"What is this supposed to mean?"
Bewilderment appeared on Cegorach's face.
How should he put it? As the Laughing God, he had of course long since realized that he now had a new boss.
And this new boss's leaps of thought were even more outrageous than those of the god of clowns himself.
Lately, the Laughing God had been working hard to gather intelligence, observe his new boss's various behavioral patterns, and try to adapt his own style to match the other man's pace.
In a sense, this had made things immensely easier for him, and Rowan was very pleased with his cooperation.
The best example was, of course, the Craftworld Eldar whom the Laughing God and the Harlequins had persuaded, one after another, to cooperate with the Imperium of Man and accept Rowan's plan, gradually setting aside ten thousand years of accumulated distrust.
In this respect, most of the credit truly belonged to the Laughing God.
After all, getting those Eldar Seers, each more calculating and mystifying than the last, to lower their guard would have been nothing but a pipe dream with Rowan's simple, heavy-handed approach alone. It required their racial god's secret endorsement and mediation.
But even so, he still struggled to keep up with the current pace.
"Then may I ask why exactly you-?"
The Laughing God spoke instinctively.
His masked face still wore a smile, but his tone carried a cautious, probing note.
Before he could finish, however, Cegorach immediately thought better of it and cut himself off.
Over those long years, he had learned one thing.
Some questions were better left unasked!
"My apologies. I shouldn't have asked."
He dropped the subject without hesitation.
Still, the Laughing God considered it.
If they could rescue his tearful sister once and for all, that would indeed