"The ArchBishop," she told him, "wonders why you haven't answered his calls to a conference, earlier. It's been weeks since he asked you to the cathedral. This morning he sent word, to me, to persuade you to see him." Brook instantly became disturbed and let her off his lap. He stood up and slowly walked over to the window. After a few moments of silence he turned to her and in a loud, angry, voice spoke his mind. "I do not entertain business with such a man. I hold no men like him, in regard, as friends _ or anything else. I shall not go to him, from my own will, and if he cannot move his bulbous body to come here, I will not exert myself for him." Brook's voice echoed about the stone room, its bass quality full of contempt and hate. Then he noticed that he had frightened her, because her face became drawn and startled. After a moment, she spoke in an uneasy manner. "My love, that ... that's not proper. The ArchBishop cannot be treated like that ... He's the --" Brook quickly stepped towards her and put his hands on her upper arms, interrupting her train of thought. "-- He's the biggest hypocrite that has ever lived. He's a megalomaniac who has always taken advantage of these people in Phoride. Yet, I have stood by and watched it, and allowed it. What's to become of it all?" He dropped his hands from her arms and embraced her. Then, in a breathless whisper, while his eyes were closed, committed himself to subdue the powers that the ArchBishop thought he had under his command.Dearborne, worried and confused by her husband's quickly changing moods, held him closely to herself. "What is wrong, Brook? I feel like something severe bothers you. Tell me what trouble's you, my love." she pleaded in a concerned voice but, for a while, he did not answer. He stepped away from her and moved towards the window again, and said nothing. Dearborne thought that Brook was going insane and she prayed to her fullest ability that she was wrong, and that she was just entertaining foolish and childish ideas. On the streets were the sounds of people; talking, laughing, buying and selling, and going about their daily routine; which, in more cases than not, was just trying to survive. In the distance, from the direction of the Cathedral, came the horrific buzzing sounds of the Monastic Guard's electrophoric weapons. The sound was like the drone of a million panicked mosquitos, swarming in a mass confusion. Brook's eyes filled with tears and Dearborne looked towards the window. Silence took command of the room. Dearborne slowly moved towards the window, touched Brook's forearm and looked at him with her big brown and compassionate eyes. He placed his hands upon her, then they embraced until the nightmarish sounds of the ArchBishop's weapons died and the sounds of the children, playing in the streets, filled the air in its place, again.