Emily, Harvest Season, 4th rot., 1st day (East Coast Time)

Veronteegan, the silverhair village head, studied magic in Mattamukmuk at the school run by the All-Gods Shrine. Many silverhair followers of Vassu crossed the Straits of Weekapakwonk to study there. By studying abroad, they avoided learning the inferior magic taught by the Church of Cragi.

The disadvantage of a Mattamukan education was that the returning mages were suspected of apostasy when they returned home. Only mages trained in the Church of Cragi could join the Legions or hope for high office. Those with influential families, like Veronteegan, might gain a minor post in a remote community. Others would survive as contract mages, cut off from any chance of a civil service or military career. Many of the less talented mages were forced to follow a non-magical trade, like the fishing boat captain Uncohegan.

Like many villages far from the urban centers of the Empire, Pocotoe was filled with those faithful to Vassu. Because Pocotoe's economy was centered on farming for food and timber, they also revered Mueb and Sassoo as the gods of agriculture and weather. They maintained the chapel of Cragi for the sake of appearances.

Veronteegan didn't know the trick that dismantled clothes and then put them back together. She had a short needle-shaped knife — well, short for a Cosm — and used it to cut the seams of my coat and tunics. I insisted she not use it on Ud's shirt, which had to come off because of the injuries to my shoulder and side. When I resisted, she immobilized me, much to my ire, and wanted to cut the seams but couldn't find any.

"Lady Veronteegan," I said, trying to sound authoritative, "just stop. This shirt is special. It's a magic tool. I can wiggle my left arm out if you sit me up and support me. You can pull it off my head and then remove it from around my right arm without moving anything on my right side."

"The shirt is a magic tool?" Veronteegan fingered the spider silk fabric and tranced. "Oh my, what is this magic? Where did you get this thing? It has charms of warmth and cooling woven into it, and — that should be impossible — a charm of force reversal with some kind of time effect?" She looked at me with bemusement.

"The shirt was a gift," I explained. "It provides protection for me while flying because I don't have any magic to protect me if I fall."

"Then this shirt may be why you're still alive after being blown around by the storm," Veronteegan concluded. "Let us try to get it off you by the way you suggested. I'm sorry I tried to cut the seams that don't exist. What is this fabric? I don't recognize it."

I glanced at Ulexi and then back at Veronteegan, not sure how much I should divulge.

"Ulexi is my steward. You can trust her to be discreet," Veronteegan noticed my doubts. She might have read my mind, though we had only met. She had to be pushing nineteen hands, so she was a powerful mage. It was shameful that her talent was wasted in a tiny village in the sticks because of the politics surrounding the Cragi heresy.

"The shirt was made by an ancient and magical spider monster named Ud," I responded. "It's made out of Ud's spider silk."

"So, the spider monster who lives across the seas exists," Veronteegan marveled. "I've heard unbelievable stories about the legendary spider monster, like it's as big as a house, and it rescues floundering ships and sailors. I never gave such overblown tales much credence."

"Those stories are true. Ud is as big as a small house, and she has a treaty with the Sea Coyn of Inkalem to rescue ships and sailors in distress," I said, wincing from the pain of talking too much. "Let's try to get the shirt off."

Ulexi and Veronteegan both helped me up and I got my left arm inside through the armhole and lifted the edge up. Ulexi tugged it over my head. It wasn't comfortable but we got it off. I discovered the spider silk stretched a lot more than I thought it would.

"Keep her upright, Ulexi," Veronteegan directed. Then she lightly touched my right arm, and I felt the tingle of active body clairvoyance." "It could be worse, little one. You have two broken ribs, a crack in your collarbone, and a break in your shoulder blade. The bruising is substantial. Let me do this first."

She put her hand gently on my head and tranced. After a few breaths, the pain receded. I didn't realize I was hurting that badly before Veronteegan cast her first pain charm.

