Konrad's mad dash away from his fight with the champion of the Father took him into the maze of alleyways, and Spirit caught up with him as he leaned against a wall gasping for breath. She held his pack in her jaws, and he scratched her head. "Good work in there Spirit; can you believe we fought a champion of the Father?"

Fear had given way to a giddy excitement as he replayed the fight in his mind. In the midst of the chaos, he thought he had seen the champion of the Father smiling as if he were enjoying himself, and it reminded him of Briarstone during the weeks that they had spent training on the deck of Elena. Was the champion testing him, as Briarstone had? Konrad wasn’t so naive as to think that if the champion of the Father wanted to defeat him, he could have done it with ease.

Putting the fight out of his mind, Konrad focused on his mission to find his friend. "Spirit, do you think you can find Partick for me?"

Spirit barked and bounded off into the city, and Konrad was relieved to see that she was moving away from the docks. Unfortunately, her keen nose led Konrad straight to the one place he would have done anything to avoid: the temple of the Father.

The baker that Konrad had almost decapitated during the fight in the warehouse stood at the mouth of the alleyway that led behind the Father's temple. He had not yet been gifted his itchy brown robes, but the sun glinted off of his freshly shaven head, and he had clearly been placed as a lookout.

Deeper in the alley, partially concealed by the shadow of the temple, a group of brown-robed figures held a whispered argument over the sound of a flint being repeatedly struck.

Konrad used his breath to create an illusion, but nothing happened. He could feel the Cold Bite at the back of his mind, and when he prodded it, it curled up with an icy sigh. Konrad felt that he wasn’t really in any better shape; his muscles ached, and his stomach felt hollow. He needed to free Partick and then get them both somewhere they could rest.

"We’re going to need a distraction." Konrad was mostly speaking to himself, but to his delight, Spirit jumped up and licked his hand.

"You have something in mind?"

Spirit darted off into the shadows, and Konrad turned his attention back to the group of amateur arsonists. A faint wisp of smoke drifted up from behind the temple before a muffled cry of alarm and a torrent of thick, black smoke was sent billowing into the sky. A group of brown-clad Prior followers stumbled out onto the road, coughing loudly, their eyes streaming. Konrad spotted Partick in the group, and the pimply blond boy looked more frightened than Konrad had ever seen him.

"Any time now, Spirit," Konrad muttered.

Right on cue, a great howl went up somewhere close by, and the call was picked up by the baying, yowling, and barking of dozens of other dogs. The sound caused the hairs on the back of Konrad’s neck to stand up, and the group from the Priory stopped and stared down at the street.

Hundreds of dogs rounded the corner, turning the street into a great furry, yapping river flowing towards them. The animals were led by Spirit, who was flanked by two dark shadow hounds with red eyes. Spirit had finally revealed the gift that Rolo had given her when they had left the coldest mountain, the ability to command all other dogs to obey her. Konrad watched in amazement as every type of dog imaginable followed her commanding howl and overwhelmed the priory group.

The fire behind the temple of the Father was burning merrily now, and in the confusion, Konrad fought his way out into the street and dragged Partick back into the alleyway.

"Help, help!" Partick shouted, struggling to free himself from Konrad's grip.

"Partick, it’s me, Konrad."

The skinny priest stopped struggling and looked into Konrad's face like he had seen a ghost, before throwing himself at him and hugging him. "Konrad, I knew she wouldn’t abandon me."

Konrad just nodded; he didn’t have the heart to tell the young priest that Lyran didn’t even remember his name and that she only really sent Konrad to find out why her new temple wasn’t generating followers.

"Partick, what were you doing with the Priory? I thought you were here to open a temple to Lyran?"

"I did; it was going well until they turned up, and I somehow ended up joining them. I was waiting for a chance to escape, but then I got the haircut and the robe, and they don’t like people to leave."

"We should get out of here; I have friends in the city that we can stay with."

"First we have to go to the temple and get the statue of Lyran. I hid it when they came."

The temporary temple of Lyran was a small shack to the south of the city of Portia, where the Fallow River met the Southern Ocean. The harbor here was shallow, and when the tide went out, it left a landscape of sucking, stinking mud flats behind.

"This was the only place I could find," Partick said, stepping over some wooden boards laid over the mud.

The shack had been painted over with the familiar red paint and poor spelling of the priory, and inside the small font had been smashed. There was only one room, and at the back, Konrad spotted a simple bedroll and a small, rickety stool with a single candle.

"You’ve been staying here?"

"Yes," Partick replied proudly. "I had even started my own flock, but then the priory came and told me that Lyran’s temple was another example of the greed of established gods and shut me down. They made me join them on the spot; they were very persuasive."

"I bet they were; what do you know about their leader?"

"Brother Able?"

"No, I mean the girl."

