"Is this a great victory for the Church, then, Father?" Lillet barked at the priest. "Shall we all kneel and give praise for how the execution of a stupid charlatan who's not even a magician will help keep the souls of the villagers free from magic's taint? Why, he's even an actual lawbreaker, accused out of my own mouth, not some innocent person sentenced on suspicion and spectral evidence, so our consciences can rest easy, can't they?"

"Miss Blan," Father Dubbel began, but Lillet's temper ran hot and right over his attempt to speak.

"They're actually happy about this! 'If the Demon killing people in town is a ravenous wolf, then Pyotr Maudite is a jackal come to fan the fires of sin left in his wake and feed off the impiety.' You said it yourself, how you were afraid that these killings would drive the villagers to evil, and here's the first example of someone using the fear they created—"

"Miss Blan!"

Lillet fell silent, the sharp, even harsh tone of the older man bringing her up short.

"I realize that you are understandably upset," he said, coming over to stand in front of her. "But you wrong me by speaking in such a fashion, and you wrong God by implying that He could see this result as justice."

Lillet let out a long sigh.

"I'm sorry, Father. It's just..."

He nodded solemnly.

"I know. It's why I approached you after the trial and brought you back here. I could tell that you were furious at the outcome, and I was afraid that you would be provoked to make some scene."

She rubbed the side of her neck with a rueful gesture.

"I'm not as foolish as all that, although the idea appeals quite strongly. It's pride, and guilt, as much as any of it. That man was nothing but a trickster, a little contemptible but no worse than that. Certainly, he's a confidence man who deserves punishment for what he's done, but not this, not a horrible death—and they used me to do it."

She took a deep, ragged breath.

"What I can't understand is that they're proud of it. I can't be sure of the magistrate, but I know that Gervase feels he's just won a great victory against evil. Even though Maudite wasn't actually a magician and the things he was talking about doing weren't sorcery of any kind. I don't see how he can believe that using a technical loophole in the law to convict a man is justice. It isn't even the spirit of that law!"

"To him it is. To him, anything to do with magic, whether it be sorcery or not, is an absolute evil. To use it is a mortal sin; what one uses it for is a separate question entirely."

"And do you believe that?"

"We talked about this last night, I recall. I do believe that the practice of magic is wrong. To deal with devils at all through sorcery is a sinful act. Necromancy tampers with the mysteries of life and death and the soul; the dead should be left to lie in peace. And alchemy deals in the creation of life, new existences not part of God's natural order but shaped by human hubris, proof that the lesson of Babel was not learned. But," he added, his face somber, "to say that these sins are mortal, or that one who commits them should be put to death? I cannot understand such thinking, particularly if magic can be used to accomplish good ends. To meet evil with more evil only denies God's will."

"I see."

"This is a tragic loss, I know," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "My poor flock has strayed, as I feared they would in the face of the killings, and a man will suffer far worse than his crimes warrant. But you must not allow it to crush your spirit. I am convinced that you are our only hope for bringing this nightmare to an end, and if you give way to wrath or to despair, then we lose that hope."

She shook her head.

"No, Father, it isn't a loss yet. You're right—and I have no intention of giving Gervase an easy victory. He shall have to strive harder than that if he wants to catch the so-called Demon in terms of innocent blood spilled."

"What do you mean?"

She offered him a smile.

"It's probably safer for you if you don't know."

His wispy gray eyebrows rose.

"Indeed, I am not at all sure that I find that comforting."

"It wasn't really meant to be," Lillet admitted, "although you don't have to worry about anyone getting hurt."

"That is—"

Ommegang chose that moment to interrupt, entering with the tea tray. He set it down at Father Dubbel's indication and left the study. The priest passed for them both and Lillet took the opportunity to change the subject.

"I'm actually glad that you took the time to bring me back here, because I needed to talk with you anyway."

"Oh, what about?"

"It's a lead that I came across while I was talking to people this morning, something that might help my investigation. There's something very unusual about magic in this village, from what I've seen, and one of the more unusual things is the Gallows Tree, which from what I understand marks the spot on which Jacob Blackstone fought and defeated a devil or monster in the past. I wanted to do some research into the Venerable Jacob in the hope of learning something about that battle which might help. I figured that since he's the patron not-yet-saint of this village, you'd be likely to have some of the literature about him, and that battle in particular."

