Wirrin woke again when someone stepped into the cell. The vibrations of the step stopped abruptly at the doorway. Yern was still asleep on her chest. Wirrin opened her eyes.

Despite the solid, face-covering grey robe, Wirrin was quite sure that this was a different Flesh mage. She supposed it made sense to send a Flesh mage, the only variety she had yet to kill.

The mage stopped just inside the open door of the cell, hands clasped behind his back. ‘Wirrin,’ he said. ‘My name is Rasak.’

‘Picked the wrong one, Rasak,’ Wirrin said. ‘Should’ve picked Haerst with a name like that.’

Rasak had much better control of his face than the previous Flesh mage. ‘I don’t know which one that is, but I’m very happy to have been accepted by Health.’

‘It interests me,’ Wirrin said. ‘That your God is called Health, now. Do you know what it was called before the War?’

Rasak had very good control over his face. ‘Not my business.’

‘Vos tholgek,’ Yern muttered. ‘Vesh og gok vik eshaulgoll?’

Wirrin shrugged and waggled her eyebrows at Yern. To Rasak, she asked: ‘What can I do for you, Rasak?’

‘You can come with me, Wirrin,’ Rasak said. ‘That we may speak.’

‘Somewhere Vonaer can’t hear?’ Wirrin asked, with a smile. ‘Vostupik, Yern.’

Finally, Rasak twitched.

Yern groaned and rolled off Wirrin. ‘Vos vospaugoll,’ she muttered.

Wirrin shouldn’t have been so surprised when Rasak put a hand on her shoulder. Nor should she have been surprised by two mages wearing copper crossed hammers standing outside the cell, frowning under their hoods. Wirrin waggled her eyebrows at them.

As they walked, Wirrin felt more and more through the floor beneath her. Her and Rasak’s footsteps sent waves out through the huge Church in the centre of Ahepvalt. She could feel hundreds of people, with the occasional dead spots where other mages of Vonaer must have been.

‘It is not like this sense of ours,’ Mkaer rumbled. ‘They must do it consciously.’

‘Could Vonaer know that Azavaer had also been excluded?’ Wirrin wondered.

‘We can’t know,’ Mkaer rumbled.

Wirrin could feel what were certainly other mages, in their heavy robes with hoods over their heads. She didn’t have the precision to feel the little medallions they all wore, but there were easily a hundred of them, excluding however many were hidden by Vonaer.

‘Did Vonaer know your mages could feel like this?’ Wirrin thought.

‘Yes,’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘Are they hiding something in particular from us, do you think?’ Naertral burbled. ‘Or is Vonaer behaving as expected.’

‘Only one way to find out,’ Ulvaer cackled.

Quite a ways from any of the dead-spots that marked Vonaer’s mages, Wirrin was led into a small room lit by an oil lantern. Around a small table were three other mages: a War mage, a Growth mage, and the Flesh mage who had defeated Wirrin by the river.

Rasak pushed Wirrin into one of two empty seats, next to the other Flesh mage, who put a hand on her other shoulder.

‘Wirrin,’ said the Growth mage. ‘My name is Gelas.’

‘Another wrong God,’ Wirrin said. ‘Should’ve picked Ulvaer.’

‘I forget,’ Gelas said, face very blank. ‘You’re some kind of polyglot.’

‘If you’re curious,’ Wirrin smiled. ‘Your name means dry land, or desert.’

‘Do me next,’ said the other Flesh mage. ‘My name is Aksov Wirrin tok bolrasak.’

Wirrin grinned. ‘I’ll call you Wirrin,’ she said. ‘And it will cause no confusion.’

‘His name is Olak,’ said Rasak.

‘I like Wirrin, better,’ Olak said.

‘At least one of you has some sense,’ Wirrin said. ‘And how about him’ – she nodded to the War mage – ‘or is he abiding by the rule about not speaking?’

‘Not speaking to outsiders,’ Gelas said.

