Just visible behind the High Altar was the curtained entrance to the room beyond. The room one did not speak of. The room in which a child would already be lying, waiting to die. Orhan turned away. Don`t look. It is necessary. But don`t look. God`s great hunger for lives was a mystery of which he and most other educated men did not speak. As a boy he had thought briefly of volunteering, as all chidlren briefly did. The greatest and most sacred choice, his teacher had told him. But he had known, even then, that to choose it would have been somehow wrong, that his teacher and parents would have been outraged if he did. The greatest and most sacred choice, unless someone you knew made it, when it became something else. Something shameful, although he still could not quite say why. A bad thing. Death is a bad thing. What a profound man you are, Orhan Emmereth.

"Oh, come on. I know what you`re doing. I can guess why. I might as well be involved already, frankly. I just need you to tell me when and how." "Ask your spies, then. Or better yet, ask mine. They`re so badly paid they`ll tell you anything for a gold talent." "A talent? My dear Lord Emmereth, they charged six dhol the last time I asked." "For six dhol, I`m not sure you should trust a word they said. At that price, I`ve probably ordered them to tell you a pack of lies then throw the money to the nearest beggar." "Ah, but they give me special rates. They all know me so well, after all."

The weight of the stars felt crushing on his body, the endless remorselessness of them, the sheer number of them. Looking up into them was like a death, an annihilation of self. The great abyss, yawning over everything. The dark. All there really was was the dark. The one true thing. He could feel it, deep inside his skin. It knows you. Knows what you are. Stared upwards, letting his mind empty. Utterly silent, the desert. A man could walk forever out here until he went mad from thirst or loneliness. A man could live out here, in peace, away from everything. Just sit and stare up at the stars until his mind gave way. A man could die out here, slowly, painfully, burnt up by the heat of the sun and the dry dust.