"Some men are born to serve," began Cedwyck, his grey cloak flapping in the wind, "Others are born to be served—"

"What's that?" said the acolyte.

"Don't interrupt me!" barked Cedwyck. "We, on the other hand—"

"Over there! There is someone there."

Cedwyck sighed loudly and followed the man's outstretched hand. He could see the remnants of a fishing skiff, smashed up against the rocks below. The Hook had captured another boat fooled by the bay. But halfway up the cliff face, there was a man climbing with his bare hands. A hell of a climb, it was, Cedwyck couldn't imagine anyone surviving the ascent, didn't think anyone had before.

"We should help him, Master!"

The acolyte was turning in circles in a futile search for something that he could use to help.

"There is nothing we can do. The Godstone watches, and the Godstone decides."

"The Godstone isn't doing anything to help."

"I can see that, acolyte. You must show faith, and patience. The gods do not serve you, remember."

"What?"

"I was just telling you about this when you interrupted me with this nonsense about someone in dire need, half way up a sheer cliff. You must open you ears and your mind to my teaching, or else you will not last even as long as your predecessors."

"What happened to my predecessors?"

Cedwyck felt his patience vanish, his anger flush, his staff swing. His new acolyte toppled over the edge of the cliff with a shocked expression, too stunned to scream. He bounced a few times, as they usually did, and eventually hit the rocks below. Even from that height, Cedwyck could see the acolyte twitching.

Damn fool, doesn't even die right.

Someone called to him from below.

"Looks like your friend tripped. Fell right off the edge of the cliff. Terrible accident."

Cedwyck looked down the cliff. The stranded man had paused his ascent to look at the twitching body below him.

"Not sure he's dead, though," added the climber. "Maybe you have a rock or something you can throw at him?"

"I wouldn't worry," shouted Cedwyck, "the tide will take him soon enough, and the tailsharks will be waiting."

"Aah, of course. Tide got me just this morning. Smashed my boat up against the rocks. Sharks weren't prepared for me, though."

"I can see that. Not to worry, the cliff normally does the rest. Not seen anyone make it up before."

Even from forty yards, Cedwyck could see the man shrug indifferently.

"Say," called the climber, "if you are not too busy, do you mind waiting for me up there? I could do with someone to point me in the right direction. And you seem like a nice enough gentleman."

"I'll be here," sighed Cedwyck. "I have matters to discuss with the Godstone in any case."

Cedwyck sat on one of the nine stones, facing the direction from which the climber might appear. He glanced at the Godstone, then fumbled in his pocket searching for tobacco. He had barely finished rolling it up when the man appeared from the precipice.

"Sharks got your friend," he said as he stood up. "It's a shame really. Young man like that, prime of his life, and yet he fell over the side of a cliff. Real clumsy I suppose."

The man held out his arm to shake hands.

"I'm Tailfin."

"Cedwyck. Of the Council of Druids."

"There's a council?"

"Of course there's a council."

"Never heard of it."

"You're not a druid."

"Nope. I'm a crime lord, a gangster. And a general pain in the arse."

Cedwyck was fumbling his staff, but he could see Tailfin had sharp eyes, and a sharp mind.

"What are you doing out here, Tailfin?"

The gangster looked back down at the remains of the skiff.

"I am here to buy a new boat. Preferably one that still floats."

"There's a fellow just west of the peninsula. Opportunistic. Waits for stranded fools who remembered to save their purses while the rest of their lives sank beneath the waves."

"Sounds like someone I would get along with. Shall we?"

Reluctantly, Cedwyck accompanied Tailfin back along Littleren Island, down the gentle slope with a sheer drop on either side. Soon they came to the bridge, the aged ropes holding up rotting planks. Littleren was some eighty yards away from Renryre Island, separated by a gaping chasm with jagged rocks, and the force of the Whalebreaker current savagely fighting its way through. He didn't want to guess how they had built the bridge in the first place, and didn't want anything to do with rebuilding it when that one collapsed.

"Why didn't you throw the young man down here?" said Tailfin as they clung on the ropes crossing the bridge. "Seems a much shorter walk than going all the way to the end."

"I didn't throw him over. The gods deemed him unfit, and I dealt the sentence on their behalf."

"The gods?"

"Yes, through the Godstone."

"The big rock?"

"The Godstone, yes."

Tailfin laughed out loud, shaking his head.

"And this council agrees? Approves?"

"They too follow the will of the gods, communicated through the Godstone."

"And only the druids of the council can hear the gods through this Godstone, right?"

"Right."

"Brilliant!"

"What?"

"The Godblade. No, the Godmug. No—"

"What are you on about?"

"Well, I am not going to carry that great big rock into my office, am I?"

Cedwyck took some time to consider his response. He knew there was no easy way out of the discussion. And they had already passed the bridge.

