“This be foolishness,” Hagan said, his lip curled in disgust. “Blame the Tribunal for sending them Alzari back then, fine. But harm Mariel for the sake of vengeance, and the Tribunal’s attention will turn on us. You wish to condemn us all? Killing their assassins be one thing, but to kill a Devout?”

“A Devout? Ha,” Bertram scoffed, the angry scar from his burn twitching, “If you’re so blind as to believe she’s just out here to teach us ‘savages’ about the purity of the Lord of light, then you’re more fool than I thought, Hagan. Ilumni…Amuni, they’re all Streamean in case you forgot. The Tribunal use the Devout to preach justice and spiritual harmony and meanwhile conquer all who don’t convert. Same shit, different chamber pot. Next, you’ll tell me you believe she’s really interested in how we survive, and why we risk settling this far into the wilds. Tell me this, since you do believe she’s just a Devout. Would you be satisfied with the offer she has made to take those who wish to follow her to Granadia?”

Hagan poured himself a cup of wine. “Of course not, but if they no longer wish to be here, who be we to stop them?”

“We’re a free people, that’s who. Beholden to no one. Free to worship which gods we please, when we please. Free to fight whoever threatens us. Free to live out here away from the grip and poison of other peoples.”

“Funny thing this freedom of yours be,” Hagan said, knocking the contents of his pipe into an ashtray. “It seems to ignore our choice to come and go as we please.” When Bertram only glowered in response Hagan added, “That be what I thought,” and took a sip from his cup.