She took a sip of tea, finding it as good as on her previous visits.

"I do indeed. You'll find the books relating to his life and works there on the second shelf." The priest gestured with a long, thin hand at one of the bookcases. "There is Wolmar's The Life and Times of Jacob Blackstone, and the volume of Causes for Canonization which includes his chapter. He's mentioned several times in Idar's Acts Against the Scourge of Magic, though I doubt you'll be well-inclined towards that particular work. There are a few others as well; you're welcome to read any of them that you like."

"Thank you." She paused for another sip of tea, then added, "Would it be too much of an imposition to let me get started at once?"

"Not at all. I wish you good fortune in your research."

"Can you tell me anything of the story yourself?"

The priest nodded while sampling his own tea.

"Yes, indeed. It's almost obligatory, wouldn't you say, for a local clergyman to know about the holy man who gave his name to the village. Of course, hagiography has always been a mixture of history and legend, with the two often badly blurred, so you will have to make of it what you will."

He sat down in one of the hard-backed chairs before the hearth, and after a moment Lillet took the other.

"The story starts in the earliest days of the village, when it was little more than a lumber camp. The forest, you see, covered this whole area and the settlers here were carving out a new community. Politically, I believe it had to do with this area once being part of a larger noble estate, but being gifted to a younger son in reward for his services in the border war with Chernyakhov. His new holdings consisted only of a couple of manors and a stretch of forest, so lumbering would bring profit and also clear land that could then be used for farming, to support a village.

"However, relatively early into the business, an affliction came upon the settlement. At that time it was only a hundred or so, mostly lumbermen and a few merchants who sold to them. Hard men, rough, who both worked and caroused with great vigor."

The logs in the fireplace crackled and popped. Despite the persistent wet chill of the day, the fire kept the priest's study warm, even cozy.

"What kind of affliction was it?"

"The stories differ. Some say that bouts of illness began to overcome the lumbermen, one after another falling sick of some unseen plague. Others speak of strange accidents befalling them, tools breaking, ropes coming loose. Still others tell of direct, violent attacks. All agree, though, that at least a dozen people had died by the time that Jacob Blackstone came to the threatened hamlet.

"At the time, the Venerable Jacob had already began to build a reputation as an exorcist and a fighter of demons. He did not appear to be a priest or monk, but he had a relationship with the Church to seek out supernatural evil."

"It sounds rather similar to the work that Gervase does for Bishop Woodbridge, except for the part where the Venerable Jacob actually fought evil."

"I do not think it was so formal a relationship as that, leaving aside the particulars. You may be doing Jacob Blackstone a grave injustice, however, to mention his name in the same breath as our current witch-finder. I have heard no mention of him being involved in any witch hunts or for confronting evil magicians on any but a one-on-one basis, which as I am sure you appreciate is quite a different matter."

"Certainly; there's a vast difference between a 'witch-hunt' trying to purge an area of magic and an attempt to bring a criminal magician to justice. The magic is often just the means to an end for the villain in that case."

"Although it is the nature of power to corrupt, and in turn power wielded by the corrupted gives rise to greater evil," Father Dubbel countered. "This is the danger of the easy spread of magic, how much more evil those weak-minded souls can do."

"You could just as easily say the same about crossbows, or about literacy and mathematics for that matter," Lillet countered, "but I don't think we really need to be debating the point."

"No, in that you have the right of it. In any case, I will say that even those commentators who would approve of the actions of Sterling Gervase and his cohorts have not attempted to cast the Venerable Jacob in such a role. Thus I cannot imagine that he was such a one."

"You're probably right. If I was trying to advocate for a political position, I'd try to seize on as many examples as I could."

"Quite." He wet his throat with more tea. "Apparently when he arrived, the Venerable Jacob quickly discovered that a powerful devil was responsible for the deaths in the settlement. He compelled it to face him directly instead of hiding in the shadows, and at the site of what became known as Gallows Tree he defeated the monster, saving the village and paving the way for it to grow into what is now the town of Jacob's Creek."

"Do the legends say anything about how he defeated the devil?"

"Like any exorcist, he called upon the power of God, or so I would imagine."

Lillet shook her head.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't clear. What I meant was, do you know the precise outcome of the battle? Obviously Jacob Blackstone won, but was the devil destroyed, banished back to Hell, sealed away, driven out of the region, or something else entirely?"

