Upon arriving at the hall, Sir Aldric Vane received her, taking her hand delicately. His long, pale fingers contrasted with the gold of the rings that covered them.
"Lady Edyth, it is good to see you. You kept us waiting, even for lunch."
"That was not my intention, Sir Aldric. But business kept me occupied."
A smile formed on the man's thin face.
"We would like to know just how important it was."
He led her toward the head of the table, where an armchair carved from oak waited empty. The other diners watched her over the rims of their glasses.
"Am I really supposed to sit here?", Lilith thought.
"I must remark that your hand was impressively cold," Sir Aldric whispered. "Are you feeling well?"
"The pollen has made me fragile," she replied, discreetly pulling her hand away. "But it is nothing."
Lilith looked around. Too many people. Too many smiles walking toward her with the intention of greeting her.
"Damn it. I hope Rosmel has luck in his search."
Elsewhere, on the cobbled streets of Tonal, Rosmel walked lost.
The coachman stopped at a corner.
"Who exactly am I supposed to be looking for?" he murmured.
He scratched his head. His fingers sank into his non-existent skull of illusion.
"I know," he decided. "I'll go to my very attackers."
He walked until he found a guard leaning against a column, chewing an apple.
"Excuse me. Where are the dungeons?"
The guard looked him up and down.
"And who might you be?"
"I work for Lady Edyth. I need to see the men who attacked her carriage."
The guard straightened his back. The apple lowered slowly.
"This way."
He guided him to the edge of the city, where the houses grew lower and the stench of dampness intensified. A dark stone structure rose beside the wall, its windows barred.
"Wait here," said the guard, and disappeared behind an iron door.
Rosmel waited.
The door opened.
"Come in. On behalf of Lady Edyth, he says."
The interior was a long hallway of cells. Light entered through narrow slits, painting stripes on the stone floor. The smell of urine and rotting straw hit him like a wall.
There they were. The Purgers.
Without their hoods, they were just men. Ordinary men, with faces marked by the sun and lack of sleep. They sat on the floor of their communal cell, backs against the damp wall.
One of them looked up. He recognized him.
"You actually dare to come?"
Rosmel approached the bars.
"My lady needs to know your intentions. An attack like that doesn't happen for no reason. Who sent you?"
The Purger stood up. His companions followed suit, forming a wall behind him.
"No one," he spat. "Stop talking as if she were someone decent. I don't know what she does, but it's certain she's involved with the dark."
"Why do you say that?"
"Don't listen to him!" interrupted a guard from the end of the hallway. "They're just fanatics."
"No!" shouted the Purger, his fingers gripping the bars. "Lord Marlow has involved himself with magic! She is his ally, for sure!"
Rosmel laughed. A guttural laugh that echoed in the hallway.
"I see. So it's just a conspiracy theory from some fanatics, right?" he replied to the guard.
"Damn you!"
The Purger thrust his arms through the bars. His bound hands clawed at the air, trying to reach Rosmel. A guard ran towards him, grabbed his wrists, and twisted them against the metal. Another guard opened the cell.
They went in.
Dull thuds against the floor. The Purger fell, his face against the stone. The guards kicked him once, twice, three times. His companions moved aside, frightened, pressed against the wall.
Rosmel watched the spectacle without moving a muscle.
"It would be best if you left," said another guard, appearing at his side. "We will handle investigating the attack."
Rosmel nodded. He turned and walked toward the exit. Behind him, the Purger's screams mixed with the blows.
The iron door closed.
As evening fell, Lilith stood in the middle of a garden, holding a stick with a porcelain plate balanced on it.
That was the game. Run with the plate without dropping it, dodge obstacles, reach the finish line before the others.
Lilith mimicked their clumsy movements. Her arms flailed exaggeratedly. Her feet tripped over the grass on purpose. Her face was red with shame.
"How stupid. Must I really play these games? If my subordinates saw me..."
"Edyth! Come on, you can do it!" someone shouted from the crowd.
She quickened her pace. The finish line was close. Ten steps. Five.
Miss Elara Vane approached too quickly. She pretended to trip. Her shoulder collided with Lilith's.
"Oh! Sorry about my clumsiness!" she laughed falsely.
Lilith's plate fell to the ground.
It shattered against the grass.
Lilith stared at the inert plate. The scattered pieces.
"Is this what you cheat for?"
Elara reached the finish line. Everyone applauded. The men whistled. The ladies waved their handkerchiefs.
Lilith stood still, alone.
Someone took her arm.
"Come now, dear. Not everyone can win."
It was an older woman, with a kind face and wrinkled hands. She guided her off the playing field, towards the chairs arranged under the silk canopies.
Lilith let herself be led. She sat down. Took a deep breath.
But she found no rest.
"Edyth! You elusive girl!"
She looked up. Lord and Lady Ashworth approached, their faces lit with smiles. The mother-in-law, Lady Miriam, extended her arms to embrace her.
Lilith stood up. She accepted the embrace stiffly.
"How has my son been?" asked Lady Miriam. "It's been a while since I've seen him."
"Yes," confirmed Lord Ashworth. "Two summers ago, I believe."
Lilith looked to the side. She remembered the carriage they had locked him in. The ropes. The river they had thrown him into.
"He has a strange fascination with breeding horses," she said, forcing a smile. "He exports them now. He is very busy."
The parents grew sad. Lady Miriam brought a hand to her chest.
"Oh... tell him to see us. I am worried. He doesn't answer his letters."
"How strange," Lilith shook her head. "I will mention your concern to him."
The Ashworths exchanged a glance. Then they bid farewell with kisses on the cheeks and walked away.
Lilith exhaled. Her shoulders dropped.
And then she saw him.
Rosmel. At the far end of the garden.
She hurried over to him.
"I'm glad you came," she said when he was near. "Well? What did you find out?"
Rosmel lowered his voice.
"Those Purgers are paranoid about a certain Lord Marlow. They say he practices magic."
Lilith narrowed her eyes.
"Magic?"
"Yes. And they are convinced that you are his ally."
"This man wants to take over this place? Damn it."
"W-why are you so stressed?" Rosmel stammered. "You have more power."
"But his minions are capable of doing tasks for him. While I... I still have to work in person."
Rosmel looked down at the ground.
"Do not worry. I will help you."
Lilith looked at him. The coachman.
"I know."