He laid his hand on the door to prevent Cassraw from opening it, and, with an effort, met the unnerving gaze. ‘What are you going to do?’ he demanded. ‘You’ve a wife to think of, an important position to maintain – one you strove for and won deservedly. I know you’ve got problems with some of your flock, but that happens to everyone at some time or another. You can’t jeopardize everything like this. Come back with me now. We can smooth everything over with a little care.’

But even as he spoke he knew that his words were not reaching his friend. ‘Corrupt with compromise, Vredech,’ Cassraw repeated. ‘Follow me or leave me.’ Then he pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Vredech did not resist. It would be hopeless, he knew. Cassraw had always tended to act more at the behest of his passions than his mind, and only when they were spent would his reason return to him. He’d probably calm down in an hour or so and see the sense of making his peace with Mueran and the others. Surely he wouldn’t seriously risk his post with the church? He had no trade to turn to, nor land to live off. Vredech picked up the ring and let it fall. It made a dull thud as it dropped into a well-worn groove in the door. The sound set Vredech’s thoughts cascading; they carried him back to the Debating Hall and the excuses he might use to save his friend from the punishment that was surely inevitable.

He had barely taken a step away from the door when a sharp, anguished cry came from outside and tore through his inner discourse. He yanked the door open. Cassraw was standing at the foot of the broad and well-worn stone steps that led down from the door. He was gazing back at the Witness House or, more correctly, he was staring over it, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and… ecstasy?

Vredech ran down the steps two at a time, his concern for his friend returning in full and mounting with each stride. Reaching him, he turned to see what he was staring at.