Sun Mote Copse kyrie, fons bonitatis

The red woman seemed impressed, which bolstered Ragna's confidence. Though still deferent to the other's position, Ragna's step gained some swagger. Eshamun, the red woman said, a name both foreign and lovely, its consonants a sweet susurrus on the tongue. I do not know of Molech, Ragna said, her ears quirked forward in interest. Never had she lost her love for a good story. In her travels she had met many gods, benevolent and malevolent and anywhere in between. Which would Molech be?

A land of women said Eshamun. Ragna only wondered where that left her, sometimes man, sometimes woman. She did not say as much then, for she did not want to lose what she had gained here. I can be the champion of the Malkaria. I would fight for your land and her people, Ragna said, her voice filled with great conviction.