"You were warned by the first Chosen," a woman's voice kindly reminds her. On the meditation ball furthest from the roses and champagne sits an eight-armed woman, a large spear resting in her lowest right hand. She remains perfectly balanced as she turns her torso toward Steph. "I am Eighth; next is Eleven through Fifteen."

She pauses for a moment, as if contemplating, and then adds, "Except poor Temperance, of course."