Kraft felt as though he was almost persuaded. Putting himself in Father Green's shoes, he, too, found the logic self-evident.
If you worked for the Inquisition, devoting your life to striking down every Heresy that deceived the world and tried to lead Heavenly Father's flock astray—
Then you heard that someone in a district of Dunling could "cure terminal illnesses through touch," charging a pittance compared to the results, and waiving the fee altogether in special cases.
Within days, the practice had grown popular of its own accord—or, more likely, with a push behind it—and had won the fervent support of the ignorant masses.
A little digging would reveal that the person at the center of the rumors was using something that rendered people unconscious, allowing patients to be treated without pain.
Then one day, without warning, this person had stopped his thriving medical practice and left with his attendants, bound for Dunling's most reviled mass underground cemetery.
There was no need to hesitate. Father Green, who had been following the matter for days, immediately decided to tail him. The thought that he might lose never even crossed his mind. Without meaning to boast, he could let an ordinary opponent have both eyes and one hand and still likely win. Besides, he had brought help.
"Do you understand what you're saying?" The tension returned in an instant. Green's fingers instinctively clung to the sword he had just sheathed. He had never expected to get the answer so easily: the man had admitted outright that he was connected to a case the Inquisition was investigating.
The professor looked calm. It was hard to tell whether that was due to his composure or to the absolute confidence that no one would leave this place with his secrets.
"Looks like you've misunderstood my