"Keep holding her just like that, Ulexi," Veronteegan moved her hand to the middle of my back. "I'm amazed you don't have a punctured lung. I will set the ribs now. Setting ribs is easy if they haven't punctured anything. Setting them will also prevent an accidental mishap with your lungs later. Then, we'll immobilize your shoulder. After that, we'll get your boots and leggings off. That leg looks nasty. I want to leave the leg for the healer. Both your shoulder and your leg are messy breaks. If I had to, I could set and heal them, but a trained healer will be faster and cause you less pain."

Veronteegan and Ulexi had me undressed and under blankets quicker than I anticipated. Ulexi sat with me as I dozed while Lady Veronteegan took care of her "errands and village-keeping chores." If a healer didn't arrive before dark, Veronteegan said she'd do the rest of the bone setting and healing herself.

Ulexi spent her time sewing the seams of my clothes back together. Before I dozed off, I was amazed at how fast she was. She had the tunic done and was working on my undertop when loud voices downstairs woke me up.

"Praise Cragi! I have arrived without becoming lost. I am the healer whom Lady Veronteegan Zumptakwonk requested. Where may your lady be?" Whoever this healer was, she sure had healthy lungs.

"We have a runner already off to fetch her, Beloved of Cragi," a tenor replied.

"Do you know where my patient might be? I can always get started while we wait."

"She is upstairs, Beloved of Cragi," the tenor continued. "Turn left at the top of the stairs. Your patient is in the room behind the third door on the right."

"Thank you," the healer replied. Then we heard and felt her footsteps as she approached and knocked. The startled and nervous Ulexi got up and opened the door while bowing, "My Lady, please, come in."

The healer looked like she was as tall or taller than Lady Veronteegan. Her long silver hair hung in four braids, which contrasted with the dark red of her clergy robes. The woman was a priestess of Cragi. I knew I was scared of her. She looked scary — really big and really scary. I hoped Galt was sincere about protecting me from assault like he had in Toyatastagka. I didn't need to look twice to know that this giant monster mage was bad news.

The healer frowned down at Ulexi, who was only around sixteen hands tall. Then her gaze shifted, and she scowled at me before returning her attention to Ulexi.

"Are you my patient, daughter?" the priestess healer asked.

"No, Beloved of Cragi," Ulexi gestured to me, "the little one here is your patient. Her broken leg and shoulder were beyond my mistress' talents to heal."

"You summoned me, a priestess and full healer, for a mere Coyn?"

I'm sure I groaned aloud. "Why, Galt?" I muttered. "Why must I endure this endless parade of idiot Silverhairs who deny the evidence of their own body clairvoyance?"

"Was that a prayer to the cat demon, filth? The healer accused.

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"No, it was a demand for enlightenment from the god of knowledge, destiny, justice, and wrath," I wheezed. Breathing wasn't as painful as earlier, but now all the muscles around my back and chest ached. "I am under the god of destiny's protection."

The healer pushed Ulexi aside and placed her monster hand across my middle. It jostled my shoulder, and I screamed from the sudden stabbing pain down my right side. It didn't stop the healer from using her magic to examine me. She abruptly stepped back from me with a look of outrage.

"You!" she shrieked. "You are an abomination! Anathema! Blasphemy!"

"Wow," I said conversationally, "you have a seriously bad case of fanaticism for a god that doesn't exist. Your loyalty is incredible but sadly misplaced in a fraud whom the real gods destroyed more than four decades ago. I hoped the sight of the godmarks might convince you that following the dead Cragi is a dead end. The true gods are merciful up to a point. They do understand that you were raised in the false faith of Cragi, but that understanding will be wasted if you do not achieve enlightenment quickly. Do not confuse mercy for patience."

"You cannot be permitted to live," the healer declared.