"Do not anger the gods with blasphemy, many of them are not particularly forgiving. Your path lies that way. Follow it until you reach the shipwright."

He stopped and pointed. Tailfin looked like he was going to say something smart, but changed his mind and carried on his way after a quick wave.

It had been an eventful few days. Far too many acolytes, and far too many interruptions from his routine. He had barely had a chance to commune with the Godstone, let alone enjoy a nice meal. Cedwyck decided that when he arrived back home, he would take some time off, relax.

*    *    *

"Master Cedwyck?"

"What?" he barked, his throat strangely sore.

 "Er, I... er..."

"Who are you?"

"I... I'm your new acolyte, Master. The council sent me."

"Aargh, to hell with the council."

He felt groggy. Noticed the number of empty vials lying around the floor, interspersed with scattered butts from his rolled up tobacco.

"How long has it been?"

"Two days, Master. And it's well past noon."

"Fine. Well I guess we'd better head to the Godstone then."

He fixed his cloak and picked up his staff before he walked out into the afternoon light. It didn't make him feel any better. The sun was burning fiercely, the bulk of its power apparently directed at Cedwyck. Reluctantly, he pushed through, and was soon back on the path to the Godstone.

"You aren't going to ask stupid questions, are you?"

"No, Master."

"Good. And when I explain about the Godstone, you are going to listen quietly, intently, and without interrupting me, right?"

"Yes, Master."

He resolved to walk in silence the rest of the way, and they soon found themselves standing before the Godstone. The sun was beginning to ease towards the horizon, but his head still wasn't quite clear. He would have to make do.

"Some men are born to serve," he began. "Others are born to be—"

"Wha..."

He glared at the new acolyte. The young man had bitten his tongue, but the words were still waiting on the end of it.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, Master."

Cedwyck's eyebrows were forced down so firmly he could barely see through the slits of his eyelids. He would likely have been afraid of himself if there happened to be a mirror in front of him.

"You wanted to say something? Say it!"

"Well... it's nothing, Master. It's just, well... there is a ship sailing past. And they are waving."

Cedwyck groaned as he turned to the sea. Sure enough, there was a ship sailing past. A trader of some sort, though it looked short of a crew. There were just two people on board: a man and woman stood on the bow, frantically waving their arms. He could see the man was bright red, even at that distance.

"Ahoy!" shouted the sailor. "Which way to Helen's Bay?"

Cedwyck pointed to the west, then turned back to his acolyte. He could feel his patience crumbling, his arms trembling as they grasped his staff. But he kept his cool and continued his introduction to the ways of the druid.

"As I was trying to tell you... some men are—"

"How far?" shouted the man on the boat.

"You should be able to make it by nightfall if the Whalebreaker takes you."

More likely it would take them to the rocks. Cedwyck cleared his throat as he turned back to the acolyte.

"Some men are born—"

"What whale breaker?"

"Aargh, to hell with it," yelled Cedwyck. "I'm done. I am sick of this. All of it."

He swung his staff and didn't bother watching the acolyte bouncing down the side of the cliff; he'd seen it often enough to know it did the job.

He turned back to the Godstone, and kicked it, doing little more than hurting his own toe.

"Damn you!" he shouted, hopping on one foot.

He swung his staff at the Godstone three times before the reverberations caused him to drop it, while the Godstone stood unmoved. Staring back at him. Judging him. Cedwyck was locked in a battle of wills, a battle he could never win. The Godstone was undefeated.

"I think your friend fell off the cliff," yelled the man on the ship. "Terrible accident."

Cedwyck broke free of the Godstone's hold, kicked his staff, and watched it sail all of two feet away. Frustrated, he turned and began marching back down Littleren, his strides so purposeful that even vipers would be wise to get out of the way.

"Not sure he's dead, by the way," added the girl, her shriek barely carrying from the boat. "Looks like he's still twitching. Got a big rock you can drop?"

Cedwyck ignored the two. The Whalebreaker would likely catch them anyway, they were too close to land, and the Hook didn't forgive misjudgements. Besides, he had no time for them, and he really didn't care.

How many years had he been a druid? On the council? And this is all he'd earned. Every time he approached the Godstone, fools surrounded him and the gods only laughed – those that took notice of him. He had given his whole life to them. Dedicated. Unquestioning. Loyal. He was the true-hearted devotee. And yet they had offered nothing in return. He had waited ever so patiently since he could remember for a god to answer his calls. To descend from the heavens. To stand before him. But all he could do was watch as they wandered the heavens. The Restless Stars.

"To hell with you all," he yelled, his clenched fist shaking before him.

And that is when he saw it, the star falling gently down towards Renryre Island. Irikhart, god of fools, rumoured to be the most handsome god of all, was finally beginning his descent.