“How?”
The man twitched. It was a cascade of movement that started at his fingers and, like a worm crawling under his skin, went up his arm and seemed to terminate with a spasm in the left eyebrow. “I know this because your god is one of thousands who claim truth.”
The priest shuffled back a step, moving slightly closer to the bronze altar of his god. “Yes, but Throm walks the earth! His power built this church. His lightning fills the sky in a storm.”
“Storm gods come and go, no more true or false than ants in a hill.”
The priest seized the holy book of the clouds from the altar and shook it in the man’s face. “Laws! Prophecy! Look here, in these pages and you will find truth, demon!”
“Hollow words for hollow men.” The man swatted the book onto the floor and spit on it.
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