Listening to her, I had to wonder what the healer oaths were like in Mattamesscontess. Did they swear on Cragi? Was a sincere oath to a false god binding? Were the oaths like those used in Foskos? Did the swearers promise not to end a life either before its time or without petition? Did they swear to do no harm unless in defense of themselves or others? If the oaths were similar, then how did such oaths fit with this healer deciding I had to die?

If Galt was paying attention, I had nothing to worry about if she tried to kill me. If Galt wasn't paying attention, then I was in trouble because this scary heretic priestess was about to use magic to kill me.

No matter what happened, I was helpless. I couldn't even run away with a broken leg. This damn healer and would-be murderer had me close to visibly trembling, but I'd be damned if I let my fear show in my expression. I was happy my shaky hands were under the blankets.

I made a show of disdainfully lifting one eyebrow, like Spock dissing Kirk, "I am the beloved of Tiki, Mugash, Giltak, and Galt, and have been marked by all eleven of the true gods. I am under their protection. You cannot harm me, Ishapur of Mooroo'kumush."

I didn't know how I knew the angry healer's name, which means a god put the name in my head just for this occasion. I was beginning to regret taking Galt up on his deal to see this through.

Alternatively, knowing the healer's name meant one or more gods were paying attention. I probably had nothing to worry about. If the scary healer attacked me, I would trust in the protection of whichever god was watching over me. I hoped I was right about this. Death was the price of getting this wrong.

"Insolence," the healer's hand began to glow with an unhealthy green miasmic radiation. I felt sick to my stomach just looking at her hand, so I looked away. I saw her attack through my peripheral vision. During the short moment before my body flinched, I saw her glowing hand hit an unseen barrier and burst into flame. She screamed as she was thrown backward and struck the wall opposite the bed.

I flinched anyway, although her attack never arrived.

Ulexi calmly poured the contents of the bedside water pitcher onto the healer's hand.

I found that I felt some pity for the healer despite her wanting to kill me. She hit the wall hard enough that the plaster broke, leaving an impression of her back. That had to hurt. Her hand and wrist were a mess, too, and the cloth of her sleeve had burned away. What little I could see from the bed was a mix of charred skin and emerging red blisters. The charred skin patches looked bad enough to be third-degree burns. Those probably didn't hurt because deep burns destroy the nerves. It was the red, blistering skin of the second-degree burns that had to hurt.

I knew the healer was in pain from the tears pouring from her eyes and the wailing she emitted. I guess it made sense that a loud person like her would be a noisy wailer when hurt.

My irreverent brain imagined what a noisy child she must have been. I felt sorry for her mother and congratulated the absent woman for raising such a mouthy child without murdering her.

I heard footsteps pounding up the wooden stairs. Lady Veronteegan erupted through the door, took in the scene, and then knelt in front of the priestess healer. The village head took the healer's hand and tranced. Watching the charred and blistered skin turn back into healthy pink skin kicked my magic envy into high gear.

"Now, how is the rest of you?" Veronteegan said softly while trancing and placing her hand on the healer's head. The healer had stopped wailing, but she was still sniffling and looking pathetic. Then, she noticed me watching her, and she looked afraid.

"Now, do you understand, Ishapur of Mooroo'kumush?" I asked her. "The gods of Erdos will not allow you to harm me. They are the true gods, not Cragi. All your life, you have been taught a lie, Ishapur. Cragi was a magical kraken monster, but she wasn't a god. Vassu, the god of water, ended Cragi's life forty-four years ago and left her dead carcass on the Isle of Three Pines for all to see as proof.

"Vassu sent me last year to Toyatastagka to warn the Emperor and his court to give up the worship of the false god Cragi. Vassu declared that if they did not forsake Cragi, Toyatastagka would be destroyed, and the Cragi worshipers of the city would die within a year. You know by now, Ishapur, that the god Vassu kept that promise. Toyatastagka is nothing but a pile of rubble, and most of its inhabitants have either fled or died.

