“We know,” murmured Rixa. “Saint Vitus is just around the corner. We set off tomorrow at dawn. I wish you good health, Rabbi Maizl.”

“Farewell,” said the Jew, nodding. “Thank you for everything. And you, young woman, come closer.”

Rixa lowered her head. The rabbi laid his hands on her raven-black hair.

“Jevarechecha Hashem vejishmerecha,” he said. “May Hashem bless and keep you. May Hashem turn his face towards you and send you peace. Goodbye, Rixa Fonseka. And goodbye to you, Reinmar of Bielawa.”

Chapter Thirteen

In which there is talk about dreams and their interpretation and unexpected individuals form unexpected alliances.

In Wrocław, dusk was slowly falling, the grey hour—called inter canem et lupum, the hour between the dog and the wolf—was setting in, when it was getting dark but before lights were lit. It was hot, damp and humid, a storm was coming. Kundrie emptied the goblet of the rest of the aurum potabile with a sudden gulp and licked her lips.

“And so,” she said, narrowing her amber eyes, “you are going to Jawor and the Lusatian borderlands, for news about Reinmar of Bielawa appearing there has reached you. Even though the news, I gather, isn’t confirmed, nor is it very certain, you drop everything and rush there blindly. And from me you demand spells and charms capable of localising a sidereal being. Although I’ve already told you a hundred times that it’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” retorted the Wallcreeper. “That was the first thing they inculcated into us in Aguilar.”

The neufra sighed. And then yawned, revealing a formidable set of fangs.

“Oh well,” she said. “Reinmar of Bielawa, I understand that he must be removed, otherwise he will be a vexation while he still seeks revenge for his brother. I support the plan to capture him and give him a slow death, after first, if possible, torturing to death before his eyes the girl Apolda he is still searching for. The idea of revenge is reasonable, and I applaud it. But that comrade of his, that giant… That supposed visitor from the astral realm… I would, though, advise you to abandon it. To me he is a Watcher, one of the Rephaim. It is wiser not to fall foul of them. I’m full of very evil forebodings regarding your pursuit of him. You aren’t acting rationally. Your interest in that giant begins more and more to resemble—”

“What?”

“An obsession,” she finished coldly. “In quite a clinical form. You’ve lapsed into mania, son. It bothers me. All the more so that lately it’s not your only one.”

“What did you say?”

“It’s not your only mania. I see and hear. But in particular, smell it.”

“What?”

“Don’t play the fool. I frequent the town, I hear rumours. About you and Miss Pack. And I have a good nose. For two months you’ve been coming here smelling of her cunt.”