrupting my meal, prattling on about witchcraft. And staring quite brazenly, to boot. I had thought myself accustomed to excessive female attention—there was nothing to be done about my appearance—but this was beyond the pale... She had actually made me blush. I had seen such looks before: the way drunken sailors in a port tavern eye a plump barmaid as she serves ale, itching to pinch her backside. Lust, lechery, lasciviousness. But to see such a look from a young woman was utterly unacceptable!

  The girl suddenly fell silent and stared at something behind me.

  "What happens?"

  She gasped and dropped her gaze. The last thing I needed was a swooning fit.

  "Could you open a window?" she murmured, still not meeting my eyes. "I'm unaccustomed to this heat. It's terribly stuffy. And some water, if you please."

  She tugged at the bodice of her dress, which was already unbuttoned several buttons more than respectable society permitted.

  I drew the curtains fully and opened the window, perplexed by her strange behavior. My guest had transformed before my eyes: from a brazen hussy into a pitiful, sickly creature. She clutched the glass of water, shrinking away from me as if I were a leper. Or was this another ploy to capture my attention?

  "Can you continue?"

  "Yes," she nodded resolutely, still keeping her head down and gripping the glass. "élise and Lyu Cartouat can attest that the substance on the doll possesses extraordinary properties. The wound on the baroness's palm vanished instantly. According to them, the doll was given to their daughter by baroness Malko. She is the one I suspect of witchcraft. Furthermore, according to their cook, madame Malko should be around sixty years old or more, yet she appears extraordinarily young—thirty at most. Is that sufficient?" The girl managed a strained smile, raising her eyes at last.

  "Sufficient to open an inquiry, but not for an accusation. Leave the doll with me; I will look into the matter." I hastened to agree, if only to be rid of the tiresome visitor.

  I placed little credence in her words; I had dealt all too often with fabricated accusations from ill-wishers seeking to rid themselves permanently of a neighbor, spouse, or superior by means of the Holy Inquisition.

  "I shall, of course, give you the doll." The girl smiled, color returning to her cheeks, and her gaze grew oily once more. "But we will conduct the inquiry together. Allow me to remind you," she forestalled my objections, "that I am engaged in finding a missing child. Until I do so, we shall have to work together."

  I rose, signaling that the conversation was at an end.

  "That will not happen. Secular authorities are not permitted to interfere in the affairs of the Church. If you do not hand over the doll, there will be no inquiry."

  The girl rose as well, lifting her chin defiantly. She was thin and pale, and at that moment she resembled nothing so much as a comical, puffed-up bird.

  "Excellent. Then when the next child disappears, it will be on your conscience, Inquisitor Tiffano. And on the conscience of your Church."

  She turned toward the door, then stopped and smacked her forehead in annoyance.

  "Oh, but I'd forgotten. Your Church has no conscience, does it? It is infallible. So, alas, the deaths of children will be entirely and completely your fault!"

  What a pestilent creature...

  "Wait." I closed my eyes, silently reciting a prayer to the patron Timothy—it always calmed me. "I truly cannot permit you to participate in the inquiry. It is against the rules. Furthermore..."

  "You can. The Statute on the Conduct of Inquiries, paragraph seventy-five: 'In exceptional circumstances, should the situation require it, an inquisitor has the right to enlist the aid of secular authorities or private individuals, as witnesses or advisors.'" The girl quoted it from memory.

  Now I was genuinely astonished. The Church statutes were restricted documents. How could she possibly know them? My surprise must have shown plainly on my face, for the girl nodded.

  "I have had dealings with sorcerers before. I am familiar with certain Church regulations. Prepare yourself, Inquisitor Tiffano. Time is of the essence."

  I felt as though I were being swept along by the current. The girl had become a whirlwind of activity; she practically dragged me from the house, not even deigning to wait for my consent, as if she had already decided everything for me. Hailing a cab, this madwoman shoved me inside and seated herself beside me, utterly unperturbed. I attempted to protest, but the girl clung to me like a starving dog and kept trying to edge closer. I put a firm stop to her advances, insisting she sit opposite and maintain her distance.

  "Your behavior is unbecoming to a highborn woman. Move away from me."

  "My origins are not particularly highborn," the girl smirked impudently and reluctantly moved to the seat across.

