worshipers came to the house of black and white every day. most came alone and sat alone; they lit candles at one altar or another, prayed beside the pool, and sometimes wept. a few drank from the black cup and went to sleep; more did not drink. there were no services, no songs, no paeans of praise to please the god. the temple was never full. from time to time, a worshiper would ask to see a priest, and the kindly man or the waif would take him down into the sanctum, but that did not happen often.
thirty different gods stood along the walls, surrounded by their little lights. the weeping woman was the favorite of old women, arya saw; rich men preferred the lion of night, poor men the hooded wayfarer. soldiers lit candles to bakkalon, the pale child, sailors to the moon-pale maiden and the merling king. the stranger had his shrine as well, though hardly anyone ever came to him. most of the time only a single candle stood flickering at his feet. the kindly man said it did not matter. “he has many faces, and many ears to hear.”
— [a feast for crows] arya ii