Diarmuid's words pressed down on Loman with the weight of thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of lives behind them. Moments ago, he told smiling children to pull up the weeds in the garden like the weeds of darkness that tried to grow in their hearts. Now, he felt like Diarmuid had brought him something worse than weeds to wrap around and pierce his heart as they constricted.
"I resolved myself to stand aside in my brother's matters," Loman said after several quiet moments. "The scales of justice tip too easily and my finger is too heavy. As his brother, pleading for mercy could be understood. As a priest, condemning his crimes could also be expected. Doing either feels like a betrayal," he said bitterly.
"So you choose to retreat from the struggle rather than suffer the consequences of taking either side?" Diarmuid asked. His voice was unusually gentle for an Inquisitor but he could see the torment on the young priest's face.
