He returned to Wrocław in 1414. As a theurge and necromancer, he instantly became the confidant of Konrad, who by then was already the cathedral provost with great chances of the bishop’s mitre. Which he received in 1418. Elevating him—and at the same time his personal sorcerer—to new heights. While Kundrie, the neufra, his adoptive mother, became the talented pupil’s confidant. And advisor. The Wallcreeper—in spite of his efforts—was still only a human being, and a young one at that. And extremely arrogant. He may have been talented and ambitious, but the Highest Arcane Knowledge of native Longaevi was still inaccessible to him and he had a long way to go before becoming a true Nefandi. Kundrie—an elemental linked to the Earth—was able to filter out the forces of the Longaevi and Nefandi for the Wallcreeper’s benefit. And when the Wallcreeper was unable to use the powers, she did it for him. If he asked. That is, if he was able to overcome his pride. It demanded a great deal of him, hence he rarely asked for help. And only in matters that were truly important to him.

Now, the matter in hand—Kundrie was in no doubt—was important. When he talked about it, when he discussed it, his voice was calm and cold. But he clenched his teeth. And his fists. So tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Oh, yes,” she said, summing up his words, and licking the colloid from her lips. “He has got under your skin, that Reynevan Bielawa, oh he has. He mocked you, humiliated you before the bishop, covered you in shame, forced you to flee. And you’re right, my son, utterly right: if they seize him now or somebody else kills him, you will never wash off the shame. So you must capture him. With your own hands. And make sure folk remember one, single thing: his torment. Have him flayed alive. But leave the skin on his face. That always makes an impression, always. Then tan the skin and display it in public. In the town square.”

She fell silent and scratched a warty cheek. She saw him clench his fists in impatience and anger. She smiled. With the studied maliciousness of a teacher who can tease an arrogant pupil who imagines he needs no more lessons and believes he can manage without them.

“Yes, indeed,” she said with a smile. “Yes. I forgot. First that Reynevan needs to be caught. And that is proving a slog, isn’t it? In spite of your ceaseless efforts. In spite of the necromancy carried out in the crypt under Saint Maciej’s. And I always taught you, always repeated: begin by thinking, with logic. Only make use of necromancy when logic disappoints.”