We walk up a winding path, and Jaga looks around with curiosity, bending down to examine a few wildflowers she doesn’t know the names of. I name them for her, digging the information out of long-unused parts of my mind. Again, I am reminded how little she’s seen and experienced.
“This is so festive,” Jaga murmurs when she notices colorful pennants fluttering above our heads. They hang from ropes stretched between the houses on either side of the road. Ahead, a fiddler plays a fast, joyful song.
“Is this some kind of festival?” she asks, glancing at me. “It’s too early for Dziady. Maybe they celebrate the end of the harvest late?”
I shake my head, because I don’t know. We walk down the street, passing a few people heaving heavy bags clearly intended for travel. When we reach the main square, there are at least a hundred people gathered there, most ready to set out.
“Are you joining the pilgrimage?” a pregnant woman with a toddler on her hip asks us when we stop to watch the commotion.
“No, we’re just passing through,” Jaga says. “What pilgrimage?”
“Oh, you don’t know!” The woman beams at us with excitement. “Perun has come to our world! A messenger rode through yesterday, telling us Perun has made himself a dwellingin the mortal world! He sits on his throne in person giving out blessings, and all are invited to see him!”
I don’t say anything, because my throat is tight with hate and fear. Finally, Perun’s scheme is revealed. Only—what is it?
“What blessings?” Jaga asks a little too sharply.
The woman frowns, clearly disappointed by her lack of enthusiasm. Jaga clears her throat, sensing it, too.
“Oh, that is so shocking, but so wonderful!” she says, plastering a fake smile on her face. “Could you tell us more? What did the messenger say about the blessings?”
The woman smiles eagerly, leaning toward Jaga as she speaks fast.
“He said little, because he has many more towns and villages to visit! You see, he set out from Warkogrod, where the temple is, and he’s going north to spread the news everywhere! All we know is that Perun will be giving us blessings no god has ever given to mortals before, and we must make haste to see him before winter. Everyone who can is going on a pilgrimage. It’s five days away on foot, so you should join! My husband and eldest son are going, but I must stay home. Hopefully, Perun will keep seeing us in years to come.”
She points at her pregnant stomach and the child, who watches me curiously, sucking on his thumb. My entire being buzzes with impatience, because we have to go right now and see what Perun’s done. It can’t be good. Whatever hisblessingwill do, it will defeat me for good. I just know.
“Thank you for telling us,” Jaga says, grabbing my elbow. “Me and my husband need to get some food, and we’ll definitely think about the pilgrimage. Blessings for you and your family!”
“We’ll have them soon,” the woman says with a laugh, waving as we walk away.
“So now I’m your husband,” I say bitterly. “Come on, we have to…”
“You have a miracle to do,” Jaga says sternly, pushing me against a building in a less crowded spot. “You said an old woman prayed to you for food for her grandchildren. That’s why we’re here.”
“But Perun…” I begin, angry that she doesn’t feel the same urgency I do.
Jaga lays her palm on my mouth. “I know. We’ll go after you feed the hungry. It will take only a minute.”
I nip at her skin with my teeth, and she jumps away, cursing.
“Fine. Let’s go. It was a small house on the outskirts. Let me just…”
I stop time and send my shadows in every direction, searching for the right house. When I locate it, I make sure no one will see us disappear, and take us right there. The house looks miserable from up close. It’s shabby, with a roof that’s about to fall in and badly needs fixing. An old woman sits on a bench outside, sunning herself, and three children, the oldest around seven, dig in the garden.
I can tell at once nothing grows there, and they must have eaten everything. I sigh, annoyed that I’m grateful to Jaga for making me come. This woman doesn’t have an ancestral soul. She’s one of mine, and I should take care of my people.
“Hide,” I whisper to Jaga, pushing her away until she stands by a building opposite, unobtrusive and hidden in shadow. “And watch.”
“Have you given up, old woman?” I ask, putting my hand on the fence that’s one storm away from keeling over.
She looks up, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Hm? Who asks?”
“A friend,” I say with a grin, knowing I look nothing like Weles, yet certain she’ll know it was me after I go. I used to do this sort of thing long ago, before Perun broke me and the world. “So. Have you given up?”
She shakes her head morosely. “Ah, young man. These children have no one but me, and I have bad knees, bad wrists, and bad fingers. There is nothing for us but to pray and hope. This winter will kill us. Take them if you wish, but promise me you’ll keep them fed and warm. That’s all I ask.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want your children, old woman. I will go away in a minute. Once I’m gone, I want you to draw water from your well. Pull up a full bucket. The children should help you. Inside, you will find everything you need. The smallest bottle has medicine for you. Good day.”
