And then he realized: That’s what the witchcraft laws are. An attempt to shut off the hidden powers and drive them away from the lives of men.

“At least the witchcraft laws admit that hidden powers exist,” wrote Margaret.

With that, Alvin realized the full import of what Verily was attempting. It would be good to strike down the witchery laws, but only if it led to an open acknowledgment that knacks were good or evil only according to the use made of them.

“Verily’s strategy is to make the whole idea of witchcraft look foolish.”

Well, it is foolish, thought Alvin. All the images of the devil that he had heard of were childish. What God had created was a great Making that lived of itself and contained lesser beings whom he tried to turn into friends and fellow Makers. The enemy of that was not some pathetic creature giving a few lonely, isolated people the power to curse and cause misery. The enemy of Making was Unmaking, and the Unmaker wore a thousand different masks, depending on the needs of the person he was attempting to deceive.

I wonder what form the Unmaker takes to bring this witcher fellow along?

“Some men need no deception to serve him,” wrote Margaret. “They already love his destructive work and engage in it freely of their own accord.”

Are you speaking of this Quill fellow? Or of Calvin?

“No doubt they both believe they serve the cause of Making.”

Is that true, Margaret? Aren’t you the one who told me that however much a man might lie to himself, at the core of him he knows what he truly is?

“In some men the truth lies hidden so deeply that they see it again only at the last extremity. Then they recognize that they have known it all along. But they see the truth only at the moment when it is too late to seize upon it and use it to save themselves. They see it and despair. That is the fire of hell.”

All men deceive themselves. Are we all damned?

“They cannot save themselves,” she wrote. “That does not mean they cannot be saved.”

Alvin found that comforting, for he feared his own secrets, feared the place in himself where he had hidden the truth about his own motives when he killed the Finder who murdered Margaret’s mother. Maybe I can open up that door and face the truth someday, knowing that I might still be saved from that hard sharp blade when it pierces my heart.

“Calvin’s need for redemption is more dire than yours right now.”

I’m surprised you want to save him. You’re the one who tells me he’ll never change.

“I tell you I’ve seen no change in any of his futures.”

I’ll search for him. For the hexes that hide him. I can see what you cannot. But what about Denmark? Can’t you find him when he walks the streets, and learn the truth?