Conger stepped down, onto the damp sidewalk. The guard came swiftly
after him, and then the Speaker. Conger took a deep breath of the cold
air. He studied the dim outline of the building rising up before them.
"I know this place. I've seen it before." He squinted, his eyes growing
accustomed to the dark. Suddenly he became alert. "This is--"
"Yes. The First Church." The Speaker walked toward the steps. "We're
expected."
"Expected? _Here?_"
"Yes." The Speaker mounted the stairs. "You know we're not allowed in
their Churches, especially with guns!" He stopped. Two armed soldiers
loomed up ahead, one on each side.
"All right?" The Speaker looked up at them. They nodded. The door of the
Church was open. Conger could see other soldiers inside, standing about,
young soldiers with large eyes, gazing at the ikons and holy images.
"I see," he said.
"It was necessary," the Speaker said. "As you know, we have been
singularly unfortunate in the past in our relations with the First
Church."
"This won't help."
"But it's worth it. You will see."
* * * * *
They passed through the hall and into the main chamber where the altar
piece was, and the kneeling places. The Speaker scarcely glanced at the
altar as they passed by. He pushed open a small side door and beckoned
Conger through.
"In here. We have to hurry. The faithful will be flocking in soon."
Conger entered, blinking. They were in a small chamber, low-ceilinged,
with dark panels of old wood. There was a smell of ashes and smoldering
spices in the room. He sniffed. "What's that? The smell."
"Cups on the wall. I don't know." The Speaker crossed impatiently to the
far side. "According to our information, it is hidden here by this--"
Conger looked around the room. He saw books and papers, holy signs and
images. A strange low shiver went through him.
"Does my job involve anyone of the Church? If it does--"
The Speaker turned, astonished. "Can it be that you believe in the
Founder? Is it possible, a hunter, a killer--"
"No. Of course not. All their business about resignation to death,
non-violence--"
"What is it, then?"
Conger shrugged. "I've been taught not to mix with such as these. They
have strange abilities. And you can't reason with them."
The Speaker studied Conger thoughtfully. "You have the wrong idea. It is
no one here that we have in mind. We've found that killing them only
tends to increase their numbers."
"Then why come here? Let's leave."
"No. We came for something important. Something you will need to
identify your man. Without it you won't be able to find him." A trace
of a smile crossed the Speaker's face. "We don't want you to kill the
wrong person. It's too important."
"I don't make mistakes." Conger's chest rose. "Listen, Speaker--"
"This is an unusual situation," the Speaker said. "You see, the person
you are after--the person that we are sending you to find--is known only
by certain objects here. They are the only traces, the only means of
identification. Without them--"
"What are they?"
He came toward the Speaker. The Speaker moved to one side. "Look," he
said. He drew a sliding wall away, showing a dark square hole. "In
there."