3,700 new words on Endurance today, in 90 minutes of writing time.
“He is not being your god.” Chowdry leaned forward and tapped some ash off the end of an incense stick. “He is belonging to all of us, and to this city. You do not see the roots, but they are there. Setting into stone so that he will never be removed except by great force.”
“I know about roots, Chowdy.” My right fingers trailed on his left arm a moment. “Endurance’s roots and my own are in a sun-drenched rice paddy back in Bhopura. Selistan’s sun is our sun. And now I will call upon the god for the sake of my memory and his own. If he ignores me, well, I can hardly be worse off than I am now. If he heeds my call, then I will have once more raised a great ally.”
“You cannot be summoning gods like they were clowns for a children’s party.”
“No. But I can speak to Endurance as if I were still standing between his legs over a dozen summers ago.”