A brief silence fell. Ash and I processed the note, while Faith beamed at us like a cat (or orphan) that just swiped the last pastry.

Then Ash raised his chin, squared his shoulders, and announced, “We need to investigate Dunvil. Better than we have already. What exactly do we know about him?” Although the question was obviously directed at Faith, he avoided looking at her. Years of painful experience had taught him that she’d never give a straight answer otherwise.

She still didn’t.

Simply by letting us read the note, she’d already gone too long without tormenting us. With a boneless stretch and a long, loud yawn, she flopped into the nearest chair. “Ooooh. I hear he’s the head of this church or something.”

“Yes, thank you, Faith,” Ash bit out. “What do we know about his weaknesses?”

“Mmmm, given what I know of his personality, bad puns.”

“Well, that’s what you’re here for, Faith,” I said snippily.

She heaved a long-suffering sigh, and her eyelids drooped. “He’s an Ascendent,” she reminded us. “So he doesn’t have any weaknesses.”

“And his vices?” Ash prompted with exaggerated patience.

“Probably faith,” I suggested without thinking.

She bounced back up. “I didn’t know I was important enough to be someone’s vice!” she cried, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “That’s so sweet!”

But since she wasn’t actually contradicting me, I figured I was right. “That’s unfortunate,” I commented to Ash over her raptures. “It means we can’t waylay him on his way to his vice.”

As Preceptor, Dunvil had his own suite of chambers in the Sanctorium, meaning that once again we’d be assaulting an Ascendent in his or her stronghold. However, before we wasted time studying the cathedral’s layout, Arilyn reported that Dunvil had moved into the catacombs right after Djera Maha’s death and now only emerged once a week to conduct Mass. Since he was preparing that mysterious ritual, he might not even do that much this Sixth Day.

“Well, that’s to be expected,” Faith remarked after relaying this intel to us. “When threatened, he hides down in the dark tunnels with his insect friends.”

“Very poetic, yes,” Ash replied.

“He lacks an appropriate appreciation for health and safety,” she complained – because obviously an Ascendent with no apparent physical weaknesses might catch his death of a cold.

“What insects does he consort with when he’s busy hiding in these tunnels?” Ash demanded, voice full of distaste for the Preceptor and every other member of the Sanctorium staff.

Her eyes going as huge as gold coins, Faith sucked in a breath. “Oh, wow. What kind of consortingdo you mean? Because the answer is different depending on – ”

“I did mean the Church kind of consorting, yes,” he interrupted, talking over her in an attempt to hustle her along.

Undeterred, she rambled, “I hear that there are giant spiders down in the catacombs.” (Except that spiders weren’t insects. What kind of natural philosophy was she teaching the orphans?) “The acolytes occasionally have to clean the chambers, and they’re filled with webs and desiccated corpses of small mammals.” Beckoning us closer (and looking unfazed when we declined), she stage-whispered, “We’ve never seen the spiders themselves, but rumors spread, you know.” She leveled a sober gaze at the two of us, inviting our fear and disgust. “And then there are the mantises. We shouldn’t talk about the mantises. They’re just too horrifying.”

Briefly distracted, Ash chuckled. “Something too horrifying for Faith?”

“That must be something,” I commented – which was a mistake.

“Oh, oh, Isha! You might appreciate the – ” Here Faith paused so she could recall what bugs I hated most. “The fleas!”

Ugh, she’d noticed my desperate attempts to de-flea Sleipnir. And my bunk in the railcar. And my bed at the orphanage.

It never worked.

Tugging on my arm to make sure she had my full attention, Faith hissed, “They send acolytes down there as part of their initiation, to show them how much the pleasures of the flesh are superior to the pains of the flesh.”

I shook her off. I was not interested in her twisted interpretation of religious education. “Uh huh.”

She latched back onto my arm, like a leech or one of Captain Rye’s oozing void monstrosities. “They leave you in the dark! Where the fleas just cover the corridors. Everywhere you can see in the catacombs.” (Which, if they were truly dark, would be nowhere. Which was fitting for her non-existent fleas.) “And they attack any cute, adorable noble who might wander down there….” Getting bored partway through her own sentence, she released me and drawled, “Luckily, this really isn’t that scary for us. They’re very specific about whom they attack, so it’s a good thing no one here is a noble!”

“Uh huh,” I repeated, even more sarcastically.