"Oh, I see. Well, no, I'm afraid that I can't really say just what did become of it." He gave a start, following her logic. "Do you mean to suggest that it might be that devil returned that is preying upon us now?"

"I don't know, truthfully. Sheriff Tisdale was the one who first mentioned the idea, but I'm definitely not comfortable ruling it out. Like I said, there's something unusual happening with the magic in the area, and the Gallows Tree is definitely connected with it somehow. It's very possible that it could happen, depending of course on how the battle was actually resolved."

"I see. Well, I'm doubly sorry that I can't give you a specific answer, then. Perhaps one of the books will put things in such terms that I would miss but from which you, the expert, could read the meaning between the lines."

"I hope so. I may only be being distracted by what they call a 'red herring,' but I can't help but think there's some kind of connection between the past and the present. And even if that's wrong, being able to sort out these side matters will help me to keep from getting too cluttered in my mind looking for a solution. A process of elimination isn't the fastest or best way to get where one is going, but at least it gets there."

Father Dubbel rose from his chair.

"Then I will leave you to your work, Miss Blan. Please do not hesitate to ring if you should need anything."

"I won't, thank you."

Lillet finished off her cup, and since they'd left the tea-tray in the study, poured herself another cup, which she set on the desk before she began to fetch down the books her host had indicated. There were quite a few, and it seemed like hardly any time had passed before the clock was chiming six.

Ordinarily, when Lillet was engaged in a research project she was not keenly aware of passing time. Her interest in the subject, and the challenge of whatever puzzle she was trying to unravel, would get ahold of her and if she didn't finish up in time she'd find herself going on until her staff (at the Palace) or Amoretta or Gaff (at home) interrupted her. Amoretta had to be quite stern sometime to make sure that Lillet would take care of herself properly.

This time, though, Lillet was quite aware of the time because it was important to her plans. She finished taking a couple of notes on what presently concerned her, then marked her place and left the study.

"Oh, are you finished with your research, then?" the priest asked as he showed her to the door.

"I'm afraid not. Would it be all right if I returned after supper to continue?"

"Of course. But you needn't go. You must permit me to offer you dinner."

That was trouble. Frankly, the company and the food would likely have been better at Father Dubbel's table to judge by the examples of both she'd had thus far, but it didn't suit Lillet's plan.

"Oh, I couldn't impose on you twice in a row like this. Besides, I'm already paying at the Green Man and after this afternoon I'm quite inclined to make the Bogles actually work for the coin they take from me."

"That is not kind; Miss Bogle did not more than tell the truth in court."

"And to Gervase outside of court, or else he wouldn't have known whom to call as a witness. Either she talked to him directly or one of her parents pointed him to her, and given what happened to Maudite, I don't like it in the slightest."

"All the more reason not to go. To deliberately enter a person's presence in a spirit of wrath is only inviting trouble."

His genuine concern for her well-being nearly disarmed her. After all, a note sent to the innkeeper letting him know that she was dining at the priest's and later staying to do research would serve her purposes almost as well. Almost.

Under the circumstances, she didn't want to deal with the question of "almost."

She smiled at the old man.

"I appreciate your concern, I really do, and I promise to keep a firm hand on my temper, presuming that Gervase or his lackeys don't show up to start a fight. But then, they wouldn't partake of the sinful carousing at a tavern, would they?"

He did not respond to her attempt at sarcastic wit.

"I warn you, Miss Blan, to not play into their hands. It is all too easy to let hatred guide us in times of adversity. But when those who would fight against evil battle each other, then it is the Devil who wins."

Lillet couldn't help herself. She giggled at Father Dubbel's earnest words, which caused him to draw himself up and back, affronted.

"I'm sorry!" Lillet hastened to assure, not wanting to hurt this good-hearted man. "It's just...what you said reminded me of something that Mr. Advocat, my sorcery teacher at the Silver Star Tower once mentioned, that when devils fight the priests win. How much more true is it for those of us who are supposed to work together as part of our ethos?"

She decided to leave the part out about said sorcery teacher being better known as Mephistopheles, or that he'd been talking to another arch-devil at the time. Tolerance only ran so far.

"I see. Well, do keep it in mind."

"I'll try my best."

Lillet wondered if Father Dubbel would be disappointed in her if he knew what she planned. After all, she definitely did not expect to devote her energies solely to finding the Beast, and she fully intended to take steps that would be considered fighting against Sterling Gervase and the local law.

