Back to Chapter 29
Chapter Thirty � The Ghost-Girl
The
guard who served as Scribe # 8�s contact visited her one more time
during the month of April and three times during May. She passed between
20 and 30 sheets of detailed information during each visit. As
requested, she concentrated on collecting data about the Bishop, other
church officials, and the Vice-Duchy�s finances. She also paid special
attention to copying any correspondence between the Vice-Duke or his
advisors and people outside the Duchy. She wasn�t able to comply with
the request to overhear gossip from the palace women because her duties
mostly kept her with the Vice-Duke�s male advisors. However, she was
able to provide information about someone far more important than a
bunch of gossipy over-dressed noblewomen. She had direct and continuous
access to one of the Vice-Duke�s sons.
During her first weeks in the palace, Scribe # 8 had to endure another
indignity apart from the washroom shows and constant groping. Her worst
tormentor was the obnoxious young prince who had spanked her the day she
entered the palace. Whenever he was in the inner portion of the palace,
he looked for her. If he could find her, the teenager called her out and
made her bend over and grab her ankles. He then subjected her to
fondling and a light spanking, regardless of the duty he had pulled her
away from or whoever happened to be milling around at the moment. He
called her a �very bad girl� for tempting him and made her grovel at his
feet begging forgiveness.
Danka was infuriated, but she was little more than a slave and couldn�t
do anything, at least for the moment. However, it was obvious the
teenager was attracted to her. In the back of her mind she wondered
about turning that attraction to her advantage, perhaps by seducing him
and then seeing about blackmailing him. The prince�s name was Hrist�ckt.
She was surprised to find out he was 19, considering his effeminate
appearance and lacy clothing. She had thought he was younger, perhaps 14
or 15. Of course, Scribe # 8 also looked much younger than her real age,
thanks to the blue powder. She would turn 24 sometime during 1759,
although she wasn�t sure what date because her parents never bothered to
tell her. However, anyone looking at her would not have guessed she was
any older than 18.
So, with her young appearance and submissive behavior, she coldly
studied Prince Hrist�ckt and learned his daily routine. He seemed to be
a total idiot besides being an effeminate dandy. It was for sure that he
had no experience dealing with the real world. He would be no match for
someone like Danka. Her only challenge would be to get him alone without
raising any suspicions. Assuming she could figure out how to isolate
him, he�d be completely helpless against her wiles.
Scribe # 8 figured the best way to seduce the prince would be to
encourage him to take her into his room. She couldn�t be overt about it,
but if he �caught� her near his chamber, he�d be likely to take her
inside. She started administering birth-control paste to herself and
timed her route so she�d be passing close to his door at the same moment
he was returning from music practice. Two days later, she bumped into
him only a few fathoms from his door. He took the bait and ordered her
to go into the room with him.
As always, he made her grab her ankles and caressed her bottom. He
started spanking her, with light smacks as always. He spent a very long
time �punishing� her, to the point she was uncomfortable, not so much
from the smacks, but from her muscles cramping from having to remain
bent over and immobilized for such a long time. The prince did something
he would not have done outside his room: he put his free hand down his
pants and started masturbating while he was spanking the servant. Danka
became bored and tired of holding the same position. She took a slight
risk and spoke up.
�My lovely Prince. It would be such an honor to have a fine man like
yourself use your humble serving girl as you please for your manly
pleasure.�
The prince became hard at the suggestion, but it was clear he had no
clue what to do. The scribe kissed him and put her hand over the crotch
of his pants. She took charge and pushed him onto his bed. She undid
rows of buttons and pulled down the three layers of clothing covering
his hips. She massaged and kissed him and flattered him with words about
his handsomeness and manliness as she pulled the pants completely off.
She had a frustrating time with his small, skinny organ. It kept going
limp before she had a chance to straddle him. Finally she managed to
keep him hard enough to get him inside her. She felt she had achieved a
major accomplishment when she finally felt the faint pulsing of a weak
orgasm inside. She had to pretend she was enjoying herself instead of
wondering how a man could possibly be so contemptible.
Well� that was quite pathetic. However, the servant had accomplished
what she wanted. She managed to convince Prince Hrist�ckt that he was an
excellent lover and any woman would be ecstatic to have such a virile
man at her service. She knew he�d have only one thing one his mind the
next day: her.
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That afternoon was the first out of many Prince Hrist�ckt spent with
Scribe # 8. Love-making was always the same. The sessions always started
with the prince ordering her to bend over and fondling her before
administering a spanking. The spankings were always the same as well,
delivered with his hand and long, but never very hard because he didn�t
have much strength. Then she had to go to her knees and beg him to
forgive her for being so misbehaved. After all that was taken care of,
the Scribe took over. She had to work her way through layers of fancy
clothing so she could strip him from the waist down. Occasionally she
managed to strip him completely, but undoing all those buttons and
removing all those shirts truly tested her patience. She spent a long
time massaging his thighs and then his penis. Finally, when he was hard
enough, she�d straddle him and try to get him inside her and get him to
climax before he went limp. Then she�d massage him and snuggle up to him
while he talked.
More
than any other time in her life, Danka felt like Lilith every time she
spent an afternoon with Hrist�ckt. She was completely in control of him,
even when she was bent over taking a spanking or kneeling at his feet.
Her submissiveness fed into his ego and made him see himself as
superior, both in intellect and in morality. He completely discounted
the notion Scribe # 8 could have any ulterior motives for interacting
with him; in fact, that idea never even occurred to him. So, around her
he chatted, not really for her benefit, but for an opportunity to think
out loud. The teenager talked incessantly, as though he had no one else
to talk to and had a lot to get off his chest. Yes, he finally could
talk. After all, what harm could a naked dishonored former nun possibly
do to him?
He bragged about his father�s activities and plots, detailed the
intrigues of palace advisors against each other, and plans to favor one
advisor at the expense of another. He talked at length about various
members of the Vice-Duke�s family, how much he hated his brothers, and
how much he held his uncles and cousins in contempt. He talked about his
father�s purchases and bragged about how much they cost. He bragged
about his father�s foreign contacts and how he managed to use
clandestine couriers to move his communications through the western
valley. Apparently he had a contact among the guards in the border post
in Seb�rnekt Ris who helped him smuggle his imported items past the
Duchy�s main northern entrance. During the first few days with Hrist�ckt,
Danka picked up so much information she had a hard time prioritizing
what was most important and writing it all down. She used up all the
scrap pieces of parchment in the palace and had to steal several clean
sheets. She realized the next time she saw her contact; she�d have to
tell him to supply her with paper.
After a few days of letting the prince ramble about whatever he wanted
to talk about, she started directing the conversations towards the
Vice-Duke�s relations with the various city councils, landlords, and
Church officials. She was interested in knowing who was favored by the
Vice-Duke, who was out of favor or under suspicion, and why. The
teenager blathered whatever he knew. Danka suspected some of his
information was not accurate, but he blissfully told her the truth as he
saw it. On the rare occasions he was reluctant to answer a question, a
few strokes of her hand and some cuddling and kisses were enough to make
him resume talking.