Off to the side, Ash’s expression was screaming skepticism. From everything that I’d seen and heard about the Sanctorium, the acolytes kept it spotless – because otherwise Preceptor Dunvil would have a heart attack. (Or, more likely, give someone else one.)

“Can we add a new objective?” Ash asked. “Burn down the catacombs along with the Church?”

If he thought he could wrench the conversation back on track by reminding Faith of how close she was to her (un-)life goal, he was mistaken. “I don’t know how you can burn down the catacombs,” she reproached him. “They’re mostly made of stone. So is the Church. Didn’t we try that already?”

“Yes, and it didn’t work as well as I’d hoped,” he admitted ruefully.

At this point, conscience dictated that I defend both him and the orphans. “We weren’t really trying to burn down the Sanctorium,” I reminded both of them. All that we’d sent our juvenile arsonists to do was set some small, strategic fires near precious artwork as a distraction. They could have done a lot better if they’d actually been trying to burn down the place.

“Maybe we could explode it instead!” Faith cried, flinging her arms out in a burst of pink ruffles.

“If Dunvil happened to be inside, that would be convenient,” Ash played along. “I know you had plans for poetic revenge against him, Faith. Remind us what they were?”

All of the animation drained from her body. “I want to Hollow him,” she recited in a flat, bored tone that conveyed her true desire. “After obsessing for so long over his precious life force and trying to preserve it at all costs, wouldn’t he be so much nicer Hollowed? Just sitting there prettily, lighting candles for Mass?”

“Ugh! No!” I exclaimed, revolted.

“Or possessed by Cricket, so he can lead us out of the catacombs himself?”

“That’s very bold,” said Ash in a thoughtful voice. “I’m not necessarily opposed – ” which in Ash-speak meant that he was – “but I do think that we will struggle. A plan based on the assumption that we will Hollow Dunvil is a hollow plan.” He looked incredibly proud of himself after that last pun, which was so bad it was worthy of Faith.

His mentor beamed with pride. “If we drain him of all his blood, he’ll lose most of his demonic essence.”

“Wouldn’t that just kill him?” I objected, unsure how serious she was being. After all, we’d used exsanguination to murder the other Ascendent, not prepare them for Hollowing.

As soon as I spoke, I regretted it. With a sly, sidelong smirk, Faith informed me, “There are things we can do to keep him alive.”

“That was easier when we had a giant, bloodsucking harpoon gun,” Ash pointed out. “I do not think we will quite as easily achieve the same circumstantial bonuses in the catacombs.”

While I was parsing thatabomination unto the Akorosian tongue, my other crewmate attacked me with, “After all, Isha, there are certain ecstasies of the flesh that you can only experience during your dying moments, and the Church has developed ways to allow people to experience them again and again and again, and come back to life afterwards. You might appreciate this. Do you want to try while we’re down there?”

I scowled. It was as if she didn’t want me to help on this score.

“Dunvil being an Ascendent makes this so much more difficult,” Ash complained. “I don’t think we’re just going to drag him into one of these chambers.” Then he came to his senses and realized that Faith had invented the whole thing. He blinked in disappointment.

Stoically overlooking both her antics and his gullibility, I suggested, “It could be useful to kill him in a manner that reveals his demonic nature. That would give the Immortal Emperor a way out.” (Always leave people a way out, Father liked to stress. A cornered goat will kick hardest.) “The Emperor could pretend that he wanted Dunvil removed but couldn’t move directly against the Church.”

In fact, if the Immortal Emperor and the Senate ever learned (officially) that the Church had been coopted by demonic forces, public opinion would force them to restructure or even replace it entirely. To be honest, I thought that the institution was so corrupt that if the Imperium really needed a state religion, it should rebuild one from scratch.

However, to my surprise, Faith objected, “The Church has its uses.”

Did it make sense for a former future-Preceptor to consider the Church of Ecstasy a critical Imperial institution? I squinted at her, trying to replace her fluffy pink dress with Dunvil’s pristine white robes.

Ash snapped, “The Church’s ‘uses.’ Suppressing all the other faiths in the city? Yes.”

Faith shrugged, dismissing such trifles as religious toleration or freedom of worship. “It keeps the people entertained” – which, in my opinion, did actually form the greater part of the Church’s mandate.

