“I was informed of the payment sent with him upon his departure,” Fionn said. “But I would be a fool to think the issue ends there.”
Eira nodded. “He’s demanding an increased tribute. Four payments a year instead of two.”
Quiet protests rumbled around the table.
“The threat he holds over us”—Eira lifted her hands, asking for silence—“is to reveal to the Church the presence of women in the Guard . . . and to lead his superiors to believe that we delve into dark magics.”
Feeling her own anger building, she took a deep breath. “If we reject his conditions, we’re facing accusations of witchcraft.”
For a space of several beats no one spoke.
Then the room erupted.
“How dare he!” Claudio was on his feet while Ewan beat the table with his fists.
Thomas bowed his head.
“Does the man care for nothing other than himself?” Lukasz asked, shaking his head.
Alistair’s face reddened with fury while Sorcha’s paled.
“We’ll all burn,” she said. Barrow took her hand, scowling at no one in particular.
“Peace, my friends.” Father Michael, who’d been sitting quietly in the corner of the room, stood up and came to Eira’s side.
“Indeed this is deeply troubling,” he said. “But God will show mercy to those who place their trust in him.”
Sorcha laughed mirthlessly. “You’re a good man, Father Michael. But your claims about God are quite empty when his agent schemes thus.”
The priest’s eyes were sad. “You speak the truth, Sorcha. We know too well that there are those who claim to serve God but serve only mammon. But the heart cannot serve two masters. The work you do here is God’s work. Have faith and our path will reveal itself.”
Sorcha returned his kind smile with a scornful stare. Hopeless expressions overtook the remainder of the group.
Keeping her voice quiet, Eira said, “There may be another way.”
It took a moment for anyone to react to her words. Cian acknowledged her first.
“Another way?”
Eira took her time, choosing her words carefully. “After the abbot made his threats, I sought out the prisoner.”
“Alone?” Thomas frowned at her. “This prisoner has powers we’ve never encountered, Eira. Any interrogation of him should not be taken lightly.”
“Of course it was impulsive,” Eira said. “And I beg pardon of the Circle. But I believe my desire to learn more of him may have proven fruitful. Vital, even.”
Barrow’s brow knit together. “The man is insane. I have a hard time believing he will be anything but a burden to us. How can we be aided by one whose words have no meaning?”
Swallowing her frustration, Eira smiled at the knight. “He spoke some sense to me, Barrow.”
“Why would he gain clarity in your presence when he had none for us?” Barrow asked.
Eira opened and closed her mouth. She had been about to repeat what the wild man had said to her, that she was the one his master sought and only she. Something held her tongue—not a desire to deceive the others, but a twist in her heart that whispered to reveal that bit of information might hinder her from fully using it as she wished.
“Eira?” Cian was watching her sister with increasing concern. “What did he say?”
Quickly calculating how to share enough but not all she’d learned, Eira said, “He claims to know the source of the evils we’ve sworn to defeat.”
“The source?” Lukasz straightened in his chair.
“Yes,” Eira told him, then let her gaze sweep over the entire group. “The power of which you spoke, Thomas, this man claims it is no power of his own.”
“He didn’t call the striga?” Sorcha asked.
Eira shook her head. “He spoke to me of his master. One who commands all the creatures we’ve encountered. All we hope to destroy.”
“That’s not possible,” Claudio said. “No such being exists.”
Father Michael’s voice was quiet. “As a member of the Circle, Claudio, you should know better than to speak of what is and is not possible. Is not most of our calling to defeat that which is impossible for most of our brothers and sisters in this world to fathom?”
Claudio dropped his gaze.
Encouraged by Father Michael’s words, Eira pressed on: “If what our prisoner says is true, we might be able to hunt his master. If we can defeat him, it may mean we’ve cut off the path by which these monsters enter our world. Now we only hold these wicked creatures at bay; if we were to banish them forever, we would be honored above all others.”
Barrow was shaking his head. “I don’t believe it. Your hopes are understandable, Eira, but this man is raving mad. He’s infatuated by his own power and making up stories to sustain his delusions.”
“Have you another explanation for the six striga that served him?” Eira snapped.
“Eira’s right, Barrow,” Alistair said. “We were caught unawares. No sorcerer we’ve tracked has ever had more than one beast under his command.”
Sorcha put her hand on Barrow’s arm. “Even a madman sometimes speaks the truth.”
Eira smiled, about to continue, when Thomas broke in. “Even if he is revealing truth to us, how does it change our standing with the abbot?”
Ewan nodded. “The abbot is our primary concern. Once we’ve determined how best to proceed, we can investigate the matter of this prisoner. We can keep him in the stockade as long as we need.”
“We need more time to question him,” Fionn added.
“That may be the wisest course at this time,” Father Michael said. “I can pursue channels within the Church. Abbot Crichton has made enemies, and perhaps we can find a sympathetic ear among his superiors.”
“Forgive my disagreement, Father,” Eira said, feeling the tone of the room shifting away from her interests. “But even if such a friend in the Church hierarchy exists, the abbot need only begin a whispered campaign to spread lies about our order and we’ll find ourselves subject to investigation. Too many fear heresy; we can’t risk that. What I’m proposing would allow us to bypass all the corrupt channels of politics.”
“How, Eira?” Cian asked. “Why will seeking out this supposed master help us in this matter?”