Jenn was tossing and turning under the bedsheets. Whatever was happening, she didn’t seem to like it.

“Iamai… God… The Light…”

Pastor Daniel looked up from the bedside. “It’s gotten a bit incoherent now,” he said, face set in hardened annoyance. “But she was going on about speaking to a new god. Has this ever happened before?”

“No,” I said. “She’s a cleric, but I’ve never heard her say… anything about her God.”

The pastor raised an eyebrow. “A cleric?”

Kevin knelt across from him and tried to hold Jenn steady. “Yeah. She uses divine magic to heal, bless, turn undead… lots of stuff.”

“And she never said anything about a God before?” Pastor Daniel was understandably incredulous. “Are you sure she’s a cleric? There are nature worshippers who can perform similar magic, and even some entertainers can magically heal….”

I nodded. “We’re aware. In fact, I’m one of those ‘entertainers’, as you say. We prefer to be called bards.”

“Well, if she is a cleric, and can do what you say, she’ll have a holy symbol of her deity.” He retrieved from the neck of his robes a gold pendant of a face wreathed in flame. “Like this.”

-Prole, God of the Sun-

Great. My religion skill still interjects without permission.

Kevin stopped trying to fight Jenn’s writhing. “It should be with the rest of her stuff. You put it in the cabinet, right?” He moved to a corner of the room and began rummaging.

“I can tell you there’s no god called Iamai,” grumbled the pastor.

Jenn’s face was moist with perspiration, so I grabbed a nearby handkerchief and dabbed her forehead. She didn’t seem to be in pain, just… discomfort. It was unsettling to watch. Her movements seemed as though she was trying to politely break free of something, like the chick at the party that hopes the drunk guy would just take the hint and get off of her.

“Found it,” said Kevin, triumphantly. He tossed the silver medal to the pastor, who caught it and began examining it immediately.

His expression went from smug expectation to urgent concern. “Raymsby!” he roared. “Bring me my collection!”

“Something wrong?” I asked.

The pastor felt along the face of the symbol. “This isn’t representative of any God, but it does remind me of something….”

There was an awkward lack of conversation as we waited for Raymsby. Jenn occasionally made a noise that was between speaking and moaning, but for the most part she seemed mostly calmed. Kevin and I exchanged quiet looks.

The thin form of Raymsby came teetering in, holding a small wooden chest. I jumped up and helped him take it to a nearby table. “Thank you, sir,” breathed the kid. “I’m glad she’s gotten quieter, sir.”

Pastor Daniel moved through us. “That’ll be all, Raymsby,” he said. The acolyte bowed quickly and skedaddled.

“This is a collection of what, exactly?” I asked.

He opened the lid. “Holy symbols of various deities. Whenever I go to Colme or Rikston or another large city, I make a point of picking a new one up.” Judging by the racket he made sifting through them, there were likely a lot. I resisted the urge to watch - with my luck, my knowledge skills would consider it a flashcard challenge. “Started eight or nine years ago. Nasty priest of Caven was hiding around, causing worse and worse mischief. No one likes a Caven priest, that’s for sure, and here especially. Young paladin stopped him. He gave me the priest’s holy symbol as thanks for help. Oh, here’s the Caven one.” He held up a dark gold hand with an eye in the palm. “Figured since this would be one of the hardest to collect, I might as well try to get as many as I could. Certainly not complete yet, and I keep meaning to make a display case for them—Aha! Tucked at the bottom.”

He produced a silver medallion. With an academic eye, he examined it next to Jenn’s, then handed me both. “Almost identical,” he proclaimed.

I looked over each. They had circular ridges that grew from the center like ripples in a pond. Jenn’s was slightly larger and had one more ripple. Mercifully, my religion skill was silent. “So… what god does this one signify?” I asked, handing them off to Kevin.

“None,” said pastor Daniel. “This was crafted by a lovely halfling scholar. She discovered some rather ancient texts which claimed that Gods who lack the power to create their own plane come from an existence above the planar.” He scratched his cheek in thoughtful recollection. “A very old belief that’s not in practice today, of course. But you couldn’t tell her that! After reading the book and deriving from her vast knowledge of religious texts, she jumped to the conclusion that all Gods once lived in that existence.” Eyes closed, he smiled and shrugged. “What’s more, she went on to say that such an existence was, in fact, its own deity! Imagine - all Gods as pieces of some… Supergod - the insanity of it!” He laughed. “I heard her out, of course, because pretty women deserve such, but I said such ideas are either ludicrous, or there’s a reason the Gods never talk about it. She took it well. As thanks for listening, she gave me her interpretation of what a holy symbol would be like for the Supergod, based on some passage or another in her texts.” He waved a hand. “I was worried for a second there, but telling that story again made me realize how preposterous the whole idea is. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

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Kevin and I stood mute as we finished absorbing the information. Eventually Kevin said, “…And what’s your take on her glowing a minute ago?”

Daniel’s brow arched then lowered as he looked down to Jenn. “No idea. Probably unrelated.” He gestured for his symbol back, snatching it away from Kevin with a sense of finality. “Regardless, she seems physically fine, so please remove her at your earliest convenience. The half-orc, too.”

The whole thing must’ve struck a nerve. Pastor Daniel carried his collection out of the room, nearly tripping over Raymsby, who was just outside, listening.

