He often forgot to eat, so deep was he in his study. Tonight it was the Wyrd scrolls. He had never been able to work out why the T’En had powers, when True-men, the gods’ chosen people, had none. If there were no gods, as he feared, then this was just bad luck. But he kept searching for a logical reason, because if he found it, maybe he’d find his faith again.One heretical priest had put forward the theory that the silverheads were fallen angels, who had defied the Seven and been sent to earth to suffer alongside True-people. He had been excommunicated for his trouble.Sensible scholars held that the Wyrds were closer to animals, but the logic of this troubled Oskane. If he only knew more about the Wyrds, he might be able to work out where they fitted in, but the old scrolls were full of gaps.A year ago, his agent from Enlightenment Abbey had captured an adult Malaunje for him to study, but the silly creature had killed itself. If Sorne and Izteben were to infiltrate Cesspit City, they would need to speak the Wyrd’s barbaric language, so he’d asked the agent to locate a suitable Malaunje to teach the boys.Franto cleared his throat.Oskane looked up to see him in front of the desk with the meal.
