The main cathedral of Halspus was a towering structure, hewed from white marble in centuries past, spires reaching up to scrap the sky. Six of them at each corner of the hexagonal temple stretched upwards, narrowing only at the very end to form points. Otherwise the rest of the temple sat relatively slow, a hexagonal block with engravings on the outside, showing Halspus and his progression from simple farmer to returning life to the blasted landscape of Anglea by letting the sun shine once more upon it.

A lot of that process involved dead devils, the ones who had sealed away the sun in the first place.

And they would have sealed it away for a thousand more if it wasn’t for that torch-wielding lunatic, The Imp hissed in my head. Can we just leave now?

No, I thought idly before remembering the Imp couldn’t hear my thoughts.

For centuries, its magically enchanted stone had been one of the tallest structures around, only beaten by other magically aided mainstays of the city’s skyline. That was changing as the Ironworks challenged them, but even they weren’t nearing those heights. Only the Imperial Palace was taller, and it still was missing a few towers from the killing of Her Most Profane Majesty.

I sat at a small cafe at the far end of the large square the entrance of the cathedral led to, one that was clearly used to serving worshipper of Halspus. That meant a lot of angry staff and customers glaring my way as I browsed the menu while enjoying a good cup of tea.

There was no venturing closer for me. Even across the square it felt like my skin was being picked and pricked at. If I stayed here for an entire day. I’d have to pick through my skin and excise the cells corrupted by the divine energies trying to kill me.

Voltar had stayed out with me across the square, sitting at the table. Dawes was off handling some other task, while Tagashin was currently pretending to be a newspaper boy selling the Greenwick Times in the middle of the square.

Hopefully, the usual paperboy had just been paid off instead of subjected to the whims of Tagashin. Then again, I hadn’t talked to her since she’d helped me in the tunnels against the pair of shape-changers. I wasn’t sure if that change in behavior had been genuine. It might have been my concussion, altering my perception of what I’d seen.

“You think there will be any real difficulty catching her?” I asked as I sipped a cup of tea.

The effects of the drake’s tea weren’t permanent, to my relief, but it was slow to fade. The tea in my cup still tasted like a poor, poor substitute for that glorious cup of liquid starlight I’d been given by Valicent, but it didn’t taste like mud.

That liquid starlight had probably been a drug of some kind in hindsight.

“Doubtful,” Voltar noted. “The Church of Halspus likes its reputation kept nice and tidy, despite its attempts at agitation. With the recent events at the marches, it will want to make sure that its house is kept nice and clean.”

I raised an eyebrow. “They were the ones bombed, not the ones doing the bombing. So unless you're implying that they have something else they want hidden from any potential extra attention.”

Voltar sipped tea as the gears in my head turned. He couldn’t be implying they were more tied into this shape-changer plot than they already were? Not only would that be extremely risky for very little reward in the end. Part of the reason I’d dismissed it when we’d spotted their symbols on those papers. They would be possibly implicating themselves in things that would irritate most of the other factions in the city, from killing a drake to attacking the noble’s party to bombing their own followers.

I paused, a horrible thought occurring to me.

The bombings in the Infernal Quarter. What purpose had they served? At first I thought it was a changer trick, motivated by whatever made them target the Black Flame to begin with, then the Flame themselves. Eventually, though, there just wasn’t a viable enough motive for either side to have done this.

Just a case of bad timing making me think it was a part of a plot from players who had nothing to do with it. An intersection of two schemes makes it appear as if there was one. I’d been thinking about how the Bishop could have arranged the marches, but had pulled a blank in figuring out what it would help with.

However, what if it was another party’s scheme entirely? The only factors involved were ones that didn’t need to be tied into the scheme of the shape-changers at all. The marching of the church and its followers in the Infernal Quarter.

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If they had set that up themselves…I was only vaguely aware of the trembling of my teacup as my mind traced possibilities. It fit, partially, but what was the motive behind it?

Finishing his tea, Voltar gently set it down.

“There is, of course, no evidence of them being responsible for those bombs,” he said quietly. “But there were rumblings about them pushing to reclaim the churches in the district. Opening them up again.”

Slowly, precisely so I didn’t drop it to the ground, I put my own teacup back in its saucer.

“Th-that’s not possible,” I said, barely controlling a tremble. “There are laws to prevent that, laws for a very good reason.”

The reason being death. The reason being the divine energies of Halspus that kept me far away from the main temple, on the other side of the square and still, my skin itched.

