The angry mottled gash marring the guard’s aura suggested concussion, internal swelling, bleeding. If Brother Qown left him there, the man would sleep his way right through the Second Veil and into the Afterlife.

Brother Qown set his hand against the man’s head. First, he soothed the brain tissue inflammation, then fortified the cracks in the man’s skull before shoring up the bleeding wounds too small to see. The guard would sleep and sleep hard, but if Qown finished his job, the guard wouldn’t die.

And if any Joratese discovered what Brother Qown had done, they might well put the priest to death instead.

“Hey, what’s taking so long?” Ninavis called out.

“Coming.” Brother Qown rushed after them.

6: A JORATESE TOURNAMENT

Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Two days since Kihrin D’Mon was Returned to life

“I like the way you describe looking past the First Veil,” Kihrin said to Qown when the priest paused. “Does everyone who trains with the Vishai Mysteries learn that? I mean, I don’t know much6 about how religion works. I’ve spent time around religious people, but I wouldn’t call them priests. What you did just sounds like sorcery, so what’s the difference?” Kihrin looked around, a little embarrassed, as he realized he should have checked for anyone listening before bringing up what might be heresies.

“I don’t know how other religions function either,” Brother Qown admitted. “I suspect it involves prayer and promised offerings for favors? But the Mysteries aren’t like that. You see, our god is dead.”

Kihrin coughed. “Your god is dead? Excuse me?” Butterbelly had talked about light and the temple at Rainbow Lake. He’d never mentioned worshipping a deceased deity.

Janel started to say something, then stopped herself.

Brother Qown smiled. “We follow Selanol’s teachings, try to spread his light to the world, and protect people from the demons he died fighting.”

“Selanol? I’ve never heard of him,” Kihrin said.

“He’s the eighth of the Eight Immortals. In his memory, we give of ourselves and hope to experience and encourage enlightened lives. But as our god is dead, he cannot answer prayers, so we must make do with our own magical gifts.” Qown paused. “My views on sorcery are rather heterodox.”

Kihrin sat back, stunned. “Wow.” The name was different, but there was only one ‘vacant’ slot among the Eight, only one among them who might be considered ‘dead,’ although different regions were always offering up new candidates for the role. Kihrin himself had grown up thinking Grizzst the Mad, who’d bound all the demons, was the eighth god. That had turned out to be just as wrong as all the other stories.