At midnight, beneath the oak tree.
Mia retrieved a heavy oilcloth bundle from the cold hollow in the trunk.
There were two things inside.
One was a coarse earthenware bottle, its mouth sealed tightly with a cork and beeswax. When she shook it gently, she could hear fine powder rustling inside.
The other was a small, shimmering crystal vial.
It was half full of golden liquid that gleamed like something out of a dream in the moonlight.
This was the power her master had bestowed upon her, and her final trump card in this high-stakes gamble.
Mia pulled out the crystal vial's stopper. The rich scent of nectar and spirits instantly filled her nose, setting every cell in her body rejoicing.
She did not intend to drink it yet.
She merely drew in a deep breath of that intoxicating fragrance, a glint of cunning flashing through her purple eyes.
Its effects lasted only an hour.
Something this precious had to be saved for the most critical moment.
She carefully stoppered the crystal vial again and tucked it into her clothes alongside the earthenware bottle.
With a flicker of movement, she melted silently into the church's deep shadows.
Late afternoon, nearing dusk.
There was still more than an hour until dinner at the church. This was a lull in the preparations, when the entire camp was at its least vigilant.
No cooking smoke rose from the kitchen chimney yet. The workers had not returned from their day's labor, and most of the clergy were praying or resting in their rooms.
Mia found an unnoticed corner and pretended to gnaw on a hard piece of black bread.
She was waiting.
Waiting for the perfect moment, when no one would be around.
At last, the final nun hanging laundry in the courtyard