the Nuln guilds; Madam Dagmar, who runs the Silver Lily, an invaluable tool for gathering rumour and blackmail, and lastly…’ She made a face. ‘Mistress Mathilda, an uncouth hoyden who runs a tavern in the slums south of the river, and gathers information among the unwashed.’
Gabriella nodded. ‘New blood, then. I have met none of them. Pray continue. You were saying that Mistress Karlotta had called a meeting?’
‘Yes,’ said Hermione. ‘It was a grim affair. None of us had any clue as to why Rosamund had been killed, or by whom – or what. Had it been random? Had it been an assassination? Were the disappearances connected? Once we acknowledged her as our new leader, Karlotta instructed us to send our flocks to scour the city for witnesses or information, but…’ She paused and licked her lips. ‘But soon after, Karlotta was dead too. Found staked out on the altar of Shallya in the convent where she posed as the abbess, again with teeth and claws bared, and again horribly torn and maimed.’
Gabriella grimaced, Famke shivered.
‘The panic grew even worse after that,’ Hermione continued dully. ‘The entire convent was arrested, women have been burned by mobs in the street, and the witch hunters began questioning every lady in high society and among the clergy. It has been nerve-wracking.’
‘No doubt,’ said Gabriella.
Hermione hung her head. ‘With Karlotta’s death it became clear that these were not random attacks. Karlotta had been second to Rosamund, and was second to die. Whoever is behind this, knows who our leaders are, and…’
Gabriella finished Hermione’s thought for her. ‘And you are now leader.’
Hermione swallowed, then nodded. ‘Yes – and next on the gallows.’ She rose and began to pace. ‘I returned from my country place to give the situation my full attention, and have ordered our remaining sisters in Nuln to stay in their houses and double their guards, as I have done. They will remain so until the assassin is found. There will be no more murders! I will not disappoint my queen!’
The doors to the hallway creaked open and everyone looked up. Otilia, the housekeeper, stood between them, her face as pale as moonlight. ‘M’lady,’ she said, curtseying. ‘Madam Dagmar is below stairs. She has asked to see you.’
‘What!’ cried Hermione angrily. ‘Did I not tell her to stay in her house? What is she doing here?’
Otilia hesitated, her stoic features working with emotion, then spoke. ‘There has been another murder. Mistress Alfina is dead.’
Lady Hermione and Famke gasped. Gabriella cursed. Von Zechlin and his men jumped to their feet, as did Rodrik.
Hermione rose from her chair, arms trembling. ‘The… the same way?’
‘Yes, mistress,’ said Otilia.
‘Was Alfina discovered?’ Hermione asked. ‘Do the witch hunters know?’
‘I know not, mistress,’ said Otilia. ‘But they do not have her body. It is in the kitchen.’
CHAPTER FIVE
A JOB FOR A SPY
Ulrika followed Gabriella and the others down the stairs to the house’s low-ceilinged subterranean kitchen, and joined them around a wide preparation table at one side of the room. A tablecloth had been spread upon it, and laid across it was the corpse of a woman – Mistress Alfina, Ulrika presumed – in the expensive cloak and dress of a well-to-do merchant’s wife, all terribly torn and bloodied. Hermione gasped when she saw the body. Gabriella remained silent, but clenched her fists and jaw.
A woman in a gaudy, low-cut, plum-coloured dress huddled at the end of the table, leaning miserably against the wall, her flame-red hair and voluptuous form half-hidden under a long shawl she wore draped over her head. Ulrika surmised that this must be Madam Dagmar, who ran the Lahmian brothel, though she seemed at the moment unable to conjure any of a madam’s traditional bawdy cheer.
‘Mistress,’ she whimpered, holding out trembling hands to Hermione. ‘I… I am sorry for leaving the
Gabriella nodded. ‘New blood, then. I have met none of them. Pray continue. You were saying that Mistress Karlotta had called a meeting?’
‘Yes,’ said Hermione. ‘It was a grim affair. None of us had any clue as to why Rosamund had been killed, or by whom – or what. Had it been random? Had it been an assassination? Were the disappearances connected? Once we acknowledged her as our new leader, Karlotta instructed us to send our flocks to scour the city for witnesses or information, but…’ She paused and licked her lips. ‘But soon after, Karlotta was dead too. Found staked out on the altar of Shallya in the convent where she posed as the abbess, again with teeth and claws bared, and again horribly torn and maimed.’
Gabriella grimaced, Famke shivered.
‘The panic grew even worse after that,’ Hermione continued dully. ‘The entire convent was arrested, women have been burned by mobs in the street, and the witch hunters began questioning every lady in high society and among the clergy. It has been nerve-wracking.’
‘No doubt,’ said Gabriella.
Hermione hung her head. ‘With Karlotta’s death it became clear that these were not random attacks. Karlotta had been second to Rosamund, and was second to die. Whoever is behind this, knows who our leaders are, and…’
Gabriella finished Hermione’s thought for her. ‘And you are now leader.’
Hermione swallowed, then nodded. ‘Yes – and next on the gallows.’ She rose and began to pace. ‘I returned from my country place to give the situation my full attention, and have ordered our remaining sisters in Nuln to stay in their houses and double their guards, as I have done. They will remain so until the assassin is found. There will be no more murders! I will not disappoint my queen!’
The doors to the hallway creaked open and everyone looked up. Otilia, the housekeeper, stood between them, her face as pale as moonlight. ‘M’lady,’ she said, curtseying. ‘Madam Dagmar is below stairs. She has asked to see you.’
‘What!’ cried Hermione angrily. ‘Did I not tell her to stay in her house? What is she doing here?’
Otilia hesitated, her stoic features working with emotion, then spoke. ‘There has been another murder. Mistress Alfina is dead.’
Lady Hermione and Famke gasped. Gabriella cursed. Von Zechlin and his men jumped to their feet, as did Rodrik.
Hermione rose from her chair, arms trembling. ‘The… the same way?’
‘Yes, mistress,’ said Otilia.
‘Was Alfina discovered?’ Hermione asked. ‘Do the witch hunters know?’
‘I know not, mistress,’ said Otilia. ‘But they do not have her body. It is in the kitchen.’
CHAPTER FIVE
A JOB FOR A SPY
Ulrika followed Gabriella and the others down the stairs to the house’s low-ceilinged subterranean kitchen, and joined them around a wide preparation table at one side of the room. A tablecloth had been spread upon it, and laid across it was the corpse of a woman – Mistress Alfina, Ulrika presumed – in the expensive cloak and dress of a well-to-do merchant’s wife, all terribly torn and bloodied. Hermione gasped when she saw the body. Gabriella remained silent, but clenched her fists and jaw.
A woman in a gaudy, low-cut, plum-coloured dress huddled at the end of the table, leaning miserably against the wall, her flame-red hair and voluptuous form half-hidden under a long shawl she wore draped over her head. Ulrika surmised that this must be Madam Dagmar, who ran the Lahmian brothel, though she seemed at the moment unable to conjure any of a madam’s traditional bawdy cheer.
‘Mistress,’ she whimpered, holding out trembling hands to Hermione. ‘I… I am sorry for leaving the
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