Risen Short Story #2
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"Hey, did you hear?" Philus was greeted by his fat companion as he entered the tavern. "They say somebody is running around the island that the Inquisition hasn't caught yet. Nobody knows where he's from."
Finally back in the Laughing Gyrger after an uneventful day, Philus joined him in a bad temper. "So what? Then he's a bandit. He's not the only one," he grumbled.
"Nah, not one of the Don's people," the fat man whispered. "But he's sniffing around anyway, going into the temples, and whatnot."
"So? Other people have done that," answered Philus crankily. He had other worries. Nobody was buying his fish.
"Yeah, but unlike them, he comes out again. They say he's at least six feet tall, that's what a farmer up in the Gutters told me."
"Nonsense, that's impossible."
"And why's that?"
"Well, because the temple passages aren't that tall. He'd have bashed in his skull and croaked like all the rest a long time ago," was Philus' irresistible logic.
"Aah, what do you know..."
"Beats me. Buy me a beer, will you? I've had a bad day."
