‘There are others who agree with me,’ Cassraw interjected.

Vredech looked at him, worldly-wise. ‘Maybe, but they’ll disagree fast enough if their posts are threatened. For pity’s sake, put a curb on your tongue. The Church is tolerant enough to accommodate a wide range of different ideas on theological matters. Why risk everything you’ve got with this nonsense?’

He clapped a hand to his head as if that might draw back the ill-considered word, but before he could speak, Cassraw was already heading towards the main door.

‘I’m sorry,’ Vredech called out, moving after him. ‘I didn’t mean to say that. It…’

Cassraw had hold of the iron ring that secured the door. ‘This church is corrupted with compromise,’ he said, his head bowed and his eyes fixed on the ring. ‘It must reform. Return to the truth of the Word or we’ll all be doomed. It must be made whole again.’ He tightened his grip about the ring. ‘Like this – unbroken – self-contained.’ He turned towards Vredech, his black eyes gazing piercingly. ‘Follow me or leave me, Vredech,’ he said, his voice deep and resonant. ‘Follow me, or leave me.’

Vredech was suddenly alarmed. He felt events slipping away from him. Cassraw’s outburst in the Debating Hall had been a serious matter, but it was repairable, with care: an apology, a little penitence would right it. But he saw now that something strange was happening to Cassraw. He felt a touch of the quality he had sensed in him at times when they were growing up together. A quality that he had thought as long passed as their youth itself. An obsessive, almost fanatical quality that in someone else he might have called evil, though the word did not come to him now.

He hesitated, part of him saying, ‘Leave him alone, you’re only making him worse.’ But the greater part of him forbade inaction where there was pain. He had to reach out – do something.