He blinked, then nodded slowly. Fair enough. Money was often the most persuasive argument available.
The attendant stepped forward. "Your Excellency, the temple can provide for its own parishioners."
I looked at him. "Then you should have done so before a six year old began humming herself awake from nightmares."
The words didn't rise. They didn't need to. The room went silent, and his face flushed. Good. Let him feel something. It would be a pleasant change from whatever hymn he'd been taught to repeat.
"Arthur," I said, "clear the sanctuary."
