"No, lord," said Ranmut. "I do not believe."
"You've got to believe in reincarnation!" Felg screamed.
"I no longer believe."
"You must! Don't you see, you must?"
"I only know that my belief fades like the leaves in autumn in deep southern climes."
"Believe!" screamed Felg.
This was all madness to Ranmut. He waited for the fingers to tighten on his throat, to constrict there. But they did not.
"Believe!" The hands uncoiled, made weak fists and beat without strength against Ranmut's chest, beat beseechingly. "I need your belief!" Felg screamed, and, when next he spoke, he was sobbing with bitterness and fear. "I need your belief, please oh please, I need it to make my own belief strong. I need it, I need you, Ranmut, please, you've got to believe, because you're a lowborn and you have nothing to live for and if you don't believe then surely I, I can't believe either and that leaves nothing.... Ranmut, Ranmut, I don't want to die, Ranmut...."
Despite everything, Ranmut felt himself engulfed by waves of pity. He said, softly, "But you're not going to die, lord."
Felg hit him and his eyes and nose stung, the hot blood trickling from his nostrils. Then Felg sobbed and did not look at Ranmut again. Sitting on the broken bed, Ranmut watched the big man lumber, sobbing, from the room.