"No, I suppose they don't," I agree, sensing that there's more to it than what he says, but hey. We've only just met. I'm not as defined by my first faction as I used to be; I don't press for details, nor do I let myself become consumed by not knowing. "I guess that's part of what makes them gods," I muse. I've never been overly religious, myself.

I raise an eyebrow at the recitation. "Poetic," I observe with a wry smile. "I can see why they offered you a part." It's as close as a compliment as I can get with a stranger.

"Here's hoping the gods of Darrow are kinder," I say, though I don't believe my own words. What kind of city just kidnaps people and refuses to let them leave, anyway?