  She was clearly dissembling. Her appearance betrayed noble lineage: fine bone structure, delicate fingers, an elongated, aristocratic face—even the slight bump on her nose did not mar her features. Yet her conduct, unworthy even of a port whore, was deeply disconcerting.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  "Are you aware of what celibacy means? That a churchman who violates it will be excommunicated?"

  The girl snorted contemptuously. "Since when has so-called celibacy prevented churchmen from amusing themselves? Has anyone ever told you that you are indecently handsome? Oh, you're blushing! How charming..."

  "I am asking you for the last time to cease your inappropriate advances. Or I shall be forced to leave."

  "In the middle of the road?" The girl peered anxiously out the window. "We've already passed the city gates."

  "Where exactly are we going?"

  "To the Cartouat estate. You must take their official statement."

  The girl leaned back in her seat and fixed her gaze upon me. I went cold. Now I could plainly see the madness swirling in her eyes. At the Academy, I had often been saved by my ability to identify a madman at first glance; I could infallibly gauge the degree and nature of the derangement, and distinguish the advanced form of mental affliction—witchcraft. In the girl's grey-blue eyes churned an entire ocean of madness, threatening to erupt in a terrible storm. My thoughts raced frantically. How could I have failed to notice her strange behavior earlier? Why had I not looked more closely? She had caught me completely off guard. And where was she taking me? Undoubtedly, her entire tale was the invention of a fevered mind; there was no doll, no missing girl. I could likely handle her, but if she suffered a bout, my chances would be slim. My hand instinctively moved to my blade—a comforting presence, a promise of hope. Still, the mad could display extraordinary strength, cruelty, and stubbornness. Persuading her to return peacefully would be difficult... The carriage stopped.

  "Madame Chrysstein." My voice was slightly hoarse with agitation. "Let us return to the city. I have just recalled an urgent matter; I have an audience scheduled with..."

  "I don't think this will take much time, Inquisitor Tiffano."

  I looked around in desperation. The estate, perched on a small plateau carved from the mountainside, appeared wealthy and well-tended—at the very least, it was certainly not abandoned. Was it possible she had brought me to meet her accomplices? No, more likely the manor simply stood empty and had become the unwitting center of her delusions. Perhaps it belonged to friends or relatives...

  But the estate gates swung open, and to my astonishment, a respectable-looking elderly servant emerged to greet us. She clearly recognized my companion.

  "Madame Chrysstein, how timely! The master was just asking about you."

  "Show us in." The girl took my arm decisively and pulled me inside.

  I had braced myself for anything, yet the moment I stepped into the drawing room and beheld the master of the house, I realized all my conclusions had been for naught. The hunted look of a desperate, bewildered man betrayed his grief at once. He rushed toward my companion.

  "I beg you, tell me, have you any news of Cathérine?"

  "Calm yourself, baron Cartouat. An inquiry will be opened into your daughter's case, but an official statement is required. Inquisitor Tiffano, appointed to our city, has graciously agreed to come here and take your statement." The girl fairly oozed social graces.

  Baron confirmed the story of the girl's disappearance word for word, recounted the doll given to her on that fateful day, and, flushing and paling by turns, related the incident with the dagger and the subsequent sorcerous healing of his wife. He was still reeling from it all. To realize that vile witchcraft had been practiced in his own home, to witness it firsthand, and worst of all, to comprehend that his child was in mortal danger—such things could break anyone. His wife had taken to a bed, and now the man prowled his empty house, powerless and alone in his grief. I felt genuine sympathy for him.

  "We will find your daughter, baron Cartouat, I promise you," I assured him after he had signed the statement. "Faith works miracles, and it is always stronger than evil. Simply believe, pray, and..."

  The girl rudely inserted herself between us.

  "Do not make empty promises, inquisitor Tiffano. The girl is already de—"

  Reacting instantly, I seized the fool by the arm and dragged her toward the door.

  "We really must be going," I said, barely restraining myself from shouting at her. "Goodbye baron Cartouat. Be strong."

  Ignoring her desperate resistance and not releasing her hand—astonishingly cold on such a hot day—I hurried into the courtyard. Only then did I let my emotions free.

  "What were you thinking?! How could you speak like that to a father who has lost his only child?" I was practically shouting.

  "The girl is dead," the madwoman said, rubbing her wrist in annoyance.

  "You don't know that. You cannot know that. Telling a father his child is dead, robbing him of his last shred of hope—that is not merely cruel, it is inhuman!"

