Dinner was over and most everyone was stuffed and more than a bit tipsy. Maeryth took them to their rooms. Not Maeryn. Since eating, he was feeling much more lively. He headed for the table by the fireplace, where Bayari had just left another bottle of Sonderan for him - his 'after-dinner drink'. "I was thinking," Shea began, following him. "You said that Dunmar owned all their souls and only lived because he willed it. If this is true, then...wouldn't they all die when he did?" Maeryn regarded Shea with a raised brow. "An astute line of reasoning from an outsider. Few of our own even think that far. However, there is something about this relationship that you don't understand...and neither do most others, so don't feel alone." Maeryn's eyes went black again as he 'reached inside' Shea's head to pull out something he might understand. "It's like a cult. It does not matter if it is a relgious cult, a cult of personality or a cult of power. The more followers the cult-leader can amass, the more he grows in power. It is what we call a 'qintare' in magic. I believe your people call it an 'egregore'. With a god, for example: the more people worship the god, the stronger the god becomes; the more the god fills the conscious and sub-conscious levels of thought. The god 'feeds' from this growing more powerful. When he is no longer worshipped or part of the common consciousness, he loses all power. Let us say Dunmar is actively worshipped by his many corrupted souls, therefore he has great power...even in death, for then he would become a martyr and the cause ramped up a notch or two in his name. What would happen then is one of two things: that one of his generals would be possessed by his spirit and continue, or he could persuade his minions from beyond the grave to in effect ressurect him. Bring him back to this plane of existence." "Eehhhh," Shea groaned making a face. "That's not good." "No, it is not good. If anything, things would become worse than they are with the Faladarians. They'd be out for revenge...blood...rivers of it, and they wouldn't stop until they accomplished that. I like that you think though. This impresses me. I don't want you to hesitate to tell me what you think, because then I can explain things to you, so you understand them fully. If you will live here, amongst us, you must understand as well or better than a native Turanian. If you understand as well, they will show you respect. If you understand better, you will have more respect. You'll need that." "So...how do you expect to accomplish this?" Maeryn tore the wrapper from the bottle, heading for the table again. He needed a cork-screw. "That, my friend, I will have to show you rather than tell you. Come and see me early in the morning. We're going to have to leave tomorrow evening and go to Torna-Blas first - pick up Alba's brother and let her visit her father. I want to get some facts from Lord Bethereon before finalizing my presentation. There is something fishy there with the Orb. I suspect I know what it is, but I don't want to jump to what is an all too likely conclusion - just to be fair." ***** See below, as I've run out of characters here...