I looked up at the Waylord, and he looked back at me. His face and his slight gesture said: I do not know.
I looked at the little book that had set us free. I thought of Denies’ words, and said them aloud: “‘There is a god in every leaf; you hold what is sacred in your open hand.’”
After a while, I added, “And there are no demons.”
“No,” the Waylord said. “Only us. We do the demon work.” And again he looked down at his crippled hands.
We were silent. I heard the faint sound of the water running in the dark.
“Come,” he said, “it’s late, the dream senders are all around us. Let’s let them have their way.”
I held the small lamp in my left hand and with my right hand wrote the bright letters on the air. We went through the door, and along the dark corridors. Passing his room I bade him sleep well, and he stooped to kiss my forehead, and so we parted with the blessing for the night.