“The mainland’s a dangerous place,” she said. “If you live and work in the Old World, gods demand sacrifices to support themselves. If you’re in the New World, the Deathless Kings and their councils charge heavy fees to fund police forces, utilities, public works. If you travel from place to place, a horde of gods and goddesses and Craftsmen chase after pieces of your soul. You can give them what they want—or you can build an idol with us, on Kavekana, and keep your soulstuff safe here. The idol remains, administered by our priests, and you receive the benefits of its grace wherever you go, no more subject to gods or Deathless Kings than any other worshipper of a foreign deity.”

“So, you believe your idols’ main function is sacrifice avoidance.”

The water glass tempted, despite its sharp edges. “I didn’t say that. We offer our pilgrims freedom to work and worship as they choose.”

“And part of that freedom is the assurance you will care for the idols you create. That you will protect the souls with which your clients trust you.”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you jumped into the pool?”

“I thought I could save your clients’ idol,” Kai said. “She was drowning.”

“By ’she’ you mean the construct designated Seven Alpha.”

“Yes.”

“Were you familiar with Seven Alpha’s case history?”

“I was not.”

“Would you say your High Priest Mister Jason Kol is a competent judge of an idol’s health?”

“Jace? Yes. He trained me.”

“And Mara Ceyla?”

“Of course.” She’d said that too fast, she knew, when Ms. Kevarian made a note of it. Or else she hadn’t, and Ms. Kevarian was making notes at random to confuse her. “Our Applied Theologians are the best anywhere.”

“What made you second-guess your coworkers?”

“I didn’t.” She bristled at the implicit scorn. Jace had cautioned her, and their Craftsman, too: keep your answers short, within the limits of the question. As if she were a child to be led. She swallowed her anger, and it cut her stomach. “I thought I could do more.”

The Craftswoman’s client produced a full moon from his sleeve, walked it along his fingers, and vanished it again. His fingers left black trails in the air. Ms. Kevarian nodded. “What could you do that they could not?”

“First, I was willing to run a big risk to save Seven Alpha—I needed to let her take my soul so she would have collateral for the contract. That’s more than Jace could expect or ask of Mara. Second, I believed I could survive in the pool long enough to save the idol. There wasn’t time to contact your clients, but if I approached Seven Alpha just before she died, she might have accepted the deal out of sheer animal self-preservation.” She stopped talking. Wait for the questions, they’d said, even if you chafe at silence.