I woke up in hospital. I didn’t realise that immediately though. I saw that I was in an unfamiliar bed and went to sit up, suddenly alert. I didn’t get far as moving sent a sharp pain shooting up my side.

“It’s best that you don’t move.” I heard a voice say. “You’ve cracked a few ribs.” I eased myself back into a lying position, which was closer to a sitting position with the way the bed was set up.

“I didn’t crack them.” I said, “The second assailant did.” That final cast of force right into my side must have been worth a lot. It immobilised me far more permanently than trap that was for sure.

“There are two assailants?” I turned to face the source of the voice. A tall man, possibly a few years older than me, was sat on a chair at the side of my hospital bed.

“Yeah…” I looked around the room. Apparently I was important because I wasn’t sharing it with any other patients. “Where am I?”

“In hospital.” The man answered helpfully.

“I can see that… what hospital?” The man told me the name. We were still in Santa Barbara.

“Tom Beckman sent me to check on you and ask you a few questions.” Couldn’t he have phoned me? I would have preferred that.

“And you are?” I asked. I was maybe being a little more confrontational than usual but I was still basking in the aftermath of my duel with the assailant. Actually assailants, plural, as I had discovered in a rather painful manner.

“Trey Beal, first level acolyte.” He answered. “And I know that you are Hugh Stirling.”

“Also first level acolyte.” I added and sighed. “What does Mr Beckman need to know?”

Trey pulled something from his pocket. It took me a moment to see that it was a small voice recorder.

“He’d like you to make an oral statement. We will transcribe it later.” Part of me, a very small part, wondered if this was some small mercy from Beckman, sparing me the pain of having to write my own report on the events after having to suffer through reading so many. Trey clicked a button on the voice recorder and a red light lit up. He spoke into it, stating the date, time and location.

“Hugh Stirling’s account of his encounter with the individual referred to as the assailant.” he finished and held the voice recorder towards me.

I gave my account of the events, from exiting the meeting house with the bag of donations, to watching the assailant, with their previously unknown friend, fleeing. Trey merely nodded along as I spoke. It didn’t take long, though I made sure to include details such as the value of the assailant’s casts. All of them had used coins and notes rather than cards. My casts had been the same in this fight, but that was because I’d left a direct debit on my card. Did the assailant have a similar plan with their card, or was there another reason? I reached the end of my account and Trey asked a few more questions.

“Did you obtain any information as to the identity of the assailant?” No I did not.

“Did you obtain any information as to the identity of the assailant’s ally?” No I did not.

“Based on the reports you have read detailing accounts of other attacks carried out by the assailant, do you believe that most of the attacks are carried out by the same person?” I could not say.

“The use of notes and coins were consistent with previous attacks, though the value of the casts were typically more than the values estimated in other reports.” I added. It felt good to say that last part. I’d gone up against the assailants when they were wielding far more power. It certainly felt better than feeling the effects of those higher value casts right now. Trey nodded.

“Report concluded.” He said into the voice recorder and pressed the button again. The red light died. His work done, Trey got up. “I’ll let the nurses know you’re awake. They should discharge you by the end of today. Call me when you’re out and I’ll drive you back to LA.” I nodded and Trey left the room. I watched the view from my window while waiting for a nurse to come in. I hoped Verity had a better weekend than me.

I was eventually released from hospital with the advice to take lots of painkillers. As I left the lobby and stood in the car park, I realised that I didn’t know how to call Trey. I opened my phone to look through the contacts list anyway and saw that I had a text from an unknown number. It was from Trey, at least according to the text itself. I called the number. It turned out the text was truthful, it was Trey, and soon he was pulling up in the same car that all acolytes drove: black with tinted windows.

“I checked you out of your room and grabbed your stuff.” Trey explained as I eased myself into the passenger seat. I thanked him and we set off back to Los Angeles.

I received a text from Beckman during the drive back.

Mr Beal has informed me of the events of this weekend and will provide me with the voice recording he took today. Take tomorrow off. We will discuss your encounter with the assailant on Tuesday. TB.

We arrived back at the headquarters of the Church of Mammon in Los Angeles in the early hours of the morning. I was thankful that Beckman had already given me the next day off. No matter how tired I was, I couldn’t fall asleep in cars.

