People said it was possible to use the Cathedral of the Gods to navigate Arnor City. The towering edifice dwarfed every other building in the city. Its four square towers of blue-grey stone were the first things anyone saw while approaching the city, whether by land or sea. They reached up something like two or three hundred feet. All anyone needed to get around the city was to pay attention to where they were compared to the Cathedral.

That might be true on some other day, but not this one. The swirling snow blocked sight of anything more than a few short feet away. Luckily, Quilla had made this journey often enough and knew the way because, even so, she was finding it difficult not to get lost. Nelli wasn’t too happy about it either. The poor horse had lived her entire life in Ninifin; she didn’t understand this cold weather. After the journey from the Palace, the snow had become too much for Nelli, and so Quilla had dismounted and was leading the horse on foot.

What rotten timing for a snow storm! Just one day before Garet’s funeral. If too much snow fell, no one would be able to get through it to attend the service.

The Cathedral of the Gods was just up ahead now. Its close presence blocked some of the snow and was making vision a little better. Nonetheless, when she looked up, she still couldn’t see the tops of the towers. She couldn’t even see the roof, which was only about half as high as the towers, though she could just make out the outlines of a couple of the many stone gargoyles that decorated the roof.

The doors were visible though. There were three sets of twenty-foot-high doors that provided entrance, each carved with intricate religious iconography. Quilla had never really paid much attention to exactly what was carved on them, though she recalled some mention of each door representing one of the gods. But it had never interested her much, and it interested her even less now.

All three sets of doors were closed right now, with armoured Royal Guards standing in front. They were there to keep out the throngs of people wanting to get a look at the funeral preparations.

Except there were no throngs of people. No one was out on a day like today.

Quilla couldn’t help feel bad for the guards. They must be freezing.

A figure approached her out of the swirling snow. Wide and stocky, for a moment, Quilla thought it might be Jorvan. It wasn’t, but it was an Isyar.

“Can you help me?” The Isyar was a little taller than Jorvan and bald like all other Isyar Quilla had seen. Although her wings gave her the stocky profile of all Isyar, she was slimmer than Jorvan.

“I’ll try,” Quilla said. “Are you lost?”

“No, not exactly.” Her voice had a deepness to it, and Quilla realised she couldn’t be sure the Isyar was female. There seemed something female about her, but she wore a loose garment similar to what Jorvan wore and it hid any hint of hips or breasts on the Isyar. Did female Isyar even have hips and breasts like humans?

“Then how can I help?” Quilla asked.

“I would like to ask you some questions if I may.” There was a female quality to the Isyar’s face and neck. No Adam’s apple. Did Jorvan have one? Quilla hadn’t paid attention to that before.

“About?”

“A variety of things. I know it may sound an odd request, but I am a traveller here, and I know little of this land. I thought perhaps you could tell me a bit about it and its history.”

“I’m very busy.”

“Oh, it will not take long. I will be as small an inconvenience as I can possibly be.”

Quilla shivered. The wind and snow were stinging her face. “Okay, but can we go inside first?”

“Of course,” the Isyar said.

“This way.”

Quilla continued towards the Cathedral. Would the guards let the Isyar in? Maybe because she was with Quilla, they might, but there was no guarantee. If they didn’t, it was hardly Quilla’s fault. She didn’t even know this Isyar anyway. She didn’t owe any answers to her questions.

The central doors were the easiest to reach, so Quilla headed straight for them. The guard on them held up a hand as they approached.

“Quilla Steranovist,” she said. “Prince Garet’s fiancée. I’m expected.”

The guard nodded towards the Isyar.

“She’s with me.”

The guard turned and pulled on one of the heavy doors. It opened slowly. Quilla didn’t want to let too much of the cold air in, so she let go of Nelli’s reins and hurried inside. The Isyar, however, was in less of a rush and took her time.

Inside, a young Eloorin boy with sandy brown hair approached her. He looked a lot like Corvinian and every time she’d seen the boy in the last two weeks, her heart had dropped and she’d had to force herself not to cry. As such, she hadn’t even been able to bring herself to ask the boy’s name.

