I awakened to the gentle tapping of a morning drizzle against the canvas above me.
The fire I had left smoldering a few hours earlier had burned down to nothing, leaving only the sour scent of damp ash and charcoal in its place. With the Lifegiver obscured by thick spring clouds, the little rest I had allowed myself was not nearly enough to make rising from my bedroll as effortless as I had hoped.
I could hear Felix's slow, steady breathing beside me; he was still deep asleep.
I made an effort to slip out of the tent without stealing from him the little time he had left before we would need to pack and continue our pilgrimage.
Chill air filled my lungs as I drew in the morning zephyr. Cool droplets, falling from the cloud-darkened sky, pricked my face as I searched for Him hidden somewhere above. His absence rang loud in my thoughts.
Pulling the carmine hood of my cloak over my head, I stepped toward the horses and the creature, still lying beneath the stretched sheet where we had left it on the cart's bed beneath the tree.
Its words during our brief exchange last night had troubled me for the time I remained awake. How could it tell, with only a passing glance, that the maps were wrong?
I too had questioned their accuracy—after so many years of losing those provinces to treachery—but a few missing roads, towns, or paths could not have been enough to justify such certainty.
As I drew closer, a sharp clatter of glass reached my ears. I quickened my pace at once, ready to put an end to whatever the creature might be attempting.
I found it shuffling through the contents of Sister Adrian's leather satchel, the empty vials and small tools clattering against one another as its chained hands searched within.
"If it is more wine you seek, that is hardly the place to find it," I said, addressing its hunched back.
It froze, the satchel falling still. Slowly, it turned toward me. Its reddish brows arched in an almost apologetic fashion over wide, uncertain eyes.
It cleared its throat with a rasping cough.
"I must humbly apologize for falling victim to my passions, sir," it said. "A taste of that exquisite drink stirred in me a craving stronger than I can rightly manage."
The strain in its voice gave me pause. For a heartbeat I wondered whether I had unwittingly offered it an escape from its intentions — yet I chose to let the pretense stand. If it truly meant to hide something, it would serve me better to let it believe I was easy enough to misdirect.
"From now on, you will ask if you are in need — and if it is within reason, I will provide," I told it firmly.
"Are we clear on this?" I added, making certain it understood this would be the last time I would need to say it.
"As the running waters beside us, sir — I assure you it will not happen again," it replied, its tone even more apologetic than before.
"We would not want Sister Adrian discovering that you had taken an interest in her belongings, now would we?" I said.
Its eyes widened further, the yellow hue almost brightening as understanding struck.
"Oh, I most certainly would not like that, sir. Thank you for your discretion — much appreciated," it blurted rapidly, clasping its hands together in a show of restraint.
The moment felt right to question it further about its remarks from last night, but before I spoke, I glanced back toward the tents, wary of the others overhearing whatever else it might have to explain.
It was then that I noticed Felix, halfway out of the tent, watching us. Our eyes met, and the spell of his stillness broke; he looked around as if pretending he had not been observing us at all.
"It's going to be a muddy morning, wouldn't you agree, Praefectus?" he called, offering me his lopsided smile.
"And the horses would appreciate it if we moved to firmer ground soon — as would I," I called back to him from the cart, my eyes lingering on the creature for a final moment before I made my way toward Felix.
"Well understood, sir," he replied, signaling his readiness to begin our morning routine before departure.
As I drew nearer, I could hear the rhythmic murmur of Sister Adrian's morning prayer within her tent, moments before she stepped out into the gray light.
With a small bow of her shaven head, she greeted us, her eyes lowering to the damp earth as she spoke.
"Blessed morning, Praefectus. Legatus."
Without another word, she moved to begin gathering our gear from the campsite.
With that, we turned to our own morning duties and finished preparing for departure, my gaze drifting now and again toward the wooden cart to ensure the creature remained still.
Drizzle had turned to rain by the time we found our way back onto the Severian Steps. The gray clouds that had greeted me in the morning had darkened further, and the downpour only grew heavier as we pressed on.
"At this pace, we'd best join them in the cart and float our way to Arventis," Felix said, his mischievous expression half-hidden beneath his blue hood.
"Floating backward would not be very effective," I replied, nodding toward the inclined stone-paved road ahead as it coiled around the rising hills.
"We are reaching Mons Ocela soon, then?" Felix asked, his gaze fixed on the tightening line of mountains ahead of us.
"That we are. And this weather will not serve us well if we mean to cross the mountains today," I told him, before laying out my plan for the day's travel.
"The maps show several old churches in the area. I suggest we move as far as we can until we reach one, and wait out the rain there."
"Aren't those areas populated, sir?" Felix asked.
"That is correct, Felix. But we must choose between avoiding the notice of mountain villagers or confronting rolling boulders on the hillside," I replied, and waited for his thoughts.
"That is a difficult choice," he said, pointing toward the squealing cart ahead of us.
"Follow me," I told him, urging my horse forward toward Sister Adrian's side, Felix close behind.
"How are you managing, Sister?" I asked her.
