"My mom was a surfacer, a half-elf. She prayed to the surfacer gods, every time she was pregnant she'd spend the whole time singing hymns to Pharasma. None of my siblings lived a tenth of a gong. The last one came out in pieces." He scratches his left shoulder. "People say the Good gods don't really care about us, that they abandoned our ancestors when they first came underground. I don't know if that's true for all of them, but it sure doesn't seem like we'll be getting help from Pharasma."

"I do not have a very comprehensive theological education. Dealing with - Lamashtu sympathizers - is not even remotely a priority. I just wanted to make sure that they know, and aren't - falling into it, not knowing what they may enable."

"I don't think anyone down here has a, what did you say, a 'comprehensive theological education.' But if you tell people 'don't pray to Lamashtu, it might make her more powerful' they'll think you're saying that because you want their babies to die."

"Understood."

Sigh. "If you're not in a rush, I can try to warn people off acting like Wendu while we're here."

"I am not in a terrible rush. It would be nice to get back up before sundown."

Lann trots off to speak to the other members of his tribe.

Is there anything obvious to do around here or should he just sit and whip up a chess set.

He could check in with Chief Sull to make sure everything was squared away properly with Wenduag? He could supervise Woljif (currently talking with Dyra) or the Count (currently talking with a mongrel Blai doesn't know) or Nenio (still talking with "Ears Girl")? He could help Seelah help some of the older kids with their fighting techniques?

...he'll circulate vaguely among the options till something demands his attention more seriously, he supposes.

"I see. Could you summarize how your understanding of Abadar's teachings compares with the views espoused in the writings of the Osiriani historian Halim Rashid?"

 "...what?"

Scribble scribble scribble.

"Don't grip it like that, you'll sprain your wrist if you're not careful. Here, let me show you..."

"Where did you get these scrolls, anyway?"

 "I believe the neathers I purchased them from retrieved them from the remains of dead surfacers."

"Huh. I kinda thought Abadarans weren't allowed to just go around robbing corpses."

 Anxious blinking. "Is that stealing? We didn't have a way to return the scrolls to their tribesfolk..."

"...Believe me, the attention the gods show us is nothing to envy. If the gods forsake you for your strange appearance, so much worse for the gods."

 Blink blink blink. "I never thought about it that way."

"Gray area," he tells Woljif, and Daeran gets a politely incredulous blink, and then he will go ask Sull if Wenduag's trial went all right.

Disappointing, but not surprising. Iomedaeans hate it when people insult their precious gods. If Shelyn says the mongrels should be cursed for their strange appearance, who are they to question her?

The idea that Shelyn supports harming the ugly is a common misconception. However, correcting it could potentially contaminate her experimental results.

Here's Chief Sull! He nods grimly at Blai's inquiries.

"Yes, it was a very unfortunate situation. We discussed it for three gongs, but... luring our people to their deaths isn't something we can forgive easily. She's gone to be with her ancestors now."

"Any chance she managed some last minute repentance?"

"She, ah, was always a stubborn one."

Oh no, did he... break the surfacer?

"What she did wasn't your fault," he says, in what's clearly supposed to be a reassuring tone.

"I know. I was just praying for a moment."

"Was there anything else you wanted to know?"

"No. Thank you."

Are they about ready to leave? The Sun doesn't stand still.