There is no lamplight inside the chapel. Bragi tries to fill in the shadows with what he remembers of the room. He knows there’s a wide open space, where the priests kneel, and beyond it the gold-gilded altar where no blood is ever spilled. The staircase to the bell tower is off to the left. Bragi sees no crouchers in their path. He motions for the priests to pass him. Something moves in front of the altar.

“No, no, I’m honored by your love, and you had to defend yourself. You’re lucky that oaf you killed was too ignorant to recognize what you are.” Trukos found that statement strange. He knew exactly what he was: a thing Auntie Mayya had made. The pain, though, he needed her to unmake.