The hospital clacksed Hasan and asked him to come and get her. Sweetpea could walk by herself, but she wasn't offended. Commander Vimes had assured her that the SK3 were in the Tanty, but she didn't really want to be walking the streets of Ankh-Morpork by herself right now.

Sweetpea sat waiting for Hasan in the lobby, her armor and clothes in her lap. Someone had been considerate enough to recover her new armor. She didn't want to have to pay for that again. Haddock had been let out a few minutes before. The matrons caring for Haddock had given Sweetpea the feeling that they were mad at her. Don't come in here with your religion and take over our jobs, their eyes seemed to say. Was there going to be a lot of that? If she conducted any bricklaying miracles, she was going to put people out of work. The Construction Workers' Guild was going to come down on her like, well, a ton of bricks.

"Hi, Sweetpea," Hasan said as he came through the door. "There's a troll taxi waiting outside."

"Oh, come on," Sweetpea half-complained. Taking a troll was a nice treat, one they could almost justify paying for every now and then. She handed off the heavier pieces of armor to Hasan. He tucked her breastplate under one arm and swung the other arm over her shoulder. He was being careful around her, but also trying not to be careful. The whole thing felt like when he would pick her up from guild school on the weekends and walk her home. Nobody had been on death's door here, no sir.

Sweetpea was content to let Hasan relish his big-brother role. She knew that he didn't resent her for getting a perceived "man's job" while he did the feminine thing of fixing drinks. Hasan wasn't like that. But all his fears at Sweetpea getting hurt on the job had manifest. She had assured him that it was going to be just a desk job, and felt somewhat guilty at putting through all this worry.

The troll was sitting down on the edge of the road outside the hospital. He was massive. All the taxi trolls were particularly large. Sweetpea and Hasan got into the little gondola strapped to his back. Holding Sweetpea's armor on their laps made it rather crowded. These little boxes could barely hold two adults at the best of times.

"Ready to go," Hasan shouted into the troll's ear. The troll gave them a thumb's up and stood.

"Where to?" the troll asked.

"Katmir Street," said Hasan. "It's a bit narrow, so you can drop us off on the corner."

The troll began to walk down the street, swinging his arms and lumbering out of the way of carts. There was no city-wide agreement on what side of the street carts should drive on, just "wherever they fit". It was no wonder the city traffic was so bad. City watch attempts to regulate speed had been contentious, to say the least. Sweetpea was glad it wasn't her job.

"I clacksed John some of the details," Hasan said. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, that's all right. He should know," said Sweetpea. "The commander gave me two days off, so I've got time to meet with him."

"I suggested he come see you at the hospital, but I don't think he'll have to do that now," said Hasan. There was an awkward silence for a bit. Sweetpea had always felt self-conscious about having private conversations in front of waiters, or cab drivers, or troll taxis. It was also rude to them to act like they weren't there. All the clerks had to do a two-week internship in an office during their last year. Over the course of that internship, Sweetpea still hadn't gotten used to people have confidential discussions right in front of her. Her discretion was assumed, but still. She didn't need to know how drunk her boss's aunt had gotten the night before, or who in the office was going out with who.

And now, Sweetpea realized, she was potentially going to have somebody listening in on her all the time. Her thoughts, even.

Hasan cleared his throat and tapped his head, to indicate the god inside Sweetpea's.

"Does this mean you have to convert to Sekularism?" he asked.

"No, but I think I'm going to be even more involved in the church than most Sekularists," she sighed. "Sek said that I could still worship Offler, but I'm going to have to meet their Mother Superior, probably meet with the people that believe in them. I don't doubt there are going to be some problems. Sek chose a brown girl to represent them. That's going to make some people mad."

"Why did they choose you?" Hasan asked.

"Hasan, please—"

"No, really," he pressed. "You don't even know if they are Sek. They healed you, but can't any god or demon do that? And how long is this going to last? They could take advantage of you."

"I have to trust them," Sweetpea said. She didn't want to tell Hasan that this was something she'd been wrestling with herself. "I may not worship Sek, but I believe them. And I believe in them. When they're in my head, in my body, it's like…" She waved her hands. How could she explain that golden light, the pain, the glory, the itchiness from the inside? "I know that they're holy," she said simply.

