“Khored?” The word slipped out before I could stop myself, at once question, prayer, and statement. I had already met a god once that week. It didn’t seem so impossible an idea I might meet another. I’d grown up on a thousand divine stories. Not one featured Khored as a black-skinned Manol vané. But not one said he didn’t look like such either. The smile slipped a little from his face, but then returned and shone all the brighter for the lapse. “Please, call me Mithros.
