The civil war that Wirrin had vaguely hoped for did not eventuate. That wasn’t a surprise. Wirrin wasn’t executed the next day. That wasn’t a surprise either. What was a surprise was when Rasak stepped into the cell again.

Wirrin couldn’t think of anything else the Gods might want to know from her. She wasn’t going to look a gift mage in the mouth.

‘River, what can I do for you?’

‘Accompany me again,’ Rasak said.

‘If you kill her while I’m stuck in here I’ll be very upset.’ Yern pointed at Rasak.

Rasak looked at her. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

Again, Wirrin was led away from her cell and Vonaer’s mages. The cells were quite near the centre of the Church. An outer wall would have been convenient, but too much to ask for, clearly.

Wirrin was led to a different small room this time. A different War mage stood in the corner, and Olak was missing. Again, Rasak sat down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.

‘It is possible to injure a mage of Iltavaer, isn’t it?’ Wirrin thought.

‘Oh, certainly,’ Ulvaer cackled. ‘We all move at the speed of thought, after all.’

‘You talked to Work,’ Gelas said.

‘I did,’ Wirrin said.

Gelas sighed. ‘I suppose no one asked you not to.’

‘Unlikely that it would have helped,’ Wirrin said. ‘Was that all you wanted? Do you have results to report?’

Gelas rubbed his eyes. Rasak’s grip tightened.

‘We don’t report to you, Wirrin,’ Gelas said.

‘What can I do for you, then, Desert?’ Wirrin asked.

The room was silent.

Wirrin smiled.

‘It didn’t work,’ Gelas said, eventually.

‘Perhaps I’m being too obvious,’ Wirrin said. ‘But do you know for sure it didn’t work? Or was there too much fear of lies being revealed? Did someone back out?’

Rasak’s grip tightened again. ‘It didn’t work.’

‘You can talk to the others, though?’ Wirrin asked. ‘You’re sure you used the right altar?’

‘Yes,’ Gelas said.

‘The other Outsiders tell me that it was once common for mages to speak to the others through their altars,’ Wirrin said. ‘I think it is no longer common.’

None of them said anything.

‘Given that it didn’t work,’ Wirrin said. ‘What do you want from me? Surely not just to report your results?’

‘You’re the only person like you,’ Gelas said. ‘You must know something more, even if you do not know that you know it.’

‘If I knew that I knew it, I don’t think I would be the only one like me,’ Wirrin said. ‘Perhaps I’m selfish.’

‘Perhaps you are,’ Gelas said. ‘But I think you don’t want that girl to die.’

Wirrin frowned. ‘Not a difficult guess.’

‘In that case, I’d like you to think on the subject,’ Gelas said, face blank.

Wirrin rolled her head around on her neck. ‘Each of the Outsiders feels different,’ she said, slowly. ‘They are individuals. Those feelings don’t combine, they overlap.’

Gelas nodded along. Nearby, three other mages were scribbling furiously in notebooks.

‘I think your Outsider feels like chewing and breaking bones,’ Wirrin said, looking at Rasak. ‘But, with more than one within, they speak to each other in such a way that I can’t understand, but feels the same as the way they speak to me. When I looked for Flesh, it felt like that.’

A different three mages, in a different room to the writers, started muttering to each other. The Fiends started talking to each other in the back of Wirrin’s head. She didn’t think she was saying anything too interesting.

‘Health felt it, when you looked,’ Rasak said, grip still tight on Wirrin’s shoulder. ‘How did you do that?’

‘Which of you tried talking to another God?’ Wirrin asked. ‘Was it like what I’m describing?’

Gelas looked at Rasak for a moment. ‘Not precisely,’ he said. ‘The two… feelings did not overlap. They excluded each other, when both spoke to me.’

‘Did one of them win?’ Wirrin asked. ‘Did you hear Growth over… I’m going to guess Health?’

‘Why Health and not War?’ Gelas asked.

‘For some reason, War’s mages aren’t allowed to speak,’ Wirrin said. ‘Which implies to me that it is more secretive than the others.’

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‘Or less trusting,’ Ulvaer cackled.

‘Same thing,’ Naertral burbled.

‘If both attempted to speak, I heard whichever interrupted,’ Gelas said. ‘Whoever spoke second.’

Wirrin didn’t think the Fiends had ever spoken over each other in her head. They had interrupted each other occasionally, but she had never heard them speak over each other. She supposed her situation was different.

‘I noticed, with Ulvaer,’ Wirrin said, slowly, looking at Rasak.

Rasak nodded slowly.

The pens were poised, the muttering paused, waiting on whatever Wirrin would say next.

‘I have another question I want you to answer,’ Wirrin said. ‘I suspect I know the answer to my other question. I think your Outsiders didn’t get rid of Vonaer or Azavaer, or each other, after the War because of Tertic. I think you were all even, by the time Ettovica surrendered, and it would have been a failed effort.’

‘Not comradery, after a war?’ Rasak asked.

‘No, certainly not,’ Wirrin said. ‘The Church was simply too new to risk infighting. And since then, there has been no point.’

‘What is your question, Wirrin?’ Gelas said.

‘I’m left with only one question,’ Wirrin said. ‘I don’t know if your Outsiders will consider it worth my answer. What did they want to achieve, by the banishing of the others?’

Those three mages got back to muttering. They weren’t at it very long.

‘We will not tell you,’ Gelas said.

‘Alas,’ Wirrin said.

The pens stopped moving, the mages stopped muttering. All ten of them were silent for what felt like a very long time.

It was the War mage who broke the silence, in the end. His voice quiet and hoarse. ‘We sought power.’

