Ankh-Morpork was a lot more crowded these days than it used to be. Sure, it had always been the city that people aspired to live in (and once they realized it was too expensive, they were stuck there) but even more so now. Whereas the little towns in the mountains and the duchies on the plains were less accepting, Ankh-Morpork welcomed all races with open arms. Or at least, open hands.

Because of the crowding, it was a lot more difficult to run from one end of the city to the other. Sweetpea was discovering this as she hurdled headlong across the river and through the residential districts. All she wanted to do was go home and hide under the covers. But that wouldn't help. Nothing would let her get away from this. Sek was inside her and she was stuck with them now.

Sweetpea, we'll get through this together. Sweetpea knew that Sek could take over and slow her down. But they didn't, and this made Sweetpea resent them even more. They were trying to seem nice. Well, it wouldn't work.

"Bullshit," Sweetpea muttered as she ducked beneath a 2x4 somebody was carrying. "There is no 'we' here. I don't care what morals gods operate by. You took advantage of me."

I gave you a choice, Sweetpea, Sek reminded her. I knew you needed help and I offered to save you. I chose you for a reason.

Sweetpea skidded to a momentary halt and backtracked around an impromptu food cart market that had popped up. Damn the Push Cart Owners' Guild. She took to an alley, pounded down a set of trash-filled stairs and was back out on the street.

"A choice?" she panted. "Between getting saved, or getting raped and murdered? That's no choice at all. You only came to me because you knew I wouldn't say no. You don't give a damn about what kind of person I am."

That isn't true, Sek said firmly. Sweetpea paused at the intersection between Attic Bee Street and Short Street. She always forgot which was the quickest way home from here. You think I'd choose somebody who wasn't willing to perform miracles and do what needs to be done?

"What, sacrifice themselves?" Sweetpea made a decision, cut across several lanes of traffic like a good Morporkian, and was off down the street again. This was a part of town where not a lot of business was done. The residents didn't have enough power or money to repave the street, so the cobbles were old and broken. Sweetpea had to stick closer to the buildings in order to not twist her ankle. "Because not mentioning that part after several days seems like a pretty big oversight."

I admit that I was reluctant to tell you at first, said Sek. Sweetpea, I'm trying to be completely honest with you. That's rare. I wouldn't even be this honest with that old Mother in there. I understand that I'm going to have to do a lot to earn back your trust. I value that trust. We can't work together to defeat Skellius without it.

Sweetpea finally reached her home street. This time of the day most people were at work, but in Ankh-Morpork somebody was always watching. She slapped up against the wall of her building. This was a predominantly Klatchian and Istanzian neighborhood, and the residents had made some effort to plant native flora. The only thing that could really be said to be thriving was a spindly acacia tree. The things could grow in relatively harsh environments, so the cracks in an Ankh-Morpork sidewalk was little trouble. The poor shrub had suffered somewhat from a lack of sunlight, but it was tall enough that Sweetpea could rest in the shade of its branches. There was a certain awareness that she had, even when Sek was there but not in control. If she concentrated, she could feel the tree growing, and sense the people in the building, and hear the worms trying to survive beneath her feet…

I can't lose another follower to Skellius. Sek sounded about as weary as a god could. I just can't. I thought I could try something different this time.

"Can you get out of my head, please?" Sweetpea suddenly asked.

What?

"You said you couldn't be in control of me for too long. Well, I can't have you in my head for too long. It's too much for a mortal to handle. I feel like my brain's going to explode."

Do you see that cat over there?

"I...yes?" The cat was sitting on a low wall and gazing disinterestedly down the street. Like all Ankh-Morporkian cats it had to be scrappy to survive, but still washed itself like it was royalty.

Watch.

Suddenly the cat sat up and stared dead-on at Sweetpea. Sek's presence filtered out of her mind, and just as the last of their presence left, the cat hopped off the wall. It looked both ways down the street and sauntered over to Sweetpea. She caught on instantly.