"Oh," Partick replied, and a blush colored his cheeks red. "Isobel is the first priest of the Prior. She used to be a champion like you, but she realized that she was a part of the problem."

Partick was speaking like he really believed what Issie had said, her power lingering long after she had bewitched him. The priest levered up a floorboard and pushed his arm into the sucking mud below up to the elbow, fishing around until he pulled out a small statue.

"I’m going to need this for the next church," Partick said proudly, wiping the mud off.

Partick handed the statue to Konrad and shuffled around, packing up a few of his meager belongings while Konrad turned the small figurine around in his hands, catching a slight movement of it’s eyes as he did so.

"Ready?" Partick asked.

"Perhaps you could give me a few moments to pray?"

"Of course!" Partick replied, backing out reverently and pulling the rickety door closed.

"Lyran?" Konrad asked, placing the statue on the floor and sitting down opposite it.

The face on the statue came to life, its stone eyes narrowing as they focused on Konrad. "What made you think, after all of the discussions we have had, that it would be a good idea to start a fight with a champion of the Father?" Lyran’s voice had a distinctive woody quality, like someone speaking into a hole in a tree truck.

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"I didn’t start it; he was going to kill someone, and I had to help."

"You didn’t have to help at all. It’s not your job to help anyone but us. As far as I can tell, he was there to shut down a cult!"

"It’s not a cult; well, I don’t really know what it was."

There was a studied silence of the kind that only a face made out of stone can achieve.

"What happens now? Am I in danger?" Konrad asked.

"You should be dead, but you’re not, and I don’t know why. Your little duel hasn’t had any reaction at all, not a single ripple in the fates."

"How can that be? I spoke to him, and he said he knew that I was the champion of three gods and that he was going to serve justice!"

The news didn’t seem to have the reaction he had expected; the statue just shrugged its stoney shoulders. "I don’t know either, but look on the bright side; you’re alive, and you found the priest."

"Partick."

"Hmm?"

"The priest's name is Partick. He’s your most devoted follower; he practically started your church from nothing; how can you not know that?"

"Why do you humans think we spend all of our time watching what you are doing? You’re not really all that interesting, you know."

"You should take notice of the priory at least, they only shut down your churches, but they burned down the temples of the Mother and the Father."

"Never heard of any Prior, but if they're a god they won’t last long, burning the Mother and Fathers temples! I’m surprised the place isn’t swarming with champions of the Father chopping off heads already. Look, Konrad, you must have learned by now that we are small players and keep our heads down. You’re doing good work, so keep questing!"

Konrad had spent enough time speaking to the small gods to know he wasn’t going to get anything more out of them. At first, he had been angry that they never told him anything, but he was coming to realize that they really just didn’t know or really care. He was determined to discover more about Issie and the mysterious Prior, but telling Lyran would likely just lead to another lecture. He needed to get what powers he could from the small gods; the rest he could find on his own.

"Was there something else?" Lyran asked.

"I'm waiting for my reward. I saved Partick, so I completed a quest."

"It wasn’t a real quest, though, was it? Not a classic. More of a favour."

Konrad remained silent.

"I can’t give you much more until I have more followers or my ancient power is unlocked. If I was back up to strength, then you would see some real fireworks."

At the mention of ancient power, Konrad's ears pricked up. "An ancient power, that sounds like a great quest, where is it?"

Lyran looked dubious. "It’s not something I had planned. It’s complicated and very far away. Let's just stick to the temples; more temples, more followers—that’s the honest way to do it. Put in the grind, and you’ll be rewarded."

But Konrad wouldn’t be put off. "Cosovan and Avram seemed to benefit quite a lot from their quests; Avram has a whole island worshiping him now. He’s quite big these days."

The Lyran statue placed its tiny stone fists on its hips. "Don’t think I know what you are trying to do. Casovan had every right to that mountain, and as for Avram, frankly, he cheated; anyone could have done that."

"Don’t you have the right to your ancient power?"

"It’s been that long; they probably won’t even be there any more. It’s not like they were immortal or anything," Lyran said, seemingly speaking to herself.

"Who are you talking about?"

Lyran seemed to realize she had spoken out loud. "No, Konrad. If you dig up the past, all you get is dirty. I’ve turned a new leaf. I’ll open a new temple in Erudor; the weather’s good there, and there's lots of minor healing to do."

"But if we can get your ancient power, it’s worth a try, can’t you just look at the fates and see what might happen?"

Konrad didn’t really have a good grasp on how the threads of fate worked, but Malan had suggested that it was possible to look into the future.

Lyran made a vague shape in the air with her hands. "With my power I can only see a vague outline of the fates, I haven’t really looked at a real thread in, gosh, I don’t know how long. The big three keep that sort of thing locked up these days. It’s a whole new world up there. So, new plan: I need you to take the priest to Erudor."

