TWENTY-FOUR
George plied the priest with far more drink than was good for him, but even deep in his cups, the man didn't drop so much as another hint about the beast they faced, or the best way to kill it. Which was unusual in itself, he had to admit. What man was so afraid of something he refused to talk about it at all? Didn't he want it dead?
He turned to ask Melitta, for with her mind-reading magic it was possible that she had caught more from the man than he had, but he was disappointed to discover that she'd disappeared. Back to her chamber, he assumed, resting before tomorrow's journey.
Sure enough, when he'd managed to roll out of bed the following morning and drink enough to dispel his lingering hangover, he found Melitta at breakfast in the common room downstairs, wearing her