"Okay," said Hasan. He didn't say anything for the rest of the ride as the troll trudged his way towards home.

Sweetpea was plagued by bad dreams that she couldn't recall when she woke up. Hasan had made the coffee but was already at work. Since it was her day off, Sweetpea set out making a traditional large Klatchian breakfast. She poured batter into a pan and made flatbread, rolled cheese in olive oil and sesame seeds, got out a bowl of olives, and ground chickpeas into a coarse hummus. It was around nine o'clock when she finally sat down to eat. She wasn't sitting for long when Sek slid into her head.

Good morning, Hakim, they said. Sweetpea detected a yawn in their mental voice.

"Did you just wake up?" she asked through a mouthful of olives.

Long night of answering prayers, said Sek. Sweetpea couldn't tell if they were joking or not. Are you up to visiting the Mother Superior today?

"I don't think I'm mentally prepared, but physically, yes." Sweetpea paused and chewed while she considered something.

You're going to ask why I go by "they",said Sek. I can hear it on the tip of your thoughts. Better that you ask me than the Mother, she'd only get the reason wrong.

"Okay then, why not he or she?" Sweetpea asked. What little she knew about pronouns was from Dars's passionate explanations, but that hadn't included "they".

Most of my followers would say that it's because I can take the form of male or female to better connect to them.There was a bit of weariness behind this statement. What they don't understand is that I don'thavea gender. Gender is a human concept.

"You're a human concept," Sweetpea observed.

Don't I know it. said Sek. Look, from what I've seen from human societies in the thousands of years I've been serving them, there have always been people who don't fit into "male" or "female". Every race has their own version of gender. I've been waiting for the "them" pronoun to catch on for millennia. I actually chose an avatar a few centuries ago because they felt just like me: no gender. That one…didn't last very long.

There was a new feeling coming from Sek: immense sadness. It was the sadness of eons, of every one of your followers dying and not knowing where they went, of loving humans who were gone in a blink of your celestial eye. Tears formed in Sweetpea's eyes, and she took a gulp of coffee.

"You've had other avatars?"

Many times, but you're my first for a while. The nice thing about being me is that I'm worshipped by groups everywhere. I've been Morporkian, Sto Latian, Llamedosian, Uberwaldian…even Ephebian once.

"All white," Sweetpea pointed out.

Those are the majority of people who worship me, yes. You're the first Klatchian avatar I've had. Offler had cornered the market on you, but these are the enlightened times everybody talks about. I'm not too worried about you getting attacked by other gods' followers.

There was something else behind those words, but Sweetpea couldn't quite articulate what it was. There was a "but" there, or something. Some kind of reservation that Sek had that they weren't telling Sweetpea about. Every time Sweetpea tried to think this thought, to puzzle it out, it slipped away from her grasp until it popped like a soap bubble.

So, after breakfast, to my temple. Do you like kids?

Sek told Sweetpea to enter their temple from the back, through an alley that ran behind the Street of Small Gods. She was acutely aware of the fact that Sek's temple was only one door down from the Temple of Offler. Luckily she didn't have to pass it to get to her destination. Sek's order, the Spiteful Sisterhood, ran a reputable school for young children and orphans out of the temple. Sweetpea could hear the shrieks of children a block away.

They're just playing, Sek assured her.

I know. Being around kids scares me, though,thought Sweetpea as she approached the yard behind the temple. I'm afraid that they're going to die at any second, whether from being ill or just running off a cliff.

They'd need somebody to stand on the edge of the cliff and catch them, Sek mused. That could be you. The catcher in the—

"Ryan, do not put that in your mouth!" a booming voice commanded. Sweetpea walked up to a low fence that surrounded a yard full of frenzied children. One of the sisters, the source of the booming voice, was in the middle of the throng of children. She was a stout woman wearing a maroon habit, and looked like a kind version of the matrons at the Free Hospital. She had two children by the hand: a young boy, apparently Ryan, and a girl that couldn't have been older than four. She had a wooden block in one chubby hand and kept trying to smack passing children with it.

The sister noticed Sweetpea and ambled over, pulling both children along. Sweetpea braced herself for the awkward questions.

I'll handle this, said Sek. I like kids, and I want to say hello.

