Despite living on Qojja for three years, Jack and Will were still required to stay at the hotel. The government did not dare give houses or even apartments to offworlders, fearing how the fanatics would react—there were so many of them!

Some argued foreigners would be safer in places of their own, as it would help them integrate, and become members of society. But so far, it had fallen on deaf ears.

So the two friends had to make do.

As they walked through the crowded streets of Joqqal to run errands, they came across a long and quiet procession.

They had seen this before.

Once a year, the worshipers of Thuyn and Haar—the twin gods of mischief—walked through the streets of every city across the planet. It was both a ceremony and a pilgrimage, as they all headed toward Mount Riish... Except, no one really knew where that mountain was. This, too—just like Xian—had more to do with myth than history... or, in this case, geography.

Still, they somehow managed to all move in the same general direction. One could assume they had common guidance, perhaps some divine scripture that told them where to go... But there was nothing where they all ended, safe a peaceful valley in the middle of nowhere. Hardly a mountain, in any case.

They stood by the side of the road as they watched the silent men and women walk past them. There were children as well, of course, because faith was inherited.

“It always saddens me to see this,” sighed Will.

“Why?” asked Jack as he coughed into his sleeve.

“They are so misguided... I don’t understand how so many people can believe in imaginary things.”

“You believe in magic, don’t you?”

Will laughed. “That’s not imaginary! We can see its effects all around us. Like when Paul made that water boil. That’s concrete evidence that it works. Where’s the proof that their so-called gods exist?”

Jack said nothing. Though after a while, he remarked: “I envy them.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“They believe in something. Their faith gives them power, hope, strength... It gives meaning to their lives, too. Do you need evidence if you have all that? Is that not reward enough?”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Will gave him an odd look. “This is new. I’ve always heard you mocking religions...”

“Things change.”

And they did. Even as he said those words, the procession started growing with the arrival of others. These, though, were not silent. They were chanting things like “Foreigners leave!”, “Go home!”, or “Stop desecrating our holy sites!”

“It also gives them anger,” remarked Will.

The two friends took a few steps back, hoping they’d be more inconspicuous standing in the shadow of a nearby building. Though there was enough crowd around to keep them out of sight.

“Hey!” said Will suddenly. “Isn’t that Paul?”

He pointed at a spot on the other side of the procession—which was quickly turning into a mob.

But by the time Jack looked, the figure had disappeared.

***

They had tried multiple times to get a confession out of Hobbs, but the man had remained silent. His lawyer had not helped them make any progress.

Ward started going through the suspect’s records: holovisor calls, transportation, calendar schedules... It was the bank statements, though, that gave them a new lead.

“Look at this!”

He handed Brown the documents and pointed at several lines spread over a period of six months.

“That’s a lot of money,” whistled the young detective. “And always from the same source.”

“The Moonrise Conglomerate. I looked it up. It’s a multi-world corporation that specializes in the study of alien technology. Interestingly, their name crops up in a lot of cold cases. They’re suspected to be involved in criminal activities of all sorts—from weapons dealing to illegal waste disposal...”

“And now, possibly murder,” mused Brown.

“The big question, though, is why would they want Rosenkrantz dead?”

Brown was starting to have a pretty good idea about that, but he kept it to himself.

“Well,” he said out loud, “only one way to find out.”

“Before we do that,” said Ward, “I’d like to give Hobbs another shot. Maybe this new information will help us get something out of him.”

His partner doubted it, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.

They had the prisoner brought back into the interrogation room and called up his lawyer on the holovisor system—they knew Hobbs would ignore them otherwise.

Ward took the lead.

“Alright, Herman, we have new evidence. We’ll give you a chance to come clean before we take this further. You’re still looking at jail time, but if you tell us everything, we can cut some years off.”

Hobbs kept his arms crossed, with a smirk on his face. But he said nothing.

“Tell us about Moonrise.”

The killer’s eyes blinked slightly. The smile disappeared, but still he did not talk.

“They’re a much bigger fish than you are,” remarked Ward. “If you want to make a deal, you won’t get a better opportunity.”

The lawyer switched to a private line, so only his client could hear him.

Hobbs’ face twitched. His expression hardened. He shook his head. “No,” was all he said.

The lawyer switched back to the main channel. “Sorry, detectives, my client prefers to decline your offer.”

“Fine. We’ll still get them, you know.”

They turned to leave the room, but Hobbs called out:

“Ward... I’ve always liked you. So I’ll give you a piece of advice. Stay away from Moonrise.”

The man stood, and walked out through the opposite door—one that led back to his cell.

“What is that supposed to mean?” asked a puzzled Ward.

“Sounded like a threat to me,” said Brown.