What worth was it, to be gods, if they gave up everything good about themselves? Everything that made them worthwhile?

Kell reached into his pocket, brought out the black square of cloth that had been stained with blood so many times over the years, and pressed it into Neria's fingers.

It didn't reconcile -- the Murphy who had called him Salroka, who had been so insistent that she owed him a debt, and would not be denied. His throat threatened to close as he struggled to find a reason, and could not.

"... her trial. It was binding others?"