"You are not fond of lightless days, I suppose?"
"His light is always there, even if we are not worthy enough to see it, Praefectus," she answered softly.
"I hope you have had no trouble with the load on the cart," I said, my gaze shifting to the creature sitting on the wet wooden boards. Its red tuft of hair clung to its grey skin, raindrops trailing along its sharp nose before falling to the cart bed.
"Everything is well, sir. Thank you," she said, casting a sharp glance over her shoulder at the creature before returning her eyes to the road.
"There is a chance we may encounter locals as we pass through this region," I began.
"And it would be best if we went unnoticed."
I unclasped my cloak and handed it to her, feeling the rain creep cold against my skin as the wool left my shoulders.
She looked puzzled for a breath, but even before I spoke I could see she had already understood.
"We should not place our faith in the piety of strangers this far from home, Sister," I said as she drew the wine-red cloth over her shoulders, hiding her robes beneath it.
"Understood, sir," she replied, glancing once more toward the back of the cart. "What of it, though?" she asked.
"It will not be difficult to conceal for the time being," I told her, and signaled Felix toward the other side of the cart.
The creature watched us as we moved to either flank, and only blinked when we pulled the tarp used for covering our supplies over it.
Before it vanished from sight and I stood beside it, I reminded it firmly, "Hands to yourself now."
It nodded quickly, understanding well enough.
Tall pines steadily replaced the olive trees as we climbed the road, the sprawling veins of the Belanis weaving through the rising hills to meet the river's main body. The rain remained vigilant in its company, and any hope of avoiding shelter in a church had long since left me.
"We should reach shelter by midday," I said to my companions, hoping to reassure them that warmth was not far ahead.
"What should be our story, Praefectus?" Felix asked, forcing me to consider what reason a band of strangers might give for passing through mountain villages at this time of year.
"We are merchants from Lappurum," I replied after a brief pause. "You and your sister in the cart are my partners, and we travel toward Arventis to trade our goods."
It was a tale with the least number of false details — simple enough to avoid suspicion, and easy for all of us to remember.
"And what if someone asks to see our goods?" Felix said, raising a fair point.
"Cinnabar dust," I replied. "My guess is that mountain folk will have little use for it — and even less curiosity. Few would risk handling something that might poison them."
He nodded, satisfied with the explanation.
The outline of a village emerged ahead of us as our horses struggled to keep their footing on the rain-slick, weathered stones of the road. It would have to serve as our stop for the day — or at least until the sky chose to relent.
Shelter was needed now, though concealing ourselves for as short a time as possible remained my preference.
I heard dogs barking ahead, rushing toward us — our first greeting upon entering their territory.
"Brace yourselves. Stay calm and keep to the plan," I called to my companions as we approached the village's entrance.
Fortunately, the wooden gates before us stood half-open, and some of the dogs we heard closing in swept along our flanks, accompanying us with their barking procession.
A small menagerie of house animals wandered within the village walls — four-legged mountain chickens scratching at the muddy earth in search of seed and worm, a lone donkey sheltering itself beneath the stone corbel of a house, and sheep bleating somewhere nearby.
Even with the rain falling around us and the sounds of the unattended animals, the distinct absence of human voices — of daily struggles and familiar village life — drew my attention to the eerie details revealing themselves around us.
Field tools lay uncovered in the rain, house doors stood open to the weather, and chimneys everywhere gave no sign of smoke. Linens and scraps of fabric lay strewn in the dirt, and the darkened windows reflected our forms as we made our way toward the village's center.
"Where is everyone?" Felix asked quietly. "Do you think there was a raid here, Praefectus?"
The same thought had crossed my mind, but the lack of any signs of violence suggested otherwise.
"It seems more likely they left in haste — and not long before we arrived," I replied, continuing to scan the deserted homes. My search was met only with silence and the abandoned remnants of daily life.
"If they were driven from their homes, who bears the blame? What could have frightened them enough to flee like this?" Felix pressed on.
"Let us keep moving and search for an answer," I told him, urging my mount forward.
"Gods!" Sister Adrian cried from the front, pointing toward the ancient stone church half-hidden beneath the great plane tree at the village's heart.
She brought the horses to an abrupt halt and leapt from the cart, running toward the church through the heavy rainfall, mud splattering beneath her hurried steps.
The cause of her reaction became clear as we drew closer to the ancient stone structure. Red paint had been smeared across the whitewashed walls — walls that had stood since before the first ancestor of these missing villagers ever set foot upon this ground. Torn and charred labara hung heavy with rain from the bell tower, and the great darkwood door sagged crooked on its iron hinges.
Sister Adrian pushed against it with all her strength, trying to force her way into the defaced structure, but her efforts proved useless.
The tarp covering the cart bed began to shift, and a moment later the creature's head emerged from beneath it, peering out to see what the commotion was about. It looked first toward its driver, then back at us.
"I suppose we are no longer incognito, gentlemen?" it asked, just as Felix and I swung down from our horses, securing them to the beam of a nearby shed before hurrying toward Sister Adrian.