You always had the impression that dinner amongst a gaggle of priests and holy men would be dull, austere food served in a pious silence. Maybe that’s true in some places, but certainly not here. Joining Cato and his companions for dinner, you’re served duck with a rich, complex sauce. There’s wine too, although nobody is foolish enough to overindulge. Hunting assassins is bad enough without adding a hangover into the mix.

“I found some old maps of the catacombs,” Cato says, leaning across the table and lowering his voice, “Originally they spread across the whole settlement, including the cathedral itself. Some time ago, though, the priests here built walls to separate the cathedral catacombs from the rest of the network. Concerns about thieves, I suppose.”

“I feel like I’m stating the obvious here, but walls can be broken down,” you point out.

“Of course. We still have to consider this as a potential weakness. Fortunately, there’s only a single entrance that opens out into the cathedral, and I’ve ordered it to be sealed off,” the young man nods, “We’ve blocked off the entrance with some old furniture. It won’t deter a truly determined attacker, but it means they won’t be able to enter quickly or quietly.”

“Good enough.”

“What about…” Cato lowers his voice, “Renoir?”

You pause for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know. He’s neither confirmed his guilt nor proven his innocence.”

Cato sighs, his face darkening.

“What about you?” you ask, quickly changing the subject, “Has your associate found any useful leads in the prophecies?”

A strange look passes across Cato’s face, mingling amusement and pain, as he glances away from you. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” he suggests, nodding over to the entrance to the dining room. You follow his gaze, your eyes widening with disbelief when you see who he was talking about.”

“Cato,” you say slowly, “Please correct me if I’ve got the wrong idea, but I thought this whole operations was supposed to be secret, something to be handled with discretion.”

“It was,” he replies with a wince, “I mean, it is.”

“Then why exactly is MISTY here?” you hiss.

“A secret is best shared between as few people as possible. Misty happened to be present when we learned about the plot on the saint’s life, and she has access to the Choir’s records. I didn’t want to get anyone else involved, so-” Cato pauses, falling silent as he notices Misty approach your table with a spring in her step.

“Hello boys,” Misty begins, helping herself to a seat at your table, “You weren’t talking about me, were you?”

“I was just telling Isambard about your good work,” Cato answers hastily, “We appreciate the hard work.”

“Oh, you know me,” Misty remarks with a wink, “Duty above all else.”

[1/2]