They were also full trained in the arts martial, and were fully able to take action if circumstances demanded it. No planet that dared to consider itself civilised was without a hospice or valetudinarium staffed by such Sisters.

The woman stood and met Miriya's gaze. She seemed on the verge of tears, but her hands were balled into fists. 'You... You are Lethe's commander. Sister Miriya.'

'I had that honour.’ Miriya replied carefully.

The words seemed to pain the girl. Той. Let her die.'

'Lethe ended her life as she lived it, in battle against the heretic and the witchkin.' Miriya replied, taken aback by the young woman's grief.

'I want to know how it happened,' snapped the Hospitaller. You must tell me.'

Miriya gave a slow shake of the head. That is a matter for the Orders Militant, not for you.'

You have no right to keep it from me.’ Tears streaked the woman's face. 'I am her sister!'

Miriya's gesture took in the whole of the convent. *We are all her Sisters.’

The Hospitaller pulled at her collar and tugged out a length of intricate silver chain: a rosary, the like of which Miriya had only ever seen worn by one other person. 'Where did you get that?'

'I am Sister verity Catena of the Order of Serenity.’ said the girl. 'Sibling to Sister Lethe of the Order of our Martyred Lady, orphan of the same mother.’ She grabbed Miriya's wrist. 'Now you will tell me how my only blood kin was killed, or by the Golden Throne I'll claw it from you!'

She saw it instantly: the same curve of the nose, the eyes and the determination burning behind them. The moment stretched taut in the silence, Verity's anger breaking against the cold dejection that cloaked Miriya.

'Very well.’ said the Celestian, after a long silence. 'Sit with me, Sister Verity, and I will tell you the hard and unforgiving truth.’

The skinny youth rolled the lit candle between his fingers, playing with the soft tallow, tipping it so the rivulets of molten wax made coiled tracks around its length.

'Nervous?' asked Rink, balancing on the edge of the table.

Ignis glanced up at the other man. 'Are you asking me or telling me?' Rink hadn't been able to sit still for five minutes since they arrived in the saloon, and even now in this secluded back room, he was constantly in motion. As if to illustrate the point, Rink fingered the tin cup of recaf on the table and licked his lips.

'I'm not nervous.’ The large guy said it with such bland innocence that it made Ignis smirk. 'I just... don't like this place.’

'You'll get no argument from me.’ said the youth, teasing the flame along the candle's wick. He shook his head. 'Ach. I can't believe we're even

here.’

'My point.’ retorted Rink, putting the cup down again. 'Maybe we should just give this up as a bad job and-'