For a while, Ignacio endured the pain. He had been interrogated and tortured before, and he doubted that the Faith could do anything worse to him than the various port authorities he had run up against in the past.

He was wrong. The man of faith worked him with consummate skill and it wasn’t long until Ignacio was screaming for mercy.

And when he was shown the love and compassion of the Lord of All, when he was offered His forgiveness and sanctuary, Ignacio gladly took it.

For a moment, Yuri merely looked on in horror at the hissing air tube and his suffocating master. Then he quickly wheeled Querilous away from Emuel and fumbled with the pipe, trying to slot it back into the connection. By the time the breathing apparatus was re-attached, Querilous was a pale blue. Yuri looked at his master, horror overwhelming him at the thought he might be dead, until, with a shudder, Fitch came round. His eyes rolled madly for a while until they fixed on the eunuch, who was half out of his chair, his left hand still bound.

“Yuri, wheel me in close.”

“What are you going to do, Querilous?” Emuel laughed. “You’re nothing but a helpless cripple, with an idiot for an assistant.”

The idiot of an assistant was stronger than he looked; the blow that connected with Emuel’s head knocked him out cold.

“I had a feeling this interrogation was going to be pointless,” Querilous said.

The door to the chamber opened and Katherine Makennon swept into the room. She didn’t have any of her usual retinue with her. Querilous was especially pleased to note the absence of Jakub Freel, who had somehow managed to wheedle his way into the inner circles of the Faith.