Scribe # 8 couldn�t imagine how she could possibly improve her access to
the Vice-Duke�s secrets. She was wrong about that, because she had
underestimated the prince�s stupidity. By the beginning of June, she was
spending more time with him as his personal servant. She dutifully
followed him around, carrying his documents, books, and whatever else he
needed at the moment. On several occasions he led her into his father�s
private chambers, allowing her to see where he kept his papers, maps,
and official seals. She also saw a True Believers� coding device and
several coded messages laid out on a study table. Her heart jumped into
her throat when she saw the coder. If only she could get her hands on
it�
Adjacent to the private sleeping chamber was the entrance to a small
wine cellar. Danka found out the palace had two wine cellars; the
general underground chamber for the main kitchen and dining hall, and a
smaller one for the Vice-Duke�s personal stash of more expensive wine
and cognac. Hrist�ckt grabbed a bottle of wine and handed it to the
scribe to uncork it. She didn�t do it fast enough, so he spanked her. He
told her to pick up a wine glass and follow him outside to the garden.
The prince ordered two house-servants to bring out a fancy chair from
the reception area and set it under a tree. For the rest of the
afternoon he sat drinking and eating Turkish delight while Scribe # 8
knelt next to him, holding the bottle and refilling his glass. He did
not offer her any of the wine or candy. She was a servant and
undeserving of such delicacies. The scribe was not worried about tasting
wine or the dismissive treatment. Her mind was on that coding device and
how to take a better look at it.
Two days later Scribe # 8 returned to the Vice-Duke�s sleeping chamber,
alone. Prince Hrist�ckt had given her copies of the keys she needed to
access both the room and the wine cellar. She was to bring out a bottle
of wine, a box of Turkish delight, and a small snuff box filled
containing white powder. She recognized it as a medical ingredient the
Followers called Andean salt, which they imported from the Spanish
colonies and used in some of their surgeries.
She did not have to worry about anyone questioning why she was in the
Vice-Duke�s chambers or why she had a key to the room, because the
prince had written on her back with a quill that she was carrying the
key under his orders and was accessing the room because he told her to.
The writing on her bare back was supposed to be an additional
humiliation, but for a person whose job it was to spy on the household,
it was a pass to access the palace�s most important secrets. As she
entered the room, sure enough, there it was, the coding device. It was a
brass cylinder no bigger than Danka�s hand, made from a stack of 20
disks containing rows of letters in different orders. If she could copy
all those letters and deliver coding sheets, Ernockt�s group would be
able re-create the device and decipher the True Believers� messages and
secret orders. There was a quill and inkwell on the desk and a basket of
discarded paper underneath. Danka decided to take a sheet of discarded
paper, copy two rows of letters each time she visited the room, and hide
the paper underneath the basket. When she finished copying all the
disks, she�d sneak the paper from the room and turn it over to her
contact.
She figured she�d have to visit the room a total of ten times to
accurately copy all those letters from the cylinder. To copy all those
letters in a single sitting would take too long and Prince Hrist�ckt
would start wondering why she was delayed bringing out his wine and
white snuff. She�d have to be patient and not tell her contact what she
was doing until she had duplicated the complete configuration of
letters.
After copying two rows and hiding the paper, Danka reported back to the
prince. She patiently knelt while Hrist�ckt drank about half the wine
and took a sniff of Andean salt. He started acting very strange, both
happy and agitated. He paced around the chair and shook his hands. He
took another sniff of powder and emptied the entire bottle in a single
swallow, a bottle of wine that cost the Vice-Duke a piece of gold. He
sent the servant back to the Vice-Duke�s secret cellar for a second
bottle.
Danka decided to copy three more disks of letters before returning to
the prince with the bottle. He continued to pace around, happy and
agitated. He did not notice she had come back. When she tried to draw
his attention, he ignored her. He doesn�t know I�m here. He doesn�t know
what�s happening at all. I can leave, and he wouldn�t even notice�
thought Danka to herself. So, she returned to the Vice-Duke�s chamber.
With her heart pounding, she copied the remaining rows of letters from
the cylinder. Twenty rows altogether, making sure she had not missed or
duplicated any letters or made any other mistakes. There were several
copies of coding sheets lying on the desk. Having taken such a crazy
risk so far, she checked to make sure they were all the same and stole
one. Now she had, in her possession, the configuration of a True
Believers� encryption cylinder and a coding sheet needed to decipher
messages. If she could hide the papers and deliver them to the guard,
her handlers would have access to the True Believers� entire system of
encrypted messaging.
She hid the papers behind a Virgin Mother statue and ran back to the
garden with her bottle. Undoubtedly the prince would punish her for
being so late with the wine, but it would be worth it if she could
deliver the encryption codes. It turned out Hrist�ckt was in no
condition to punish anyone. He was surrounded by guards, his father, and
his brothers and was completely incoherent, yelling obscenities at the
top of his voice. Scribe # 8 knelt, holding out the second bottle of
wine. The Vice-Duke took it from her and slapped her hard across the
face. He struck her again and ordered her to return to the inner palace
and report to Scribe # 1. He did not notice she still had, in her hand,
the prince�s keys to his private chamber.
----------
The palace entourage was preoccupied with the latest scandal: Prince
Hrist�ckt had pilfered his father�s snuff-box of Andean salt and had
sniffed so much that it made him mad. A foreign surgeon using the latest
western-European medicine bled the unfortunate youth, weakening him even
more and prolonging his delirious behavior.
With the palace guards and nobles so distracted, the conspirators� guard
decided to approach Scribe # 8, even though he did not have any letters
to give her as justification for meeting her. He was speechless when she
handed him fifty pages of notes, keys to the Vice-Duke�s chamber, and
the encryption information. He promised to return later in the day with
the keys (after the conspirators made copies) and the extra parchment
the scribe would need to avoid running out of paper in the future.
Danka spent the rest of the afternoon taking dictation from a group of
women writing poetry. They occasionally paused to giggle and whisper
comments about Prince Hrist�ckt and his unfortunate encounter with
Andean salt.
After dinner, Scribe # 8 had to bathe and �do unspeakable things� to
Scribe # 1. The worst part of the tasking was the audience. Instead of
men, the spectators were a group of women. The women insisted that
Scribe # 8 tie her companion�s wrists to the bar above the washtub and
for the senior scribe to look directly at them while she was forced to
have an orgasm. Her eyes filled with tears as Scribe # 8 concentrated on
pleasuring her with her fingers and tongue. When she finally managed to
climax, the women in the audience whistled approvingly. Finally, Scribe
# 8 untied her companion�s hands, but the spectators insisted she kneel
in front of the newer scribe and to thank her for making her a happy
woman.
Danka tried to remain detached from everything going on around her.
These people are nothing but dishonored degenerates and there is nothing
I can do about that.
When Scribe # 8 finally returned to her room and examined the contents
of her scribe�s supply folder, she saw it was full of clean paper.