"You're the cat."

The cat, a nondescript orange, joined Sweetpea beneath the acacia tree. Sek said from outside her head,

I took the cat over, at least.

Sweetpea crouched down and got at the cat's level. It met her gaze with golden eyes. Then Sweetpea understood. These weren't just cat's eyes. There was something else there, some kind of unknowable depth. Sek sat down with a little sigh.

What that follower of mine said wasn't strictly true. My avatars don't always die. We've always defeated Skellius before-that's why my religion is still around. Unfortunately the avatar usually sacrifices themselves at the end. But that's up to them, not me.

"They do it voluntarily because it's their religion," Sweetpea said. She could understand that, even if she couldn't empathize with it. "That does make sense. But you don't want them to."

Of course not! Sek exclaimed. How do you think it feels to be in someone's head when they die?

"Well…" said Sweetpea slowly. "Seeing as how I was in my own head when I nearly died…"

Of course, of course, of course. Sek pawed at their ears. Sorry. There was an avatar I had, around three hundred years ago. She was Llamedosian. A sister in my temple. I could feel Skellius gathering power in the area. The sister and I did so many miracles...people would come for miles. The followers of Skellius were based in a nearby mine. One night, they attacked the temple. The sister rallied her own followers and they protected her. She led them in prayer, which increased my strength. I sent Skellius back to Hell and he didn't manifest for a long time after that.

Sweetpea absentmindedly rubbed the cat behind the ears. "So Skellius comes from Hell? As in, capital-H-Hell?"

The cat purred beneath her fingers. That's right. He's a demon. I don't know why he's chosen me in particular to antagonize. There's not a lot I can remember from when I was a small god, so we might have known each other then.

"Are you opposites?" Sweetpea suggested. "He represents small crimes, you represent...I dunno. I maybe need to work on my pitch promoting you."

Yes, I think we'll have to workshop that,Sek said. You have to talk me up even when I'm not here. I represent the mundanity of life and humanity's strengths. The cooking, the brick-laying, the writing-these are all mundane things that no other god covers.

"You've got universal appeal," Sweetpea. She wasn't sure if she exactly believed this, but it helped to agree with Sek. She wasn't sure if she had forgiven them, but Sek's reluctance to lose a follower seemed almost...well, human.

Universal, exactly,Sek agreed. Good, you're getting there. And then there's the helping, healing, and vengeance. Those are all things that other gods cover, but I like to think that they work well together in one package. I represent the order of life, while Skellius represents chaos.

"How did you end up with all of these abilities?" Vengance seemed awfully vague, and if Sek could do any kind of overall healing, they were almost ridiculously overpowered. Sweetpea wondered why they didn't have more followers, and then realized that at any time, a worshipper of Sek could be drafted into a holy war. "Did a PR person write them up for you?"

I don't know what that means, but no. As far as I can remember, I used to exist as several different gods. The worshippers were all in different countries, but they were absorbed into an empire. As the different religions intermingled, I gradually morphed into one god and then gained consciousness.

"And when did Skellius show up?"

That's just the thing.The cat's tail flicked back and forth irritably. I can't remember. I think I've always been fighting him.

"What's his end goal, then? To end your religion? To kill you?"

Ending my religionwould kill me. Sometimes it seems like he wants to take my followers for himself. That's always the endgame of gods. They want the most followers so they can gain more power. I've always been on the b-list of gods because I don't offer my followers much in the way of an afterlife. I deal with people while they're alive.

Ah. That would explain it, too. People didn't want to think about the here and now. They wanted to think about how good it could be in the future. If you were promised paradise after living in the muck, and all you had to do was pray once a week? People loved that. That was why Io was so popular-and Offler, come to think of it. There was the promise of protection from demons and curses, a few vegetables you had to avoid, and then eternal happiness after you kicked it. Sek promised you a slightly better life while you were here, and not even they knew where their dead followers went.

Don't overthink this, said Sek. They began demurely washing their paws. I can hear your brain over-heating from here.

