For the next half hour he told stories to the children in an attempt to counter whatever nonsense the Uplifted Church had filled their heads with during their mandatory lessons. Some had simple points about being kind to others, remaining true to your inner selves, and refusing the ugly behaviors of the prideful and cruel. Others gave examples of Lycaena’s mercy, or Endarius’s stubbornness. Rayan did his best to keep the telling lively, raising his voice for Lycaena and deepening it to a nearly unintelligible growl for Endarius. He even took on a sinister tone when speaking as Dagon, the weak-hearted coward who ruled the Heldeep at the farthest pit of the ocean where the evil and unrepentant were punished.

The hour ended, and the younger children scattered to their waiting parents, who chatted with shopkeepers that lingered at the doors to their shops. The older ones returned home unattended, though three remained, speaking in hushed tones as they debated what to spend their small allotment of copper crowns on. Rayan wished life could be as simple as children often saw it. There were right actions and wrong actions. You strove to choose the right actions while forgiving yourself and others when performing the wrong ones. These children didn’t yet know the sting of impossibility. They didn’t know the dread of the unrepentant and the determined ugliness of the Uplifted. They would, in time. When they did, Rayan prayed his stories of hope and forgiveness might bring them comfort.

Normally lunch was a slice of rye bread with a generous helping of butter and honey, but today he felt like something different. He’d heard one restaurant in particular had gotten their hands on an extremely spicy powder made of crushed violet peppers, and he was eager to discover if the sauce they made for their breads was as hot as they claimed. He hummed an outlawed song as he walked, stopping only at an angry cry to his right.

“Leave me alone, all of you, just leave!”

Three men had cornered a crossed-woman in front of a hat stall. She held one of its soft leather hats in hand, its cyan ribbon matching the pale blue of her dress and sea green of her heeled shoes. That outfit no doubt cost a small fortune, and the crossed-woman wore it with pride. It seemed that pride, however, had earned her some detractors.

“Look, we’re saying that Leonard here makes some mighty fine hats,” the biggest of the three men said, and he gestured to the stall’s owner. “And it’d be a shame to have someone so ugly be seen wearing one of them fancy Leonard hats. That’s reasonable, ain’t it?”

The stall owner stood with his arms behind his back and his gaze burrowing into the street with unmatched focus. Whether he agreed or disagreed, he offered hints to neither, which was enough of an answer in Rayan’s eyes.