"It's not too late for you, Ishapur of Mooroo'kumush. You are not at fault for being raised in a false faith. You can leave it behind you. Give up the worship of a dead monster who pretended to be a god. The real gods are merciful and will forgive you for following Cragi, but only if you walk away from Cragi now, today, and follow the eleven deities of Erdos."

"I don't understand," the tears fell from her eyes. "We all heard about what happened at the Imperial Palace last year. None of us abandoned the Church of Cragi then, so why mercy now and not the promised death?"

"The prophecy that Vassu asked me to deliver last year was meant for Toyatastagka alone, and a year was given so that those true to Vassu would have time to leave," I replied. "The gods use the destruction of sinful places like Salicet and Toyatastagka as examples of their wrath to remind forgetful, disobedient creatures like you and me to heed their wishes and obey their commandments."

"You?" The poor healer was bewildered. "Are you not their prophet? How can you be forgetful of their will and disobedient of their wishes?"

I laughed, which was a mistake with my shoulder in pieces. "Damn, that hurt." I waited for the pain to subside before continuing. "Ishapur, I do not like being a prophet. It's a lousy job. More often than not, I am angry with the gods for what they have done to me and my life. If I could quit this job, I would. Forgetful of their will and disobedient of their wishes? Yep, that's me."

"But...but...but the gods chose you," Ishapur sputtered. Veronteegan and Ulexi looked just as startled by what I was saying. I had to remind myself that they were Cosm and couldn't help themselves. Their biology was programmed to revere gods. Poor things.

A Cosm would never feel doubt that deities existed and created the world. To be a Cosm was to be someone who believed. To be a Coyn was to know doubt. A Coyn could curse the gods, and blame the gods for the hunger, rip rape, and abuse that the Cosm were allowed to inflict.

A Coyn could turn their back on the gods who permitted these evils to exist. Coyn had coices in how we approached the gods, while the Cosm would find such choices incomprehensible.

Perhaps I pitied the Cosm because they were innocent of the knowledge of doubt? Maybe what I felt was envy that someone like Ishapur would never doubt that gods existed or that the gods cared about people in the way that people believed the gods cared.

"Ishapur, it is true: the gods chose me," I said, beginning to feel fatigued. "They chose me before I was even born on Erdos. They permitted me to keep my identity from a previous life on a different world. I am not 16 or thereabouts. I'm really eighty-seven if you add up the years from both lives.

"The gods didn't choose me, actually. What they chose was the knowledge in my head, including how to make stuff like metals from rocks or cleaning supplies from seawater. They wanted me and no one else because of the contents of my head. And I had to be a Coyn prophet to break the false dogma that only the Cosm were blessed by the gods. To give teeth to the gods' demand that slavery be abolished, I had to be born into the slave race most despised by the Cosm.

"But Ishapur, while the gods have their reasons for choosing me, I did not know I was chosen until a year ago, which was more than a year after my first revelation. For a job I didn't want and can't turn down, some advanced notice might have been nice. But I never got that from our eleven gods. Instead, I got strung along for a year like a drop spindle, thinking I could wind up the work of the revelations and get my life back. The moral of a really long story is that the gods did a bait-and-switch on me, luring me in with the gig work as a revelator but then trapping me with an unwanted lifetime contract to be a prophet."

All three Cosm in the room were gaping at me. I should probably learn how to keep my mouth shut in front of Cosm who I don't know well when discussing my life as a prophet.

"But don't the gods protect you? Veronteegan asked. "Isn't life as a prophet better than life as a slave?"

"Before I shock you poor people any further," I said, "can I ask that someone set my shoulder and my leg, please? I assume that Ishapur will not attempt to murder me a second time today. Then, once the bones are set and splinted, I'd be happy to tell you my story."

The rest of the day followed what I proposed. A greatly chastened Ishapur healed the breaks in my shoulder and leg. Then, I related the story of my two lives to my Cosm hosts. We talked all afternoon until I fell asleep without meaning to.