" If someone is starving, is it a sin for them to steal from a man who has more food than he could eat?" Azazel asked him, later, when Semyaza had confronted him. It was not a confrontation so much as it was to ask why. Why reward a thief?

" A thief is a thief," Semyaza said. " What she stole was not food."

" Some things are not food for the stomach," Azazel said. " They are food for the soul. They nourish the blood. A heart grows bitter and wanting without them."

" I don't see how such an abstract principle could be so easily related to a matter of the physical realm," Semyaza said. " The biochemical process of hunger is entirely different from personal want."

" It isn't really so different," Azazel said, smiling keenly. " For instance, what's so different between her and me? She came to this city full of riches, where water flows on every street and gold decorates every house, carrying nothing but a single saddlebag. How could she not want some part of it for herself? She just didn't go about it the right way."

" What exactly have you stolen?" Semyaza asked, still obstinate. " With your grace, is there even anything in the physical realm worth stealing?"

Azazel just smiled keenly at him, like he thought himself clever and was very pleased about it. He walked forward, and set his arms on Semyaza's shoulders. He leaned in, too close.

" I've stolen you, haven't I?" he asked.

What an outrageous thing to say! Semyaza was shocked. He didn't know how to respond.

Azazel's arms were in a loose embrace around his neck.

" And I don't intend on giving you back," he said quietly. He pressed his lips to the flat, ivory expanse of Semyaza's mask, and it melted.

->