“Remember the Round, Heboric? In Unta? Hood’s acolyte, the priest covered in flies…who was naught but flies. He had a message for you. And now, what do I see? Staggering into view, a man aswarm—not in flies but in tattoos. Different gods, but the same message, that’s what I see. Let Fener speak through those peeling lips, old man. Will your god’s words echo Hood’s? Is the world truly a collection of balances, the infinite tottering to and fro of fates and destinies? Boar of Summer, Tusked Sower of War, what do you say?”
