He took off his coat and stowed his gun. Then he unrolled his prayer mat, faced north, and went through the salaat for evening prayer. There was no call to prayer here, only the bells for midnight mass and the weekly call to services every ninth day. It was a lonely thing, to pray alone, to speak to God alone. Salaat always calmed his nerves, though, and when he finished the final recitation, he remained on his knees for some time, breathing deeply. If someone had asked him seven years before what he thought he would miss most about leaving Nasheen, he would not have thought about the call to prayer. Mostly, he missed the sense of being part of something larger than himself. Praying alone every day just reminded him of how different he was here.

As he settled into bed, he heard a soft whistle. He reached below the bed to where his shotgun lay, and waited. The whistle came again. Then a scrabbling on the roof. He remained still until he saw a familiar, scruffy-headed outline in the entry.

“Get in here before I shoot you on accident,” Eshe said.

Adeliz climbed down into the room, slender and quiet as a shadow in her baggy trousers and coat. The first time she’d come into his room, he hadn’t noticed her until she had her hands on his shotgun. Why they hadn’t killed each other then, he wasn’t so sure.

She crouched near the stove. “Cold in here,” she murmured. She talked softly, slip of a voice, just like she moved. “I think you should come to mass tonight,” she said

“I thought I wasn’t invited anymore.”

The last time he went to midnight mass, he’d been roughed up and escorted out by three priests. Adeliz was one of the first members of the Fourré he had met, and it was she who led him to the first sorry cell of defeated shifter rebels. She was only seven or eight back then, but could pick a pocket like the most hard-assed kid in Mushtallah. Her fierce little face and fast fingers reminded him of himself, some days. That meant he liked her—but he knew better than to trust her.

“Sometimes they forget,” she said. “What about the puppets tomorrow?”

“No, I have a wake to go to.”

“Another priest? Not the one you killed tonight?”

“You heard about that?”

“I hear about everything.”

“Yes, it’s the wake for a different priest.”

“The Madame will not be pleased.”

“When was the last time she was pleased with me?”

“True, true.” Adeliz hopped from foot to foot. “Are you taking the girl with you? Your new partner? She was very angry you didn’t take her out tonight.”

“Isabet is always angry.”

“It’s why you get along so well,” Adeliz said, and beamed.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Eshe said.