Blood of the Fold

Verna flashed a villainous grin as she crooked her finger at her aide. Sister Dulcinia flinched at the smirk. Her penetrating blue eyes swept the room, lingering on Warren, before she entered, brushing back her gray hair in a submissive gesture.

"May I be of assistance, Prelate?"

Verna folded her hands on the table. "Why, yes, Sister, you may. Your experience would be valuable in this matter." Verna lifted a report off the pile. "I would like you to immediately go on an mission to the stables. It seems we have trouble there, and a bit of a mystery."

Sister Dulcinia brightened. "Trouble, Prelate?"

"Yes. It would seem there are some horses missing."

Sister Dulcinia leaned forward a bit, lowering her voice in that tolerant manner of hers. “If I remember the report you speak of, Prelate, the horses were frightened by something in the night and bolted. They've simply not turned up yet, that's all."

"I know that, Sister. I would like Master Finch to explain how it is that horses that broke down his fence were able to run off, and not be found."

"Prelate?"

Verna lifted her eyebrows in mock wonder. “We live on an island, do we not? How is it that the horses are no longer on the island? No guard saw them gallop across a bridge. At least I've seen no report of it. This time of year the fishermen are out on the river day and night, eeling, yet none saw any horses swimming to the mainland. So where are they?"

"Well, I'm sure they simply bolted, Prelate. Perhaps…"

Verna smiled indulgently. "Perhaps Master Finch sold them, and just said they ran off in order to cover their loss."

Sister Dulcinia straightened. "Surely, Prelate, you would not want to accuse — "

Verna slapped a hand to the table and shot to her feet. "Tack is also missing. Did the tack also bolt in the night! Or did the horses decide to put it on themselves and go for a jaunt!"

Sister Dulcinia blanched. "I… well, I… I'll see — "

"You go down to the stables right now and tell Master Finch that if he doesn't find the palace's horses by the time I decide to inquire of the matter again, their cost will come out of his pay and the tack out of his hide!"

Sister Dulcinia bobbed a quick bow and scurried from the room. When the door banged closed, Warren chuckled.

"Seems you're falling right into the job, Verna."

"Don't you start with me, Warren!"

The grin left his face. “Verna, calm down. It's just a couple of horses. The man will find them. It's not worth you getting yourself in a state of tears over."

Verna blinked at him. She touched her fingers to her cheek and felt that they were indeed wet. She let out a tired groan and flopped down in her chair.

"I'm sorry, Warren. I don't know what's come over me. I guess I'm just tired and frustrated."

"Verna, I've never seen you like this, letting a matter like some silly pieces of paper get you so worked up.

"Warren, look at this!" She snatched up the report. "I'm a prisoner in here, approving the cost of hauling away manure! Do you have any idea how much manure those horses produce? Or how much food they eat, just to make all that manure?"

"Well, no, I guess I would have to admit that…"

She pulled the next report off the stack. "Butter — "

"Butter?"

"Yes, butter." Verna scanned the report. "Seems it went rancid and we had to buy ten peck to replace it. I'm to consider this and determine if the dairyman has asked a fair price and is to be retained in the future."

"It must be important to have these matters checked."

Verna picked up the next paper. “Masons. Masons to fix the roof over the dining hall that leaks. And slate. A lightning bolt broke the slate, they say, and near to a square had to be torn off and replaced. Took ten men two weeks, it says here. I'm to decide if that was timely, and approve payment."

"Well, if people do work, they've a right to be paid, haven't they?"

She rubbed a finger on the gold, sunburst-patterned ring. "I thought that if I ever had the power, there would be changes in the way the Sisters do the Creator's work. But this is all I do, Warren: look at reports. I've been in here day and night reading the most mundane of things until my eyes glaze over."

"It must be important, Verna."

"Important?" She selected another report with exaggerated reverence. "Let's see… seems two of our 'young men' got drunk and set fire to an inn… the fire was put out… the inn sustained quiet a bit of damage… they would like die palace to reimburse them." She set the report aside. "I'm going to have a long, loud talk with those two."

"Seems the right decision, Verna."

She selected another report. "And what have we here? A seamstress accounting. Dressmaking for the novices." Verna picked up another. "Salt. Three kinds."

"But Verna — "

She plucked another.”And this one? ' She waved the paper with mock solemnity. "Grave digging."

"What?"

"Two gravediggers. They want to be paid for their work." She scanned the tally. "And I might add that they think highly of their skill, by the price they're asking."