“You should ask Pagan about it,” Berengaria went on, voice returning to normal. “No, you really should. Mithras was a soldier’s god, you see, just the thing for you, Oxney. And a trader’s god too, hence the temples across the far-flung corners of empire, wherever merchants and soldiers went. Lord of the Contract, he was called, and God of the Exchange. You like that?” She addressed that to Luke, startling him. “In what way, Miss Berengaria?” “God of the Exchange. You looked like you liked the sound of that.”