I didn’t wake up until eleven the following morning, and I did so in pain. The nurse might have been onto something when she told me to take painkillers. I was also quite hungry. Showering and getting dressed proved quite a challenge. I took my time, despite my hunger, there was no need to cause myself more pain.

By the time I was down in the dining hall it was half twelve, and the hall was filled with the lunch crowd. As employees who didn’t live in the dorms could also eat here it tended to be busier than it was for breakfast and dinner, and I usually didn’t bother and would grab something smaller. Today was different, as it had been about twelve hours since I last ate something, and the gas station sandwich I’d had on the road back to Los Angeles was hardly substantial. The waiting in line was especially painful today, and even once I’d obtained food I still had to find a table. As I turned from the register to face the rest of the dining hall I realised I didn’t have a chance. What was I meant to do then?

It was at that moment that I saw my saviour, Verity Pour, giving me a small wave. Next to her was Faith who was waving with a little more gusto. Isambard and, to my surprise, Trey were also sitting alongside them. I walked over, weaving my way between tables and chairs and people. I placed my tray down and sat in the free chair they had. I winced as I did so.

“We heard what happened.” Verity said, “Are you okay?”

“No.” I said, “I am very hungry and also my ribs are broken.” I started eating. “How were the sights of LA?” I asked between bites.

“Odd” was Verity’s conclusion. I was hearing that answer from her a lot lately.

“That wasn’t the biggest thing that happened this weekend though.” Faith jumped in. “Verity had dinner with the Grand Elder!” I stopped chewing, realised that I couldn’t ask any questions if I had food in my mouth, then started chewing faster. It was only once I’d swallowed that it occurred to me that I didn’t know what I wanted to ask.

“You’ve met him a couple of times now.” Isambard came in, “What’s he like?” Verity considered this question.

“Ambitious.” She concluded.

“Did he invite you?” I blurted out. Verity nodded.

“I couldn’t exactly turn him down.” she said. My heart rate, which felt like it had spiked when Faith had made her announcement, began to settle.

“Hugh’s worried that you’ll end up as one of Guyard’s concubines.” Isambard said with a smirk. I looked away and took another mouthful of food, not dignifying Isambard’s comment, which had inspired laughter from Faith and Trey and a look of confusion on Verity’s face, with a response. Verity turned her confused look to me as I swallowed my mouthful.

“Grand Elder Guyard has a wife, Maxine Guyard, and several known concubines.” I explained. Richard Guyard’s polyamory was well known, even beyond the Church of Mammon. It was the responsibility of the Grand Elder of the Church of Mammon to produce many potential heirs, that he might select the best to succeed him as Grand Elder. At least that’s what Jeremiah Guyard had written when he was founding the Church of Mammon. Verity nodded at my explanation, but her questioning look did not disappear as the conversation moved on.

“Where were you on Saturday?” Verity directed that question to Isambard.

“I had to cover for another acolyte.” He explained, “I was collecting donations from a meeting house, like Hugh. I didn’t get attacked though.”

Conversation continued until Isambard, Trey and Faith all made their excuses and left. Verity stayed behind.

“Don’t you have training to do?” I asked.

“I’ve apparently learned all the casts,” Verity said, “Now I just need to practice them, so I won’t have Tom watching over me all the time.” She trailed off as she said that last part. “Sorry.” she finally said. I shook my head.

“It’s okay,” I said, and I found that it was, in fact, okay. I’d seen Verity’s arrival at the Church of Mammon as an almighty spanner in the works. She’d turned up out of the blue on the same day as me and immediately all the attention of Tom Beckman, which should have been focussed on training me, was diverted to teaching rudimentary Divitaetion to this total nobody. Yet because of that, the job of tracking down the assailant had fallen on me instead. I hadn’t emerged from that experience unscathed, but my theory about how the assailant was picking targets had been strengthened by the assailants’ appearance in Santa Barbara. If I played it right, I could be looking at a fast track to becoming a second level acolyte in record time. I looked at Verity. “Thank you, Verity.” the questioning look returned to her face but I continued eating and didn’t say anything more.