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“I am Mina, but you know that. You came here for a theological discussion, and the common room of an inn is hardly a suitable place to debate serious matters, do you think?”

Lleu Mason was a young man in his early twenties. He had blonde hair that he wore in the manner of Kiri-Jolith’s clerics—shoulder length, with a central part and straight-cut bangs. His eyes were brown and intense with a restless, seeking look about them. He was well-built, with the muscles of a soldier, not a scholar, which was not surprising. Kiri-Jolith’s clerics trained alongside the knights they served and were notable among clerics in Ansalon for being skilled in the use of the long sword. His grandfather had been a mason, which is how he came by his name.

He looked at Mina. He looked around the inn, though he didn’t see much of it. He smiled faintly.

“No, not very suitable.” Lleu drew in a deep breath. “I will come upstairs with you.”

Mina walked again up the stairs. This time he followed after her. He was gravely courteous, moved to precede her down the hallway and opened the door to the room for her. This was a private dining chamber, with a table and chairs and a fire on the hearth. The table was laid. A servant stood obsequiously in the background. Lleu held Mina’s chair and then took his place across from her.

The meal was good, with roasted meats and bread followed by a sweet. They spoke little during the meal, for the servant was present. When they were finished, Mina dismissed him. They shared a jug of wine, neither drinking much, only sipping at it as they drew their chairs over to the fire.

They talked about Lleu’s family. His elder brother, now thirty-five, had become a master mason, joining his father in the family business. Lleu was the youngest and had no interest in masonry. He dreamed of becoming a soldier and had traveled to Solamnia for that purpose. Once there, he was introduced to the worship of Kiri-Jolith and realized that his true calling was to serve the god.

“You might say the church runs in our family,” he added with a smile. “My grandmother was a cleric of Paladine and my middle brother is a monk dedicated to the worship of Majere.”

“Indeed?” said Mina, interested. “What does your brother think of your becoming a cleric of Kiri-Jolith?”

“I have no idea. His monastery is located in some isolated place and the monks rarely leave it. We have neither seen nor heard from my brother in many years.”

“For many years.” Mina was puzzled. “How could that be? The gods, including Majere, returned to the world only a little over a year ago.”

Lleu shrugged. “According to what I am told, some of these monasteries are so isolated that the monks knew nothing of what was transpiring in the world. They maintained their lifestyle of meditation and prayer despite the fact that they had no god to pray to. Such a life would suit my brother. He was always dour and withdrawn, given to roaming the hills alone. He is ten years my senior, so I never knew him very well.”

Lleu, forgetting himself, had moved his chair nearer to her. He relaxed as the meal progressed, disarmed by Mina’s warmth and her interest in him. “But that is enough talk of me. Tell me of yourself, Mina. There was a time when the whole world talked of you.”

“I went in search of a god,” Mina replied, staring into the fire. “I found god. I kept my faith in my god until the end. There is not much more to be said.”

“Except that now you follow a new god,” said Lleu.

“Not a new god. A very old one. Old as time.”

“But … Chemosh.” Lleu grimaced. As he gazed at her, he was consumed with admiration. “You are so young and so beautiful, Mina. I have never seen a woman as lovely. Chemosh is a god of rotting corpses and moldy old bones. Don’t shake your head. You cannot deny it.”

“I do deny it,” said Mina calmly. She reached out, took hold of his hand. Her touch made his blood burn. “Do you fear death, Lleu?”

“I … yes, I guess I do,” he answered. He did not want to think of death at this moment. He was thinking very much of life.

“A