The sun hangs fat over­head now, pour­ing white light down onto the trav­el­ers. Ahead, the columns halt and spread out over a val­ley between the dunes, pool­ing into blue and tan cir­cles.

Jaruna and Ayan hurry ahead to join the crowd for the Noon Prayer. Kiddu and Gil, on the other hand, stay behind and observe from a dis­tance. Soon, chant­ing fills the desert air.

Kiddu
What a waste of time. I know we should prob­a­bly try to be respect­ful and all that, but—really, three times a day? As if Asham needs the atten­tion.
Gil
If I’m going to be a mys­tic mujatawhat­ever, I’m going to have to do that too, you know.
Kiddu
How often do you pass gas when you’re pray­ing? I did a bunch at the Tem­ple. Three times a day—man, it’s gotta hap­pen all the time. I won­der if Lord Sun God Asham hears that. He prob­a­bly gets all angry and wrath­ful and every­thing.
Gil
I don’t know. He’s all-seeing Asham, not all-hearing Asham.
Kiddu
Then how do you think he hears people’s prayers?
Gil
Lip-reading, obvi­ously.

As they sit, the heat becomes so unbear­able that Gil won­ders if the Sun God is actively aveng­ing their blas­phemy. He takes a swig of water, but Kiddu smacks his hand, telling him to save it for the after­noon. Appar­ently the after­noon is worse.

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