“Does it matter?” Izza said, but Cat didn’t look away, didn’t let the subject drop. “They came at night. They dragged us to the priestess’s house first, killed her family and then her. A knife across the throat, just like that. Then they took others. My folks. I guess they wanted the kids for … for whatever. Everyone watched. The gods screamed. I ran. We all should have run. Right? Weeks before, years, when Clock’s Raiders and the One Gleb and the Khalaveri started fighting. But a whole town doesn’t run together. They stand strong until they break, and then they all run in pieces.”

A wagon rolled past behind them, spider-golem staggering over uneven cobblestones. Izza held the ring out on her palm. Moonlight drained the yellow from the gold. She tried to feel the fire of the sailor’s soul once more, but it was gone already. She wondered if the kiss she tasted through him had been freely earned.

Cat did not speak until the street was empty again. When it was, she tested her lower lip between her teeth to feel the form of the words she wanted to say. “I” was the first, and easiest. “I was a cop, once.”

“Like the Penitents.”

“Like,” she said, “and not. I worked for—she was a sort of goddess, I guess. She asked me to chase and destroy evil. I needed her. Because I needed her, I did things that maybe weren’t evil in themselves, but close. And then, when I’d given myself up to her completely … she changed. Became more than she had been, and asked more of me in turn. It was hard to bear. It was scary. I had been a cop. I ended up, hells, I don’t even know what I ended up. ‘Saint’ isn’t the right word. Or ‘avatar.’ But close, I think. She wanted more from me than I’d ever given. And then I had to leave. Best thing for both of us. Turns out leaving’s hard.”

“I know what that feels like,” Izza said. “Faith seems fun. So does leadership. Everyone listens to you. Then you realize that it means the bastards come for you first.”

Cat laughed. “The bastards always come, sooner or later. At least a priestess knows she’ll be first in line.”

“Not much consolation.”

“No,” Cat said. “I guess not.” And: “I’m sorry if you thought I was spying on you. Old habits die hard.”

“I’ll stop stealing,” she said, threw the ring up in the air and caught it, feeling the soulstuff wound within. “With this I have enough for the kids anyway. They’ll make do.”

“What about the boy?”

Izza blinked. “What boy?”