Garak drew himself up to his full height, which was about the same as Eirthe's, and began to chant in some unknown language while waving his hands about in what were presumably magical gestures. Eirthe continued to dip tapers with a steady rhythm, but several passers-by stopped to stare.
Suddenly she heard a warning hiss from the fire where Alnath watched. Sneaking a glance out of the corner of her eye at Garak, she saw him shiver, as if a wind passed through him from head to feet. What's wrong? she thought at Alnath.
Alnath's reply formed in her head. He's invoking Thotharn--and the god is answering. Alnath sounded uneasy, and Eirthe, remembering the stories she had heard of this alien god, did not feel able to offer any reassurance.
But why should the god answer him? Eirthe protested. He's not a priest.
Maybe he's a tool. But Thotharn is definitely with him. Alnath paused, listening. He's putting a cold curse on you, saying that your candles will never burn, your fire will go out.... The fire went out, and Alnath's scream split Eirthe's head apart as she blacked out.