Even Borla had been temporarily at a loss what to advise. It simply was
not a thing to be done, ever. You could deliberately destroy the idols
of your enemies, but that was an entirely different proposition and not
the same thing at all. This had been a stupid blunder, obvious to all.
Finally, on Borla's advice, he had called in the Royal Sorcerer, also
known as the Fort Rune Tale Heir, since it was an inherited position.
He was a filthy, huge, grossly obese individual of exceptionally
obnoxious character who went by the unlikely moniker of Fatoo the
Dread, and the obliging fellow was persuaded to conjure up a bit of
hocus-pocus to make a bigger and better statue of the idol appear in a
cloud of ashes and smoke, right where the old one had smashed.
Fatoo had done him one better, nearly breaking his own foot when he'd
accidentally dropped the new statue on it in the process of letting it
fall from it's place of concealment beneath the voluminous skirts of
his bulging belly, after poofing up a huge cloud of noxious, stinking
smoke. No wonder the fellow always smelled so bad. It was rumored that
he never bathed, either, and there was no need of chicken entrails to
figure that out.
Fatoo had meant to stoop halfway into a squat and 'give birth' to the
idol while the spectators' view of him was temporarily obstructed by
smoke.
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