The missionary held open his book, and the watchhain read. The longer he read, the more he realised that this man feared not death; for he was reading not only his text, but also his face. Humans have such expressive faces, the watchhain thought.

[i]"They told us you were barbarians,"[/i] he said out loud.

The missionary grimaced a bit but shrugged. "We grew to pity you, likewise," he said, "for living in caves... and such. Sunlight is good for a man."

The hain was not a man, and in fact preferred the cool of the dark, but he let it pass. [i]"This verse. What does it mean?"[/i]

"Oh, ah... Is the translation off?"

[i]"I wouldn't know. I read it as, 'if you blaspheme, that's forgivable, but not...'"[/i] The language barrier wasn't tall, but words hopped from time to time. [i]"'-bright, because it's an act of blind hatred'. Something like that."[/i]

The missionary re-read the words. Even in South Tounic, the doctrine of Phi rang clear. [color=cornflowerblue]'Fear not retribution from ye elder gods, whose souls are grown thick; fear nor the Zealotry Mortal, for they can only slay; fear only that in your own heart, for a little wisdom breeds great ignorance, and only ignorance breeds great wisdom. Thus let your blasphemy be as the raging child, and remain thus, and in age be humble to all things...'[/color]

"It means that we must not presume we know the gods well enough to speak for them," the man clarified. His name was Silas. "Whether we offend god or mortal is irrelevant. The important thing is not to act wise when we are really ignorant. What's wrong?"

The watchhain shook his head a little. [i]"Irrelevant..."[/i] One little word that could have damned his entire family. How long had the missionary been doing this? A month? Ten? He knew humans and rovaick tended to measure bravery by cullion size; this man's must have been enormous. [i]And you are sheltering him,[/i] he thought. [i]Maybe you have... big cullions of your own.[/i] It didn't really fit.

Silas smiled, and shook his head. "I don't fear death, Kilago," he read from the hain's mind. "Only yours. Pray with me, in your heart, in the dead of night, if you have to. Believe in God, and She will claim your soul. If not when you die, then when this land is liberated. Change is coming."

Kilago dipped his beak and shook his head. [i]"When I die, friend,"[/i] he said. Maybe it was because he was an outsider himself that he could see this side of the story at all, but he had grown up with the rovaick of Rulanah. The Azibo were strong. The legion was strong. There was no revolution coming. That he knew.

"Well, then," said Silas, disheartened, "follow the good gods Toun and Teknall, and be safe. All worship has value, and there is no shame in lying for a while. This verse, see... [i]'[color=cornflowerblue]Such is the law of Prudence: faced with the choice of deception and suffering, it is permitted to silence one's faith, and once you confess in your heart the lies you have spoken in the name of God, you will be forgiven. Only among your Chiral sisters never lie, for God hates to see mistruth as She hates to hear you suffer.[/color]'[/i] Be kind, Kilago, be humble, work hard and pray often- that's all She asks."

[i]"...It sounds beautiful,"[/i] he admitted.

"It is," Silas said.

A knock at the door.

Silas gestured once ([i]'quickly!'[/i]) and bolted in an instant. Kilago immediately exited the room. [i]"Sir! Yes, Inquisitor, yes, sir..."[/i]

Kilago heard nothing from the back of the room. He kept his palms still as they searched the watch tower, and found nothing. He alone noticed the disturbed meltwater around the far arrowslit, the one broken open by a Dwarvish ballista, leaving a hole that led to an almost sheer face on the stone edifice below.

[i]And they say their god works no miracles,[/i] he thought.