“Why does a god ever want a mortal dead?” Ricard mused, and would have shrugged were he not bound so tightly. “Because you’re a threat.” “...ow could I possibly be a threat to a god?” Rael asked. He felt foolish, asking the demented Brother questions to which there could be no sane answer, but part of him clung to the hope that he could tease out some thread of truth in the fools ramblings. Ricard loosed a cackle of laughter. “You’re right! My mistake! Maybe Sren wants you dead for a different. I slid my jacket of my shoulders, I didn't really want to expose my silk shirt to these conditions but the heat was becoming unbearable. We were outside a pub now, stopped at a traffic lights, I peered in past the curtains. Two men took it in turns to approach the pool table, widening their stances and bending over the green felt. Stroking their long slender wooden cues between their fingers before taking aim and slamming their sticks forcefully forward, screams of delight following when the. More

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