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"Jealousy!" he breathed in a stage whisper that carried
clearly through the chill air. "They were jealous! Jealous of a
man more godly than the gods themselves! They were
jealous and afraid that he might challenge them. And so he
might have! And he would have won!"
The crowd roared its approval, with an undercurrent of
anger frightening to hear.
"But, though he is gone," continued the man, clasping
his hands in pious grief, "some of us have vowed to carry
on, to keep his memory alive. Yes," he cried, raising his fist
to heaven. "We defy you, gods! We are not afraid! Drop a
fiery mountain on us if you dare!"
Michael stirred restlessly, opened his mouth.
"Are you mad?" Nikol whispered. "You'll get us
killed!" Taking hold of his medallion, she tucked it down
the front of his blue robes, hiding it from sight.
Michael sighed, kept silent.
No one else in the crowd saw them. All eyes were on
the speaker.
"Lord Palanthas sides with us," the man cried. "He would
agree to pass our laws, for he knows they are right and just,
but he is prevented from doing so by that old man in there!"
Again he pointed at the columned building behind him.
"Then WE'LL pass the laws and enforce them
ourselves!" shouted a voice from the crowd, who, by the
quickness of his response, obviously had been waiting for
a cue. "Read us your laws, Revered Son. Let us hear
them."
"Yes, read us the laws!" The crowd picked up the
shout, turned it into a chant.
"I will, good citizens," said the squint-eyed speaker
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