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could. And as to the others? I don’t think it’s prudent we say anything for the moment. Not until I have a chance to think on this more. Do I have your word, Father?’
    ‘Of course, Your Grace.’ John stood. ‘I’m sorry to—’
    ‘Bishop?’ They both turned at the call from the gallery door to see Paynecoming towards them, Deverin, Owen and somebody else holding back. ‘Daniel’s just come back early. He checked the drop points and picked up a letter. It’s from Godfrey.’
    Payne held the letter out to McCauly who took it, his gaze suddenly wary. As if in answer to a question, Payne nodded, putting his hands on his hips. ‘It’s what we’ve been expecting. Bishop Brome is dead.’
    Without thought, Aiden drew the sign of the trium over his forehead and shoulders, his whisper emerging from habit alone. ‘The gods grant him peace.’ He paused only a moment. ‘Who is elected Bishop in his place?’
    ‘There was no election. Brome appointed his successor. The synod ratified the appointment the same day.’
    ‘Oh, sweet Mineah, not another—’
    ‘The new Bishop is Godfrey.’
    Aiden’s eyes widened in surprise. John himself was delighted. If another man had to stand in McCauly’s place, he would prefer it was his old friend Godfrey than any other.
    ‘And Kenrick?’ McCauly barely moved. ‘He has accepted Godfrey as Bishop?’
    ‘It seems he expected it. Godfrey anticipates no trouble, though he writes only the day after his enthronement. There is more in the letter.’
    ‘Of course.’ Aiden opened the pouch and extracted the single sheet of paper. He read in silence, then folded the letter up, handing it back to Payne, his expression clearly disturbed.
    ‘Thank you for letting us know. Father John and I will go to the chapel and say prayers for Bishop Brome’s soul, and for Godfrey, that the gods will guide him in his new role.’
    *
    As the last breath of incense died away, Aiden got to his feet, keeping his hands clasped together. At his age, his knees should be shaky with the hours he’d spent on them, on cold stone floors, praying – but somehow, his body remained strong, as though the gods were determined to ensure he survive long enough to win this fight. In dark moments such as this, that gave him hope.
    He sensed rather than saw John moving around the chapel, putting things away, blowing out candles until just two were left, along with the presence light suspended above the altar.
    This was a tidy building of round arches and clear glass windows, though not really big enough for Bleakstone. There were memories here, of him marrying Robert and Galiena, before the poor girl was murdered by her brother, Kenrick. Memories of others, too, men who had fought and died at the Battle of Shan Moss.
    Brome. The man who had supplanted Aiden as Prelate of the Church in Lusara. The man who had destroyed a Church so needed by the people, and had done so out of his own vanity. But that man was now dead and facing the judgment of the gods. Who was Aiden to judge? Had Brome had any more choice than he? If Aiden had not been imprisoned, would he have had the strength and the skills to hold the Church together? To do what was right? To fight the evil on the throne, and that which lurked behind it?
    No. The truth was, Brome, like them all, was a man of the times. He’d had no more choice than Aiden, no more power to change his fate than anyone else.
    And equally, there was nothing Aiden could do to stop Robert putting his own son on the throne. By the gods, if he knew … Aiden knew Robert and Jenn had spent one night together before her wedding, how Robert had seen that as a weakness in himself, an inability to withstand the Prophecy. For fifteen years he’d believed he had betrayed Jenn that night. Aiden could well understand why she’d never told Robert, why doing so now would scare her. But would she say something when she discovered Robert’s plans?
    The truth was there really was no