Jenny: God of Formation

There was nothing much Jason could find to say to that. The Guttersnipe had put it so, oddly more native and earthy than Druce's straight-paved logic. But the lines between such things were blurred here, here where two rivers flowed together, the Roman and the native...

But it was beside the point. Druce was right, the Guttersnipe with right; and he, deep in some place untouched by the turmoil of circumstances, had never doubted that. Was he not the God of formation? Was he not the Amen? They might die - or worse, live with nothing more to live for - but that would be the pattern of the Knot, and the Knot-maker would have made a thing of beauty, and that was all that mattered.

It did not lessen the clenching in his middle, but he nodded. "I am needing a thing to put my hands to, that is all," he said. "Hand me that knife, there, and that cloth..."

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