[i]Nature,[/i] a voice hissed as the man in blue spoke. More joined in as he went on, all of them sounding disgusted or amused. 

[i]—presumptuous fool, all must return to the darkness before; that is truly nature—

—he would roll over and show his belly to anyone like a dog?—

—let us speak to him, chrysalis—[/i] High and cruel laughter followed. 

Lyarea ignored them, only raising her eyebrow in response. She had heard the magical races were arrogant, but she had never seen this until now. Conversely, the other man was surprisingly moral, if his concern about lives was any indication. 

[i]Swords are made for combat, not the slaughter of innocents.[/i]

An interesting thought, but something the man in blue had said caught her attention. [i]He has magic?

They can call themselves whatever they please, but the Izzeterine has the gift. You did not ask, chrysalis.[/i]

[i]Fine,[/i] she thought. [i]What about everyone else in this church?[/i]

The reply came nearly immediately. [i]The Pope and his cronies are human, as are the bride and her brother. The person at the doors...[/i] A burst of discussion too fast for her to hear, with a snatch of what might have been a poem in a language she didn't know. [i]...is human. The girl behind the sword—[/i]

They fell silent. Lyarea glanced over: she saw nothing behind him, so it must have been the white-haired girl. She seemed normal, if too petite for the enormous lance and shield she carried. 

Then the voices started laughing. Not the cruel amusement from earlier; this was genuine. None of them seemed to want to tell her why yet. After a few seconds she turned back to the Pope, wondering what they found so funny.