"It's a meager draw, Randal. We've got a boy who's more interested in what's in his nose than what will appear onstage, a whore who's more interested in potential patrons' pockets and a cripple on a crutch," Dannrlee said over his shoulder, peering out of the tent flap that had been erected in the alley between two buildings.
"The words of Samular Bordane aren't just for the ears of the noble, but for the commoners as well. They do his works, yet they don't know his name. That's what the clergy is for," Randal Flagg replied as he donned his holy vestments and hung the heavy holy symbol around his neck. He handed the goblet of wine he'd been sipping from to Morrandar, a newly ordaned priest who'd proved himself at the Hater's Ball, taking command of some of the party workers and keeping their deaths to single digits.
Flagg brushed Dannrlee aside and passed out into the cold, weak sunlight. He stepped up onto the stage and spread his hands wide. "Citizens of Waterdeep, my Waterdhavien brothers, hear me! Mine is the voice of the coming times. I am Randal Flagg, high priest of Samular Bordane Agundar. He sees your actions, he knows your hearts and he approves!"
Slowly, as his voice drifted up into the midmorning air, passersby stopped and listened. The audience grew to five.
"Are you the wife who's husband would be a drunken lout, were it not for your constant nagging? Are you the parent of childen who would be unruly heathens, were it not for your switching? You!" Flagg pointed to a tradesman in a leather apron who was pushing his way along. The man stopped and looked at Randal. "Are you a trademan who takes pride in his works? Or are you a second rate merchant who's been undercut by his competetors, and has hate in his heart? Know that the Samular Bordane sees this, hears your callings and approves. Pray to him, and he will give you the means to achieve that what you wish! An orderly house, a strong family, knowledge that your enemies will not be able to blackmark your names for fear of retribution! Samular Bordane Agundar will do this! The Iron Hand, the Grim Lord!
"Say his name!" Randal's hand shot out, pointing at a scribe who'd been hurrying by and had stopped to listen. "S-Samular Bordane?" stammered the man.
"Say his name!" Again Randal pointed, this time at a woman, clutching the hand of a child. "Samular Bordane!" she called back.
"SAY HIS NAME!" Randal shouted, raising his hands to the sky. "SAMULAR BORDANE!" the throng, that now number thirty cried back, also raising their hands in the air. Randal ended the sermon, waving the throng into Geller's, and the high temple below.
Morrandar, who had been watching with Dannrlee out the tent flap, murmurred "And that's how the cattle are driven into the pen."