Hidden among the papers were copies of the keys to the Vice-Duke�s
chamber. They were not the originals, so Danka could only hope the guard
had somehow managed to return them to either Prince Hrist�ckt or to the
Vice-Duke to avoid suspicion.
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Prince Hrist�ckt had a difficult time recovering from his overdose of
Andean salt and the treatment he had received at the hands of the
incompetent foreign doctor. The loss of blood worsened the brain damage
from the salt. The cuts became infected and resulted in a nasty fever
that kept the youth in bed for days. Danka coldly watched that idiot
foreigner as he performed one counter-productive procedure on the prince
after another. She knew that she could have cured Hrist�ckt in a couple
of days, but no one in the palace would have believed her. Also, had she
argued with the foreigner and attempted to take over the prince�s
treatment, she would have unveiled herself as a Follower of the
Ancients. She didn�t like the teenager anyway and was pleased to see him
suffer. So, she simply sat in the corner as a spectator, working on
various letters she had been given to transcribe.
After Prince Hrist�ckt had recovered sufficiently to sit outside, Danka
spent much of her daily routine during the final part of June and the
first part of July in the garden watching over him. If he wanted
something, she had to fetch it for him. She wandered about the palace,
naked as always, going after books from the library, snacks from the
kitchen, or wine from the Vice-Duke�s stash. She moved about freely,
with a message penned on her back stating she was authorized to be in
various rooms and that she was not to be questioned or interfered with
as she ran her errands. The only item she was not authorized to fetch
was Andean salt. However much his son wanted it, the Vice-Duke displayed
enough common sense to keep it away from him.
Scribe # 8 was able to glance at a lot of documents as she ran about the
Palace. As best she could, she memorized the information and worked on
her notes, even while sitting next to the prince. She also wrote her
observations of his condition, the procedures performed on him and their
effect on his health, and his very slow convalescence. As she entered
the Vice-Duke�s chamber to retrieve wine, she paid attention to the desk
where the encryption device was located and copied information from new
coding sheets and secret messages.
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The
guard finally gave Scribe # 8 an explanation of what Ernockt�s group was
doing with all of the information she was collecting. Their main concern
was finding out who the True Believers had marked as suspicious or
heretical individuals and thwart plans to arrest them. Another important
goal was to frustrate the efforts of tax collectors and prevent farmers
from being arrested and executed as tax evaders. Ernockt passed a lot of
information to the Prophets of the Grand Temple so they could position
sympathizers to seize control of True Believer parishes and to make sure
that any attempt to seize a parish did not end in failure. All of the
Vice-Duke�s messages to foreign leaders ended up in the hands of the
Grand Duke. The Sovereign employed a couple of scribes to forge letters,
so the Vice-Duke�s messages to his foreign co-conspirators were being
re-written, as were the responses from abroad. Already a shipment of
expensive imported items had been seized by �bandits� before they had
the chance to enter the Duchy, along with two shipments of gold exiting
the Duchy. The Grand Duke left the corrupt Royal Guards helping his
rival in their positions, but provided them with falsified information.
Ultimately the Grand Duke would frustrate the Vice-Duke by giving him
the impression the guards had betrayed him and were the ones guilty of
stealing the gold and imports.
Danka thought about the Grand Duke�s excellent group of informers who
had allowed him to thwart the Lord of the Red Moon a few years before.
Now he had set up a similar spying network against the Vice-Duke. She
was part of that network and probably its most valuable member. Ironic�
she had escaped from serving the Sovereign in 1755, only to unwittingly
return to serving him four years later. The Grand Duke always seemed to
win, always seemed to outsmart everyone else.
Scribe # 8 was not surprised to find out from the guard that her most
significant contribution to her group was the encryption information.
Ernockt had created an exact replica and was busy collecting and
translating coded messages from the True Believers� Bishop. The
conspirator had discovered the Bishop and the Vice-Duke were planning a
terror purge of tax evaders and suspicious individuals in the late
summer: a mass arrest and execution of several thousand people around
the Vice-Duchy in an effort to scare everyone else into conforming to
the wishes of the two leaders. There was too much dissention and
free-thinking in the Vice-Duchy, and the executions should resolve the
problem and consolidate the Vice-Duke�s control over his subjects.
The guard concluded by speculating the conspirators might attempt to
assassinate the Bishop before he had the chance to distribute arrest
lists to the parishes and issue the final orders. If that were true,
they would have to conduct the assassination within the next few weeks.
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Prince Hrist�ckt slowly recovered throughout the first half of July.
Scribe # 8 knew he�d recover a lot faster if that idiot doctor from
western Europe would just leave him alone, but she was not in a position
to say anything about the treatments. Even had she been able to help,
she would have kept her mouth shut because she enjoyed watching the
degenerate weakling suffer. However, in spite of everything, he did
slowly recover and spent increasing amounts of time outside.
By July 15 the prince felt well enough to make a pilgrimage to the
cathedral in a town called Sih�dikti Ris, which was located at the far
eastern edge of the Duchy. Danka had heard about Sih�dikti Ris: it was
supposed to be have the most spectacular setting of any Danubian town,
surrounded by sheer cliffs on the east, northeast, and southeast sides.
Perched high on one of those cliffs was a True Believers� house of
worship containing the largest Virgin Mother statue in the entire Duchy.
The most important summer mass of the Old Believers was traditionally
held on August 2. The mass was the opening event of the annual meeting
between the Bishop and other important dignitaries, during which the
Church hierarchy planned their activities for the rest of the year.
Prince Hrist�ckt announced that he wanted to go to the mass in Sih�dikti
Ris to receive a blessing from the Bishop. It seemed like a good idea to
everyone in the inner palace, so much that the Vice-Duke decided his
heir would represent the Vice-Duchy�s royal family at the mass. The
prince would make the pilgrimage, receive a blessing from the Virgin
Mother, and be exposed to fresh air and sunshine along the route.
Scribe # 8 wondered how he could possibly make such a trip on a horse
without getting sick and falling off. Well, it turned out he would not
be riding a horse. He would be carried in a litter, or a "sedan chair",
which was a silk-covered chair with a large parasol covering the top and
poles sticking out of the ends that allowed four men to carry it. Danka
looked at the contraption in disbelief. Prince Hrist�ckt would actually
be carried all the way from Rika Chorna to Sih�dikti Ris, and no one
seemed to think there was anything wrong with that.
There was another surprise for the servant. Not only would the prince be
carried across the Vice Duchy in a covered chair, but she would
accompany him on the trip. He announced that he wanted her to walk
alongside the litter, stark naked. Scribe # 8 would be the only naked
person in a procession of dozens of top officials and Church leaders.
