“Ah,” Avery said, “what I meant was we looked forward to coming here—to this place—not necessarily looking forward to the event itself.”

“Oh, yes. Yes of course. I’m sure everyone feels the same way. It is such an honor. Tell me, tell me, which chapel do you come from?”

“The one ... you know ...” He started to say Givunct, since it was the only Under-town he was familiar with other than Muscud, but that had been a populous place; what if Rigurd hailed from there? And he certainly couldn’t name Muscud; what if Rigurd asked him if he knew a particular priest there? He needed some place that was remote …

“Yes?” Rigurd said.

Janx stepped in. “Soriscu,” he said. “By the Old Channel.”

“Ah!” said Rigurd. “I have heard of that place. Such a wicked town! Wicked! They did not take kindly to our order.” His gaze turned hard, appraising Avery and Janx anew. “It must be difficult, living there. Enduring the prejudice. The intolerance.”

“Small minds,” Avery said.

“Oh, but they shall reap the reward that comes to all such narrow-mindedness,” Rigurd said. “They shall reap nothing, and they shall reap it soon.”

Avery felt a bead of sweat trickle down behind his ear. “Good. It’s no more than they deserve.”

Rigurd blinked at him queerly. “But are they not your friends? Your neighbors? Your family, even? You should preach conversion, not destruction! What mad birds have come to this roost? We will not have such cold breeds here!”

Avery swallowed. His mind was suddenly blank. He wished Janx had strangled the man in the hall.

Once again, Janx saved him. “They ain’t our folk anymore,” the whaler said. “Not after we found the Faith and they turned their backs on us.” He spat. “They can go hang.”

Rigurd stared at him, wrinkles folded around his small, bright blue eyes, then laughed, sounding rather like a crow. “Justly said, my gargantuan friend! My titan! Justly said indeed! They will all burn.”

A priest at the front of the room shook a bell, and they turned to regard him. “All people supposed to help with the dirigible party should leave now,” he said. “As for the rest of you, it is time to assemble. Come with me.”

They left the changing area and followed the priest through a tight hallway, tilting to one side, the floor sometimes sagging. The hallway met another, and another, hitting it at strange angles, and floods of pilgrims in gray robes joined their progress, talking and gesturing to each other gaily. Avery slipped away from Rigurd and fell back next to Janx.

“We gotta get outta here, Doc,” Janx said.

Avery nodded, eyes darting about for a likely avenue of escape. There were many doorways, but the press of people was thick and ducking into one would momentarily jam the traffic, drawing attention.

A man next to Avery, clearly drunk, weaved as he walked, sometimes stumbling over Avery’s feet, and Avery was obliged to gently shove him back on his own course.

“’orry,” the man said, “it’s just these halls. They’re so curvy.”

“They are,” Avery agreed.

“Wanna drink?” The man tapped his chest where a flask must be. “Jus’ the thing to settle y’r nerves.”

“No, thank you.”

“It’s just, well—seein’ him, y’know. I’ve never see ‘im before. But—I’ve heard stories.” He shuddered. “I mean, I know he’s a god, but, what I hear’, he’s a fuckin’ scary god.” He shook again, then laughed.

“I’m sure,” Avery said.

“Well ain’t you calm? You’ve already had some, haven’t you? Haven’t you?” He rubbed at his eyes. “Well, ‘least it ain’t a ‘acrifice. Not yet. M’ stomach’s too wea’ fer uh sa ...sacl ... sacmrimice ...” He leaned against a wall momentarily, then pushed himself on.

“Just what have you heard—about the ceremony?” Avery said, now paying attention.

“Ah, jus’ ... y’know ... ‘acrement ...” Again the man leaned against a wall, and this time Avery left him.

To Janx, Avery said, “Did you hear?”

“Someone’s getting the Sacrament,” Janx said. “But I don’t get it. Why all this hoop-la for that? Thousands of people get it every day, I thought, at least in Octung.”

“That’s a very a good question.”

Organ music swelled around them. The hallway terminated in a large, high-ceilinged room, its far wall a maze of pipe organs, a great trident overhanging a rostrum, where a priest stood, and before that an altar crackling with energy, showing signs of recent construction. They had reached the chapel. Already hundreds had gathered, and Avery was surprised at the size of the room. Half the town must have been demolished to accommodate this one place.

On the stage, in a corner, stood Sheridan.

“Dear gods,” Avery said, swinging around and lifting his cowl to cover his head. Looking back, he saw her—crisp and sharp in her admiral’s uniform, sweeping the assembly with her gray gaze. Avery felt his temperature drop.

“She is everywhere,” Janx said.

“Come with me.”

They marched in the opposite direction, having to push through the tide still pouring into the room. When a priest stopped them, Avery said, “Just have to check on my friend. He had a little too much to drink.”

The priest, perhaps having seen the man of whom Avery spoke, let them go, and Avery was never more glad to slip down a hallway and away from a crowd.

“Think she saw us?” Janx said.

“I don’t think so. Even she can’t see everything.”

“You sure?”

“We have to find that relic.”

They passed the drunken man who had collapsed against the wall, stepped around him and kept going.

Footsteps ahead. Shadows against the walls—priests, by their hats.

Avery and Janx hastened into a room and closed the door softly behind them. The footsteps reached the door and paused.

Very slowly, Avery turned the lock.

The knob rotated, and weight pushed at the door. It didn’t budge. The footsteps moved on. Avery breathed a sigh of relief.

“Let’s avoid that hall,” Janx said.

The room was lit with a single electric bulb hanging from the ceiling—the town had a generator—but it illuminated only a few ratty pallets ... and a far door. They crossed to it and entered another chamber, a long and oddly shaped room, passed through this to another, a tiny little closet with a warped ceiling, and a door. Several rooms later they realized they were going at an angle, as they could hear the singing of the congregation change pitch and grow muted in the distance, the sound traveling easily through the thin walls.

“Idiots,” Janx said. “’least they could sing better …”

He had flicked on his own flashlight, and as they entered the next room it had fallen on a figure slumped against the far wall next to a dirty pile of rags. Avery knelt down beside it. It proved to be a young woman, naked and sick with Atomic infection, one wrist cuffed to a manacle sprouting from the wall. Her eyes rolled under her sockets, her flesh burned, and redness showed around patches of scales on her chest and neck. She didn’t even seem aware of Avery as he looked in her eyes, felt her forehead and counted her heartbeat.