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He had been wearing a cloak when he left on his walk, hadn’t he?
“May he be welcomed into the skies by Soren, Saint of Heaven, and kept safe from Liara, Saint of Hell.”
And when the fisherman brought his lifeless body to shore, he was without his cloak.
“May he be spared the wrath of Faldyr, Saint of War.”
In the pile of clothes he had been wearing that was given to me by Solise, his cloak hadn’t been there.
“May Onera, Saint of Miracles, smile upon him now and forever.”
It fastened around his neck with two buttons and a tie. It was unlikely that it would have been ripped from him by the fall or the waves.
“May he be freed from the earthly hands of Noros, Saint of Pain, and always have shelter from Idros, Saint of Storms.”
Why was he on the Cliffs of Malarrey when his normal route didn’t take him anywhere near them?
“May Tolar, Saint of Wealth, and Aanh, Saint of the Home, bless the family he leaves behind.”
Why would he remove his cloak?
“May Rhedros, Keeper of the Blood Saints, allow him to pass into the hands of the Benevolent Saints.”
Why would he remove his cloak?
“And let him live in the light of Katia, Keeper of the Benevolent Saints, Heart of the Eleven, for all eternity.”
He wouldn’t.
“To our Saints, we pray.”
