Crystal Words turned her attention to the palatial expanse of those who served the Vizier, and her lips twisted the smile further, both amused and appalled by the words spoken.  Did she understand what she had said?  Darkness Born of Burning Night knew there were those of her ilk who fed off the thick, rich bounty of others convictions and beliefs; Crystal Words Like Falling Knives understood something strange and twisted lay within those words, and committed them to her frangible memory.  Hidden under the silken caul, her hands rose, making a mudra of supplication.<br/><br/>"The Immaculate breed weakness into those who life in the nearby settlements.  Their claims of perseverance and service and kindness let the weak thrive, and the foolish gain forgiveness.  There are cities under these sands, bones of those whom once thought the same."  Her lilting voice was soft, yet carried well.  "How can they not see their encouragement to rely upon the Realm's Great Warriors and Holy Ways only prolongs inevitable destruction at the hands of those very things?"  She turned back to watch the obsidian-and-flame figure of Xalvia dance upon the sands for the amusement of their Priestess.