The truth was, his reasoning was sound. It was definitely a waste of time and energy Lillet could have better spent elsewhere to have to deal with the cruelties and ineptitude of the witch-finder. It was probably too much to expect Gervase to actually be useful in finding out what was causing the deaths and bringing them to a close, but at the very least he could try not to be an active obstacle.

Unless...the perhaps traitorous thought struck her, as she walked out into the deepening twilight, that it certainly was doing Gervase and his crusade no harm to have the so-called Demon running loose. It was so much easier to stir up an atmosphere where people would support the execution of a traveler or specious charges when there was evidence of a genuine threat. Whether merely by a sadistic ego who savored wielding power or hoped to extort money or sexual favors—or if sincere in his opposition to witchcraft from the attitude that certain sacrifices were necessary to achieve the greater goal—the killings had played right into his hands at a time, apparently, when he'd started to be more nuisance than inspiration to the townsfolk.

Do I really believe that? Probably not, Lillet had to admit, though it would have given her a great deal of satisfaction if Gervase were the culprit, not just because of her opinion of the man himself but for the political blow it would deal to Bishop Woodbridge and his fellow extremists. Still, it was a possibility to be aware of; she couldn't just dismiss him as a mere clown when he could be a cunning and powerful enemy.

The rain chose to cut loose just as the door of the Green Man swung shut behind her, rattling against the inn's front windows. "Just in the nick of time, eh, Your Excellency," joked a bearded man in the garb of a shopkeeper. "Not so lucky, myself, but a little water's not so bad compared to the head-washing I'll get at home if I stay a couple of extra hours here to wait it out, hey!" He chortled again; his complaint obviously wasn't meant seriously—this was a man who'd be glad to get home.

I'll be glad to get home, too, Lillet thought. The frustration of politics turning against her was much more easily faced when she could return to Amoretta and Cressidor at the end of the day and regain what was most important in her life.

She ate lightly and without particular enthusiasm. Molly would not meet her eyes and conversation in the common room was for the most part subdued. Some of the tavern-goers were clearly frightened in the wake of the trial, and from the snatches of conversation Lillet caught it was a fairly even split as to whether that fear was of deviltry and evil magic or of the witch-hunter fastening on them. There was little real sympathy for Maudite—he was a shady character, after all, an outsider and a rogue besides—but there appeared to be a genuine dispute as to whether he was a symptom of their village's problem or another victim.

Either way, though, voices remained hushed, even when making arguments that ordinarily would have meant near-shouting and tankards slammed on tables. Those who opposed the witch-hunter were fearful of catching his attention, while those who supported him feared, in turn, the alleged devils who had caused two bloody deaths.

And all of them, of course, distrusted and feared Lillet.

She finished off her mug of cider—she'd only had one, to keep from muddling her head—pushed her plate away, and rose to cross to the bar.

"I need to go out tonight," she told Bogle.

"In this weather?" The rain had not slackened off since she'd arrived. "It must be urgent business," he added darkly.

"I think so. Father Dubbel has graciously opened his library for me to study a few points of local history that may have a bearing on the Demon's attacks. That's the kind of thing that's a little more important than staying dry, don't you think?"

She didn't moderate her voice in the slightest, meaning that her normal speaking tones easily carried through the room over the soft murmurs of the other conversation. More than one person even looked up.

Perfect.

Without waiting for a response, she continued, "I ask because I may be in late tonight. Is there a time when you ordinarily bar the door for the night?"

"It depends. Generally, we do after the last folks clear out of the taproom, that being around ten or so."

Lillet summoned up her very best 'haughty courtier' voice, channeling the arch tones of Ms. Opalneria Rain.

"Don't. It would make me extremely cross to have to stand out in the rain and rouse the house in order to get to bed." Of course, a bar across an ordinary door would be all but worthless in keeping her out, but the opportunity to leave the opposite impression was too good to pass up.

"But, Your Excellency—"

"Does Jacob's Creek also have a problem with thieves and burglars?"

"No, but—"

"Then we don't have a problem. Oh, and I'll want a bath when I return, so I'd be prepared to bring up hot water, if I were you."

He opened his mouth again, then shut it, obviously fuming but equally obviously in no position to argue.

"Good, we understand one another."

And with that, Lillet turned, put her hat on her head, and walked out the door into the rain.