“Like you Beran, I want the Scourge of Drakesheath destroyed. And if I must fall by your sword to bring that about, so be it,” said the Lord of Drakesheath Hall, standing resolute in the face of danger. Trembling against his chest, like a captured songbird caught fast in a net, was the other link to the events of the past…the silent girl who was trying to understand what was unfolding before her eyes.

Her doppleganger addressed the giant man, along with the rest of the incorporeal host; as the bittersweet smoke of the herbs hung in the air, the spirits of the departed intervened and implored the warrior of old to stay his hand. The volume of their phantasmal cries rose to the point where they almost overwhelmed the girl, and were it not for the supporting arm of the Lord of the Manor, she would have slumped to the floor. Mercifully, the giant called Beran listened to the words of the spirits and removed the cursed symbols her Sight had witnessed him carve into the flesh of his own son. With a heavy sigh, he returned the blade to the scabbard.

The energy that had been crackling in the air began to dissipate and Amalie blinked as the cacophony in her head began to fade. She realized with a start that she was clinging to her host like a limpet on a rock and a flush brought color to a normally pallid complexion. With her youth and inexperience showing upon her cheeks, she released her hold on Lord Victor and took an awkward step backwards, not at all sure how she should react. Oh dear, what must he think of her now? Cosgrove came to her rescue, stepping forward and murmuring, “Thank you, My Lord Drakesheath, for looking after her. And thank you as well, My Lady,” the gaunt man continued, addressing the valiant Miss Hasding. “You have my gratitude.” He bowed formally, as they did in the days of the courtly romance, and then turned his attention to Amalie.

Cosgrove carefully took her by the elbow and steered her a few steps away, turning her ‘round like dressmaker’s dummy, and visually inspecting her for injures “Are you hurt, My Lady?” He received a shake of the head in reply and he felt a bit of the tension go out of his body. “Can you stand? Let me get a chair for you.” He bent to right an over turned chair, but when he stood, he found his lady was not where he left her.

Amalie had gone to the side of Mrs. Blatand, who still lay on the floor, exhausted from her scrying rites. Next to her, the form of the gardener, Silures, was beginning to stir. The Lady reached into the sleeve of her gown and pulled out an embroidered square of linen, which she waved in the air, trying to get a bit of a breeze stirring to help revive Mrs. Blatand. Behind her she could hear the voices of the guests rising, as the smoke from the herbs dissipated. Guests began righting overturned chairs, and calls to the kitchen coaxed the frightened domestics from their hiding places. Comments on the strange events that had just occurred replaced the cries of the spirits. Although the words that her doppleganger spoke still echoed in the silent girl’s ears: I have seen…horrors.

“Such a tale he has weaved for a dinner spectacle... He never fails to surprise me..." said Lady Katherine Stanwood. The vivacious lady’s comments and her confidence helped to settle the rest of the guests, and everyone took their seats at the table again, with the silent girl turning everything over in her mind. Lord Victor had spoken of a trap, and indeed Amalie felt that they were being manipulated by an unseen hand.

“Dinner is also to be served for this gentlemen here.” A new voice spoke and Amalie lifted her gaze to see Artemis, the woman she knew from the Cross and Cowl, hanging off of the arm of that smirking creature – and looking most pleased to be there. Cobalt met crimson as she exchanged a guarded glance with her manservant, who was loitering near the servant’s entrance.

A trap indeed! Amalie thought. In her lap, her hands were clenched together so tightly that her fingernails dug into her palms, but she scarce noticed it. All of her attention was fixated on the insolent beast that was purring and preening and acting as if had every right to be there, while keeping Artemis close by his side; she was like a tugboat attached to a great liner. His words brought more disquieting revelations. He spoke to Beran and called him brother. Brother! The silent girl’s heart leapt into her throat.

“He will destroy you without thinking…” The insidious words the creature had spoken to her when he had brought her to the clearing where the strange rosebush bloomed returned to her mind and she shivered. I am caught up in something that I am only beginning to understand. I do not know who I can trust anymore…

The exchange between Beran and his dark adversary grew more and more heated, as did the ancient metal that encircled her wrist. Amalie became worried for she feared that violence might break out anew.

Calm yourself, My Lady. Her manservant’s voice came to her mind. They follow the ancient creed of hospitality. Since that girl brought him here, he is technically a guest at this affair as well. The two of them will not fight while under the roof of their host.

Cosgrove, what should we do?

I have faith in you, My Lady. Have you forgotten already the words that are said over the cribs of all daughters born to the House of Delbeath? ‘Child of Night, Have no Fright. Child of Light, Have True Sight.’ That is your birthright and it will see you through this.