“You know the difference between an asset and an income stream. As for Justice—she’s strong. Since I joined with her, it’s been a challenge to remain myself. I hear her in the back of my mind, like a heresy. Some nights I really do believe all that punishment-fit-the-crime stuff. Her jackboots march through my dreams.” She shivered. “You know what that’s like, not being sole master of your mind, always afraid this thing you hate will rear back up inside you and make you dance.”

Tara grabbed the spark from the goddess’s hand. Soulstuff sang through her blood, and the world bloomed with missing colors. “I want your word you won’t steal from me again, or borrow without my permission. Your binding pledge.”

“Fine,” the goddess said. “My word: I will not take from you again unless you will it. Okay?”

“Deal.” The promise settled as a lock between them. “I didn’t think you could do that in the first place.”

“The rules are looser between a Lady and Her priestess.”

“Oh, no.”

“Not that you’re a good priestess: you don’t sacrifice or pray, and you ward your dreams so thick I’m surprised you haven’t gone insane. Humans need to dream, you know. It’s how the mind breathes. But you have fought on my behalf. You let me live inside your heart. I must admit, this is a new one on me: I’ve never had a Craftswoman priestess before.”

“I’m not a priestess.”

“You just don’t like the sound of the word. Priestess.” She savored the sibilants. “How else could I talk to you like this?”

“You’re smaller than most gods. Makes it easier for you to assume human forms and speak human speech.”

“I couldn’t talk this way with most priests, back in the day—I’ve been inside your skull. That, plus being, as you say, smaller, spread among fewer minds, it does help. It’s like we have a bond.”

“That’s deeply creepy,” Tara said. “And you’ve changed the subject. You’ve exposed us.”

“What’s the alternative? I can’t lean on Kos forever. I need my own operation. I spent most of his gift sending dreams, answering prayers. When the Criers’ story hit the streets, my new followers began to doubt: maybe it’s just the gargoyles, maybe there’s no goddess after all. I had to show myself. It was a calculated risk, and it paid dividends. I have power to share now. People are remembering. I’m sorry I had to take from you to make it happen.”

Tara ate another carrot.

“Have you ever loved someone?” the goddess asked.

She set down the bowl.