“Some of you here are Unsighted,” Navraj continued. “Some… are Sighted.”

He paused dramatically, during which time the man in the floppy hat sat up a bit up straighter.

“Well,” Navraj continued, “either Sighted or associated with Sighted in some way. Regardless, I’m sure all of you want to know the truth about magic. About why the Pontifarch rules with such an iron fist. Why none of the Annunaki defy him, when he persecutes them relentlessly, and—” Navraj stopped talking and cleared his throat “—I’m getting ahead of myself.”

The Pontifarch persecuted the Annunaki? How could that be? According to the Church of the Pontifarch, the Annunaki were his chief servants, and the primary instruments of his will. Even if the One Faith was right, and there was no Pontifarch, but only the Monad, the role of the Annunaki was the same.

This Navraj was just jabbering random things to sound mysterious as far as Xerxes was concerned.

“For those present who are Unsighted,” Navraj said, “there is no reason for you to not join us to learn more about the truth. For those of you who are Sighted, or who are connected closely with Sighted, association with us is a risk. But it’s a risk you should consider taking if you value truth. Who here has read Words of the Pontifarch?”

It was the primary holy text that the Church of the Pontifarch used. Adherents read it regularly, and the clergy of the church were required to memorize it.

The man in the floppy hat raised his hand, as did Katayoun.

“Good,” Navraj said. “You two who have read it, let me ask you a question. Is it possible for one of the Annunaki to become like the Pontifarch? To rise to a higher level of existence?”

The man in the floppy hat lowered his hand, but Katayoun didn’t. Navraj nodded his head at her.

“It’s not,” she said. “The Church tells us that Sighted cannot achieve a higher state of existence than that of the Annunaki.”

Navraj smiled. “You pay attention to the sermons. Very good. But how deep is your knowledge of Words? Can you quote the book of Matahu, chapter eight, verse seven?”

Katayoun looked up in thought, then shook her head and gave a sheepish grin.

Navraj’s smile widened. “That’s fine. Few but the clergy can quote such obscure verses.” On the table next to him was a leather-bound book which he picked up and opened. “But I happen to have Words right here.”

As he flipped through the book, he stood, took a step forward, then offered the book to Katayoun. “Would you mind reading Matahu 8:7?”

She took it, found the passage, and read, “In the years I wast young, at which hour mine own fellow brethren of An all did seek to ascend to the highest heights, we trav’rs’d the stars to findeth—”

“Stop,” Navraj said, and held out his hand expectantly.

Katayoun handed the book back to him.

Stepping back to his chair, he said, “Now, my dear young girl, do you happen to know from whose perspective the book of Matahu is written?”

“The Pontifarch’s,” she answered.

“Exactly. Not all of the books are written that way, but Matahu is clearly supposed to be narration by the Pontifarch. Now as you just read, he called himself one of the brethren of An. Do you know who that refers to?”

She shook her head.

“The Annunaki,” he said, a triumphant smile appearing on his face as he thumped the Words of the Pontifarch onto the table next to him.

So what? Xerxes thought. Apparently, his sentiment played across his face, as Navraj looked at him.

“I can see your confusion, young man,” he said. “You’re probably wondering the same thing that everyone wonders at this point: why does it matter? Here’s why. You see, the Pontifarch used to be an Annunaki! He said it in his own words! It’s right there for anyone to read. Go home to your own copy of Words, if you’re a churchgoer. Or find a bookseller in the bazaar and get a copy. Go to Mahatu 8:7, and you can read for yourself. The Pontifarch was once Annunaki. But does the Church teach that?” Navraj looked back at Katayoun and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“No,” she said. “The Pontifarch was always the Pontifarch. And he always will be.”

He nodded sagely. “You know your theology. Yet in the Pontifarch’s own writings, we find a contradiction. A chink in the armor, so to speak. And that’s why—”

A muffled noise reached them from the outside hall, beyond the open door. Navraj stopped talking and looked in that direction.

Xerxes found himself looking over his shoulder and tightening his grip on Katayoun’s fingers.

Then a sound like a bell rang out, but only briefly before being cut off.

Navraj shot to his feet. “Shit,” he muttered, and he took a step toward the second door at the front of the room. However, before he could take two steps, someone appeared there.

When Xerxes detected the motion in his peripheral vision, he expected to look over and see a soldier or a mage. Instead, it was a man that looked like a merchant.

“What the hell?” Navraj growled.

“Hello, Navraj,” the man said.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the hall, and a moment later, more people entered from the back. Xerxes looked over to see two burly men with scarred faces and bits of random armor that pegged them as hired muscle.

“What are you doing here, Rabbo?” Navraj said. “This is a sanctioned recruitment meeting, and I have—”

“Your congregation has been falling behind, and you know it,” said Rabbo. “I think it’s high time you fall in line and join me.”

Navraj glanced at the armored men on the other side of the room, and simultaneously clenched his hands into fists, albeit trembling ones.

“This is outrageous,” he said. “It goes against all protocol. You don’t have the authority to forcibly merge my congregation with yours.”

“It’s going to happen one way or another,” Rabbo said. “You can either join me, or you can have a run-in with some pickpockets that ends up with you gutted in an alley. And then I’ll have your congregation whether you agree or not.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Rabbo ignored him and looked at individuals seated in the wooden chairs, including Xerxes and Katayoun. “Hello, friends. Sorry to drag you into this, but please just remain seated until this little disagreement is handled.”