Abelard finished his third watch vigil in the Sanctum of Kos Everburning. He knelt before the glistening brass-and-chrome altar, said the final words—until ash and dust kindle once more to flame—amended his final amen, and felt the grace of God ebb. Lord Kos was kind, and Lord Kos was gentle, and Lord Kos was a fire that consumed. And though Lord Kos had flowed through Abelard tonight, had burned in His disciple’s heart, a space lingered between them.

Kos understood, was the mad piece of it all. The Everburning Lord knew Abelard’s hidden pain and would let Abelard confront that pain on his own time. Which comprehension displayed such depth of trust Abelard staggered to conceive it, for Kos had been betrayed by His own priests before.

The altar flame twisted, casting golden light on the carved beasts and heroes that lined the sanctum walls—and the bas-reliefs, long stored and now returned, of the gargoyles and their Lady.

Abelard dusted off his knees, bowed his head in thanks, and walked to the window, tapping out a fresh pack of cigarettes. He tore the pack open, fished a cigarette from within, and rolled it between his fingers, contemplating the tobacco. Outside, below, beyond the green circle of the Holy Precinct, lay Alt Coulumb: street corner constellations, drifting smoke.

God’s curiosity and concern licked the edges of Abelard’s mind even as fire licked the cigarette tip.

Cardinal Evangelist Bede awaited Abelard in the vestry. The big man filled much of the narrow space, and his pipe smoke filled the rest. He’d been examining a relic case when Abelard entered, and did not turn from the case at first.

Abelard bowed. “Cardinal Evangelist. Glory to the Flame.”

Bede waved one hand in a vague circle. “And let all that’s ash burn once more. Was your vigil enlightening?”

Abelard removed the sacred stole from around his neck, passed it through the smoke of the incense smoldering atop the room’s small shrine, and folded the velvet in quarters before draping it over a hook. He removed, also, the flame medallion, a larger version of the one he wore beneath his robes. “I am ever at the Lord’s service.”

“That bad, eh?”