The innkeeper, surprisingly, appeared to have taken to heart Malevolt’s snide remark, because he began to serve slightly less watered-down wine. The effects weren’t long in the coming—the beguiler posing as a Samogitian was soon leaning against the wall, snoring. And since the inn had emptied, Reynevan decided it was time to talk frankly.

“I need a place to hide, Tybald. And for a longer rather than a shorter time. Until Christmas. Perhaps even longer.”

Tybald Raabe raised an enquiring eyebrow, and, without needing further prompting, Reynevan gave an account of what happened in Ciepłowody. In detail.

“You have plenty of enemies in Silesia,” the goliard concluded, none too originally. “In your shoes, I wouldn’t go into hiding but would take to my heels. At least as far as Bohemia. Haven’t you considered such a solution?”

“I must… hmm… stay.” Reynevan avoided his gaze, not certain how much he could reveal. For Tybald Raabe was a sly fox.

“I get it.” The latter winked knowingly. “Got orders, have we? I knew Neplach would know how to use you. I expected that. Urban Horn did, too. Horn also guesses what this is all about.”

“And what is it all about, if one may ask?”

“The Vogelsang.”

“What is the Vogelsang?”

“Hmm, ahem…” Tybald coughed unexpectedly and scratched his nose in embarrassment. “I don’t know if I ought to tell you. Since you’re asking, it means Flutek didn’t tell you. Though I reckon it’s better for you not to know.”

“What is the Vogelsang?”

“In 1423,” Gregorz Hejncze said to Łukasz Bożyczko, “Jan Žižka ordered the creation of special task forces, which were to be sent beyond Bohemia’s borders into enemy territory, where Žižka was already planning to transfer the fight for the Chalice. The forces were meant to operate in strict secret, quite independent of the usual spy networks. Their sole task was to prepare the way for aggressive forays into neighbouring countries. They were supposed to help the Taborites with their plundering raid by using sabotage and acts of terror and by spreading panic. The groups were set up and sent out. To Austria, Bavaria, Hungary, Lusatia and Saxony. And Silesia, naturally. The Silesian group received the code name—”

“The Vogelsang…” whispered Bożyczko.

“The Vogelsang,” Tybald Raabe confirmed. “As I was saying, the group reported directly to the commander-in-chief. Contact was maintained using special liaison agents. It happened that the Vogelsang’s liaison agent perished—he was murdered—and then contact was lost—the Vogelsang simply vanished. The reason appeared clear: the group feared treachery. Each fresh liaison agent might have been a plant and that suspicion was reinforced by a wave of arrests directed at the networks and subgroups set up by the Vogelsang. Neplach thought long about whom to send. Someone the Vogelsang would trust.”

“And he did.” Reynevan nodded. “For Peterlin was the Vogelsang’s liaison officer. Am I right?”

“You are.”