dream_weaver

People dressed in white robes strolled the halls. A few sat on marble benches, and others knelt at squares with a stone and bell, meditating. All wore the same perpetual smile of the divinely deluded, the peaceful countenance of those self-assured in their fantasy of certainty and understanding. Truth was only a shifting fog to them, to be burned off by the light of their convoluted reasoning. Followers, disciples, of Darken Rahl, one and all. Most paid the three no attention, giving them no more than a vacant nod.— The Sword of Truth: Wizard's First Rule, by Terry Goodkind.