The Shaman
“said Ohaern, “with gods for warriors!”
“Not so long as all that,” Noril corrected, “for the Ulin are immortal only in that they will not die from age or illness—but they can be slain, especially by another as skilled as themselves. Narlico was the first to be slain.”
Ohaern smiled. “There was justice in that. He should not have worked up strife as a means of advancing himself.”
“Who are you to judge the gods?” Noril demanded, eyes flashing.
It took Ohaern aback, but he rallied. “I judge Ulahane to be evil, Sage. Was Narlico so much better?”
“He was on the side of right, at least,” Noril grumbled.
Meaning our side. But Ohaern remembered the dead of his own clan, and the maimed fishermen, and did not say it aloud. “Who, then, took his place?”
“An Ulin named Daglorin, who had all the motives Narlico lacked. He believed ardently in loyalty to the Creator and fairness to the new races.”
Ohaern frowned. “What of Lomallin in all this—he who bred the cause for the fight?”
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