The younger priest bowed and trotted out to the desert. Marik watched him as he ran. He was tall and powerful, and his skin was deep blue, almost purple. His powerful thigh muscles clenched and unclenched as he ran. He reminds me of my younger self, Marik thought, as he watched Kenra Sarg pound effortlessly over the sand. He will be a fine successor when I am ready to go.
He sank back into reverie, hoping for some repose before Kenra Sarg returned with the Earthman.
He was small, even smaller than the other Earthmen Marik had seen, and his mouth worked curiously and constantly. His face had been dried by the desert. He shook sand from his hair, his eyes, his ears.
"I thought I was finished that time," he said, looking up into Marik's eyes. The Earthman's eyes were bright and hard, and Marik found the contact unpleasant.
"You are safe here," Marik said. "This is the Temple of Carthule."
"I've heard of you people," the Earthman said. "Understand you're a sort of hotel and religion combined."
"Not exactly," Marik said. "But the strongest tenet of our faith is that the Guest Rite is inviolable. Our greatest joy is giving sanctuary to wanderers. You are welcome here so long as you care to stay."
The little Earthman nodded his head. "Sounds fine with me. But I won't trouble you long. I was just passing through this region on my way back to New Chicago—I mean Corolla—when I got lost in your desert. Dropped my compass in the sand and couldn't find my way after that."
"Yes," Marik said. "It is very difficult."