“His Grace is expecting you, miss.”

“Nelli’s just outside. She needs stabling out of the cold.”

The boy grabbed some furs hanging just to the side of the doors and wrapped them around his robes. Then he rushed into the cold to deal with Nelli. The guard pushed the doors closed after him.

The Isyar was looking around her surroundings, turning her head gradually from one side to the other. There wasn’t much to see in this entry chamber though.

Quilla removed her cloak and hung it on one of the hooks on the walls. She shivered and considered taking the cloak back. Even with the doors closed, the Cathedral of the Gods got draughty. Unfortunately, the cloak would get in the way of the preparation work she needed to do. She would just have to suffer. That was her lot in life these days, anyway.

“This way,” she said to the Isyar.

As soon as they passed through the next doors, the Isyar stopped and gaped. Her head rose to look back above her and then to the sides.

“Is this the first time you’ve seen it?” Quilla asked.

“Yes.”

Quilla had to admit, it was a beautiful place. Coming here most days in the last two weeks had perhaps dulled her appreciation of it.

The vaulted ceiling was supported by massive pillars and wide, pointed arches covered in carvings. Some were simple geometric patterns. Others birds, animals, or people. Sometimes Isyar or maybe angels—it was hard to tell the difference this far below the carvings.

Along the walls were numerous stained-glass windows depicting religious scenes. Thousands of candles flickered throughout the church, casting shadows on the floor of white marble, which was painted with intricate geometric designs. Even the pews were not spared any elegance; they were carved as ornately as everything else. Very little space in the building was left unused. At various locations, monuments stood in remembrance of kings, patriarchs, and other people of historical significance. The elevated chancel at the front was not as wide as the nave, framed on each side by a gilded organ case. A third organ case was positioned at the back over the central great doors that Quilla and the Isyar now stood in front of.

At the far side, Ardon was descending the wide steps that led to the chancel, one hand on one of the golden railings for support. Within the chancel were stalls for the priests, choir, and other officials. Behind those stood the high altar with three gold candelabra around it, one each on the left and right sides, and one behind. A huge stained-glass window, almost as high as the wall, looked down on the altar. All-Father stood in the centre of it, Power on the left, and Nature on the right. Floating above All-Father’s outstretched hand was a globe. Around the three gods, angels, some with feathered wings and some with bat wings, flew. Beneath their feet, the blood-red eyes of Night raged in silent anger.

Quilla sat at the edge of one of the back pews. Since Ardon was already coming this way, she’d let him do all the walking. Zandrue said the best way to handle Ardon was to make him work for everything he wanted of them. Quilla was fine with that. She would just watch the Isyar gaze about.

The Isyar had moved forward and was looking at the right-hand side of the nave, her gaze moving from the first to the second of the two transepts along it. She then looked at the opposite side, one side of her face scrunching a little. “Is there not a fourth transept?”

Quilla shook her head.

Opposite the transept for Nature, there was just a blank area of wall where people might expect a fourth transept. It was the only space on the wall devoid of any decoration. No stained-glass windows, no carvings, no candles. The was only a single, small plaque. Quilla had read it many times: Lest we forget the Night.

“Interesting,” the Isyar said. She pointed to the back right transept. “Nature there, I see. And the front two?”

“Power on the right and All-Father on the left,” Ardon said, having made it most of the way across the nave now.

The Isyar frowned. “All-Father. Why do you gender the gods so? Know them so intimately?”

Ardon smiled and spread his arms. “Cosmos is the Isyar name, isn’t it?”

“That is the translation, yes.”

“I will concede that perhaps we should adopt that name,” Ardon said, reaching the Isyar and stopping, “but tradition can be a hard thing to overcome.”

The Isyar frowned again. “Is it true this place was built without magic?”

Ardon nodded. “Yes.”

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The Isyar gazed about again, but shook her head as she did so. “That is incredible. How?”

“I’m not an expert on the exact building techniques,” Ardon said, “but it took very precise plans, considerable effort, and a lot of time. Do you not have such buildings in Isyaria?”

