‘So, in your tradition, you ask for the judgement of a single god?’ Surt loosened his grip on his younger brother’s hand slightly.
‘Yes, the one in whose... hmmm... temple everything takes place.’ The beastman nodded in agreement. ‘Do the druids do it differently?’
‘Yes, differently.’ Einar pricked up his ears, as he’d previously had no need to know about the judgement of the gods and hadn’t sought such knowledge. ‘The druids offer prayers to all the gods, singing a very long song in an ancient dialect. If I remember correctly, it’s a saga about the beginning of the world. At the same time, they make offerings, burn incense and pay their respects. When that part is over, the parties to the conflict are brought in and the charges are presented; finally, the druids ask the gods for a verdict. And one of the gods always answers.’ Surt concluded grimly.
‘Always?’ Ceet raised an eyebrow.
‘Yes, there’s always at least one god who’s willing to pass judgement,’ the red-haired man stared at Ceet for a moment. ‘It’s just that the verdict varies. Sometimes it’s a mark that appears, sometimes a curse; sometimes the gods speak to the assembled from the void, and sometimes they even manifest themselves and descend into our world.’
‘Hmm… You know a lot.’ The beastman seemed keenly interested in the subject.
‘I asked the druids a thing or two before I went to the Gate for the first time.’
‘To what?’ Einar asked straight away when he caught the unfamiliar name.
‘To the Gate, that is… Ah, well, you’ll see.’ Surt broke off as three younger druids emerged from the forest ahead of the procession. They spoke briefly with Father and the legate, then gestured for them to follow.
From that moment on, everyone fell silent, sensing the eerie atmosphere prevailing in the shadows of the forest. The deeper they ventured into it, the more Einar realised that the strange buzzing sound which had been troubling him for quite some time was, in fact, the singing of many voices carried on the night air. The words
