“Hear, hear,” shouted the rector as the airborne combatants vanished into the fog. He tapped his scepter several times. “Order, I say!”
She quickly stuffed the note into her patched, green shawl.
At last the congregation settled. The rector indicated that Shekalane should join him in standing within the great black circle sewn into the carpet, a circle which contained the Lucitor’s own standard—a giant, blood-red inverticus—which was made by connecting the dots of the inverted cross. She did so and he took her hand, then everyone bowed their heads.
“Our Lucitor Who art in His Mansion,” he began, which everyone repeated, including Shekalane. “Tremble we who come before you. Thy kingdom has come, thy will has been done, in the earth and not the heavens. Accept from us this night our blood
