Mara turned. Stopped. Twisted the toe of her shoe into broken lava. Stuffed her hands in her pockets, pulled them out again, crossed her arms, uncrossed them. She walked to the edge of the pool, glanced in, shuddered, retreated.

“Not my problem,” Kai said, and realized she’d spoken out loud to her empty office—empty, at least, of people. The altars and prayer wheels and rosaries and fetishes and sacrificial knives kept their own counsel, as always. “Damn.”

She walked the long lonely hallway to the break room and descended a winding stair to the caldera floor, to join the death watch. She paused at the foot of the stairs. She could still go. They hadn’t seen her yet.

Leaving from her office would have been understandable. Leaving now was cowardice.

And anyway, Mara needed a friend.

Kai stepped out into the night, into view.

Cliffs above circumscribed a sky swirled with alien stars. Kai approached over lava five hundred years cool.

Mara’s feet ground gravel as she turned. “You came.” Her voice was at once relieved and bitter. “I didn’t expect you.”

“How are you holding up?” Kai asked.

“I’m fine.” Mara sipped coffee from a white mug marked with the Order’s black mountain sigil. Her free hand trembled. She turned the hand palm in, then out, spread her fingers, and watched them shake. She laughed a laugh of dry leaves. “I wish it would be over soon. Sooner.”

Kai wanted to touch the other woman’s shoulder, but hooked her thumbs through her belt loops instead.

Wind whistled over the crater’s jagged lip. Gavin seemed not to have noticed Kai’s arrival or overheard their conversation. Bent by the pool’s edge, he watched the idol dying within.

“Waiting is the worst part,” Mara said. “Knowing I’m helpless.”

“There has to be something you can do.”

Her laugh was short. “I wish.”

“Your idol just needs a loan. A few hundred souls on credit, to keep her alive until the market recovers.”

“No one knows when the market will recover, or if. Makes it hard to price a loan.”

“Sacrifice to her, then. We can afford the soulstuff to get her through the next few days.”

“Shame I’m all out of virgins and aurochs. What the hell’s the plural of ‘aurochs’ anyway?”

“Use the Order’s funds. You’re a priest. You’re allowed.”

“Jace says no.”

“Did he say why?”

“Does it matter?” She paced again, in circles. “He said no.”

“Blaming yourself won’t help.”

“Who do you think my clients will blame when their idol dies: The market? Or their hired priestess?” She jabbed her thumb against her sternum. “The guilt’s mine sooner or later. I might as well accept that.”

“Your clients signed off on the trade. They knew the risks.”

“I wonder what it feels like,” Mara said after a long silence. “Losing half of your soul at once.”