Psii was never much of a storyteller. He was too incensed anyway, too furious that a clown kept reminding him over and over that they had been moirails. He stood with a scowl and walked to the nearest wall, leaning his shoulder on it and folding his arms tight. Sam—and humans in general—was better at chatty mollifying. Trolls didn't take nearly as many pains to play nice.

"If you get back. And you didn't exthactly help your chantheth today."

Psii always said "if." The future was inscrutable except to those who could see it. Even then, his visions raised as many questions as they answered. What was the point of deluding oneself with little lying words? Initiate and Signless had that in common. They had to fool themselves into thinking the future would be brighter, as if their wills alone could change it.