“You alright?” I asked Kevin.

He was already gathering Jenn’s things. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Kevin had a sore spot when it came to people being jerks for religious reasons. Not that pastor Daniel was a jerk, of course. It sucked that we were kicked out, but it was also nice of the church to accept us in the first place. I’d like to think that Kevin kept that in mind. Of course, when dealing with something that you’ve programmed yourself to hate, it’s hard to view the subject as a complete whole.

I gnawed a bit on my lip to censure myself. Kevin was probably fine with the whole situation - more likely I was searching for reasons to project my bad mood onto him. I shoved my problems down deep. “I’ll go tell Topher to clear out,” I informed.

It was raining by the time we gathered everything. We rushed through the street, not wanting Jenn to develop a fever. She still squirmed and moaned as I carried her. We got to the tavern, which I noted was called Gannel’s Folly.

Friendly noise and delectable smells greeted us. Laborers celebrating the interruption in work, outdoor stall vendors closed due to weather, and busybodies that couldn’t wander the streets collecting gossip - all were enjoying the services of the tavern. Considering how small the town was, how few people were on the streets, and the relatively early time of day, I was surprised by the overwhelming patronage.

Kevin handed me a key. “Put her in my room; it’s next to yours. You and I can share tonight, so we’ll only need to get one more. Topher the Super Sonorous Snorer can get his own room.”

“Hey!” Topher would’ve shaken a fist if he hadn’t been carrying his and Jenn’s equipment. “I snore because I care - it scares away would-be attackers!”

“It’s practically sonic damage,” I smirked. “Note to self: cast Sleep on Topher for devastating area attack.”

I got more than a few wondering stares as I carried Jenn. Ignoring them, I made my way to the second floor, holding my face as deadpan as possible in hopes that people wouldn’t draw conclusions. At least she had finally stopped squirming. After ascending the stairs, I looked down to see if she still looked pained, only to have my eyes meet hers.

“…So I’m not dead.”

She sounded frail, with an odd mixture of fear and relief. I decided quiet lightheartedness was the way to go. “Nope; still stuck with us. Would you like to walk?”

She shook her head, then curled inward a bit. “I… feel kind of weak. You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“…Thank you,” she whispered sweetly.

“—but mind your melon as I try to unlock the door.”

After adeptly maneuvering her through the threshold, I stationed her on the bed. “Do you need anything? Food? Water?”

“Water, please.”

I smiled and exited, finding Kevin and Topher in the hallway. “Jenn’s up,” I reported.

“That’s good,” said Kevin, exhaling some tension away. Then his mood changed. “In that case, can I see you both in our room?”

He seemed a bit… annoyed? Angry? Somewhere in between? Topher didn’t show any sign of what was happening. “Sure…” I said, puzzled.

I unlocked the room. Kevin marched in first, followed by Topher and me after a quick exchange of glances. “Close the door,” said Kevin.

“What’s wrong?” asked Topher, setting down the gear he was carrying.

Kevin spun around to face us, drawing his bow in the process. He held it at arm’s length.

We just stared at him, not knowing what to say. His brow was lowered. His jaw was clenched. Without a word or a twitch, he dropped the bow to the floor.

It hit the ground and bounced a bit, finally settling between us.

“The bow doesn’t control me,” stated Kevin.

“You heard us talking about you?” I asked. He answered by pointing to his large, pointed ears. “Ah. Of course.”

Topher stepped to the bow. “It’s not affecting you now,” he said. “But I saw how you acted last night. You never let go of this thing.”

“It’s my weapon of choice,” defended Kevin. “It’s the only magical weapon we’ve got.”

“And that also makes it the most suspect tool in our use,” said Topher. “I think it, in conjunction with some other trigger, caused the event. Maybe the proximity to undead. Maybe the long, exhausting day. Maybe the phase of the moon. Maybe a random bad die roll - any of those, but I’m 90% certain the bow is the root cause.”

“I think I would know better than you.” Kevin had a uniquely velvety grumble to his speech when he was angry.

“Maybe,” shrugged Topher. “…Or is the bow telling you to say that?” he joked.

My headache politely reminded me that it hadn’t gone away. “Guys, let’s just leave this alone for now, okay? How about we agree to pay for an Identify spell next chance we get?”

“That’s fine,” said Kevin.

“Can we afford it?” asked Topher.

That was a good point. “We’re adventurers,” I shrugged. “Something will present itself. Or I can perform for money instead of beer.” They finally broke each other’s gaze. “Great. I’m heading downstairs to get Jenn some water - either of you want anything?”

They declined, so off I went. There’s nothing so disheartening as inter-party drama. I decided I could use a drink - both as reward for delaying a big argument, and as painkiller. Kevin heard us, huh? Damn elf ears. I wondered if their shape made it easier—

Something was off. There wasn’t nearly enough noise coming from the bar below. It had been a roaring tempest of mirth just a few minutes ago, now only one person was talking. Maybe it was just an announcement. I shook my head and told myself not everything was a crisis to deal with.

“…these so-called ‘adventurers’ - the large human, the half-orc, the elf, and the half-elf - were seen performing necromancy and defiling the graves of—“

I ran back upstairs immediately.