“Indeed,” she finally drawled. “It’s a small world. Would you like some beer soup, boys? They serve excellent beer soup here. I have it whenever I visit. Would you like to try some?”

Scharley’s eyes lit up. “Naturally, I would. Thank you, Dzierżka.”

When Dzierżka of Wirsing clapped her hands together, servants appeared immediately and busied themselves. Judging by the alacrity with which they came running, Reynevan surmised that she must be a regular guest here, known to have florins to spend. A moment later, the food arrived and he and Scharley were slurping soup, fishing out lumps of white cheese with lindenwood spoons, quickly but rhythmically to avoid clashing them together in the large bowl. Dzierżka tactfully kept silent, watching them and nursing a mug sweaty from the cold beer inside it.

Reynevan sighed deeply. He’d not eaten a hot meal since the lunch with Canon Otto in Strzelin. Meanwhile, Scharley was staring at Dzierżka’s beer so meaningfully that he was soon brought a mug dripping with froth.

“Where is God leading you, Scharley?” she finally said. “And why are you brawling with peasants in forests?”

“We’re on a pilgrimage,” the penitent lied light-heartedly, “to Our Lady of Bardo, to pray for the betterment of this world, and were attacked without reason. Verily, the world is full of wickedness, and you’ll sooner meet a rogue on the highway than an abbess. That rabble attacked us entirely without cause, led by the sinful urge to do evil. But we forgive our trespassers—”

“I hired some peasants to search for a runaway colt.” Dzierżka interrupted his flow. “I don’t deny they are loathsome brutes, but later they were telling stories about some men being hunted and a bounty—”

“The delusions of idle and shallow minds,” said the penitent, sighing deeply. “Who can fathom them?”

“You were locked away to do penance, weren’t you?”

“I was.”

“And?”

“Nothing.” Scharley didn’t twitch. “Tedium. One day like the next. Over and over. Matutinum, Laudes, Prime, Terce, then rumpus-pumpus with Brother Barnabus, followed by Sext, Nones, then Barnabus, Vespers, collationes, Compline, and Barnabus—”

“Will you stop dissembling!” Dzierżka interrupted him again. “You know what I mean, so tell me: did you escape? Are they after you? Is there a bounty on your head?”

“O God, deliver me!” Scharley appeared hurt by the implication. “I was released. No one is after me—I’m a free man.”

“Of course, I keep forgetting,” she retorted with a sneer. “But if you say so, I’ll believe you. And if so… that truth leads to a simple conclusion.”

Scharley raised his eyebrows above the spoon he was licking, suggesting curiosity. Reynevan squirmed anxiously on the bench. Rightly, as it turned out.