The bullet missed the Sacred Jar, though it wobbled on its base. Hampton shoved it across the table with a dismissive sound, half hoping that it might fall off and shatter despite the Supplicant’s pleas. Instead, it came to rest an inch or so from the edge, tottering but not falling.

Marigold sneered. “Let them have it.”

As the assembled people in the small chapel fell to their knees and cried out about the miracle that had just taken place, Hampton and Marigold donned black priest’s robes and cast the hoods over their faces.

“We just have to walk out of here carrying the bags,” he said. “Slowly, without arousing suspicion. We’ll only have a few minutes, five at the most, but if we can make it off the Temple grounds, we’ll be able to get away.”

Marigold nodded and took up their bag, stuffed with golden and silver relics. They strolled out through the grounds and gardens without acknowledging any of the other Priests of the Jar, and were blocks away when the sirens began ringing and riot troops of the GSF-1 closed in.

“Now what?” said Marigold. “After you’ve shot at the Sacred Jar, what laws are left to break?”

“I know a man who can help us sell this junk,” said Hampton. “We just need to get there without being recognized.

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