Sometimes I miss the the daylight even now, though Judgement-light would end me. Other times I hate it, for they are cruel gods indeed—but then I hate most things by now. Hate is one of the things I cling to, without which I would truly be nothing.

Everyone fears the Seekers, and fears becoming one more so. Even that small power the Masters would deny me if they could, so I glory in it. It is what I have. No domain, no joy, not even my true Name, but I have Seekers. I have worshipers, they just have employees and their idiotic Bazaar.

I am too, young man. I can think more clearly here than I could at home, it’s really quite useful. As for the honey, any action involving the wells of the Neath relates to me somehow and prisoner’s honey is a link to dreaming in and of itself. I haven’t the slightest idea what she was thinking, combining the two. I can only conclude she was either an idiot or secretly trying to help me or both. Likely some of both.