and She take you when you are tired of life, brother.’ This from the fat man
beside him, in a tent-sized cloak.
‘Oh, thank you, brother. And on you, peace in Her n-‘ Hanse broke off when the
terrified screaming began.
It was the big fellow in the robe of green and red stripes, and his cowl fell
back to show his fear-twisted face. Naturally no one understood, and other cries
arose amid the milling of robed, faceless people. Two did understand, and both
moved towards the door. One was closer. He hurried forth, running – and outside,
cut left out of view of the doorway and swung swiftly back. He already had the
little jar of vinegar out of his dull brown robe, and the cork pulled. Inside
the temple: clamour.
The man with the gloves and brown walking stick hurried through the door and
turned left; had he not, Hanse would have called. The fellow had no time for
anything before Hanse sent the vinegar sloshing within his hood.
‘Ah!’ Naturally the man ducked his head as the liquid drenched him and entered
both eyes. Since he was not blind and not accustomed to carrying a staff as a
part of him, he dropped it to rush both hands to his face. Hanse swallowed hard
before snatching up the stick by its handle. He kicked the moaning fellow in the
knee-cap, and ran. The god-weapon seemed hummingly alive in his hand, so much
that he wanted to throw it down and keep running. He did not, and it exerted no
other effect on him. Just around the corner he paused for an importuning beggar,
who soon had the gift of a nice brown, cowled robe. Since it was thrown over him