'It's Church. The maimed and dying are our business. Many of us stand vigil in such places. Sometimes the dying come to us.'

The Don smiled. 'Of course, it would make sense. Standing sentinel like a carrion crow.'

He looked up to the Gob, towering above him, its chariot several feet higher than their previous encounter within the Hall of Thought. All he could see was the faint flickers of machinery and display. The gelatinous mound of fat that controlled it hidden, cowering gleefully within a blanket of shadow.

It knew Xindii was here. Of course it did.

'How goes your investigation, Tatterfox?'

'Oh, I think you know how well it's going . . . Maybe Kiko and Mensch told you? You would have collected their numbers surely?'

'Souls are squeezed from cadavers every hour. The list is long. These numbers have yet to reach the tally.'

It sat, the LED displays of its controls illuminating the contorted smile of a sadist; jagged teeth and split lips.

'You despise me . . .'

The Don stood up, proud. His nose almost touching the frescoed ceiling.

'I'm sorry to hurt your feelings.'

'The Mapper and the Don. Do you know that there are some children who pray to you both every night? You brought the families of Eshreet and Frica finality and justice. Brought to book the most heinous killers the Construct had ever seen. How does this make you feel, that when you scurry back to your cloisters, families gather at night to wish you well.

'I, us, the Auditors look kindly upon your ventures. This is why we came to you, both. No other Mapper could solve this. No detective could stomach it. The Mapper and the Don, friends and confidants, the stuff of legend. Oh, what numbers we may reap from you one day.'

'One day?'

'Of course, you both have so much to do.'

The Don shook his head in pure bewilderment. 'Well, I don't know if you are keeping up on current events but Xindii is rather in a bad way.'

'Just as well we are here.'

The Don held his arms open. 'Praise be to the Engine.'

'We both know what will happen if Xindii sleeps too long. It's happened before. This is why his synthesised Xelofremanine was devised, so he can distinguish reality from dream . . . What things he must have witnessed on his travels to lose himself for so long.'

The Don sighed deeply 'What is your point?'

'He needs the Xelofremanine to tether himself, guide him home. You must get it for him.'

'But-'

The Don then remembered the conversation in the car. The old man in Sanis-Rhae. Xindii's chemist.

'You evidently know where this fellow is. Why don't you procure it yourself?'

'This chemist is known to us. He does not appreciate our interference. We have had, dealings.'

The Don felt intrigued to ask 'Oh? Have you been rattling somebody's cage, Gob?'

The prosthesis seemed to judder, as if the chariot itself was alive and was affronted by the Don's jape of sarcasm.

'Even if I procure the Xelofremanine there is no certainty it will work.'

'It must. The murder of Godrich Felstrom still must be accounted for.'

'Why? It's just one man.'

The prosthesis then tilted and the Don saw the pulsating sore of fat lurch and heave in its throne as its eyeless gaze fell upon the old Tatterfox.

'This is no concern of yours. You are being paid but we would be willing to up your fee. Just you, you understand. What would you desire? A house in the country. A lodge in the mountains of Efferis. A cottage on the banks of the Dazi . . .'

The Don looked up at it, keenly.

'. . . A home to call home. Your precious Leilani bringing you supper as dusk falls, your pups asleep.'

He stood, open mouthed, his mind a jigsaw of times gone by.

'How do you know her name? I have never uttered her name to anyone?'

'Not even Xindii?'

He shook his head, the shock of her name throbbing in his head, burning like a supernova.

'We are the Auditors. We know . . . Is this what you want? Such power is not beyond our means. She existed, her number calculated and stored.'

The Don shook the wares of the Gob from his mind and stared at it, eyes of contempt.

'I will not be beguiled by such gumph. I will find this chemist and bring back the Xelofremanine and you can keep your dazzling promises of bribery to yourself.'

The chariot shook in sheer frustration, the oscillators grinding against the hot metal, steam billowed and oil soothed its flamation, the Gob cursing and spitting, its cracked lips rupturing further.

'Bribery? Bribery?'

The Don had had enough of the vile beast. 'Where is this chemist and what is his name?'

'It is no he! Too long this cantankerous old creature has loitered in our gaze, sealed in his garden of herbs and flowers, goading us.'

The Don was becoming frustrated. 'Where?'

'Sanis-Rhae, the house of Greenbank.'

'His name?'

'It has had many over the passing of time.'

'Then give me one at least.'

'God.'

The Don made his way back to Xindii's alcove where the Mapper was rigged up to a variety of medical apparatus. He breathed regularly, which was good to see, his colour a healthy shade. For how long was anyone's guess.

He had to go speak with God.

How crazy did that sound.

He sat beside his old friend and watched his steady breathing, the padre gave him a wink and slinked out for a moment.

'How do we get ourselves into these little scrapes, eh? You and your damn curiosity, I and my damn loyalty.' He leaned closer to whisper into Xindii's ear.

'You need to get back. You know this. Whatever demons you face in there remember that they have been conquered before. Don't stray too far, Xindii. I can't complete this case without you. They may bring in Rickard! Don't let them bring in Rickard, his breath could stun a rutternack.' He laughed to himself.

He had to go speak with God.

This world was getting crazier. He was in a church, billions of years ago people came here to talk to him. Times change. So do Gods.

'The Gob uttered the name of my mate tonight. Leilani. I haven't mentioned that name since I was augmented, even to you, Xindii. Tonight my beliefs have been challenged. The Auditors say they can resurrect her, bring her back to me. Live happily ever after. A part of me wants to believe. That's the allure isn't it? If they can do that then perhaps they are correct in what they preach. Or perhaps it is all curtain dressing and illusion . . . What do you think?'

The Don looked to his old friend. He would have answered.

'Tell me later.'

God.

God the chemist.

It made a bizarre sense.

'Don't you wander too far my friend, it's not good for your health.'

He leaned over with a tissue to swipe away the faint covering of sweat on the Mapper's brow and then kissed him on his smooth head.

'Don't leave me with Rickard.'

The Don smiled and made his way from the alcove, fighting the swelling lump in his throat.

'The Mapper and the Don.'