"She's gonna smite us. She's going to obliterate our arses," hisses the first voice in a panicked whisper, echoing somewhere in the mists.
"Oh, calm down," says the second voice, silky and smug. "We're not interfering. We're... investigating. Enlightened inquiry is divine tradition."
"We're soaked in prayers for him," moans the third. "It's embarrassing."
The three voices bicker through clouds that shimmer like liquefied pearl. A gentle warmth kisses his skin. Somewhere, distant harps pluck in harmony with sensual sighs.
"We had no choice! The prayers wouldn't stop. Hundreds, thousands. Churches, temples, love-shrines! All crying out the same name."
"Yes, yes. The Pleasure Prince. The world wants the Prince of Pleasure. And we didn't even know what a Pleasure Prince was until a few weeks ago."
"And now he's here. Sleeping. In our bed."
A silence follows.
Then, softly...
"...Did we steal from Mother?"
More silence.
"Shhh. He's waking up."
Pip stirs.