Wirrin snorted. ‘Must make being a mage difficult.’

‘I’m starting to wonder if Yern was right,’ Ulvaer cackled.

‘She’s very sensible,’ Wirrin thought. ‘We know this.’

‘So,’ Wirrin said aloud. ‘What can I do for the four of you, out of earshot of any mages of Vonaer and Azavaer?’

Olak’s grip on Wirrin’s shoulder tightened for just a moment.

‘I believe Olak already asked you our question,’ Gelas said.

‘You mean Wirrin already asked your question?’ Wirrin smiled.

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Gelas’s eyebrows were edging together, against his will from the look of it. ‘Sure, Wirrin here asked our question.’

‘I didn’t ask anything on your behalf,’ Wirrin said. ‘See how it’s not confusing.’

Gelas’s brows met in the middle, his mouth pulled down at the edges.

‘And besides,’ Wirrin continued. ‘Aksov Wirrin tok bolrasak here didn’t actually ask me anything, did he?’

Gelas rubbed his eyes. The War mage was almost certainly smiling.

‘How did you do it, Wirrin?’ Olak asked. ‘Austovtak?’

‘What do you care?’ Wirrin said. ‘And why keep Vonaer and Azavaer out of it?’

Olak’s hand clenched less, this time.

‘You achieved something new, Wirrin,’ Gelas said. ‘We all want to know more about it.’

‘Wirrin, I have a suspicion,’ Wirrin said, giving Olak a significant look. ‘I suspect that Vonaer and Azavaer like the state of things as they are more than the rest of your Gods.’

Olak’s hand stayed clenched, this time. Not quite painful, but getting there.

‘Which strongly implies something to me,’ Wirrin said, looking at Rasak on her other side. ‘What do you think it implies, River?’

Rasak’s grip did not tighten, his face managed to stay neutral.

‘What I wonder,’ Wirrin continued, looking back at Gelas. ‘Is if it’s something all of you know. Or I could be wrong, I suppose. There’s precedent for that, you know?’

‘I heard you once fell down a whole mountain,’ Gelas said. ‘Because some rich people offered you three flowers to climb to the peak with them.’

‘I told Ketla and Baras about that in confidence,’ Wirrin smiled. ‘For War to spread that sort of thing around is very unprofessional.’

The War mage was certainly smiling.

‘Wirrin, am I allowed to speculate?’ Wirrin asked, looking back to Olak. ‘I wouldn’t want to upset you any further.’

Olak’s grip finally relaxed.

‘What I would say is strongly implied, by the possibility that not all the Gods are happy about the state of things, is that this wasn’t the intention,’ Wirrin said. ‘That they were trying to achieve something else, something more interesting perhaps, by forming their Church and wiping out the worship of the others.’

‘And what would it matter if that were true?’ Gelas asked.

‘As I told Wirrin here, before the aksov tok bolrasak, I’m interested,’ Wirrin said. ‘What could the Gods have wanted to achieve by getting rid of the others. And, had they been able to, would they have gotten rid of more?’

Olak and Rasak’s grips tightened at the same time.

‘The one called War, now, for example,’ Wirrin said. ‘A perfectly capable War, no doubt. But not exactly popular at the time, right? Or Work? No one else much liked Vonaer, right?’

Olak and Rasak’s grips tightened again, getting close to painful now.

‘I imagine you won’t answer these questions,’ Wirrin said. ‘So I’ll ask one that should be easier to answer in this room. Is this what Vonaer and Azavaer wanted? Or were they part of the plan, and are simply satisfied?’

‘You’re not the one asking questions here, Wirrin,’ Gelas said.

‘I’m the one answering them,’ Wirrin said. ‘And I won’t answer any, unless you answer that.’

The room was silent. The mages looked at each other.

‘Keep in mind that I am not asking about anyone represented in this room,’ Wirrin said. ‘I don’t expect any of you to tell me if you were deceiving each other, as well as Work and Light.’

