The order was given. The piece was in motion. And Catherine, for the first time in this war, had sent a soldier into a battle she suspected was a trap.
It was a new and unsettling sensation. Not fear for her agent—she had learned to see Thorne as a tool, a scalpel she could afford to lose, however costly—but fear of the unknown.
She was now playing against an adversary whose intelligence she respected, an adversary who could anticipate her moves.
She spent the night studying, no longer for the knowledge itself, but to calm the frantic machine of her mind.
She read passages from Lord Finch's journal, trying to discern clues about the tactics of adepts from the Pathway of Pride. She looked for weaknesses, for patterns of thought, anything that might give her an edge.
Valerius found her like this, bent over an ancient text in the candlelight, when he came for his nightly visit.
He saw her as his devoted Oracle, working tirelessly for his cause.
He did not see the predator analyzing her prey, nor the general waiting with an icy anxiety for the report from her scout in enemy territory.
Their embrace that night was brief, almost mechanical. Her mind was elsewhere, and even the pretext of Incarnation was not enough to focus her.
She needed results, not rituals. Valerius, sensing her distraction, chalked it up to her mystical fatigue and left her to her solitude, not without bestowing some condescending advice on the importance of rest.
The message arrived the next day at midday. It was not a note, but a summons. Leo, the kitchen boy, verbally relayed Doctor Thorne's message, his face even paler than usual.
"The Doctor says the 'package' is ready, but the 'delivery slip' is too sensitive to be written down. He requests a consultation with you. Tonight. At the same place as last time."
The same place.
The herbalist's shop.
Neutral ground.
Thorne was cautious.
And he was taking the initiative. Catherine felt a mixture of irritation and respect. He wasn't just obeying; he was dictating the terms of communication. She accepted.
That evening, she orchestrated a new diversion for Valerius—a sudden migraine that required absolute quiet and the application of cold compresses by a maid, a task that would keep him occupied for hours.
Meanwhile, protected by darkness and with Kenji as her silent, disapproving shadow, she went to the rendezvous point.
Thorne was waiting for her in the back room, amidst the scents of lavender and valerian. He was calm, his clothes impeccable. Not a single stain betrayed the previous night's operation.
"The contract is fulfilled," he said without preamble. "The subject, Chen 'The Crow', is in my possession. Sedated and secured in my clinic."
"The operation?" Catherine asked, her voice a whisper.
"Without notable incident," Thorne replied, a faint smile on his lips.
"The tavern was crowded. Chen's men are stupid brutes.
I used a modified version of a neurotoxic agent of my own creation, dispersed via a pocket perfume diffuser. Non-lethal.
It induces severe disorientation and nausea within seconds.
The crowd thought it was a sudden case of food poisoning. Amidst the panic and vomiting, no one noticed the benevolent 'doctor' helping one of his 'friends' who was suddenly taken ill to get some fresh air.
It was disappointingly simple. If it was a trap, it was remarkably poorly designed."
Catherine felt a knot loosen in her stomach.
So the lead was real.
The Rook's paranoia had a flaw: he delegated his security to incompetents. That was vital information.
"Well done, Doctor. Your payment will follow."
"Indeed," Thorne said, and his gaze grew sharper.
"But the payment in gold only covers the abduction. The interrogation is another matter."
Catherine remained silent.
"I have my own methods for making people talk," Thorne continued.
"Methods that involve a deep knowledge of biochemistry and the psychology of pain. It is quite… messy. But to begin, I require the first installment of our other agreement. The payment in knowledge."
He approached her, the scent of antiseptic emanating from him.
"You diverted an Inquisitor onto one of my rivals, a certain Soren.
He is an adept of the Silent Ferryman, if my information is correct. His power is to command spirits. It's a skill that interests me, from a purely professional standpoint."
His face was a mask of clinical curiosity, but his threads of ambition vibrated intensely.
"Tell me, Oracle," he whispered, "how does his power work? How can a man bind a ghost to his will? What is the nature of the link? What is its weakness? Share with me a sliver of your vision. That is the price for me to begin making your new patient sing."
The challenge was thrown.
Clear.
Direct.
He was using his success as leverage to force her to play his game, the exchange of knowledge between adepts. She was trapped. She needed the information Chen possessed, and Thorne was the only one who could extract it.
She stared at him, her mind analyzing the situation.
Giving him information about another Pathway made her vulnerable, revealed to him a part of the extent of her own knowledge. But to refuse was to lose her momentum, her only lead to Jun-Ho Park.
She made her decision. She would give him a bone to chew on. Enough to satisfy him, but not enough for him to understand the true nature of her own vision.
"The Pathway of the Silent Ferryman is founded on the sin of Envy," she began, her voice taking on the cadence of the Oracle.
"A spirit is not bound by force, Doctor. It is bound by what it desires and can no longer have. Life. Soren does not command; he promises. He offers ghosts a chance to feel again, through him. It is a mutual parasitism. The weakness of this bond… is that it can be stolen by a stronger envy."
It was a mixture of truth drawn from her readings and bluff.
Thorne listened, absorbed, a glint of greedy understanding in his eyes.
"Fascinating," he said.
"Absolutely fascinating. Very well. I will begin the interrogation tonight. You will have your report tomorrow."
He bowed slightly and left.
Catherine remained alone in the back room, a cold sensation in her chest. She had won. She was going to get what she wanted from Chen.
But she had just paid with a currency far more dangerous than gold. She had begun to share the secrets of her world, and she knew, with absolute certainty, that her new ally would always want more.