Even the Bishop had misgivings about forcing a servant to walk across
the entire Vice-Duchy in the nude, but the prince insisted it was
necessary so she could be properly humbled and know her place around
him. The scribe knelt and pretended to be very frightened at the
prospect of making such a journey completely uncovered. The truth was
that she was fine with the arrangement: she had walked in the nude all
over the western valley the year before. Walking around naked in the
Vice Duchy didn�t bother her in the least, even though it was supposed
to be an unbearable humiliation. The only thing she�d need would be
shoes to protect her feet. With some massages and flattery she managed
to convince the prince to give her a pair of shoes, as though he were
granting her a huge and unreasonable favor. Before leaving, she fixed
herself a dose of tea from the final batch of blue powder she had kept
in her nun�s habit and packed her medicines and the items she needed to
clean her teeth in a small cloth she entrusted to one of the
litter-carriers. She wanted to make sure that if she did not return to
the palace, nothing of her would remain there.
The Vice-Duke decided not to go to Sih�dikti Ris that year, figuring
that sending his son would be sufficient representation for the region�s
royal family. The Bishop was miffed at the Vice-Duke�s slight, but
didn�t say anything. The procession gathered in the city�s main plaza as
church bells rang and choirs sang. Scribe # 8�s former companions from
the nuns� residence were present, looking at her with curious and
mocking expressions as she walked naked alongside the prince�s litter.
The men carrying the prince were strong but wretched-looking guards who
had been released from punitive confinement. They weren�t complaining
about having to carry the prince: the hardship they would endure on the
trip was nothing in comparison with what they had to face in
confinement.
The procession was one of the most ridiculous spectacles Danka had ever
seen. A group of priests walked in front, carrying a large statue of the
crucified Son of Man. The Bishop and his associates rode fine horses
immediately behind the crucifix-carriers. Prince Hrist�ckt�s litter
followed, along with the porters and the naked scribe. More priests
followed on foot, with mounted guards and supply mules in the rear. The
point of the procession was to take the crucifix of the Son of Man to
visit the statue of his mother in Sih�dikti Ris. The priests chanted,
passed out blessings, and waved burners full of incense as the group
left the eastern capitol and traveled towards the mountains, on a
pilgrimage that would last two weeks going in each direction. The
kneeling residents of Rika Chorna lined the streets and waited for
benedictions and whiffs of incense as the group headed out. When they
saw naked woman walking in the procession, they stared at her in
disbelief.
In spite of the stares and supposed humiliation, Danka enjoyed the
following two weeks. For the first time since the previous year she was
able to move about outdoors and see some new countryside. The pace was
slow and relaxing, more of a stroll than a walk. She had to run back and
forth with water, wine, and treats for the prince, but those duties were
not very taxing. He was still too weak to fondle her or want sex. She
managed to ignore her odious marching companions and just enjoy the
feeling of the sun and wind on her bare skin, something she had not
experienced for a long time.
At night she undressed the prince, bathed him, and slept with him in a
comfortable tent. She ate well and encouraged him to eat fresh fruit.
During the journey his condition improved dramatically. The Bishop
claimed his recovery was a blessing from the Virgin Mother, but Danka
knew the improvement was because he was away from that quack doctor and
breathing fresh air and eating decent food.
The eastern valley was flat until it reached a range of steep mountains
that formed the eastern border of the Duchy. On the other side of the
mountains was territory belonging to the Muscovite Empire. Danka knew
the Muscovites were as dangerous to other nations as the Ottomans, but
the mountains were impassible and thus protected the Duchy�s eastern
flank. The land between Rika Chorna and Sih�dikti Ris was covered with
small farms, but the soil was full of rocks and not really suitable for
agriculture. The residents were poor, but that didn�t stop tax
collectors from grabbing what little they had. The procession passed
through a village where executions of accused tax evaders had just taken
place: three destitute farmers slumped lifeless on three posts, with
five arrows sticking out of each body. The sullen townspeople knelt and
stared listlessly at the procession as it passed through. The marching
clerics were not concerned about the executed men and showed no sympathy
towards their widows.
The land closer to Sih�dikti Ris had better soil, so most of it had been
taken over by wealthy landlords. The poorer residents lived in wooded
settlements along ponds and streams, in conditions very similar to the
conditions Danka had endured growing up. The town itself was clean and
had nice stone buildings, but its residents focused on making luxury
goods and providing services for the local elite. There were several
churches in Sih�dikti Ris, including a gothic chapel modeled after one
Danka had seen in ruins in the former Lower Danubia.
The procession had arrived on July 29, three days early in anticipation
of the mass. After spending a night in a compound owned
by the Church, the prince became bored and decided he wanted to go up to
the cathedral ahead of the main procession. He told the Bishop he wanted
to pray alone to the Virgin Mother, but actually he wanted to try out a
new telescope and stargaze. The Bishop was pleased to send him up the
mountain ahead of the others, so his litter would not distract from the
dignity of the procession. The road up the cliff-side was paved with
cobblestones, but it was so narrow that the litter-carriers had a hard
time lugging the prince without falling off.
As Danka walked up the winding road behind the prince�s litter, she
noticed a detail that should have been worrisome to the True Believers.
The Lord-Creator had formed the cliff from solid granite, but a large
crack had opened up and the stone of the lower portion of the cliff had
started to separate. The crack extended up to the ledge and ended a few
fathoms underneath the plaza and the outside altar. It seemed the church
itself was not in immediate danger, but from her understanding of
geology and the looks of the crack, Danka knew it was likely the outer
part of the plaza would sheer off and fall away in an avalanche or
landslide sometime over the next few years.
The cathedral overlooking Sih�dikti Ris was the most impressive
structure Danka had ever seen apart from the Great Temple in Dan�bikt
M�skt. It had been built halfway up a sheer cliff, rising nearly 140
fathoms above the ground below. The site was located on a natural ledge
that was large enough to fit a full-sized house of worship and a small
plaza, which allowed for both indoor and outdoor ceremonies. The view
from the plaza was truly amazing: on a clear day it was possible to see
all the way across the eastern valley to the mountains separating the
two main regions of the Duchy. The view and the dizzying height gave one
the feeling of Divine inspiration.
The cathedral itself had been started in the 1560s and was not finished
until 1609. It was a fine example of Danubian Baroque architecture, but
also boasted several unique features. The back of the cathedral was
carved into the cliff�s bedrock. The bell tower contained the largest
bells she had ever seen, bells which were designed to echo against the
cliffs and be heard throughout the valley far beyond Sih�dikti Ris.
The men carrying the prince were completely worn out by the time they
had hoisted their royal cargo up the steep road. They collapsed from
exhaustion as they set down the litter and Prince Hrist�ckt stood up. He
ordered his servant to take out the telescope and set it up near the
outer edge of the plaza. Curious to see the famous outdoor altar where
the Bishop would be giving his benediction, Danka walked over to it and
noted gaps, some of them as wide as two fingers, had opened up between
the rows of stone blocks behind the spot where the Bishop would be
speaking. She peered down and realized she could see a thin line of
daylight. This ledge is going to collapse any day, she thought to
herself. Another disconcerting detail that caught her attention was the
smell of cannon powder. When she put her nose into the gap, the smell of
explosives was quite strong.
