After they stepped out of the coffee shop, Katayoun linked her arm with Xerxes’. It sent tingles down his arm and into the depths of his torso. As they wound their way through the aisles of the bazaar, he tried to clear his head and failed.

“Okay, it’s around the next corner,” Katayoun said quietly. “You ready?”

“Ready,” he said immediately, even though he didn’t feel like he was.

“Just pretend like you’re bored.”

“But not too bored.”

“Right.”

The corner led to a very small but uncrowded aisle that abutted a section of city wall. Like most areas in which the city and the bazaar met, the wall had shops built into it. They passed a tent-maker, a honey peddler, and a fletcher. Then came a sturdy wooden door, seemingly unmarked. However, at the edges of the lintel were scratches that might have seemed random to someone unused to neighborhoods like this. There were four triangular shapes in a row, followed by a rough circle.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Flower Villa.”

“Are you nervous?” she asked.

He suppressed his instinct to say he wasn’t. “Yeah. You?”

“Same.”

“We’ll do fine.”

They maintained silence for the final few steps to the door. He glanced over his shoulder and didn’t see anything or anyone suspicious.

Katayoun knocked on the door, two times as the invitation indicated. Following the instructions, she waited for about ten seconds, then knocked again once.

More seconds passed.

A viewer slid open, revealing a face backlit by soft, orange light. Nothing was said.

Katayoun leaned forward. “We’re here for the cheese.”

“We’re out.”

“I heard you have some smoked varieties.”

The viewer closed and they heard a sound from beyond the door, possibly a bar being raised, or a lock being disengaged.

The door swung open.

It was only at that point that Xerxes’ headiness from being close to Katyoun suddenly gave way to nervousness. They were walking into a den of cultists!

Gripping the door from inside was a young man in typical servant garb. He gestured for them to enter.

Katayoun pulled Xerxes with her as she stepped inside.

They were in a small antechamber of some sort, lit with lamps. Everything was bare stone; there were no rugs, tapestries, paintings, or any other decorations.

The servant glanced out the door, then closed it and slid a heavy bar into place.

“Go down the corridor that way,” he said. “Second door on the left.”

As they left the servant behind, Xerxes inhaled deeply. He smelled dust, the scent of cooked meat of some sort, and something bitter that could have been old wine. There was nothing noxious hinting at the presence of Abhorrent.

The door was on the left side of the hallway, and being to the left of Katayoun, Xerxes pushed it open.

It led into a wide audience chamber with a few rows of wooden chairs lined up in front of a short dais. The dais itself had a single chair on it, and in that chair lounged a man in somewhat rumpled silk clothing. There was only one other person present, a man with bulky clothes and a floppy hat who glanced at them as they entered.

“Welcome,” said the man in silk. “Have a seat. We’ll begin in a minute. We’re expecting one more attendee.”

“There?” Katayoun whispered to Xerxes, gesturing at two chairs at the end of one of the rows, somewhat close to the man in the floppy hat.

Xerxes nodded and heaved a sigh. As they sat, she slipped her arm out of his, but snagged his fingers with hers.

We’re holding hands, he thought, then immediately cursed himself for thinking something so obvious.

This whole thing was surreal. On the one hand, he was on Sin-Amuhhu with the girl of his dreams. At the same time, he was on a mission to infiltrate the Cult of the Eternal Father, which was involved in an unprecedented Abhorrent attack on the Pontifarch’s empire.

Wait, the Pontifarch? He wasn’t supposed to believe in the Pontifarch. So who exactly was he fighting for? He squeezed Katayoun’s hand, and when she squeezed back, all of the complicated thoughts vanished.

Just keep a cool head.

Minutes of silence passed by that were borderline agony for Xerxes. As Seers, he and Katayoun could communicate mentally by leaning their heads close to each other. But they’d been instructed not to. He tried to look bored, but not too bored. Whatever that meant.

He wondered what the others in the room were thinking. What would happen next? Would he and Katayoun be called out for being students at the Institute?

“Alright!” said the man in silk, his voice coming so abruptly that Xerxes twitched. He felt Katayoun nearly jump as well, and the man in the floppy hat looked like he’d been startled as well. “I guess our other attendee is a no-show. But that’s fine. The more intimate, the better. It’ll give us a chance to really get to know each other. And with no further ado… welcome to this little meeting.” The man sat up, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. “You can call me Navraj.”

He looked over the assembled group, his eyes slightly narrowed, the faintest hint of a grin at the edges of his mouth.

“You’re all here because you want to know more about what’s really going on in this empire. The truth. About magic. About Sighted and Unsighted. About the Pontifarch. You see, what people widely believe to be a reality in these starisles is actually false. The truth is much simpler, but the Pontifarch—” he lowered his voice “—doesn’t want anyone to know. Not even the Annunaki.”

Bullshit, Xerxes thought. The Pontifarch himself was keeping secrets, even from the Annunaki, and this random fellow in a side alley of the Gula Bazaar knew the truth? It seemed ridiculous.

On the other hand, Xerxes found the man’s words oddly reminiscent of sermons at temples of the One Faith he’d attended since childhood. The One Faith taught there was a secret ‘truth’ that only they knew about, while everyone else in the starsea ‘wallowed in ignorance.’

Keeping his fingers interlocked with Katayoun’s, he leaned forward.