Roofrats 7

Weft appeared to be finishing the edge of his round piece as he listened. "Do you really think a person can bug a god?" he asked.

Nico grinned. "A lot of gods are people. And I'm pretty sure what a minor god of luck said to me once would most accurately translate to 'Stop bugging me or I'll turn you into a newt!'"

"Ar-- did y-- a god talked to you?"

It took Weft's fingers a few seconds to realise there was no more input from the brain and cease their movement.

"Several, actually, over the years." Less chipperly she added, "I said gods are different in different places. In some places that's not so unusual. Do the gods here not talk to people?"

"Important people," Weft said, still watching her carefully. "Not the likes of me. If they do, I have to ask them to talk to the management."

"So you would give instructions to a god?"

That confused the monk. "What else could I do? I'm not authorised to... not that it happens anyway. A deity's never spoken to me." That, at least, he could say with certainty.

"I just thougt if a god want to talk to you, specifically, as opposed to you as the first person from your order they run into, they might want to you rather than management. But, well, I don't know the gods here.

What are your gods like?"

The stitches started moving again; Weft was still finishing off the edges.

"There's nothing a god could want from me. If anyone wants to hire us, they talk to someone in charge. They're good," he said. "Gods, I mean. They're supreme powers and they know everything, or close enough that it makes no difference. As for what they're like, it depends on the deity and the day."

"And what about your own gods on a good day, Weft? If I may ask..."

Weft counted them off on the hand that wasn't holding the crochet hook.

"Dlexn isn't-aren't any trouble ever. All it-they command is to love your fellow people, and, well, I already do as a matter of religious duty. Dauvat likes blood sacrifice, which is strictly forbidden by my order, of course, so I have to perform alternatives. There are a lot of rules for not blaspheming against Yumyum. It boils down to not claiming anyone else is better-looking than her, which they aren't, anyway," he said without a trace of canniness or irony.

"Tebiqbin has some obscure rules about eggs and things, and I'm not permitted to let a knife under my possession be blunted or tread on fish without saying a special prayer. Nobody knows anything about Gich Lamas, so all I can do is pray to that one... and Cicely likes knitted things and killers, which works out well.

"On a good day, I'll sometimes get the feeling one of them approves of me." And that was all any monk would admit to. The order didn't approve of unverified personal gnosis. He watched Nico, trying to gauge her reaction.

Nico polished off her plate while listening, showing nothing but interest. She blinked, a bit surprised and amused at the treading-on-fish clause, but another one confused her a little.

"Why pray to a god no-one knows anything about?"

"To keep them all from losing interest and going away," Weft replied. "There's no need for us to honour the popular ones. Other people do that. So when your gods lose interest do they just leave?"

"Pardon, 'us' being monks?" Nico asked, partly to gain a bit of time to think of an answer.

"Um, yes. Our order specifically. Others serve a particular deity. We serve the greater Divine, so... all gods and none, so to speak."

"Gods have a hive mind?" Nico asked distractedly.

"What is that?" asked Weft.

"One mind spread out over multiple bodies."

"Oh, hive, like bees. I don't think so," Weft said.

"All right." That way lay madness, or at least more theology than Nico could stomach. She looked past Weft for a moment before finally answering his earlier question.

"I guess it's more me leaving than gods. You know I travel a lot, and, well, as far as I'm aware, I got out of the sphere of influence of any god soon or later. So I don't often get attached to one."