It didn’t even need to be right next to us. When we were exposed to that kind of divine energy that a Halspus consecrated temple could put out for weeks, months, years on end? The other deities kept the emanations from their temples and the harmful effects of their energies were lower except when used in force.

Halspus wanted us dead. Halspus had no such reservations.

“It will not work,” Voltar said reassuringly. “The timing was too coincidental and with recent developments, they have too many eyes on them. Besides, the Queen seems strangely reluctant to grant said request.”

“Ah,” I muttered. “So they’ll help us, to be useful, so she eventually will.”

“That and many, many other things across the empire,” Voltar replied. “We are just a small part of that. Although the church seems genuinely concerned that a shape-changer may have slipped into their ranks. As anyone would be. How is Edward Montague doing?”

The sudden change in topic jolted me out of my thinking regarding the church and what it may have done.

“He’s doing as well as expected,” I said. “The hand-off went well. I visited later. The trio have as little of an idea as I do about what happened to him.”

The ‘trio’ were Valicent and his two fellow drakes, who I’d entrusted Edward Montague to for now. Not only were they the safest people to shelter him, but I was hoping they would have some insight into the transformative magics that were slowly making the young noble into a draconic humanoid.

So far, that had been unsuccessful.

“Hrrm. History would be the first place to check, if your analysis of magic cannot turn up a solution.”

“I am aware,” I replied testily. “However, these kinds of poisonings aren’t common and alterations are varied. But never physical to my recollection. This is new.”

Not to say physical alterations were impossible, but they should have cropped up by now. Instead, all alterations the cure made had always been mental.

Any further thought on that was interrupted by our target walking out of the doors to the cathedral.

Bishop Elline Strevans, a high-ranking clerical priest in the temple, was a middle-aged woman with a calm smile and a slow walk as she peered at some papers. Making her way across the square to this cafe for a bite to eat while working was a regular occurrence for her. It didn’t appear anyone had warned her that today might be her last time.

She made it halfway before noticing me and Voltar sitting next to her usual table. She slowed to a halt, face paling as she turned around.

From the edges of the square, Watch appeared, whistles blowing as boots hit the ground and they moved in. Bishop Strevans whirled about before choosing the cathedral, running back.

Tagashin got to her before she took a step, her disguise still up as she darted forward. Pulling a rune-inscribed wand from her pockets, she jabbed the bishop in the cheek with it.

I watched as the bishop frozen, then her flesh moved. Gasps came from all around us as the already shocked cafe guests realized she was one of them.

“Your theory was correct,” Voltar observed as the bishop’s skin tore and reformed, shapes pressing out before melting back into her skin. She collapsed, legs melting as her fingers disintegrated.

I nodded, rather proud that it had. We should have tested it on Hawkins first, but Masltein was being stingy with his prisoner.

“An unstable core of life energy somehow kept stable,” I said. “Whatever regulates it is probably done unconsciously, but would probably be very precise. Throw a little extra life energy through, say, a wand keyed through healing, and you throw the entire balance out of whack. And also avoid the issues with the paralyzation method.”

People were gawking or running away as Tagashin ducked under a wild attack from the bishop before running further away. The bishop couldn’t follow. Her lower limbs melted together as she tried to regain control over her shifting.

“They’ll strike soon,” I observed as we watched the struggling flesh attempt to flee, only to find herself surrounded on all sides.

A necromancer from every angle, as well as more priests, other mages, and even two of those new automatons, large, four-legged designs hissing as smoke poured into the air and hammers rotated. Paving stones crunched under their feet as they flanked the bishops still warping form.

Over at the cathedral, the doors inside slammed shut. The church’s higher ups making it clear she was on her own, I imagined.

“They have to,” I continued as they began binding up the shape-changer with metal cord. She didn’t resist, or couldn’t. “Things are falling apart. Lord Montague will want his son back. They’ll want Kalasyp silenced. Tonight I think. It’ll be hurried and rushed.”

“You sound so certain,” Voltar replied drily. “Reasoning?”

“Lashing out,” I muttered. “We wounded Montague by taking his heir. Lady Karsin will panic because she must suspect her son will be next. And that her people’s ranks are reduced by one more.”

The number of shape-changers free might already be at single digits now. The only ones left in the world, one that was swiftly aware of them and learning how to deal with them all over again.

I would sympathize with that plight, but I could only muster up so much for those who’d taken my life and tried to make a ruin of it.

“Agreed,” Voltar said. “Once that fails, we’ll handle the other kidnapping you’ve arranged. Until then, preparations for our guests?”

I smirked as I watched. "Easily arranged."