In a room halfway across the Church, three mages stood very close to each other, muttering. Wirrin wasn’t much good at hearing people through the ground either way, but they were far too quiet for her to have any chance.

‘Work sought civilisation,’ Gelas said, eventually. ‘Light is satisfied with peace and quiet.’

‘It should tell its mages that,’ Wirrin smiled. ‘We might not be here.’

Gelas’s lip curled. ‘Light will continue to claim that it was enforcing peace and quiet,’ he said. ‘If you ever have the opportunity to ask it of the riots.’

‘We’ve answered your question, Wirrin,’ Olak said. ‘How did you do this?’

‘I appreciate your candour, Wirrin,’ Wirrin said. ‘I don’t know the answer with complete certainty. It’s never happened before, has it?’

The grips on her shoulders tightened painfully.

‘Let me ask something of your God, Gelas,’ Wirrin said, still smiling. ‘I expect it was third, if what I’ve heard about the first people landing where Ettovica is now, is true. How long ago was that?’

‘We already answered your question, Wirrin,’ Olak said, teeth clenched.

Wirrin kept looking at Gelas, still smiling.

‘It must have been more than eight thousand years, now,’ Gelas said, at length.

‘It will be hard to remember, then,’ Wirrin said. ‘But could it have resisted being awakened, eight thousand years ago? The Outsiders I have found could not, it seems.’

One of those three, huddled mages swore loud enough for Wirrin to hear it.

‘A question for all the Gods who hear me now,’ Wirrin said. ‘Did you ever try to join a mage? Join another Outsider already within someone? Or did you refuse every request like the other Outsiders did?’

The hands on Wirrin’s shoulders relaxed enough to almost let go.

‘I have no idea what would happen,’ Wirrin admitted. ‘And nor do any of you. If you do decide to try it, I’d dearly like for you to tell me your results.’

All four mages were silent. In that room across the Church, those three mages were muttering furiously. Getting progressively louder, but still not loud enough for Wirrin to make out more than a syllable or two at a time.

Wirrin was only slightly less certain that this would fail than she had been when she tried it with Yern. She put a hand over each of the Flesh mage’s hands and tried to concentrate.

There was a feeling like chewing, like a bone snapping.

Wirrin woke, back in the cell.

‘Not dead yet,’ Yern said.

‘Not dead yet,’ Wirrin smiled. She was sore, tired, and laying on the floor as if she’d just been chucked in there with no regard for comfort. Yern was sitting on the bed.

‘Was it useful, then?’ Yern asked.

‘Not as useful as I might have hoped,’ Wirrin said, sitting up slowly.

‘Deeply useful,’ Mkaer rumbled. ‘The so-called-Gods had to lie to each other for their war to work last time. If we can sow doubt, it may be possible to avoid another war by turning them against each other.’

Wirrin frowned to herself. She would never have thought of it before. She’d never had any interest in the Church. She cared about the things they’d done to people, of course. But how they worked, what they were like? She couldn’t have cared less.

‘What does it matter if the Gods are lying to each other?’ Wirrin asked, aloud. ‘The Church has been together five hundred years. Something so minor isn’t going to make a difference now, is it?’

Yern pointed to herself and mouthed something to Wirrin. Wirrin had no idea what Yern was trying to say. She shrugged.

‘I thought all the Gods got along,’ Yern said, a bit too loud. ‘How else could they have won the War?’

Wirrin smiled, and shrugged. ‘That’s the point of the lies, presumably,’ she said. ‘To make sure Tavak Tesholg would participate.’

Yern frowned, her next question was much more sincere. ‘Is that Work? Not the God of Flatulence?’ she giggled.

Wirrin chuckled. ‘I always forget about that. It’s Work, yes. The real word for flatulence is takavt, right?’

Yern, giggling, nodded. ‘It’s the same word, Wirrin.’

Wirrin couldn’t feel the Work mages outside the door, so they must have still been there.