Sweetpea folded her arms. "I wouldn't go trying to insult me after you deceived me for your own ends." She stood up. "Thanks for explaining everything to me, but I think I need a break. I'm back at work in a few days. Why don't you check in then?"

The cat's tail bobbed back and forth. All right, I'll give you a break. But we've got to hit the ground running when I get back. I'll be keeping an eye on you. If your heart rate spikes, I'll know about it.

"So basically, don't do anything exciting?"

The cat turned and flicked its tail as it walked away.

"Wait-Sek! What does that mean if I want to have-"

The cat turned around the corner of a building and was lost to sight. Typical. Sweetpea leaned back against the building. Sek had tried to console her, but hadn't exactly done a good job of it. They had no information on if Skellius was gathering followers already, or what the plan was to defeat him besides increasing power through worship.

Well, there was no use angsting about it out here. At least she could go inside and feel sorry for herself in the comfort of her own home.

Up in the Hakim apartment, Sweetpea sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. There was something coming, a great black wave threatening to crash over her. It wasn't coming from inside her head. She could sense this. But you could let a wave drown you, or you could ride it to shore. Skellius was going to manifest no matter who Sek had chosen. It didn't matter if he aimed specifically for Sekularists. This packed into the city as people were, there was going to be collateral damage. Better that she arm herself at the forefront of the charge, rather than be swept along in the chaos. She was a clerk, wasn't she? And a watchman—that had to count for something. Who better to lead a religion of order than a clerk?

Sweetpea decided to let this be her last thought on the matter for today. She had to do something to distract herself. John had wanted to see her, hadn't he? Sweetpea went up to the roof where an enterprising father and son had leased out a clacks tower. The entire neighborhood used it, but in the middle of the day it was quiet. Sweetpea gave the son Ramound a message for John, and sat watching as it flashed its way across the city. She waited a few minutes on the edge of the roof. Ramound wasn't much of a conversationalist. He and Sweetpea played together when they were little, and she wasn't surprised that he'd grown up to be a clacksman. He was always quiet and methodical.

"It's okay, Sweetpea," Ramound said after she'd waited a while for John's reply. "I'll bring the message down to you when it comes."

Just as he said that, a tower a few buildings away flashed a message for their tower. Ramound turned back in his seat to intercept the message. Sweetpea tried to read it, but the lights always blurred and made her eyes hurt. She let Ramound write the message on clacks paper and then hand it to her.

Sweetpea –

Working in father's shop until hired. Off at 6 tonight. Dinner?

John

Sweetpea replied that John was welcome to come over to the Hakim residency for dinner, as long as he brought some vegetables. She knew Hasan wouldn't mind. Both she and him had so few friends as it was.

Normally Sweetpea didn't like fixing huge dinners that took hours to prepare, but she had the time and company was coming over. One thing her mother told her that had stuck was that you went all-out for company.

Sweetpea's cooking was so enthusiastic that she made way too much for the three of them to eat. John suggested they go for a walk while they digested, and Hasan offered to stay behind to clean the tornado of a mess Sweetpea had made in the kitchen. Sweetpea and John strolled through the neighborhood, talking about job prospects and gossiping about classmates. Sweetpea hadn't told either John or Hasan about the latest revelation. She knew she would have to eventually, when people started trying to kill her, but she didn't want to spoil this evening. The food had been good and the air was finally warm.

"So, some news on the relationship front…" John said.

Sweetpea grabbed his arm. "Oh?"

"The most muscular blonde man came into the store the other day to buy flour. So cute, really bashful. I asked him what he was going to bake and he said he was learning how to bake cakes. I told him he should bake me one and he said he'd give me the first edible one he made." John looked down at Sweetpea. "Am I doing it right?"

Sweetpea threw back her head and laughed. "I would imagine the flirting for men is quite different. Women are always complementing each other, so I never knew if Chelsea liked me or really liked me. We had to drop some pretty heavy hints to indicate that we wanted to date. Guys aren't usually affectionate, so it might be easier for you."

