Chapter eighteenOne has, in these latter days, to be tolerant of other peoples’ religions, unless, I suppose, you belong to one of the great proselytizing faiths of two worlds. The religion of Tsungfaril was enough to drive any preacher, fanatical or not, into hysterical action. The best I could hope to do, and I trusted Opaz Beneficent would smile, was to imply to some of the more zealous in the ranks that our first priority was dealing with Shanks. People are touchy about their faiths. I wanted no in-fighting, no bloodshed between the forces we were trying to muster to resist the Fish Faces.
Burrowed over many seasons within the escarpment fringing the wasteland and paralleling the River of Drifting Leaves the tombs of generations of the dead of Makilorn reminded me, as I have said, of
