but she is the Mother of the Church!” An odd phrase applied to a ten-year-old, but the thought only threw fuel on the fire of his righteous fury. “She doesn’t suit you? The arrogance. The insolence. The self-serving hubris! Bishop, cardinal, or King of fucking Araby, you don’t get to choose a Pope.” He stabbed at the sky with a finger. “That choice is for God!” “Think Brother Diaz found his balls,” murmured Vigga.