Wirrin looked at him, waiting for him to say more. ‘In that case,’ Wirrin said. ‘I heard Flesh by listening.’

Gelas’s jaw clenched for just a moment before he composed himself again. ‘In that case, I suppose the girl will die.’

‘Let me ask you something, Gelas,’ Wirrin said. ‘What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? Have you ever broken bones? Ever been stabbed? Bitten by spiders? Stung by bees?’

Gelas did an admirable job of keeping his face blank. He was perfectly still. No one is perfectly still. ‘Wirrin, I do not think you are in a position to threaten me.’

‘I know you think so, Gelas,’ Wirrin said. ‘Was it the scars on your face? Scarification on your body? What is the most pain you’ve ever felt, Gelas?’

Rasak’s grip tightened painfully on Wirrin’s shoulder and, as when she’d met Olak by the river, it suddenly felt as if she had no bones. Her body relaxed completely, she could make no muscle move. As much as she would have liked to maintain eye contact with Gelas, her head lolled.

‘Don’t do it, Wirrin,’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘Is it such a great secret?’ Naertral burbled.

Three walls of the room burst. The War mage was shredded, nowhere to go. Rasak was ravaged and bloody. Wirrin didn’t take the chance. The blood that spattered the room dried in an instant, the water in Rasak’s body evaporated and his flesh burst apart at the smallest level.

Wirrin’s bones were back.

She reached over the table and tipped Gelas upright. ‘Is it this, Gelas?’ she asked. A brick behind Gelas fractured into large shards that dug themselves into his back.

‘Here’s something I know, Raerna,’ Wirrin said. ‘Vonaer stands guard at my cell. Will it simply let you past, when you run there in fear?

Gelas choked. ‘It will.’

‘Here’s something I think, Raerna,’ Wirrin said, standing up from the table and stretching her arms. ‘I think none of you want quite the same thing. Whether it’s as much as Vonaer seeking civilisation, or each of you wishing to be the only one left.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Gelas wheezed.

‘Vonaer’s mages have a skill that I don’t,’ Wirrin said. ‘They hear what goes on in their buildings. And, I think, even if Vonaer were to let you kill the girl. Even if it will not fight you, it trusts you less than the last time I was here.’

Gelas coughed blood onto the table. Wirrin forced the shards of stone through him and into the table.

‘Tassa?’ Wirrin said. ‘Could you come in here, please? I would like to speak to you.’

Immediately, Wirrin’s sense of the building was gone. The whole room nothing but solid, silent stone around her. She didn’t feel the mage who had been standing outside take the last few steps to the door. She heard it swing open.

‘I know Work won’t turn on the others,’ Wirrin said. ‘That would be absolutely foolish. I suspect Work would like to know what the others are up to.’

‘They are already rushing for your cell,’ Tassa said.

‘I doubt that Work has any regard for my opinion.’ Wirrin took a deep breath and rolled her neck. ‘It seems to me that civilisation and peace are, if not part of the process, a perfectly acceptable state of affairs from which to continue.’

Tassa just stared at Wirrin.

‘I have a question for you. How much of a priority were all those altars and symbols, spread everywhere through Nesalan? And do you know why?’ Wirrin asked.

‘They are symbols of the Church,’ Tassa said. ‘Of our righteousness. Our presence. Our influence.’

‘When Ulvaer speaks to its other mages,’ Wirrin said. ‘I feel it at the very edge of my consciousness. I discovered that I can focus on that feeling and observe the other mages.’

Tassa stared.

‘All of these altars, symbols, statues,’ Wirrin frowned. ‘I cannot observe through them. I don’t think you Outsiders can do it either. I think that they only exist when interacted with.’

Tassa nodded.

‘They do not fulfil a role the others had hoped that they would,’ Wirrin said.

Tassa’s face dropped, her eyes glistened. ‘Work, please,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t have… she doesn’t...’

Wirrin smiled. ‘If any of the Gods’ mages could survive it, Vonaer’s could.’

The floor cracked beneath them. Wirrin heaved at the split and the walls broke inward. Tassa tried to stop her. Wirrin had no idea how hard Tassa tried, but her effort was insufficient.

Wirrin pushed at the floor, crushing it into the foundation, pulling the walls inward. ‘Brace yourself,’ she said. Tassa’s whole body clenched, and the centre of the Church collapsed on top of them.

Wirrin sank through the foundation as if it were water. She could feel the people scrambling through the collapsing building above. Could feel islands of peace around Vonaer’s mages.

Except that she could feel Yern, not far away. No sign of that pool of silence that marked Vonaer’s mages. People certainly were rushing.

‘Did you know that worms rejuvenate the earth?’ Naertral burbled. ‘As they eat their way through the dirt, the help to break it up, and help to recycle nutrients and minerals.’

‘I’m not going to eat dirt,’ Wirrin thought.

She burst out of the floor of the cell just in time for a wedge of stone to hit a mage under the chin and take most of his head off. A War mage was faster than a shower of stone shards bursting out of the cell walls.

As the War mage scooped Yern up, a Flesh mage made a grab for Wirrin. A chunk of stone bounced harmlessly off the back of his head. Wirrin stumbled back out of grabbing range. A burst of stone shards copied the chunk and bounced harmlessly off the Flesh mage, shredding his robe.

‘You’re not getting out of here, Wirrin,’ the Flesh mage said.

Three things happened very quickly.

First, the floor under the Flesh mage and the ceiling above him met with great force, blocking the door. Second, Yern bit the War mage, drawing blood on his forearm as he pulled her off. Third, the War mage’s blood dried solid in his veins.

Wirrin and Yern looked at each other for a moment, panting. Yern threw herself on Wirrin.