Please,thought Sweetpea gratefully. She relinquished control, and Sek leaned casually on the fence with both their elbows.

"Hello!" said the sister cheerfully. "Can I help you?"

"Hi," said Sek. "I'm thinking about enrolling my little sister here. I wanted to take a look before I made my decision."

Sweetpea knew that Sek was lying. And yet they were so convincing that Sweetpea almost believed them. It made perfect sense. It just wasn't true.

"But of course," said the sister. "Ryan, would you unlock the gate, please?"

Ryan had messy hair and a shapeless maroon smock, but he looked clean and well-fed. He let go of the sister's hand and came forward to open the gate. It was as tall as he was, but with some concentration he unlocked it and rode on the slats as it swung open.

"Get off of there," the sister scolded. She beckoned Sek in and shook their hand. The handshake was slightly sticky.

"I'm Sister Francince," the woman introduced herself. "Welcome to the Temple of Seven-Handed Sek. What's your name?"

"Sweetpea Hakim," said Sek.

Why did you say my name? Sweetpea asked uneasily.

I don't want to reveal myself yet, not to these kids, Sek told her. They'll know soon enough and then they'll be in awe. I miss kids. I've had a few, but I never got to raise them.

As Sweetpea processed this, Sek followed Sister Francine through the playground. Most of the children were Ankh-Morporkian and human. Smattered throughout were some Klatchians (possibly refugees), one or two dwarf children with wispy beards, and even a young troll that the other children were climbing on.

"We take all sorts," said Sister Francine proudly. "Religion of the parents doesn't matter, but we do have Octeday school lessons. You didn't used to be able to opt out of them, but there's a permission form you can fill out—CLARENCE LEAVE PERIDOTITE ALONE!—and we'll provide an alternative lesson during that time. Monthly tuition is four dollars, but we have scholarships for low-income families. Here in the Sisterhood we believe in being well-rounded. We give classes in cooking, music, self-defense, first aid, and bricklaying; as well as the usual grammar and history lessons."

I've got to learn about the bricklaying sometime, Sweetpea reminded Sek.

That is a very long story. "Are you in charge of the school?" Sek asked innocently. Sweetpea knew they already knew the answer.

"I run the school, but the Mother Superior is technically in charge." Sister Francine pressed a hand to her bosom. "Sek bless her. She's been the mother since I was young, and we've improved so much as an order since then."

"I'm sure Sek will bless her," Sek said. If Sweetpea had been in charge of her eyes, she would have rolled them. "Is the Mother available at the moment?"

"She always is, especially in the mornings when we don't get many worshipers." Sister Francine gestured to a door that led into the building. "Go through that door, past the cloisters, and take a left at the T. You'll come into the sanctuary. This time of the day she'll be at the altar. Just go right in."

"Thank you. You run a wonderful school here."

Sek stepped through the door and shut it against the noise of the children's screams. They leaned against the wall.

I'm giving control back to you, they said. You should meet the Mother as yourself. You two are going to need to have a good relationship, and not just when I'm speaking through you. I've learned my lesson. There was a schism back in 1317 that one of my avatars may or may not have caused.

If you think so…thought Sweetpea. She wasn't very keen on the idea. I don't think this is going to go well.

I'll be right here, ready to intervene if I need to. I don't think I'll need to, though.

That's because you've never experienced racism a day in your life, Sweetpea thought as quietly as she could. Sek and she switched places, and suddenly she was leaning up against the cold brickwork. There was something about Sek being in control that Sweetpea forgot every time. All her senses became dulled, as if her whole body and ears were wrapped in cotton. She wondered if Sek liked being in control because they got to sense more.

It's the exact opposite,said Sek. Taking control of you means I have to concentrate more of my powers on one place and moment. It's quite limiting. I'm used to being everywhere, but when I'm in your body I'm only somewhere.

Sweetpea walked past the cloisters, which held a small cabbage garden. Because of city crowding most people didn't have room to even stretch, but all the temples had been built centuries ago. Back then, architects didn't have to worry about urban planning and were more concerned with flying buttresses and spires. She turned left at the T and walked towards a massive warped door.

"What should I say to her?" Sweetpea asked. "The Mother, I mean. What's her name? You said you couldn't remember. She might not believe me if I don't know her name."

