I cut him a sharp glance. “You know they’ve asked me to find that?”
“It was mentioned.”
“By Cynwrig?”
“No.”
I waited for him to elaborate, and frowned when he didn’t. “Treasa? Bodhrán?”
“No.”
“Mathi—”
He smiled. “It was your interfering old crone, if you must know. She seems to have taken an extraordinarily deep interest in you, and rather firmly passed on the ‘suggestion’ I ensure no harm comes to you.”
But how had she known about— The thought stopped. I’d been wearing the Eye when Treasa had asked me to find the necklace, and also when I’d been questioning Cynwrig about it. The Eye was linked to the one the crones had, and while I wasn’t exactly proficient at contacting them via it—as Mom obviously had been—it was a certainty that they did not have the same problem. Beira might be watching me on the wind, but for those times when the wind couldn’t help her, she was just using the Eye.
I glanced out the window as we turned left into the industrial estate. I’d never actually been out this way before, and was surprised to see so many recognizable name-brand retail stores. Maybe I needed to come out this way more often.
“Mom had been working with them,” I replied eventually. “Beira wants me to take her place, so it behooves their plans to take a deeper interest in me.”
“Which suggests she’s also planning for you surviving this game.”
“As much as she can plan for that sort of thing, yes.”
“I am relieved.”
“I’m not. Not when it comes to the gods, no matter what the brand.”
His gaze narrowed. “There was a disturbing degree of fatalism in that statement—have you seen something you’re not telling me?”
I hesitated. “No conclusive dreams, if that’s what you mean.”
“What about inconclusive?”
I waved a hand, and he scowled. “Bethany?—”
“Mathi,” I cut in, in the same annoyed tone. “Let’s just concentrate on the task at hand. We can discuss the long-term probability of survival later.”
“If you delay said discussion in the hope I will forget, you are wrong.”
A smile touched my lips. “Because you only forget minor things—like agreeing to tell me when you took on another lover.”
“Thatis different.”
No, it really wasn’t, but I let it go as Henrick swept us right into Sovereign Way, then slowed down. The screen between him and us slid down. “The building is just ahead, on the right, sir.”
It was a weekday, so there were plenty of people, cars, and trucks about, moving in and out of the various buildings. Our building was one of the smaller ones, made of breeze blocks that had been painted half black, half white, with odd shaped—and oddly placed—windows along the front of the building. It appeared to have a flattish tin roof, which, unless it had skylights, was going to make getting through that way difficult. I could call up a storm and target the building with lightning, but that would take far more energy than I wanted to expend when we had no idea what we might be walking into.
“You see anything untoward, Henrick?” Mathi asked.
“No cameras at the front of the building.” He paused, glancing down the side driveway. “None to the side. Might be some at the rear.”
“Isn’t that unusual?” I asked. “Most modern churches these days have them.”
“The real estate agent made no mention of them, and they usually do if pre-installed.”
“Or perhaps they simply trusted their parishioners.”
