“Yes, Priest,” Forn said. Andso weaved out of the captain’s mess, trailing acolytes and the muttering of the table.

Tephe leaned toward his first mate. “I believe that your faith is strong, Neal,” he said, quietly.

“Amen, so it is, Captain,” Forn said. “Strong enough to survive this priest.”

“He was a better priest, once, or so I have heard tell,” Tephe said.

“I imagine this was before he made provision to travel with his own stock of wine,” Forn said.

“I believe he makes such provision because he is aware how much better he once was,” Tephe said.

“So,” Forn said, and then shook his head, lightly. “I do not doubt his faith any more than my own, Captain,” he said. “And I know he is the presence of Our Lord on the Righteous. I do wish Our Lord had seen fit to be present in a worthier vessel. If the priest is right that it is our faith and not iron that truly binds the god, then we sorely need our faith.”

Tephe looked at his first mate with the very lightest of reproach. “Our failure at Ament Cour should not decrease our faith, Neal,” he said.

“Neither yours nor mine, Captain,” Forn agreed. “But our defeat weighs heavily on the crew, as does this rebellion by our god.” Forn leaned in closer to the Captain. “And more than that they hear rumors of other late defeats and failures in the fleet, and that Our Lord is newly set upon by other gods. Priest Andso’s foolish comment here at this table that other gods were restless will also find their way to the crew. Captain, the crew is unused to failure and defeat. Their faith is now put to the test.”

Tephe sat back and considered his second in command. “I understand now why you deflected the priest into a pointless conversation about terminology,” he said, to Forn. “And I acknowledge to my regret it is I who brought him back to it. My apologies, Neal.”

Forn smiled. “He would have come round to it again on his own behalf. I but delayed him a moment at best.” He became serious again. “My point, Captain, is that if there were a time where faith were needed to grow, this is that moment. Priest Andso is the man to whom such task is given. That drunken, petty, stupid man. I fear for it.”

Chapter Three

The portal to the Rookery opened and it was Shalle Thew, form bare beneath embroidered robe, who opened it.

This gave Captain Tephe a start. “You do not often answer the Rookery door,” he said, after a moment.

“Yes, well,” Shalle said. “Lade is having a meal, Cien is resting, Issa is ministering, and Tasy received a special dispensation to go to the Healer’s Bay to tend that poor boy the god chewed upon. There was no one else to answer the door. And so here I am.”

“I would speak to you if you have a moment,” Tephe said.

“You are the captain,” Shalle said, lightly, and brushed back a wisp of hair. “I always have time for you. It’s one of the benefits of the job. Both yours and mine. Now, come in, captain, and be welcome.” Shalle stood aside, head bowed slightly, lips curved in a small smile.

The captain entered the Rookery. Shalle closed the portal and secured it. “We’ll go to my nest. I’ll let Lade know we’re not to be disturbed. Go on, captain. I’ll be right behind you.” Shalle gave the captain a smile and disappeared into the Rookery’s small mess area.

Shalle’s “nest” was no more than the same cramped quarters any senior officer or priest would merit, save that where an officer’s quarters were Spartan, and a priest’s monastic, a rook’s quarters were soft-edged, warm and inviting. Shalle’s nest was filled with the colors of russet, purple and weathered gold, and the scent of fragrant and mellow woods. Tephe breathed it in as he always did and relaxed in spite of himself.

There was something new on Shalle’s small vanity shelf. Tephe picked it up and examined it. It was a figurine of an animal he didn’t recognize.

“It’s a rook,” Shalle said, entering the nest and securing the door. “A real one.”

“Is it,” Tephe said.

“A representation of one, anyway,” Shalle said, and came up the captain, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, and reaching with the other to lightly hold the hand in which the figurine rested. “It was a gift from Bran Usse, who found it on Ines and thought I would like it.”

“A kind gift,” the captain said. “And not what I would have expected from Quartermaster Usse.”

“How do you mean,” Shalle said, running fingers lightly across the captain’s own.

“The Quartermaster was a severe man,” the captain said.

Shalle gave a small laugh. “Not with me, my captain.”

“So he was a man of two faces,” Tephe said.

“No,” Shalle said, with a tone that was both patient and gently mocking. “He had just the one. But we are all different to different people, aren’t we? I know you’re not the same with me as you are to your crew. It doesn’t mean you have two faces.”

“You are the same,” Tephe said. “With everyone.”

This earned the captain a quick but unhurried kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you think so. I work hard to make it seem that way,” Shalle said, and then slipped fingers around to take the figurine from the captain’s hand. “Usse said that the shopkeep who sold this to him told him that in ancient times rooks were thought to guide souls after death.”

“What did you think of that?” Tephe asked.

“It made me sad,” Shalle said, gazing at the figurine. “Especially after Bran died so badly. I thought of a rook just waiting for him, sitting there watching him go.” Shalle shuddered and set down the figurine. “I prefer how we think of rooks today. Not guides of the souls of the dead, but comforters of souls of the living.”

“Their souls?” Tephe said, and now it was his turn to have a lightly mocking tone. Shalle grinned at this and pushed the captain to the bed; the captain allowed himself to be pushed.

“Yes, my captain, their souls,” Shalle said, pressing into the captain. “How is your soul at the moment?”

Tephe reached over and drew Shalle into a long and welcome kiss. “I do confess it is better than it was,” he said, when he had parted from the kiss.

Shalle lingered, eyes closed, smile on lightly parted lips, then moved away. “But not as good as it could be.”

“You can tell that from a kiss,” Tephe said.

“I can tell that from you,” Shalle said.

Tephe smiled at this. “That quality of knowing is why I am here,” he said. “Your rooks tend to the crew.”

“Yes,” Shalle said.

“And you to the officers,” Tephe said.

Shalle smiled. “I think you’re well aware of what my job is, and who is under my care, my captain. I see all the officers, and would see Priest Andso, if he’d ever step inside the rookery, and he’d rather set himself on fire than do that.”

“How is their faith?” Tephe asked.

Shalle looked at the captain quizzically for a moment, then changed expression. “Clever of you to ask me that question.”

“It is not my intent to be clever,” Tephe said.

“No,” Shalle agreed. “I know why you’re asking. The attack at Ament Cour. The number of battles the Righteoushas engaged in this tour. This attack by the god. The stories of other gods resisting.”

Tephe was surprised. “The rumors are out already?” he said.

“Not rumors,” Shalle said. “The Priest Andso was not subtle about using Lieutenant Ysta. It’s all over the Righteousby this point.”

“Stupid man,” Tephe muttered.

“That’s blasphemy,” Shalle said, lightly.

“I did not say ‘stupid priest,’ ” Tephe said. “I said ‘stupid man.’ ”

“That’s the sort of cleverness you say you don’t intend,” Shalle said.

“Neal—Commander Forn—says that the faith of the men has diminished of late due to these events,” Tephe said, returning to the subject. “Do you see it? Do the other rooks?”

“We haven’t been looking for it,” Shalle said. “The crew comes here to have their release and to have their moment of joy, but you know that is not all we do. We comfort in other ways. By hearing and listening and allowing them to be the things they can’t be when they are on duty or with their crewmates.”