She'll believe you,Sek said breezily. I'm 90% sure her name is Abagaila. Okay, 80%. Just introduce herself and say you're my avatar.

Sweetpea pushed the door open and entered a dark, smoky room. The sanctuary was lit by candles only. They illuminated walls covered in dark red drapes. The eye was drawn to an enormous copper statue at the end of the room. It had a human body with seven outstretched arms and a cat's head.

Is that supposed to be you? Sweetpea thought with a giggle.

Oh, didn't you know? said Sek. Cats are my scared animal.

Once Sweetpea took her gaze off the statue, she noticed that the sanctuary was full of cats. They lounged or sat on every surface; sleeping, grooming themselves, and looking at you like they would scratch you if only they had enough energy. Sweetpea hoped Sek didn't sense this, but she had a natural aversion to cats. Her mother had always called them "demon animals", but that might have been because she was allergic. Sweetpea didn't see the appeal to an animal that thought it was better than you but acted like a baby.

"Come closer, my child," said a scratchy voice. Sweetpea peered through the candlelight and saw a hunched figure by the statue. She stepped between the candles on the floor until she came to the raised altar. An old woman sat at a table, not old enough to be decrepit but old enough to be proud of it. Sweetpea didn't have a lot of interaction with old white ladies, but she did bear a striking resemblance to the old women at Offler's temple who would look at you like they just knew you'd eaten broccoli that week.

"Are you—" Sweetpea coughed. Her mouth was suddenly very dry. "Are you the Mother Superior?"

"I am. Mother Abagaila is my name."

I knew it! Sek crowed. Not that I had any doubt.

"Are you here for spiritual guidance, my daughter?"

"No…." said Sweetpea. "I'm, uh, here to spiritually guide you, as it were. I'm the newest avatar of your god. Sweetpea. My name's Sweetpea. "

The Mother shifted in her chair. It creaked like it was going to fall apart at any second. "You shouldn't come in here saying things like that, my dear. If Sek had a new avatar, I would know about it."

"I could prove it," Sweetpea said a little testily, "But I don't think that would be good for either of us. I prayed when I was in danger and Sek saved me. In return, I said that I would be their avatar."

"Oh, so you hear the voice of Sek, do you?" From what Sweetea could see of Mother Abagaila's face, it was pursed into a prim expression. "What do they say to you?"

Sweetpea folded her arms. This woman was really getting on her nerves. It was nothing she couldn't deal with, though. "They talk about their other avatars. They judge everyone I interact with. Not in an afterlife way, just in a snarky way."

Oh, yes, this is going very well, said Sek dryly.

"If you did hear Sek, you would know that their voice is divine," said the Mother. She folded her wrinkled hands on the table in front of her. "Do you have much experience with talking to gods?"

"I pray to Offler sometimes, but he didn't choose me to be his discly representative."

Mother Abagaila rolled her eyes skyward.

"Oh, and she's a Klatchian as well. Their heathen god isn't good enough, so they have to take ours."

That's it! said someone, but Sweetpea couldn't tell if she or Sek had said it. She was suddenly falling backwards out of control, and Sek slammed their hand down on the table.

"Listen, Abagaila. When I choose my avatars I choose them right. Maybe you should be asking yourself why you weren't chosen. And Offler is a personal friend, so watch the 'heathen' talk!"

Sweetpea didn't think that Mother Abagaila would be able to tell when Sek took over. But there was something in Sek's voice, their eyes, the way they carried Sweetpea's body…Sweetpea hadn't seen herself in a mirror when Sek took control, but she was willing to be that she wouldn't recognize what she saw.

Mother Abagaila's eyes widened.

"Are you—are you really-?"

"Of course I bloody well am," Sek snapped impatiently. "Every night you pray to me to protect the children in your school. Once you asked me to help your sister escape her husband, and help her I did."

"That was you?" The Mother flung herself to the ground at Sek's feet, but in a careful way so she didn't hurt her joints. "Oh, I knew it, I knew it was your, Your Spitefulness!"

Of course she knew, Sek said to Sweetpea sarcastically. I can read her surface-level thoughts, though. She's overwhelmed to meet me. She genuinely loves this job and the people she serves.

Also she's a racist, Sweetpea thought sourly. For her, that was a hard thing to excuse. Most Ankh-Morporkians were a little racist, but they did it in a casual way.