"That’s on another continent!"

"Then you’ll need a boat."

"I can’t go, I have something to do in the East. I made a promise to someone."

"There's nothing in the East but dwarves," Lyran said

"I’m looking for an old city called Elu."

Lyran's face was the living stone of the small statue, and therefore her expressions were quite limited, but even so, Konrad caught a look of surprise.

"Why would you want to do that?" She asked, and again she tried to keep her voice even, but Konrad sensed the note of tension that had crept in.

Konrad watched her carefully. "I’m going to find out what happened to a god. She was called Cloda."

"That seems like a waste of time to me; what do you want another god for? You have three already."

"I made a promise; I have to find out what happened."

"You sound like you just need a challenge. On second thoughts, I’ll send you after my ancient power, how about that? You can unlock it for me and we can both have all of that lovely divine energy."

Lyran’s abrupt change of heart spiked Konrad's curiosity. "What do you know about Cloda?"

Lyran winced as he mentioned the name. "I don’t know anything, but I forbid you from finding out more. It’s very dangerous, and we can’t afford to lose you. The others will say the same thing."

"I don’t see how you are going to stop me."

Lyran’s mouth opened and shut a few times. "I can. If I have to, I’ll cut you off."

There was a silence in the shack as her words sank in. Konrad thought of Issie, drained and hollow from losing her bond as a champion.

"What are you so scared of that you would do that?"

Lyran appeared to have come to a decision, and she glared at him. "This is my last word on the matter, Konrad. If you defy me, I can’t be responsible for what might happen."

"That’s not fair," Konrad replied, but it was too late. The statue had returned to stone.

"How did that go?" Partick asked brightly when Konrad emerged from the hut.

"I have a new quest," Konrad said, passing the small statue to Partick. "It’s going to take me to the East," he added more loudly.

"What about me?" Partick asked.

"I know somewhere safe we can go for now, then we can get you back to Tajar."

They made their way back to the Delaney mansion, moving slowly to avoid any hint of their black or brown clad enemies. A heavy-set orc woman was guarding the door to Renau's house. Her skin was light green, and she had two great tusks that protruded from her bottom lip. The two axes that hung in loops at her belt looked well used.

"No visitors; bugger off," she snapped.

"I’m here to see Renau, I mean, Ignatius, and Briarstone; I’m a friend."

"No one gets in the house, especially not one of the baldies," the orc said, pointing to Partick.

"I’m not a real baldy; they made me do it," the priest gibbered, reaching up to touch his bald head and wincing.

Konrad pulled out the medallion Briarstone had given him. "I have this."

The orcs' eyebrows rose, and she stepped back, gesturing for them to pass through the doorway. "Don’t tell him I gave you any trouble, okay?"

"Konrad, where did you get that seal from?" Partick asked once they were inside.

"It’s from a friend of mine; we traveled together from the north."

"Whoever your friend is, they must be pretty important to have that."

"Why?"

"It’s the symbol of the Halfstones."

Partick must have caught Konrad's blank look because he explained further. "Halfstone is an island, the Halftone family used to rule the whole of the Lost Coast; that’s why there are no arcanists here. Until recently, there wasn’t even a temple of the Father or the Mother."

Konrad Partick and Spirit walked into the main room of the mansion overlooking the garden and saw that it had been transformed. The debris was gone, and a large table had been installed. It was covered with pieces of paper, books, and lists.

The room wasn’t the only thing that had changed; two men stood leaning on the table, deep in conversation. One was stocky and broad-shouldered, with long gray hair that fell to his ears. His square chin looked like it had been carved from a rock, and scars crisscrossed his face. He wore a rich uniform, but this was no mere captain; it was the uniform of an admiral, or some lord of the sea.

"Briarstone?" Konrad spluttered.

The other figure wore fine robes and a thick gold chain peppered with precious stones. With his hair cut short, Renau's latest transformation made him look like a statesman or some descendant of noble stewards.

"Is Renau gone now?" Konrad asked.

"I fear he is, for now anyway; call me Igni," the trouper said with a regretful smile and a small bow.

"You know Konrad. Igni and I have quite the job ahead of us if we want to get a handle on the situation here. It would help if we could have less burning of temples and dueling champions of the gods in the streets," Briarstone said, picking up a piece of paper.

"It wasn’t my fault," Konrad said automatically.

Igni plucked the paper from Briarstone and began to read in a dramatic tone. "One of them was covered in shadows and called forth an army of frozen dead warriors; he struck such a blow that the northern storms blew forth and froze the very blood in my veins."

"You know, this is the second major city that’s caught fire shortly after you arrived," Briarstone added.

"Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, thrice would be a nasty habit," Igni added, his eyes sparkling with amusement.