They rounded a corner into a neighborhood that was slowly becoming more gentrified. Construction in the city was always a tricky thing, but improvements to the façade and interior of a building could be made. The middle class that had been in Ankh-Morpork for a while and was making money off new immigrants wanted places to live above the rabble. As if the housing prices in the city weren't already bad enough. John was a city boy like Sweetpea, and as far as she knew his family had been there forever. He looked around with a dreamy expression.

"I can't help it. I just want to live here. I want to have a nice job and get married and have curtains and an expensive place and a husband who will bake cakes for me." He waved an arm wide. "I want it all! Is that so wrong?"

They got some very odd looks from families going about their business, and Sweetpea tugged on John's arm halfheartedly.

"Sorry, Sweetpea, I didn't ask you. Is there anybody in your life?"

For some reason, a certain dwarf with a blonde beard popped into Sweetpea's head.

"Not…yet," she said.

Around about the time Sweetpea would usually be getting up for work, there was a knock at the apartment door. Sweetpea pulled an abaya around herself and got up to answer it. Standing in front of her was Constable Ironcrust.

"Dars!" Sweetpea exclaimed. "How did you know where I live?"

"Corporal Flint has your address on record," Dars said shamelessly. "How are you feeling?"

Sweetpea leaned against the door frame. "To be honest? A bit messed up, emotionally. How much time do you have before your shift starts?"

"An hour and a half." Dars spread her arms. "My morning is yours."

Sweetpea got dressed behind a screen, made some coffee, and fixed Dars some flatbread, all while explaining what happened the day before. Dars was suitably furious at the end.

"And they just—didn't tell you?" Dars slammed her coffee back. "Can you maybe punch yourself in the fact the next time they possess you? No, wait. You don't want to mess up that face."

Sweetpea felt a warm glow inside her chest.

"Actually," she said, successfully keeping her voice from cracking, "I was hoping to get information on Sek that doesn't come from Sek themself."

Dars finished her coffee and stood up. "I know just the place, if you don't mind a little walk."

It took Sweetpea a few minutes to figure out where they were going, but when they neared the sagging and complicated architecture of Unseen University, Sweetpea understood. She was mad she hadn't thought of it before herself. She had been through school, hadn't she? When you have a question you go to the library. She wouldn't have thought that it would be Dars's first choice, though.

"Don't worry," Dars whispered as they entered the library. "I know the assistant librarian here."

Dars led Sweetpea over to a desk where a wizard sat, scribbling industriously. He was the most ragged wizard Sweetpea had ever seen. Everyone in the city had gone into the library at least once: whether it was to get out of the rain, see this orangutan people kept going on about, or on rare occasions find a book to read. Some of the wizards held public lectures on the more exciting bits of magic, and Sweetpea had been to a few of those with her clerking friends. But this wizard wasn't like the large, stately ones in rich red robes you saw around the place. He was scrawny, with a graying beard, fraying robes, and a battered hat clamped down on his head. It had the word "wizzard" spelled on with sequins.

He looked a little panicked when he saw the two watchwomen striding determinedly towards him. Upon seeing Dars, however, he relaxed somewhat.

"Hullo, prof," she greeted him. "This is my friend Lance-Constable Hakim. We're looking for a book."

"People usually are in here," he replied with what would have been sarcasm if it hadn't sounded so gloomy.

"Yeah, well, we need one on religion," Dars said. "Avatars and gods talking to mortals, that sort of thing."

"I might have one or two like that," said the apparent professor. He turned to Sweetpea. "Can you read Klatchian? You look like you're of Klatchian descent, and there's a bit of it in the accent."

"Yes, I can read Klatchian," said Sweetpea, who wasn't aware that she had any accent. "My mother taught me."

"That expands the field slightly. This should only take a few minutes, but if I'm gone for more than an hour send in a search party." He got down from his desk and slunk off between the bookshelves.