The prince called her away from the altar and ordered her to accompany
him inside the main chapel. The church was deserted because its priests
were in the town meeting with the Bishop, so there was no one to object
to her presence. Danka marveled at the building�s interior and its
carvings, statues, and mosaics. The builders had cut a large grotto into
the granite and installed the Virgin Mother statue, made from solid
marble and overlaid with gold and fine paint. The statue stood more than
three fathoms high and was the largest statue of its type in the Duchy.
The grotto was surrounded by finely carved stone, mosaics, and gold leaf
covering the granite.
The prince took advantage of the deserted chapel to do something truly
shocking to both the scribe and to his deity. He ordered his servant to
stand in front of the huge statue, face towards the back of the church,
and bend over. He fondled her in one of the holiest places in the entire
Duchy, right under the eyes of the venerated Virgin-Mother. Scribe # 8
was supposed to be a nun, so the prince was trying to disgrace her as
much as possible, to strip away any shred of self-respect she might
still have. She forced herself to cry and pretended to act traumatized.
She actually was appalled that any man could show such contempt to his
own deity. She knew the prince was a degenerate, just like everyone else
in the Vice-Duke�s family, but even she had not realized how
disrespectful and depraved he really was. And to think, this was the
heir, the man who someday would be ruling the Vice-Duchy.
The prince led his servant outside. The sun was setting, so he decided
to indulge in some wine, cheese, and Turkish delight while waiting for
the stars to come out. After she served him, the prince ignored his
servant. He emptied his bottle and grabbed another. What he really
wanted was his father�s Andean salt, but he�d have to settle for wine.
By the time the stars finally appeared in the sky, the prince was too
drunk to look at them. Scribe # 8 returned to the church to see if there
was a priest�s quarters where the prince could be laid out to sleep.
When she found a bed, she told the workers to bring in their master.
They also took away the sedan chair and the telescope. The scribe told
them to rest, but the guards complained they had not had anything to eat
or drink all day.
�I don�t know what to tell you. I guess you can go back down and get
something to eat in town. I�ll watch the prince. I don�t think anything
will happen to him up here, and if it does, I�ll be the one who�s
responsible. Just come back as soon as you can.�
So� the men left, leaving her alone with the unconscious prince. She
looked outside to see several workmen rolling a barrel towards the
outside altar. They seemed to be pouring its contents into the ground.
Danka snuck around the wall of the church to see what was going on. The
men had posted watchmen at the entrances, but they must have assumed the
cathedral was empty because no one was guarding the back of the plaza.
��this is what I keep telling you. It keeps falling down below. You�ve
dumped in four barrels so far. I�m telling you the hole is too deep. It
won�t stay, no matter how much you put in.�
�Then come up with something! You�re a Follower! We�ve got to kill him
here! We have to do it this week! You know that!�
�A Follower� as though that means anything to you. Don�t talk to me
about being a Follower, unless you figure out how to save the girl from
the palace. She�s a Follower too. She�s one of us. She�s done a lot for
you, and she�s worth more than the rest of us put together!
�And I�ve told you we can�t risk it! The Ancients will just have to take
care of her in the Afterlife. What�s worth more, her soul or all the
others? Now what are we to do about that gap?�
The other men thought silently for a few moments. A third one answered:
�Wooden wedges. That�s what we�ll put in. We�ll make some wedges, shove
them down in between, and put the vials on top of them. That way they
won�t fall through. We�ll surround the vials with cannon powder, just to
be sure, and put sand over the top. That�s how we�ll handle it.�
�And we can still set the fuse and time it?�
�Yes. Same plan on that. When he lights the incense, we light him.�
�And I want to make something very clear to you. We light him, no matter
what. It doesn�t matter who else is out here, even me. You will light
that fuse.�
��and you won�t warn the palace girl� what difference would it make?�
�No! We�re not warning the girl! She�d draw attention trying to get
away, and too many people know about this already!�
The men carried away the now-empty barrel and departed down the path.
Danka didn�t know any of the others, but she recognized their leader,
the man who was perfectly willing to separate her soul from her body and
not feel any remorse. He was Enockt, her commander. It seemed Danka�s
debt to him included giving up her own life.
The men returned the following night, shortly before dawn. The prince
was up with the telescope well past midnight, so the conspirators had to
wait until he had gone to sleep before showing up with the wedges. Like
everything else made by people trained by the Followers, the wedges were
ingenious devices, designed to expand and firmly hold their place
between the stones.
From her hiding place Danka watched Enockt, dressed as a worker, install
two sets of fuses going in two different directions before pouring
gunpowder over both the wedges and the fuses. He very carefully inserted
ceramic tubes a hand-width apart along the entire area behind the
outside altar. Finally, he covered his handiwork with dark sand. The
conspirators were completely quiet and departed after just a few
minutes. After everyone else left, one of Enockt�s assistants remained
behind to sweep the stones and keep watch over the trap.
----------
The bells rang in the town below to announce the commencement of the
Bishop�s ascent up the mountain, leading the carriers of the large
crucifix statue which would symbolize the executed Son of God coming up
the mountain to greet the giant Virgin-Mother. Danka frantically woke up
the prince and to help him get dressed in his fine silk clothing.
However, a couple of priests entered the room and yelled at her to
�remove her whoring naked body� from their presence. They would help the
prince get dressed, not her.
Danka realized how important the mass would be when she saw that many of
the top and mid-level clergy members of the True Believers hierarchy,
including men from other parts of the Vice-Duchy, were emerging onto the
plaza from the road. There would be over a hundred top officials
present, plus dozens of assistants and aides. Even the abbess from the
convent in Novo S�kukt T�k was present, along with a couple of older
nuns. Danka worried about the wisdom of assassinating the Bishop in such
a public setting, that maybe Enockt�s plan wasn�t so smart after-all.
Wouldn�t seeing their leader murdered make the True Believers even more
determined to kill off their rivals and wage war against heresy?
Also, she was extremely concerned about the lost barrels of
cannon-powder. That powder had not just disappeared: it had gone down
into the cracks between separated layers of rock. Enockt seemed not be
worried about that risk, as though the extra powder had ceased to exist
the moment it fell out of sight. If Danka�s observations concerning the
cracks in the cliff were correct and the explosives forced the rocks to
separate, it was likely Enockt was about to trigger a much larger
disaster than he could possibly imagine.
The mass began inside the cathedral with the presentation of the
crucifix before the oversized Virgin-Mother sheltered in the grotto.
Prince Hrist�ckt was escorted to the front as the guest of honor and the
representative of the region�s secular authority. Danka had to remain
outside along with the lower-ranking guards and servants. All those men
were staring at her, given that she was one of the few women present,
and the only one who was naked.
Danka realized part of Enockt�s plan was to use her as a distraction.
That was why he refused to let anyone warn her about the plot to kill
the Bishop. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw him skulking
around the plaza in his worker�s outfit. No one else would notice his
suspicious behavior because the men were all too busy watching her. With
so many eyes on her, Enockt assumed Danka would be too nervous to notice
him or think about anything apart from the embarrassment she was
enduring.
