074

"Baran!" A deep and strangely nasally voice shouted from behind Gregor. Slowly, with sleep still deep within his tired bones, Gregor turned to face the tattooed man who was walking towards him. Baran's balls, the man is smiling!

The man with the tattoos walked up to Baran with a grin that hurt Gregor's head. It wasn't an insane grin, or the snarls that he had seen before. God's below. This beast is happy. Gregor stood to face the man awkwardly. He didn't know what was happening and his confidence was badly shaken. He could feel the awkwardness in his movements, like a young man approaching a beautiful woman. His movements lacked the confidence of a Censor to the Electorate. They were the movements of a tired old man who's life had spun out of control.

"Baran." The tattooed man said again, his face split wide with his smile. The dark lines that criss-crossed his arms and chest seemed darker still when they were compared with the new light that shone in his eyes. "Baran!" The man yelled swinging his arms at the wooded scene around them.

Gregor was unable to speak. He didn't know what the man wanted and so he just looked at the man. Moments passed and the man with the tattoos began to look quizzically at Gregor. Gregor, Censor to the Electorate and tied to a horse picket, shrugged his shoulders.

"Baran?" Gregor shook his head. "Baran's balls man, I have nothing left here. I feel liked I'm going out of my mind. I'm a tax man, I push paper for the government. This isn't where I'm supposed to be. There was a man here yesterday. Tied to the picket with me and the Black Crone's horses here, and today he's gone. I talked to someone, a man who understood me and no he's gone. I haven't a friend in the world, save a tattooed madman who want's to talk to me about a God. I don't know what you want. You want Baran? Is this Baran? I've no idea tattoo man, you'd have to ask a priest!"

The man with the tattoos laughed and patted Gregor on the shoulder as he walked by. Gregor wanted to scream. He wanted to hit the man. He wanted to hit himself. He wanted to chew through his bonds, through his own damned arms. Instead he just slumped to his knees and watched the giant horses eat some grass.