“What the blazes is the weave?” I asked.
“It's best described as the imagination, the collective imagination that is, of the entire human race. Everything that has ever been thought, or imagined, or dreamed, ever. That's the Weave.” Raven was picking through the box again.
“And these nomad creatures, they belong to this place?”
“They do now.”
“Who on earth imagined them?”
“Oh, they weren't imagined. They used to be men, cartographers from the Shadow Vatican in the sixteenth century. They set out to map the imagination, got a bit confused along the way.”