From
what she had overheard, Danka knew that she�d have to be as far from the
Bishop as possible the moment he lit the commemorative incense, because
that was the signal Enockt planned to use to detonate the explosives.
She also realized she had no hope of sneaking away from the plaza
unnoticed. That simply wasn�t going to happen. If she wanted to get
away, she�d have to jump up and run. She�d have to choose the exact
moment to do it, an instant during the ceremony when everyone
would be focused on protocol and reluctant to pursue her.
The sun was setting, which meant the outdoor portion of the mass was
about to commence. The deafening bells rang and echoed against the
cliffs as the procession came out the main doors. A group of priests,
ringing hand-bells and swinging incense burners, came out, leading a
group of companions carrying the large crucifix. They were followed by
the Bishop, a group of more senior priests, and secular leaders,
including the prince. Enockt had vanished.
Time was running out for Danka to prevent her soul from separating from
her body. She had a hard time working up the courage to move, with all
those men staring at her. Also, she wasn�t sure she wanted to escape.
Part of her tried to hold her back, the part of her soul that told her
all existence was vanity and that to continue in the Realm of the Living
was pointless. After all, wasn�t everyone she ever cared about already
in the Realm of the Afterlife? Wasn�t it time to hold up her mirror and
join them? However, the lonely and defeated part of her character was no
match for the simple instinct to prolong her life, no matter what. She
was a peasant before she was anything else, and if peasants were good at
anything, they were good at surviving. Her instincts took over and
cleared away the sad reflections her lost loves and the desire to join
them. Her thoughts focused on the singular goal of living to see the
next sunrise.
She eased off her knees, ducked behind a group of startled officials,
and ran to the edge of the plaza. Spectators turned around as she passed
through the southern gate and disappeared into a wooded side trail. It
was a disgraceful breech of respect and protocol. Maybe she had gone mad
or was possessed, but the Church officials would have to deal with her
later. They couldn�t break away to pursue a disgraced servant precisely
at the most important and dignified moment of the mass.
She avoided running down the main road, because as it descended it
turned and crossed in front of the plaza. Danka knew she did not want to
be below the site of the blast when it took place. Instead, she pushed
sideways along a narrow path on a mountain slope. She ran past a
startled man in a worker�s tunic who was holding a piece of flint and
several fuses. She ignored him and kept running, pushing through bushes
and trees towards an outcropping. She followed the trail around the
rocks and moved onto a steep slope covered by large trees. She no longer
could see the church, so she figured she was safe.
She was expecting a loud blast and had covered her ears. She was not
expecting an earsplitting crack that sounded like a lightning bolt
hitting the ground right next to her. The bang, magnified by the echoes
of the cliff walls, took her breath away. The lighting crack was
followed by a muffled explosion. The second blast was more sinister. It
was not as loud as the first explosion, but it was much larger, causing
both the air and the ground to tremble. The second blast didn�t end
quickly like the first one. Instead, it changed from a roar to a rumble,
punctuated with loud cracks and the sound of large objects breaking. At
first Danka thought she could hear some screams, but the screaming
stopped long before the rumbling stopped. Several large objects crashed
through the nearby treetops and something hard slammed into the outcrop,
dislodging a boulder and sending it tumbling down the slope. Within a
few seconds clouds of choking dust billowed past the outcrop and
obscured Danka�s vision. The rumbling stopped and for a long time all
she could hear were the chattering of panicked birds.
It was dark by the time the dust settled and Danka felt it was safe to
investigate what happened. Fortunately, the moon was overhead, so she
had some light to make her way along the rocks. As soon as she passed
the outcrop, the light-colored dust covering the trees augmented the
moonlight and made it possible to see the ground. However, as she moved
towards the church, she couldn�t see it. That was strange. Certainly
she�d see at least a bell-tower or part of the dome, but there was
nothing there. As she moved forward and stared at the spot where she
knew the church should be, she felt the ground slide underneath her
feet. She frantically pulled back and grabbed at a small tree trunk,
only to dislodge it and send it tumbling downwards. She crawled up
loosened dirt and gravel and gasped as she finally found solid ground.
More trees and debris slide past her and tumbled into the void.
She was shaking when she stared at the spot where the trail should have
continued. There was nothing there. She looked in the direction of the
church. She saw nothing, except for a perpendicular cliff-face. The
church and the ledge it sat on were completely gone. Was she imagining
things? She looked again. There was nothing but a sheer wall of rock,
but it was not completely bare. The back wall of the church, complete
with the Virgin Mother statue, remained embedded in the cliff-side. The
rest of the structure and the ground it sat on had completely fallen
away. The statue serenely prayed over a drop of nearly 100 fathoms.
Danka�s heart raced and she struggled to breathe as she tried to
suppress the raw panic that had taken control of her soul. The event and
the physical change were so overwhelming that it took her mind several
minutes to comprehend what had just happened. Her body shook
uncontrollably as she backed away from the void, as the new precipice
continued to consume trees and soil along its edge. She could see
nothing below, except billows of settling dust faintly lit by the moon.
The colors and lighting around her were all wrong: everything looked
like the world had been covered with a shroud of death.
Danka realized she needed to retreat to the �safer� side of the
outcropping, see about finding an alternate route so she could descend,
find a safe place to hide, and figure out what to do next. She worked
her way past the loosened outcrop. Just seconds after she moved beyond
it, boulders dislodged into a rockslide and went tumbling down the
mountainside. Danka was left breathless by the narrow miss. Had she
passed under that spot only a few seconds later, she would have been
crushed. She knew that before doing anything else, she needed to settle
her nerves. She knelt and desperately prayed to the Ancients, begging
them to either rescue her or grant her a quick separation of her soul
from her body. A few minutes later she calmed down enough to continue
moving.
The moon settled towards the west as she studied the steep slope for
paths leading downwards. In some places there was enough light to
navigate through rocks and outcroppings, and in other areas she needed
to grope her way through darkness under the trees. Fortunately, the
steepest and most dangerous areas were also the ones with the fewest
trees and most visibility. She focused on what she needed to do at each
moment, not on how high above the ground she was or how far she still
had to go. As she moved closer to the base of the mountain, she could
hear human voices and see an enormous pile of tumbled rocks. Everything
was covered with dust, which became much thicker as she emerged onto
flatter ground. Guards and civilian on-lookers carrying torches lined
the edge of the rockslide. The same instinct that forced her to move
away from the explosion and guided her down the cliff told her to stay
hidden and avoid being seen by the crowd. She slipped around them and
made her way towards the pen where the expedition�s horses were being
kept. Danka decided that she needed to get away from Sih�dikti Ris as
quickly as possible. She�d return to Rika Chorna, tell Z�nktia what
happened and that Enockt was likely dead, reclaim her bucket, and leave
the Vice Duchy. She didn�t know where she�d go, but she knew she
definitely needed to leave the eastern valley.
