“A mystery to be answered,” Book insisted, “when we reach the Crescent.”

“That is what you intend to pray for? Knowledge?”

“I intend to pray for something that should have happened when this kingdom fell. I will pray for the Mad God’s death.”

Pilgrim sighed in derision. “You expect him to just will himself into extinction? Mad or not, I find that hard to credit.”

“Something happened here.” Book’s expression became fierce as he leaned closer, his voice an urgent whisper. “Something vile, unnatural. Something that fractured the holy concord between the earth, the Higher Realms and the Infernus. It is my belief the nascent church tried to stop it, and failed. I will complete their mission. The truth of the Risen Word cannot be denied. When the Mad God hears it, he will have no choice but to yield.”

Staring into this fanatic’s glaring eyes, Pilgrim felt an old but familiar need building in his breast. It required no stoking or taunts from the voice. This was all his own. How many like this had he killed? Most quickly in the fury of battle, some slow in the aftermath, and none of it regretted. He couldn’t remember the full number, but faced with this one, just as unreasoned and implacable as all those others, he felt it hadn’t been too many.

“On the journey to the chapel of the Absolved,” he said, voice soft, “I happened across a caravan under attack from raiders. On one of their bodies, I found this.” His hand went to the purse on his belt, extracting one of the coins stamped with the sigil of the Risen Church. “You said you had silver.”

Book blinked, his fervour fading as he shuffled back. “I hired men to escort me across the desert,” he said. “What they did afterwards was their own affair.”

He’s lying, my liege, the voice drawled as if smothering a yawn. Just snap his neck and have done. Or take your leisure over it as was your wont when time allowed, I seem to recall. I doubt our fellow pilgrims will miss him much.

“Hired men?” Pilgrim asked. “Former crusaders gone renegade but still loyal to the church would be my guess, especially when paid. Did you send them after the beast charmer, or were they simply ordered to slaughter any caravan they found?” The slight tic in Book’s gaze told him he had found the target. “Trying to improve your odds, then,” he added with a smile. “For a man so certain of his mission, you seem keen to ensure only your prayer is heard at the Crescent.”