“I’m certain that the people will still find all manner of ways to entertain themselves, with or without its assistance,” Ash informed her. “They did it long before the Imperium, and they will continue to do so long after.”

Although every word of that was true, Faith winced and played the disappointed schoolmistress.

Observing the two of them, I recalled how she’d already positioned Arilyn and Wester to infiltrate the hierarchy. She wasn’t going to want to topple the Church before she could play out her endgame. And maybe – just maybe – she didn’t want to topple the Church before she could become its Preceptor, the way she and Dunvil had planned together so many decades ago.

Since it looked like we would have to assassinate our target in the catacombs, of which Faith’s mental map was forty years out of date, Ash consulted with the historians at Charterhall University. Based on Tycherosian academics, he assumed that archaeologists would have excavated the catacombs for information about Doskvol’s past. However, he discovered that nothing about their extent or layout was shared outside the Church. The scholars knew that they’d existed since before the Cataclysm and would have loved to get in there – but that was it.

Here Arilyn proved more useful. Since she’d been part of the acolyte cleanup crew after Faith sabotaged Karth Orris’ Ascension, she sketched a map for us. The catacombs consisted of three levels patrolled by Hollow guards, with increasing security as you went deeper. Lately, Dunvil had been redeploying Hollows to the lower catacombs and setting up chokepoints in the middle ones. Although all of the Sanctorium staff still had access to the upper catacombs, the lower ones were now restricted to senior priests plus Loretta Mayvin.

Somewhat dreamily, Ash mused, “I imagine there are a lot of valuable artifacts in the middle catacombs….”

“There are,” Faith stated, and then stopped.

“Would you care to enumerate?”

She shrugged and ticked them off on her fingers. “Hollows. Fleas. Ritual components. Demons. Artifacts. Maybe a couple fragments of the Gates of Death. Who knows what you might find there? A couple insane ghosts. Some incredibly obnoxious allies. Although those might not be in the catacombs yet.”

At the “ritual components” part, Ash’s eyes lit up. He laughed, “Well, I can certainly arrange for a ruckus in the middle catacombs. If there are valuable artifacts, then there are people willing to risk their necks for them.”

“Are you suggesting the Grinders again?” I asked, already calculating whether the gang could raise enough money from selling arcane tools to buy a warship and sail to Lockport. Sigmund would approve.

I felt more ambivalent.

“Among others,” Ash replied. “If they’re looting the middle catacombs, the Church will have fewer resources for dealing with the lower catacombs.”

Faith interrupted, “There is an alternative solution, which is hiding among the Hollows.”

Before we had to explore that option any further, I seconded Ash. “I like the idea of slipping in while the looters create a distraction.”

“Although I don’t think we’ll be able to dig all the way to the lower catacombs…,” Ash thought aloud. “Unless you know something that we don’t – which you do – Faith?”

Of course she did. “The Ascension ritual chamber is in the lower catacombs. I know exactly where it is,” she proclaimed, and then stopped again, like before. The quality of her silence suggested that she didn’t want the Grinders stealing the Ascension ritual implements.

Assuming that her objection was to Skovlander revolutionaries getting hold of precious Akorosian artifacts, Ash compromised, “The Grinders could loot elsewhere in the city to draw guards away while the cults do targeted looting of the catacombs. They’re the ones who’d care more anyway.”

In fact, they weren’t the only ones who’d care. I proposed, “We should let Finnley know too, so he can prepare.”

“By all means.” Ash leapt at the chance to impress my brother.

At this point, Faith, who seemed to disapprove of any looting in the catacombs at all, intervened. “We might want to practice our Hollow impersonations. Okay – Isha, your impression is perfect. But, uh, Ash.” She gave him a measuring stare and then rattled off a string of entirely unhelpful tips, capping them with, “Just think about how Isha usually acts in these situations!”

Since listening to her was a waste of time, I reached out to Grandfather, who might understand what we were up against here. Do you have any insights into Dunvil?

Ixis, however, didn’t trust anyone – especially not a high-ranking member of his own House. I’m not sure I have anything of use, child. However, whatever wretch was killed to make Dunvil what he is, I have observed that the abominations….

There was that word again: “abomination.” It was the same one that Faith had used when explaining why she and the canal demon Setarra turned on each other after years of friendship.

After a brief hesitation,Grandfather continued, The abominations tend to inherit some of the drives of the demon who is absorbed. But who it was and what their desires might have been, I do not know.

