"Father, please stop that. St. Peter Portunes has more important things to do this night. The fishing fleet is out and there’s a gale coming in from the west." Hogwash—or rather, there may be, and if there is I’m in good shape and if there isn’t I can always say that of course there wasn’t, because I said Peter was working on it, and he’s the Rock of the Church. "I’m an alchemist, Julius Marcus. No doubt this is why you sought me out. The Angel Aeolus carries my shopping and his brother Gabriel of the Caduceus flows in my blood. I am the birdsong and the breeze, the Mother’s mercy and the Father’s love. Set out your needs that I may judge them and give solace, or bring me home, lest I decide I am offended by your presumption."