The parson looked at him curiously. Abu had a reputation among Starbridges, and though he didn’t know this man by sight, yet Abu could tell by the hardness of his smile that the man was already making guesses. “Certainly,” he shouted. “Come up with me into my office. Come up and have a . . . have a drink.”

The parson had heard of him. “There is no need for that,” said Abu, still mouthing his words silently, so that only one half of their conversation was audible to the people around them. “I don’t mean to take up any of your time. The thing I want is close at hand.” He paused, then went on. “My servant’s father is condemned to death. I promised I would save him.”

The parson turned his face so that the dead half showed, and then he turned it back. “That was a foolish promise,” he said.

“I don’t see why. It is my wish.”

“Come up to my office. We can talk.”

“No. I don’t want to.”

In the sanctuary, the voices of the choir filled the vault. “This is a very large request,” said the parson.

“Which man is it?”

“That one,” said the prince aloud, pointing at Abject’s father. The old man stood apart from the other prisoners, staring dully at his son. And when he saw Prince Abu point at him, he cowered and sidled back to stand next to his jailers.

“It is a large request,” repeated the parson loudly. “That man is rightfully condemned. He has broken literacy statute 14c and property statutes 39x and y.”

“Nevertheless, it is my wish,” said the prince. With the sound of his voice, he was conscious of a feeling rising in him that he had never known, a kind of happiness.

The parson shrugged, and smiled with the living half of his face. “Take him,” he said, and made a gesture with his finger. Abu felt full of happiness and power. But as he stepped back towards the prisoners, he noticed Jason Mock, chained at his wrists and ankles, his cheeks swollen under his beard, as if he had been beaten. One eye was swollen shut. Yet he stood up straight, away from the rest, and his face had no submission in it, only savagery and contempt. “Wait,” said the prince, giddy with new feelings. “Wait.

I want that one too.”

“No,” said Spider Abject, pulling at his sleeve. “It’s too much. Be satisfied with one.” But the parson was still smiling. “Why not?” he said, making the same small gesture with his finger. “Mercy is the virtue of princes.”

In the nave, the singing and the chanting had stopped. Rumors had spread throughout the church, and the aisles were full of people. Excited faces peered around every pillar. Abu was the center of all eyes. “Why not?” he cried. “I’ll take them all.” And he walked forward into the ranks of prisoners. They clustered around him, clanking their chains. He held his hand out to the jailers, and sullenly, they surrendered their keys.