I grab her hand and pull her toward the house. As we walk, the shadows disperse just enough to show the path and the front door. I open it, finding a modest but clean room. Just one. A straw bed lies in the corner, close to a fireplace with a lonely log almost burned down to embers, the flames frozen.
In the bed lies a woman, maybe thirty years old, though she looks much older. Her face is haggard, her hair thin and oily. She’s frozen in time, her lips parted, a sweet scent of sickness floating above them.
“Her son prayed for her. He’s about eleven or so. They are on their own.”
Jaga drops my hand and kneels by the woman, putting her palm on her chest.
“Oh. She has pneumonia, or something like it. She won’t live long. I could treat it with a few spells and brews.”
“Ah, but that wouldn’t be a miracle,” I say. “Stand aside. I’m the god of healing, am I not?”
She eyes me dubiously as I drop to my knees by the woman’s bedside. Jaga knows advanced healing magic, but even the most powerful bieses are limited by their lack of knowledge and vision.
“I made the world,” I whisper, pushing my shadows into the woman and letting them spread until they sit in her heart, her lungs, her bloodstream. “I made the first diseases, which have changed and advanced since then, but they still work the same. Now… I will remove the illness. Like this.”
I pull my shadows out, piling the infinitely tiny particles of the lung consumption into a uniform shape. It becomes a sticky, unpleasant piece of dirt which I fling into the fireplace.
“And done.” I get up, turning to Jaga. “I’ve made her body stronger so she won’t fall ill again. Let’s go. We can do a few more miracles.”
Jaga comes over to the bed. The woman hasn’t moved or taken a single breath yet, but she looks better, her complexion healthier thanks to my magic. A tiny triangle with horns is etched into the bedframe just over her head. Jaga strokes it with her fingertip.
“That’s clever.” She falls silent, then gives me a surprisingly wounded look. “I prayed to you as a little girl. You probably never heard it. And to think that I hoped…”
She pulls away with a bitter scoff, and I clench my fists at my sides, not knowing what to do.
This is the crux of the rift between us, I think. I want Jaga to be a goddess, because I know how to love and woo one. But she won’t stop being mortal for years to come, maybe never. And those hurting, imperfect parts of her daunt me.
They used to make me think she was easy to manipulate. She proved me wrong. Now I see them as insurmountable differences between us even as I can’t look away from the exquisite broken mess that is her.
“I didn’t answer anyone’s prayers back then,” I say quietly, not knowing if it’s the right thing to say, yet needing to give an answer to her painful resentment. “And I’m sorry. I should have tried. I should have been better. I’m sorry you suffered and I didn’t come to save you.”
She takes a shaky breath then turns away, her shoulders stiffening as she lifts her head high.
“Whatever. What’s next?”
“A young woman suspected of witchcraft. I think I’ll wipe the memory of everyone in the village so they don’t suspect her anymore. Do you have objections?”
“None,” she spits, turning to me with loathing in her eyes. “I would have worshipped you forever if you had done the same thing for me when they…”
“When they what?”
She shakes her head. I sigh and take her hand, pulling us through space while time stands frozen. Soon, the young woman is saved, the zerca in her village blessed with a bag of gold, since greed is such a universal vice among mortals, bieses, and gods, and I don’t have time to figure out what each of them craves the most.
Our final destination is a town at the foot of the mountains in the south. Here, the weather is balmy, a warm wind caressing Jaga’s face as she tilts it up to the sun. I shake off my bag and stretch up my arms with a groan.
“Let’s just leave the bags and say we made camp nearby if anyone asks,” I propose. “Doing miracles is tiring.”
“You’ve done only two. I finally understand why you think this will take centuries. At the pace you’ve set, I’d say your estimate was generous.”
“I can do it faster on my own. Come on. Let’s take a walk in town and talk to people. It’s been a long time since I actuallywalked among mortals, and you’ve reminded me why that’s important.”
I take her hand, and she tugs it free, giving me a baleful look.
“I’m a sick relative you’re taking to a holy healer somewhere nearby. I’m sure they have one of those,” she says with emphasis. “And don’t youeverintroduce me as your wife again.”
“You’re spoiling all the fun. You’re a menace and a viper.”
“Ah, so ideal company for the god of poisons.”
