“But, good grief, cutting it off? It’s too cruel!” Dios stepped forward. Now his voice was back to its normal oil-smooth tones. “Cruel, sire? But it will be done with precision and care, with drugs to take away the pain. He will certainly live.” “But why?” “I did explain, sire. He cannot use the hand again without defiling it. He is a devout man and knows this very well. You see, sire, you are a god, sire.” “But you can touch me. So can the servants!” “I am a priest, sire,” said Dios gently. “And the servants have special dispensation.”