Sweetpea turned to Dars.

"He's a professor?"

"Yeah." Dars smiled wickedly. "Of Cruel and Unusual Geography. He doesn't have any students, though, so mostly he works in here."

"How did you meet him?" Sweetpea asked as the susurrus of students and rustling pages swirled around them. To speak at any volume louder than a whisper would seem like sacrilege. Or, worse, it might bring down the wrath of the Librarian upon them. Sweetpea had never met the famous simian, but Haddock had tried to feed her some story about him being in the reserve watchmen.

"Oh, he just ran past me on patrol one night, so of course I followed him," Dars explained. "He's incredibly fast, but I ducked down an alleyway and tripped him up on Elm Street. Turns out he was just...running. I mean, at first he thought somebody was chasing him, but mostly he said he wanted to stay in shape. He's got some amazing stories to tell if you get him drunk enough."

The professor returned with two volumes in hand.

"Here you are, Dars," he said, handing them to the dwarf.

"Back alive then, I see?" Dars teased as she accepted them.

"A herd of kickstool crabs went by but I managed to evade them," said the professor with seriousness.

"Are there only two books?" Sweetpea asked with some disappointment. She was hoping that there might be an entire section on mortals interacting with gods. If Sek had an avatar every hundred years or so, there had to be some documentation of it. Dars handed her one of the books. The title read A Walk Across the Desert: The Life of Prophet Brutha.

"That's the only one in Morporkian. The other one's in Klatchian, it's a sort of how-to guide." The professor/librarian shuffled his feet. "There's a whole set of volumes about the explorer Deathlyrock looking for the Lost City of Ee, but it was in Quirmian. Then there was one about the potato religion, but that one's in Old Uberwaldian and that religion doesn't have gods anyway."

"Wait—that means that you can read all of them," said Sweetpea, slightly surprised. This scrawny little man didn't look like much of a scholar. Then again, he didn't look like much of anything—especially not a wizard. He raised his shoulders in a semblance of a shrug.

"I have a gift for languages. It's the only present I've ever gotten. Traveling around the Disc several times has helped with learning languages too, though mostly I just learn how to scream."

Dars nudged Sweetpea in the thigh. "I told you he has a lot of stories," she whispered. "He writes a monthly journal about the countries on the Disc he's traveled to. I've never read it, but I've heard it's good."

Sweetpea took the other book from Dars and read the title.

When God Talks Back: By Asif Burhan

"What's that one say?" Dars asked. Of course, she couldn't read Klatchian.

"It's about talking to the gods," Sweetpea murmured. She turned it over and read the back out loud. "'Are hyou hearing the voice of a deity in your head? Can hyou suddenly perform miracles? Asif Burhan guides you through supernatural possession and…' Hey, this is perfect. Thanks, professor."

Dars nodded and started to walk backwards away from the desk.

"Thanks for the help, Professor Rincewind, but I've gotta get to work. When should we have the books back by?"

"Two weeks from now, unless you want to get home and find an angry orangutan there. Bye, Dars."

When they left the library Dars said,

"Now I feel better about leaving you alone. I hope learning things makes you feel better—I know clerks are like that."

"Knowledge is power," Sweetpea said a little defensively.

"Yep, you're all the same. Nerds." Dars didn't say it maliciously; if anything, she sounded affectionate. "Take care of yourself today, okay? All of us in the watch house want to keep an eye on you, but I can't do that when you're not at work. Lock yourself in the apartment and if Sek comes back, you give them what-for."

"I'll be sure to do that," Sweetpea said. "Not afraid to chew them out, no ma'am. Just an immortal being with vengeance powers."

Dars tapped the books in Sweetpea's arms. "You've got your own power right here. Take care of yourself, Sweetpea. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

They parted ways: Dars off to Treacle Mine Road, and Sweetpea back home. As she walked through morning traffic she felt that, for the first time since waking up in the hospital, things might actually be okay.