He came another step closer. Tarquin could hear the whirrof Faladir’s hands coiling into fists.
Tarquin finished sliding the knife free, then flipped his left sleeve back and put the point to his arm. Fear slid like ice into his chest. His brother would never hurt him, but this thing wasn’t his brother, and he had no idea what it would do.
“Faladir!” he shouted. “Wake up!”
Faladir blinked, his metal eyelid clicking, and all at once he was there again, staring in confusion.
“Quinny?” He looked around at the chapel walls, then back at his brother. His throat chimed when he swallowed. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“Well, you came to speak to the gods, obviously,” Tarquin said, forcing the words out through a relief that made his breath quake. He slid the mage knife back between the statue’s hands, then smiled at Faladir. “Come sit with me. Maybe together we can find enlightenment.”