The Isyar stopped gazing about and looked at Ardon. “Not exactly, but we do have buildings as grand. But they were built with magic. I do not think we could build such a place without it. How long did it take?”

Ardon clasped his hands in front of him. “Three centuries. The first stone was laid in twelve forty-two and the last in fifteen forty-eight, and it has stood for the nearly eight hundred years since.”

“Twelve forty-two,” the Isyar mouthed. She repeated it a couple times.

“I am Ardon, Patriarch of the Universal Religion, and rector of this building.”

The Isyar scowled. “Universal Religion. A bit presumptuous don’t you think?”

Ardon lowered his head. “I did not name it, and it is not my place to rename it.”

“Let me guess, tradition is a hard thing to overcome.”

Ardon chuckled. “I take your point. May I ask whom I have the honour of speaking to?”

The Isyar’s wings twitched and she twisted her lips. It took her a few moments to answer. “Lisanacora.”

“We don’t get many Isyar here, Lisanacora, though I wish that were not the case. The last time an Isyar entered this building, as far as I’m aware, was at Princess Felitïa’s naming ceremony over two decades ago. I couldn’t tell you the last time before that.”

“Really?” the Isyar said.

“Not many Isyar come to Arnor City,” Quilla said, feeling she should add something to the conversation before they forgot she was here.

“True, but as I understand it, the main reason is that your own religious beliefs forbid you to enter a place of worship for a different religion.” Ardon peered closely at the Isyar. “Was I mistaken?”

The Isyar raised her thin, barely perceptible grey eyebrows. “I do not know. I am not an expert on religion.”

Ardon’s eyes narrowed. Then he shrugged. “Whatever the case may be, we are honoured to have you here now. What is the purpose of your visit?”

“Just to learn. Quilla offered to answer some questions.”

When had she told Lisanacora her name?

Right. She had announced it to the guards.

Had she made a mistake agreeing to answer this Isyar’s questions? She had assumed they would just be simple questions about how to get around in Arnor City. But the questions hadn’t even started yet and already, it seemed like the Isyar wanted considerably more.

Ardon came over to Quilla. “That was very kind of Quilla.” He sat in the pew in front of her and lowered his voice. “Making an old man walk this long distance. Taking lessons from Zandrue, I see.”

Quilla flinched. He had guessed so easily.

She straightened up and did her best to regain her composure. “We met outside. She seemed lost. I thought it would be good to help.”

“Always a good thing.” Ardon looked back over to Lisanacora. “What are your questions? I will be happy to help along with Quilla.”

Lisanacora walked over to them and smiled. “I have learned a lot already, thank you. But I do have one other question.”

“Go ahead,” Ardon said.

“Depending on your answer, you may find this question strange.”

There was silence for a moment.

Ardon just waited for her to continue.

“That’s okay,” Quilla said.

“What is the state of relations with the Volgs?”

Ardon tilted his head slightly. “You refer to the war?”

Lisanacora pulled back her head a little and tilted it as well, almost mirroring Ardon’s action. She hesitated. “Yes, the war.”

“Preparations proceed,” Ardon said. “I am not privy to all of them, and those I do know, I’m afraid I can’t reveal.”

Lisanacora nodded. “Of course. I understand.”

Ardon’s eyes narrowed. “Any other questions?”

Lisanacora opened her mouth as if to reply, but hesitated again. “No. That is all for now.”

Ardon stood. “Then Quilla here will show you out. It’s been a pleasure, Miss Lisanacora.”

“Just Lisanacora.”

“Of course. A pleasure. I hope we will see you here again sometime.”

“Perhaps,” Lisanacora said.

Ardon bowed his head to her and turned towards the chancel.

Lisanacora looked expectedly at Quilla.

Quilla stood up. “This way.” She led the Isyar back to the doors.

The boy who reminded her of Corvinian was back in the entry chamber. Quilla was about to call to him when Lisanacora put a hand on her arm.

“One last thing.”

“Yes?”

Lisanacora hesitated for several seconds. Then she lowered her voice. “I have a message.”

