Hellfire webbed the black. Bonds of power tied the invaders—the opposing counsel—together. And two shapes hovered at the center of that infernal rose: a spider of crystal and thorn, and something else, a roil of worms and teeth.

Daphne Mains and Madeline Ramp, vanguard of the opposition.

“Impressive, aren’t they?” Cardinal Evangelist Bede stood by his side. He squeezed his hands as if working dough. “Each member of Ramp’s commission has sent observers to watch us fall. All this because I did not sign their deal.”

The Cardinal, Abelard realized, was scared. Abelard had no reassurance to offer.

So he was surprised when he found himself saying, “They’ll be disappointed.”

“Do you think so?”

He hadn’t before he spoke, but he remembered Slaughter’s Fell, the depth of faith in that young girl as he marked her forehead with ash above her glasses. Even the church’s smell seemed golden. “I believe in this city. I believe in Tara. I believe in our Lord, and His Lady.”

Bede’s head declined, and rose again. “Thank you.” He squeezed Abelard’s shoulder and went to kneel with the other Cardinals.

And thank you, Abelard prayed. The words had been his, and the urge to speak—but a greater power calmed his fear to let them pass his lips.

He felt the fire beneath Alt Coulumb and within its people.

He turned to the altar. Craftsmen would fight the external battle. Theirs was the inner war.

Nestor stood before them. For once the old man did not clear his throat before he spoke. “Let us pray.”

Kneeling, Abelard joined himself to God.

*   *   *

Madeline Ramp and Daphne Mains stood on air. A city lay at their feet and a host at their backs.

“Pleasant morning,” Ramp said.

Beautiful, in fact. The air sweet with coming triumph. Pleasure climbed Daphne’s backbone and nestled behind her heart. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you ready?”

“I am.” She hadn’t realized it until asked.

A silver circle surrounded them, and beyond it stood the Judge, clothed in the shadows of her office. She burned too black to bear.

Daphne squinted and turned away; Ms. Ramp’s second eyelids closed.

“I call these proceedings to order,” the Judge said in a voice that should have broken the ground and let devils spew forth. “We consider the matter of Associated Creditors and Shareholders against Kos Everburning of Alt Coulumb, and Seril Undying of the same.”

“For which our thanks,” Ms. Ramp replied. “We are prepared, once opposing counsel show themselves.”

“Oh,” said a new voice, scalpel cold and similarly curved, from across the circle, “we’re here.”

The voice’s owner wore a white three-piece suit, immaculate. A silver mask covered half a face Telomeri artists would have given their tongues to paint. The eye beneath that mask was red; its mate, still human, the blue Daphne had seen in glacial fissures. One skeletal hand closed around a cane.