“But you. You are different.”

“Yes,” sighed Abu, depressed by this unlooked-for understanding. “I am a Starbridge. The world was put into my family’s hands to keep this system working. And I won’t die, unless I die by violence. I’ll be given drugs and put to sleep. And when I am asleep, I’ll dream. And out of every dream will grow another dream, and it will be like walking through a sequence of rooms until I open the last door, and I’ll be home in Paradise again.”

He took another drink of water.

“That’s the truth?” asked the boy’s voice, finally.

“That’s what millions believe.”

“Everywhere.”

“No. The world is big. I’m talking about this empire, these dioceses. Elsewhere . . .”

“Well?”

“Elsewhere there are other legends.”

“Legends!” Abu felt the boy’s hand grab his knee again, fingers pressing into his skin. “Barbarian! Do you think I care about your legends? Do you think I’m like you? I live in the world. Bricks and stone, no power on earth can change it. Barbarian! This is what we ran away from. My father’s father’s father’s . . . When he migrated into the physical world. Do you think I want to understand your theories?”

“Please,” said Abu. “You’re hurting me. I’m sorry. It’s . . . difficult.”

“Difficult!” The boy did not relax his grip. “Do you believe it?”

“I believe . . . something.”

“Something!”

“Life isn’t perfect. There’s a reason why life isn’t perfect. I believe that. Please. You’re hurting me.”

“But you live as if you believed it all, don’t you? Starbridge!”

“Yes. I suppose I do.”

“But how can you? Don’t you understand—if it is not true, every part of it, then it is a vicious lie, every part of it.”

Abu said nothing, and the boy continued. “You don’t care whether it’s true or not. What do you care?

You have your money.” He let go of Abu’s leg to grab the purse out of his lap, and the prince wondered how he could see so clearly in the dark. Abu heard the purse rip open, the coins flung away.

“You don’t care whether it’s a lie or not,” repeated the boy, softer now. “But I have nothing. Nothing to lose. Listen to me. Your power hangs like a stone in a web of lies. Who is the spider? Who reknits the threads when they snap in every wind?”

“What do you mean? There are thousands of priests.”

“Yes. Who is the spider?”

“There’s the bishop.”

“Yes. The bishop. I have heard of the bishop. This legend is a lie.”

“There are parts of it no one believes,” admitted Abu.

“How can you say it so calmly? You sit and grow rich in your palace. How can you do it? Are you happy?”

“No.”

“Nor I. But I have a plan for happiness. I have heard of the bishop. These soldiers who attack us, they’re called the Bishop’s Purge. They follow orders from the bishop, is that true?”