By that time her mind had cleared enough to allow her to realize what
had happened. The entire ledge on which the cathedral sat had fallen in
a single landslide, due to the cracks in the rock and Enockt�s
over-zealous use of gunpowder. The first explosion she heard must have
been the blast at the surface that killed the Bishop and undoubtedly
anyone else standing next to him. The second rumbling explosion would
have been from the barrels of gunpowder poured into the gaps. That blast
blew apart the inside of the ledge and caused it to disintegrate and
collapse, taking with it the plaza and everything else except the back
wall of the cathedral. There was no way anyone participating in the mass
could have survived. Not only was the Bishop dead, but entire upper
echelon of the True Believers� Church would be dead as well, along with
Prince Hrist�ckt and the town councilmen of Sih�dikti Ris.
She did not want anyone to see her. She felt that, as the only survivor
from the pilgrimage, she would immediately be suspect, especially given
the superstitious world-view of the True Believers. They�d have to blame
someone for the disaster and she�d be an easy target. Her head would be
wanted by� let�s see� the True Believers� Clergy, the Vice-Duke�s
family, the town of Sih�dikti Ris, the towns of other dignitaries
attending the mass: in other words, the entire Vice-Duchy. Whether or
not she was being paranoid didn�t matter. There were times in her life
she had been paranoid, but �irrational� fear was the only thing that had
kept her alive.
She spent the next hour walking along a dust-covered path towards the
corral where she remembered the procession�s horses were being kept. Her
plan was to hope the guards were distracted enough to allow her to steal
a horse. She�d ride west, hide until she could steal some clothing, and
sneak back to the safe-house in Rika Chorna. She was relieved to hear
the whinnying of horses. So, no one had moved them. Good. The corral
seemed deserted. That was even better.
She quietly hopped a fence and looked for an animal that seemed
relatively calm. She was only a mediocre rider and would have to find a
horse that would be tolerant and not try to throw her. As the more
nervous horses sidled around her, she identified a couple of calmer
animals near a feeding trough. Just as she approached them, she realized
none of the horses in the corral had a saddle. She had wasted her time,
because without a saddle she couldn�t ride. She didn�t want to give up
on the plan to steal a horse, because it was the only means of escaping
she could think of. So, she left the corral to look for a saddle and
reigns. Fortunately, the tent where the supplies were being kept was not
guarded. In fact, it seemed nothing in the corral was being guarded.
Maybe all of the guards had abandoned their posts because of the
landslide. A lit lantern had been left outside. She�d have to take it in
with her to see what she was doing. She selected a saddle and reigns.
She put out the lamp and went back out.
She was careless upon leaving the tent and had not bothered to check
outside before emerging. Right outside the door were six local guards
she had never seen before. The guards looked totally shocked as soon as
the young woman came into their sight. Danka�s determination to escape
vanished. She had been caught and that was the end of it. She dropped
the saddle and stood listlessly, waiting for the men to grab her.
The guards had their muskets ready, but they did not move towards her.
Instead, they were backing away. Danka stepped forward and held out her
hands. One of the guards, in a trembling voice asked:
�Who� who� who are you? What do you want from us, Mistress?�
�Who am I? Who do you think I am, Protector? Who could I possibly be?�
�Please Mistress. Have pity on us.�
�Pity on you? Why should I have pity on you?�
The six men sank to their knees and began praying to the Virgin-Mother.
Suddenly Danka understood the guards were mortally afraid of her, but
why? Was there something strange about her appearance? She glanced at
her arm and noticed it was covered with light-colored dust. So were her
legs. She was covered from head to toe with dust. Maybe in the dark camp
the dust made her look like a ghost.
�Mistress, please. We are simple men. We have our families. We�ll give
you whatever you want.�
Danka realized that if the men thought she was a ghost, that
misunderstanding might be her salvation. She also realized they were
obscenely drunk. She had to think of a good response that would keep up
the ruse long enough for her to saddle a horse and get out of the camp.
If she chose the right words, the guards might even help her.
�And what could you possibly give me, sinners? Look at yourselves, drunk
on your master�s wine. Your commander leaves, entrusting you, and this
is how you repay him? Why shouldn�t I take you with me? I have taken far
worthier men than you. Answer, drunkards.�
�We are sinners, Mistress, and drunkards. We confess. We�ll give you
anything. Even the Bishop�s horse. Just please show us mercy.�
Danka�s heart raced. The Bishop�s horse. They were offering her the
Bishop�s horse. Trying to maintain a controlling monotone in her voice
she responded:
�Very well, drunken sinners. Put the Bishop�s saddle and saddlebag on
the Bishop�s horse. Tie him to the fence so your patron can make his
last ride. But that won�t spare you. The only thing that can spare you
is prayer. When you have the horse ready, you are to face east and
kneel, the six of you, close your eyes, and pray to the Virgin Mother.
You will pray until sunrise. If the sun touches your faces, you will
know that I chose to spare you.�
�Thank you, Mistress.�
�And another thing. You will keep your heads bowed in my presence. I
forbid you to look up. You drunken sinners are not worthy of looking at
me.�
Danka spent several of the longest minutes of her life waiting for the
men to bring the Bishop�s horse and saddle him. She tried to stand
impassively, terrified that at any moment the men would sober up and
realized they were being tricked. However, as soon as they had the horse
ready, they lined up facing east and knelt.
�Pray, drunkards, pray! Pray loud, so the Realm of Sin can hear your
repentance! If I choose to spare you, I grant you permission to stop
praying when the eastern sun touches your faces.�
The men began reciting a common prayer to the Virgin-Mother.
�Louder, drunken sinners! How can the Virgin-Mother hear such soft
mumbling? Louder!�
The men prayed loud enough to hide most other sounds within their
earshot. Danka led the Bishop�s horse to the edge of the camp.
Remembering she was still naked, she decided to steal a guard�s uniform.
She peaked into a tent and saw bedrolls laid out, covered with various
articles of clothing. She gathered up the pieces necessary to assemble a
complete guard�s uniform, including a helmet and boots. She worried
getting dressed would take too long, that at any moment one of those
guards would sober up, realize he was being tricked, and come after her.
She needed to leave immediately. She could worry about getting dressed
later, after she had put some distance between herself and Sih�dikti
Ris. She found a black cloth bag and stuffed in the clothing. Then she
saw something else, a crossbow. She couldn�t believe her good fortune. A
crossbow� and a satchel with bolts. She grabbed an extra saddlebag to
cover the church logo of the one belonging to the Bishop, slung her
weapon over her shoulder, and mounted the horse. He was a fine stallion,
totally black to match the cleric�s dark clothing.