Faith honestly didn’t seem to know either, so at Ash’s suggestion, we pored over records in the Charterhall archives looking for demons that the Church claimed to have defeated around the time Dunvil Ascended. At last, we discovered that a very powerful demon of stone had vanished in that time window. Even more suggestive was the language used to describe it: “extremely controlling” and “kills people if things aren’t just so,” which reminded Faith a lot of a certain mentor she’d once had.

“Stone is annoying to deal with. Let’s hope he doesn’t seal himself into a stone room,” Ash grumbled – which, given that the catacombs were literally carved out of the bedrock under Doskvol, was like bathing in the Void Sea and hoping that you came out clean.

“There are a couple artifacts in the lower catacombs that might be useful,” Faith told us.

“Demon-hunting swords, perhaps?” he asked hopefully.

“I was thinking more demon-summoning or demon-binding tools. Also, there are demons bound within the lower catacombs – ”

“What?” I yelped.

“What is wrong with this Church?” Ash demanded.

“I mean, if you’re going to build three levels of catacombs, what are you going to fill them with?” Faith asked rhetorically. “You have the extra space – why not fill them with some demons? You never know when they might come in handy.”

“So are you suggesting that we free them? Or rebind them to our will?” I clarified, wary and prepared to react very differently depending on her answer.

With a sweet smile, she purred, “Perhaps we should just rebind all the demons to our will. You don’t mind, right, Ash?”

“Not if we use them against the Church.”

“Sorry! I mean, you don’t mind being bound, right?”

He rolled his eyes and snorted. “Good luck with that. I think you will find that the Tycherosi are not as powerful as you hope.”

Since she’d failed to offend him, she dropped that angle. “Oh, on the subject of artifacts, let me know if you see a green gem in a bronze frame. It looks a little like an eye.”

And then, no matter how hard we pressed her, she refused to say more.

In the end, we let her convince us that word of looting would spread like a conflagration through Charhallow and attract too many other scoundrels, which would bring the Imperium down on us in force. It was logical, of course, but I couldn’t shake the impression that her true reason was that she hated the Ascension ritual and wanted to limit knowledge of its existence. To her, letting the Church continue to control the Ascension tools after we removed Dunvil was the most palatable option, because it could protect them against demonic cults better than the forbidden god cults could.

And as for letting any agents of House Anixis into the catacombs – well, we were arguably a demonic cult that had gotten too big to be called one.

She did agree to looting and chaos elsewhere in the city, and as a sop to Ash suggested a jailbreak at Ironhook Prison. He leaped on that idea and rushed off to recruit the orphans, because, as he claimed, “They’re going to try to help anyway, with or without our guidance,” which seemed unlikely in the extreme.

Luckily, Edwina flung herself in front of him and declared, “I am willing to participate in or personally lead a jailbreak, but you are not involving the children!”

So Ash assigned her to liaise with the Grinders.

I did check with Sigmund whether he or the House had any agents they wanted freed, but he informed me (a little snootily), “Everybody we have in Ironhook is there because we need them in Ironhook.”

“That’s fair,” was Ash’s somewhat absent reaction when he heard.

As a compromise with himself, he sent the forbidden god cults to loot other churches around the city while we were breaking into the Sanctorium. That, Faith apparently allowed.

The final piece we needed for our score was a building from whose cellar we could dig into the upper catacombs. Unfortunately, they didn’t run under Irimina’s or Sigmund’s townhouses, and properties in the area typically cost two coin. We had the money – we had much more than that in our coffers – but we preferred not to spend it ourselves. After some haggling, the Reconciled agreed to bankroll the purchase of a townhouse one block north of the Sanctorium, thus reinforcing our reputation as overpriced assassins.

It seemed appropriate.

So it was that on Fifth-Day night, while the Grinders assaulted Ironhook Prison and the forbidden god cults attacked churches across Doskvol, Ash, Faith, and I hunkered down in a Brightstone basement as Edwina tunneled through the floor. Even though she dug as fast as she could, the process seemed to take forever. Not until the middle of the night did she break through.

Faith set ghosts to guard the entrance so none of Ash’s looters could “accidentally” follow us. Then, one after another, we dropped through the hole. The first thing we saw was a narrow passageway where all the walls were covered with human bones.

The next was a patrol of three Tycherosian Hollows. One of them was holding a bell, which it started to ring.