“A message?”

“For the Will-Breaker.”

Shit. Gods-damned fucking shit!

Why did everything always come back to Felitïa?

Quilla gritted her teeth. “I take it our encounter wasn’t just random then.”

Lisanacora looked aside, towards the boy. She kept her voice low. “Not as such, no.”

Quilla took a deep breath, tried not to explode at this person who had been misleading her. “What’s your message?”

“You must get the pearl to her.”

“Pearl?”

Lisanacora continued to watch the boy, who was watching them, waiting for them to call on him. “I do not have the full information. All I know is you must get the pearl to the Will-Breaker. I am taking a great risk saying this to you, but you will understand soon, I think. Get the pearl to the Will-Breaker. I must go before I put us both in danger.” She walked straight for the doors.

“That?” Quilla called after her. “That’s your fucking message? What the hell am I supposed to do with that? What pearl? I don’t know of any fucking pearl!”

But the Isyar was gone.

The boy was still in his place, staring at her. “Are you all right, miss?”

Quilla looked about her. There was no sign of Lisanacora. “Where’d the Isyar go?”

“Out, miss.”

“Out?”

The boy nodded. “Yes, miss. A moment ago. I took her out.”

Quilla shivered, but not from the cold. “You did?”

“Yes, miss. Just now. You must have seen. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“That fucking bitch.” She must have used magic on her.

The boy paled. “Miss?”

Quilla threw up a hand. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” She stormed back into the nave.

Ardon was most of the way back to the chancel, and Quilla had a suspicion he wasn’t going to come back this way. She would have to go to him this time. She needed to be at the other end anyway.

He waited for her at the chancel steps.

“The casket will be carried to here.” He indicated a spot in front of the stairs. “You will be seated in the front pew until then, but after it takes its place, you will need to move over here, just to the side. As Garet’s fiancée, you are his living representative, no matter how much the Queen might object.”

Quilla sighed and moved over to the spot he was indicating.

“Just a little more to your right.”

She groaned and adjusted her position. When was he going to come out with it?

“A little more.”

He was doing this on purpose. She was sure of it. She moved a little more.

“Better. What did she say to you on the way out?”

There it was. Would he believe her if she denied Lisanacora had said anything? Probably not, but it was worth a shot. She’d rather talk to Zandrue about this first. “Not much. Just thanked me again for helping her. She was kind of odd, wasn’t she?”

Ardon began up the steps. “I suppose you could describe her as odd. She was unaware we were at war with the Volgs, after all. That’s news I would have expected the whole world to know by now.”

Quilla followed him. “But she was asking about the war, wasn’t she?”

“No, she was asking about the state of relations with the Volgs. A very different question. She might have considered war was a possible answer, but she didn’t know it in advance.”

“But how could she not know about the war?”

He paused and turned back to face her. “How indeed? You’re sure she said nothing else to you on her way out?”

Quilla nodded, tried to look him straight in the eye. “Absolutely sure. What makes you think otherwise?”

“You came back very annoyed.”

“I banged my foot on the doors.” There was no way he believed that.

Ardon shrugged. “If you say so.” He walked to the pulpit. “When I tell you to, you will come up here and say whatever it is you feel like saying about Garet. Don’t worry about length. It can be as brief or as long as you desire. People will listen or they won’t. After you have had your say, I will call upon his Majesty to speak and then the other members of the Royal household. Any questions?”

Quilla shook her head. “No.”

“Good. I’ve decided the gifts should be arranged here in the chancel after all. You can decide exactly how you wish to place them. I’ll take you to the Great Hall so you can collect them. Merith and Durant will help you. Just be sure there is a clear walkway to both the altar and pulpit.” He returned to the chancel steps. “It’s a shame that odd Isyar did not say anything more. I would be very interested in knowing her true purpose, but oh well. Can’t have everything, can we?”

Quilla shook her head, maybe a little too fast—not that it mattered anyway. Ardon already knew she was lying. And he knew that she knew, and all that sort of thing. But she also knew that what Lisanacora said didn’t give any more insight as to her purpose.