Brendon. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. Sir John was not used to such glances, and he liked them. “Why come after me after all these years, Sebastianus? Haven’t you found any sycophants to convert, any nubile young nymphets to bring into the cannibal flock?” “Why should I do that if there is still the chance of you?” “What if there could be no chance of me? How do you know you can have me?” “I see your game. A lovely, fetching girl. He would have to make sure of her silence.
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