Ravel shook his head. "Quiver's not just sympathetic. Gabe told him who he was before we left. Or implied it, at least, and Quiver's a smart man. If he doesn't already know, he will soon, and he's not going to be stupid enough to tell us 'no.'"

Quiver knew Gabe was an Archangel. Assuming the Necromancer knew anything of the Bible, Ravel was right. Even China hadn't quite managed to avoid becoming some sort of official consultant for the Sanctuary, too frightened of Gabe's reaction to put her foot down and deny her help. Lord help her, it was actually starting to become a habit. A habit she wasn't ashamed of, to boot.

And that, she added silently to any all-powerful beings who might be listening, was only a figure of speech.

"Quiver might not say no, but that doesn't mean we should ask," Ghastly pointed out. "He got Saffron out. Who knows how many others he could manage?"

"True," Ravel agreed. He now had a hand on his chin, and was staring intently at Solomon. "Besides, if and when a Death Bringer ever arrives, it would be really useful to have someone on the inside of the Temple. I'm sorry, does anyone have a pen?"

Ghastly and Tanith both raised their eyebrows, but Ghastly was the one who spoke. "A pen?"

"A pen. A black pen. Make-up would work as well. China?"

"I don't carry my make-up around with me, Ravel."

"Pity. Corrival? Do you have a pen?"