She galloped out the west exit of the corral in the pre-dawn light,
desperate to get as much distance as possible between herself and the
disaster before the sun rose. Ride� escape�
As she emerged onto the road and galloped around a corner hidden by a
large stone building, she stumbled into a large group of panicky
residents running around on foot carrying torches. She didn�t have time
to change the direction of the horse: her only option was to charge
right down the middle of the group. The crowd screamed and ran away in
panic. Danka flinched, expecting to feel an arrow or a musket-ball
hitting her body at any instant. She emerged on the other side of the
mob unscathed; shocked no one had taken a shot at her. She glanced back
at the crowd. Most had dropped their torches and were still running away
from the road. No one was trying to go after her.
Danka did not realize until later that she was still covered in
light-colored dust and in the darkness looked more like a ghost than
anything else. She was riding a black horse with a black saddle,
saddle-bag, and cloth bag which were invisible to anyone on the ground
at night. The townsfolk, already in a panic because of the landslide�s
noise and dust, thought she was a ghost floating through the air.
Desperate to avoid any more encounters with local residents, Danka
veered off the main road and galloped along a deserted country lane
passing through some orchards. There was just enough light in the
pre-dawn sky to allow the horse to see where he was going. Just as the
sun was about to rise, she came up to a stream. She figured she should
let the horse have a drink. She remembered she was still naked and
covered in dust, so she quickly bathed and got dressed. She couldn�t do
anything about her filthy hair without another woman to help her wash
and re-braid it, but at least the rest of her was clean enough to put on
the guard outfit. She pulled the helmet over her braids and slung the
crossbow over her shoulder.
The horse finished his drink and was ready to continue. She re-mounted
and continued her flight west. She knew, as long as she didn�t get too
close to anyone, a guard uniform was the best disguise and the best hope
she had of making it back to the safe-house in Rika Chorna.
----------
The
six guards remained on their knees, sobering up over the next two hours
as they prayed to the Virgin-Mother. They cried with relief and joy when
they felt the sun shining on their faces. Even after the sun was up,
they remained kneeling and praying for a few extra minutes, just to be
sure they truly were forgiven. When they opened their eyes and stood up,
a horrifying sight greeted them. The cathedral and the cliff it sat on
were gone! In their place nothing remained except a sheer stone
rock-face! They looked at each other, and then back at the cliff. In the
middle of newly exposed granite was a large gold rectangle, and in the
middle of that gold rectangle the famous statue of the Virgin Mother
prayed serenely over a sheer wall of rock and a jumble of massive broken
boulders at its base. They couldn�t believe what they were seeing. They
didn�t want to believe. How was it possible the cathedral was� gone? And
why? What did it mean?
As Danka had suspected, the men were local guards from Sih�dikti Ris who
were assigned to help watch the horses while the Bishop�s escort
accompanied the entourage to the cathedral. They had been startled by
the landslide and saw the huge cloud of dust in the twilight, but didn�t
react coherently because they already had spent several hours indulging
themselves from an unwatched cask of fine wine left in one of the tents
in the camp. When none of the Church guards returned, they decided to
continue drinking and played several rounds of cards through the rest of
the short summer night. Finally, they realized they had consumed so much
of the cask it would be better if they departed before passing out and
being discovered unconscious by their counterparts from the Church. As
they were leaving, the ghost-woman came out of her tent and confronted
them with their sin.
The guards tried to figure out who was the mysterious spirit who
admonished them. Was she the Virgin-Mother? But if she was, why would
she be naked? As far as anyone knew, the Virgin-Mother had never
appeared naked in front of anyone. And why would the Virgin-Mother want
the Bishop�s horse? If the ghost-woman wasn�t the Virgin-Mother, who
else could she be? Had Beelzebub the Destroyer wrecked the cathedral
and sent a naked spirit to mock the Bishop by taking his horse?
As they discussed the terrible mystery, one of the guards remembered a
story he heard a few years before from a visiting cousin. He related the
tale of the cursed town of Rika H�ckt-nem�t and the beautiful but
infinitely evil girl who condemned the city when she called out to the
Profane One to save her from drowning. The guard shook from fear and
apprehension.
�I�m sure that�s who visited us. The cursed girl from Rika H�ckt-nem�t.
That wasn�t the Virgin Mother at all. Nor was she any saint or ordinary
ghost. That spirit-girl was Beelzebub�s daughter!�
The men chatted and frightened each other with speculation for a couple
of minutes, remembering the details of the ghost-woman�s visit
confirming their suspicion she was the evil beauty Beelzebub had saved
at the expense of cursing the city of Rika H�ckt-nem�t. Another man
added a theory that connected her to the Bishop:
�Don�t you remember what she said about the Bishop�s horse, that she
wanted him so she could give his master a final ride? Now I know what
she meant by that! She took the Bishop with her to the Realm of
Beelzebub! And she had to take away the entire cathedral to do it!�
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The frightened crowd gathered around the rubble tried to make sense of
what had just happened. Their beautiful church and all of its occupants
were buried under fathoms of rocks and massive boulders. The only
evidence the cathedral ever existed at all was the Virgin-Mother statue,
safely protected in its grotto, standing in the middle of the
newly-formed cliff nearly 100 fathoms above the jumble of debris. Why
would the Virgin-Mother do such a thing to her faithful followers� and
to her own cathedral� and to the heir to the Vice-Duchy�s crown?
A large group of panicky residents arrived, bringing with them a
terrifying story of being attacked by a woman�s naked ghost. The ghost
charged at them with a thunderous noise. At first some in the group
thought it was the sound of a horse galloping, but later they realized
the roaring must have been the echo of rocks falling from the landslide.
There was no disputing the ghost story: dozens of people saw her. The
crowd�s fear worsened when a town councilman arrived at noon, bringing
with him six terrified guards and their awful story about the ghostly
visit by condemned girl from Rika H�ckt-nem�t.
The crowd remembered another detail, that a mysterious young woman had
accompanied the procession as they entered the town and ascended the
mountain. She was naked and beautiful beyond belief, but no one among
that procession seemed to notice her. So� the strange nude girl walking
next to Prince Hrist�ckt�s litter indeed must have been Beelzebub�s daughter,
the curse-bringer from Rika H�ckt-nem�t. That made sense, and would
explain who was the ghost that attacked the townsfolk.
The story of the destruction of the cathedral by Beelzebub�s daughter
fueled wild speculation and spawned legends throughout the eastern part
of the Vice Duchy. The witnesses spent the rest of their lives telling
and re-telling the story of their scary encounter with the ghost girl.
As the years passed, the details became more terrifying and exaggerated,
along with the beauty and allure of the evil seductress.
Meanwhile, the Virgin-Mother statue stood serenely on the inaccessible
cliff, looking down and silently mocking the people who had placed their
faith and hopes in her. How could such a thing have happened? How could
a daughter of Beelzebub obliterate the most holy men of the Vice-Duchy
right in front of the Virgin-Mother? What message was the Lord-Creator
sending?
The True Believers of the Vice-Duchy never recovered from the disaster.
Their hierarchy was decimated by the deaths of the faction�s most senior
officials, but eventually the men could have been replaced. However, the
faith of the people in the blessings of the Virgin-Mother and power of
the Roman God�s executed son had been irrevocably shaken.
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