“Marius. I’m expecting you. Come in, do.”
“Good morning, Father, and thank you for seeing me.”
“Seeing you? It’s the reason I’m here.”
Inside, Marius squinted, adjusting his gaze in a single dark room lit only by the sunlight of the early morning passing through one small window.
“Please, sit down,” Dizier said. The priest was a short, fat man whose black cassock, too long for his body, dragged along the ground, and equally, its sleeves all but hid his hands. He cut a comical figure, but to those who knew him, he was the epitome of a sincere, dedicated cleric who had ministered to and supported countless families in his parish whenever they had needed him.
“Now, Marius — I will not call you ‘Magistrate,’ as titles mean nothing to me — how can I help you?” Then excusing himself, “Forgi
