He hastened along the track, ignoring the preternatural mists that closed in around him. Ten paces later, as he passed through the warren's gate, the clefts and crags of the East Tahlyn Hills disappeared entirely, the mists thinning to reveal a featureless, stony plain beneath a sickly sky. Further out on the plain sat a ragged hide tent, smoke hanging over it in a sea-blue haze. Munug hurried towards it.
Chest labouring, the artisan crouched down before the entrance and scratched on the flap covering it.
A ragged cough sounded from within, then a voice rasped, 'Enter, mortal.'
Munug crawled in. Thick, acrid smoke assaulted his eyes, nostrils and throat, but after his first breath a cool numbness spread out from his lungs. Keeping his head lowered and eyes averted, Munug stopped just within the entrance, and waited.
'You are late,' the god said, wheezing with each breath.
'Soldiers on the trail, master-'
'Did they discover it?'
The artisan smiled down at the dirty rushes of the tent floor. 'No. They searched my pack, as I knew they would, but not my person.'
The god coughed again, and Munug heard a scrape as the brazier was drawn across the floor. Seeds popped on its coals, and the smoke thickened. 'Show me.'
The artisan reached into the folds of his threadbare tunic and drew forth a thick, book-sized package. He unwrapped it to reveal a stack of wooden cards. Head still lowered and working blind, Munug pushed the cards towards the god, splaying them out as he did so.
He heard the god's breath catch, then a soft rustle. When it spoke again the voice was closer. 'Flaws?'
'Aye, master. One for each card, as you instructed.'
'Ah, this pleases me. Mortal, your skill is unsurpassed. Truly, these are images of pain and imperfection. They are tortured, fraught with anguish. They assault the eye and bleed the heart. More, I see chronic loneliness in such faces as you have fashioned within the scenes.' Dry amusement entered its tone. 'You have painted your own soul, mortal.'
'I have known little happiness, mast-'
The god hissed. 'Nor should you expect it! Not in this life, not in the thousand others you are doomed to endure before you attain salvation — assuming you have suffered enough to have earned it!'