There is that, Sek admitted. I'll talk her around.Out loud, they said, "Rise, Abagaila Merryweather. You and I may look eye to eye."

Even remembered her last name, Sek thought smugly.

You did not, you just read her mind.Sweetpea was starting to pick up on Sek's tricks.

You're getting too smart for your own good.

Sek helped the Mother to stand. The woman flinched at Sek's touch, as if her skin was going to burn. Either that, or she didn't like the color of the hand that was helping her up.

"My avatar and I will leave you now, to contemplate your divine place in the world. Later I would like you and her to discuss how you will increase my following in Ankh-Morpork and around the Disc. She will be performing miracles with all seven of my hands in order to prove my might."

"No one can doubt your might, O Sek," Mother Abagaila said enthusiastically. "I will come up with ways to aid your divine plan. Bless your avatar and protect her. May she protect all of us."

"Great, yes," said Sek. "I'll be in touch."

Guess you did have to pull me out of that one after all. Sek quietly gave control back to Sweetpea. She stared at her feet as she picked her way through the maze of candles and cats. What was that she meant about me protecting all of us?

Sweetpea was so focused on not knocking over a domino portrait of candles that she bumped into someone coming in from the outer sanctuary. He grabbed her shoulders so they didn't both fall over.

"Sorry," muttered a familiar voice. Sweetpea looked up and her mouth fell open.

"Fittly?"

Constable Brian Fittly, out of uniform and wearing a suddenly very relevant seven-arm amulet, was still holding onto her shoulders. He gripped them tightly as he looked at her in astonishment.

"Hakim? What are you doing out of the hospital? You were half-dead when we found you. You really scared us there."

"Uh, uh," she stammered. "I—wait. You were there?"

"Most of the Treacle Mine Road watch house was," he said. He looked at her strangely. "Are you Hakim's twin sister, or something?"

"No, it's me." Her brain was racing. "I didn't know you were Sekular."

"It doesn't really come up at work." Fittly finally let go of her shoulders. He might have been an immature jerk, but he respected personal space. "You still haven't answered my question. Did Sek save you, or something? Is that why you're here?"

"They did, yeah." Gods, this was awkward.

Let me try something, Sek offered. They took over, and stared levelly at Fittly. Then Sweetpea was back in control. Fittly's eyes widened. That proved it, she did look different when Sek was being her.

Was that a test? she asked Sek.

"You—you're—their avatar—" Fittly spluttered.

It was. And he passed.Sek was clearly impressed. Has this guy given you trouble before? He's a loyal follower.

As I think all of human history has proven, being pious doesn't make you a good person.Or cure your sickness, Sweetpea added to herself.

"But that must mean…You must've agreed to do it while you were dying," Fittly said. He rubbed his lips.

"Yeah, Sek came to me when I prayed. Before—before you and the others showed up." She wasn't about to relive that trauma with Fittly here.

"And you agreed to it?" Fittly asked. This was wrong. He looked almost distraught. Was he upset that Sweetpea, a follower of Offler, had been chosen?

"It was that or be killed," Sweetpea almost snapped.

Fittly grabbed chunkfuls of his hair. "Oh my gods," he whispered. "You don't know, do you? They didn't tell you."

Sek, what is going on?"Tell me what, Fittly?"

"Sek doesn't take on their followers as avatars anymore because their avatars are always killed," Fittly whispered.

No no no NO—Sek thought at growing volume.

"People hate Sek that much?" Sweetpea asked hollowly. She couldn't feel anything, and not like when Sek took over. This couldn't be happening.

"Not people. One person, one demon." Fittly looked around the sanctuary and clutched his amulet. "Skellius."

"Who is that, the god of skeletons?" In her disbelief, Sweetpea almost laughed.

"He is the demon of distrustful deeds and small crimes, the under-prince of lies," Fittly explained in a low voice, as if even talking about it in the sanctuary wasn't safe. "Skellius and Sek have been adversaries since time began."

I swear on my name I was going to tell you, Sweetpea… Sek was saying.

"Skellius gathers followers whenever Sek does," Fittly was saying. "They battle every few centuries…"

A great wind was roaring in Sweetpea's ears. She pushed past Fittly and ran out the door.