‘But...’
‘You have your answer, Priest. If you won’t kill Him, then you’ll have to watch events unfold and respond accordingly. Public chaos and death, you say, has already begun. Private blood-letting and terror you have, too.’ He drew in a hissing breath and his hands curled painfully about the flute, as if he had accidentally struck a newly-healed sore. ‘They are related, trust me. And be warned. You defend your friend, understandably, I suppose, but he’s not your friend any more. He is His. Body, and what’s left of his soul. I’ve told you, he’s an apt vessel — very apt. The events you’ll be watching may well move with great speed. Disbelief and astonishment are luxuries you haven’t the time to afford.’ He became suddenly pensive. ‘Apt,’ he murmured to himself, as if the word had set u
