‘Most exemplary, my son,’ Emban said. ‘I will therefore grant you and your young companion here full absolution for your part in sending this miserable heretic to face the infinite mercy of God.’ The fat man looked around the chamber. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘to return to our interrogation of this “pilgrim”. We have here a Rendor – armed with a sword, you’ll note. Since the only Rendors currently on this part of the Eosian continent are Eshandists, we must conclude that this “pilgrim” was one as well. Given their views, would we expect Eshandist heretics to come to the Holy City to celebrate the elevation of a new Archprelate? Has our dear brother Makova somehow miraculously converted the heretics of the south to the worship of the true God and rejoined them with the body of our holy mother Church? I pause for the reply of the esteemed Patriarch of Coombe.’ He stood looking expectantly at Makova.

‘I’m certainly glad he’s on our side,’ Ulath murmured to Tynian.

‘Truly.’

‘Ah,’ Emban said as Makova looked at him helplessly. ‘It was too much to hope for, I suppose. We must all apologize to God for our failure to seize this opportunity to heal the wound in the body of our holy mother. Our regret, however, and our bitter tears of disappointment must not dim our eyes to the harshness of reality. The “pilgrims” at our gates are not what they seem. Our dear brother Makova has been cruelly deceived, I’m afraid. What stands at the gates of Chyrellos is not a multitude of the faithful, but a ravening army of our most hated foes bent on destroying and desecrating the very centre of the true faith. Our own personal fate, my brothers, is of no moment, but I should advise you all to make your peace with God. The horrors the Eshandist heretics inflict upon members of the higher clergy are too well known to require repeating. I myself am totally resigned to facing the flames.’ He paused, then grinned. He clapped both hands to his huge paunch. ‘I’ll make a jolly fire, though.’

A titter of nervous laughter rippled through the chamber.

‘Our own fates, my brothers, are not important,’ Emban continued. ‘What matters here is the fate of the Holy City and the fate of the Church. We face a cruel but simple decision. Do we surrender our mother to the heretics, or do we fight?’

‘Fight!’ one Patriarch shouted, springing to his feet. ‘Fight!’

The cry was quickly taken up. Soon the entire Hierocracy was on its feet, roaring out the word, ‘Fight!’