Each day spent here I appreciated what I used to have even more. I was a little retail manager. A tiny cog in the machine. I didn’t really work – I just made sure others did. I was not strict. I had fifty or so people under me and never heard a complaint. Being strict was a road paved to failure. You needed to understand your people: their likes, their dislikes, their hopes, their dreams, their fears. Some responded better to threats, others to promises. No two were exactly the same. It wasn’t difficult by any means. You only had to listen when they talked. And oh, did they love hearing their own voice. Give them an inch, and for the life of them, they would not shut up.

The hardest, or perhaps the most tiresome, part of the job was having to occasionally deal with customers. They whined about the most inane of things. There was no winning with them. I came to understand that they were not angry at us but rather at themselves. They hated how insignificant their lives were. And when they finally found someone who they deemed lesser than they were, they could not miss the chance.

The villagers here were more resemblant of the former. I’ve come to know more of them over the last couple of days. The news of curing the mother spread like wildfire. My little monastery was practically never empty. There was at least one person always present: wanting to talk, praying, or asking for my blessings. They wanted and wanted and were too generous with details about their lives. They came for the smallest of inconveniences. “Father, help, I have dirt in my eyes!” “Father! My wrist hurts.” “Father, my stomach is upset.”

Though, I was not one to complain. The more they came, the more they left behind. Strings, strands of hair, hairpins, laces; some got their clothes stuck on the benches, tearing them and leaving fabric behind; some walked barefoot, got their feet pricked, and bled all over the floor. I collected everything. The bigger items – the ones more likely to be missed – I returned, but the rest I used.

Though, not every single item was successful. The book’s definition of ‘importance’ was, rather, obscure. The concoctions rejected or accepted objects seemingly at random. Thankfully, they were not spoilt by unnecessary ingredients, so I simply fed it and fed it until it started to bubble and boil.

I ‘blessed’ a lot of their ailments and turned down even more, deeming them too trivial to bother the Gods with. I alternated between crafting and executing the first three of the curses, and for those, in particular, I made sure to wait until a large enough crowd was gathered to witness the spectacle.

As of right now, I had two days’ worth of supplies left, but I was not particularly worried. Things were moving along quite nicely. Very soon, I’d be able to cash in some of the favors I’ve been accumulating. I also managed to glean some information. We were at the northernmost edge of the Talik kingdom. Further up was the Great White Desert filled with barbaric nomads and nightmarish whale-sized worms lurking in the sand. It took me some time to wrap my head around the existence of ‘monsters’. I didn’t believe it at first, not until I saw new ingredients such as ‘goblin’s nails’ and ‘troll’s spit’ appear in the book. After successfully casting the third curse, I was greeted with three more. They were directly related to the previous ones; though lacking the word ‘mild’, they were much more potent.

So, my only possible route was south, towards the capital and hopefully a more civilized setting. Unfortunately, according to what I heard, the roads were unsafe, ladened with humans and monsters alike. I needed to wait for a passing merchant, or better yet a caravan, to tag along.

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I let out a sigh and stretched my back. The sun had just settled, and I was going to get real busy real soon. It was one of those recently rare moments where I was all alone. I savored the silence for a minute before standing up and fixing my robes. Shabby as they were, I still had to wear them and look good doing so, which was not easy with how much weight I’ve lost.

I didn’t have to wait for long until footsteps could be heard. One by one, they stepped through the door, dragging mud and filling up the place with an ugly stench. It was getting harder to breathe. I took a deep breath and my nose with assaulted with the horrible mix of sweat and dung. Patience, I whispered to myself. Patience.

The more elderly villagers occupied the benches, the rest stood on their feet. I was also standing but much further from the rabble. I made it clear the area in front of the benches was off-limits, and that only I should go there. It was my stage, my limelight, where I captivated them with my stories about the Gods. Fabricated and made-up stories, yes, but they lapped it all up nonetheless.

“Quiet down now,” I said, waving my arms. “Come on now.” The murmurs slowly faded. With a smile, I asked loudly, “What would you like to hear today?” I waited for a few seconds but was only met with silence. “Do you want to hear about how Ezekiel put an end to a Gods’ dispute that would’ve led to catastrophe?” Again, silence. “No? How about how Sorana conquered kingdoms with nothing but her bare body?”

The men roared and laughed aloud but the women glanced at their children and shook their heads.

“Perhaps, another time then – when the crowd is more adult.” They moaned in disappointment. “What about a tale of Osa and how he stomped the Black Beards with his fists alone?” A wave of unanimous approval. Silence overruled again. I wet my lips and was about to start; however, I was interrupted.

“Fatha’,” a man called out. “Ay, sorry for intrupptin’, Fatha’.” It was Bert. “Just gotta ask you somethin’ before you start.”

Patience… patience. I spoke with as much calmness as I could muster, “Of course, go ahead.”

“I know you’ve helped us greatly.” Bert looked away then at the ground. “More than we could ever pay back even. I know I got no right to ask this, but–” He rubbed his balding head. “–can you ask the Gods to grace us with rain?” All turned to him, and a hubbub of whispered followed. “The soil is thirsty, and our crops are dyin’. If rain don’t come soon,” he paused, “some might not live till winter.”

The whispers grew louder, and moments after, every eye fell on me.

I gritted my teeth and hid my clenched fists behind my back. It took every bit of my willpower not to lunge at him then and there. How dare he, this insignificant peasant, put me on the spot like this? Weeks of planning, of hard work and hardships, down the drain because of this simple-minded fool.

The expectation I saw in their eyes was sickening. They stared, with complete disregard to their dignity. How could they be so shameful: expecting everything when they’ve done nor offered nothing? I looked down and took enough deep breaths to calm myself. When I raised my gaze again – the same disgusting anticipation was there.

“Please understand, my friend, I desire nothing from any of you. I have done nothing but utter a few words. If you feel gratitude then present it to Them, not I.” I paused, sweeping over each person in the crowd. “And again understand, I can only pray. I cannot bring you rainfall – all I can do is beg.”

Bert stared intently at me – almost glaring – and gave a solemn nod. I saw some shedding tears but I acted oblivious. I walked outside, followed by all who were inside. I stood in the open fields, turned away from them, and spread my arms. Closing my eyes, I spoke in my head. I don’t know if anyone is listening… but these people expect rain. If you can make that happen, it’d help me tremendously. However, I will not be willing to offer anything in return.

I stood there for a solid five minutes, keeping that pose and counting the seconds in my head. I opened my eyes feeling oddly excited to witness the disappointment in their eyes. Yet somehow, I was robbed of even that as the sky darkened and rumbled. Clouds gathered above, and just as water fell to the ground, so did my head. I heard a crack, and everything went black.