  "Firstly, I know with certainty that she is dead. And secondly, in your view, is giving him false hope the height of mercy and nobility? Should he wait and believe that his little daughter will rise from the dead? Although," she waved a hand, cutting off my objections, "that is precisely the deceitful policy of your Church. Promises are all you can make. And if things go wrong, it's the victim's own fault—they didn't believe enough, prayed too little, sinned too much."

  The girl coolly turned and headed for the gates, leaving me choking on my protests. It was unthinkable! I rushed after her, catching up by the waiting carriage.

  "Madame Chrysstein," my tone was ice-cold and sharp. "You will hand over the doll immediately. Otherwise, I will charge you with obstructing an inquiry and have you thrown in prison. And there, quite unexpectedly, your mental instability might come to light, with all the consequences that entails." I narrowed my eyes unpleasantly, watching her reaction closely.

  The girl raised her eyes to mine; they held mild surprise and cold fury, but not a trace of fear or panic.

  "I see..." she drawled in feigned contemplation. "They're certainly training inquisitors better these days. At least now they can recognize madness. That is, of course, encouraging. However..." Her eyes turned utterly mad, her voice petulant and thin, almost childish, her very accent shifting. "Inquisitor Tiffano, do forgive me, I'm so scatterbrained. I quite forgot to mention—I threw the doll away, right after I left the estate. I was terrified, you see? Witchcraft, of all things!" She began nervously biting her thumbnail, coyly lowering her gaze like a child. "I tossed it in a ditch. Only trouble is, I can't remember where! But I'm sure you'll find it! You're so strong, after all! Just a matter of searching two hundred miles of roadside ditch! A trifling task..."

  Had it not been for my academic training and good manners, I would have throttled the wretch on the spot. Gripping her shoulder firmly, I shook her like a doll and hissed, looking straight into her eyes:

  "Your attempt to feign a fit of dual-souled state for me is absurd! A true dual-souled does not remember what transpired while another entity possessed the body. So spare me the theatrics. You will bring me the doll immediately, otherwise..."

  The girl made no attempt to struggle; she laughed in my face. I recoiled; her laughter quickly turned hysterical, but then she fell silent just as abruptly.

  "Allow me to clarify something for you, Inquisitor Tiffano. I don't care whether you believe me or not. Even if you throw me in prison, it won't help you find the doll. And without it, all you have is a grief-stricken father's statement. I'll recant my testimony—didn't see anything, don't know anything, don't remember anything. Thus, you'll have no evidence at all. Perhaps you could eventually find sufficient grounds to bring charges—the question is, how soon?" She smiled coldly; not a trace of madness remained in her eyes, yet somehow that was even more unsettling. "And in that time, another child will vanish without a trace. Perhaps not just one, but two. Or even more... Who knows? Are you willing to take that risk?"

  Rage clouded my mind, but reason told me she was right. I could not delay the inquiry; I needed the doll as primary evidence to petition Bishop Talerion for the authority to conduct the investigation and file charges. Especially with a noble baroness involved. A child's life hung in the balance.

  I clenched my jaw so hard it ached.

  "What do you want?"

  The girl caught me off guard once again: she bounded over, pecked me on the cheek as if I were a child, and tugged me toward the carriage.

  "Don't sulk, handsome. It upsets me. And weren't you taught that upsetting mad people is unwise? They become a danger to everyone around them."

  "Stop pawing me! Tell me, what are you after?"

  "You won't believe it! The same as you—to catch a vile witch." The girl whispered instructions to the driver and finally turned back to me. "It's better to be friends with me, Inquisitor Tiffano. You've only just arrived in the city, haven't you?"

  I nodded involuntarily.

  "I've already settled in and made useful acquaintances. I could be valuable as an ally and help advance your career."

  "I have no intention of—"

  "I haven't finished. As an adversary, I am not merely dangerous." Again that unpleasant smile. "You already know of my madness, yes? Well then, you also know how cunning, treacherous, and vindictive madmen can be. But most importantly?" She raised a finger solemnly, as if examining a negligent Academy student.

  "What?" I was weary of her antics and prayed this insane day would soon end.

  "They are unpredictable!" She leaned back triumphantly, fixing me with her enormous grey-blue eyes. "So? Shall we be friends, or...?"

  "I have no intention of being friends with you. You've forced me into cooperation."

  "As you wish…"