6.9

Jewel was glad she had made so much progress with her smaller self. The endeavor with the ‘priest’ and the local gods invested in Valasect were far less fruitful.

She could confirm that there was some presence in the divinity of the tree that had been drawn to them.

But it touched on the world in a way that was strange.

Although the priest and his attendants insisted it was the spirit of the tree Jewel was absolutely certain that the thing which had brushed through the wind, leaves and bark of that tree like a knife cleaving flesh was definitely not of it.

The tree’s voice was distinct, both the one which welled up with the world in the soil and stone around it. As well as the soft scents which spilled from its leaves in the slow exhalation that came with the sun.

Even her smaller self could smell the voice of the real tree in that.

But while the presence of the god that bent and shifted the tree certainly seemed to listen to the will of the living wood after a fashion it was as much the tree that it was the supposed spirit of as the Veles could be said to be the man it wore.

That disquieting experience aside there had then been the third strike of a pattern with Jewel and what some of her books called star-born.

The Spirit of Valasect’s tree had not been able to see her.

Likewise Jewel had been unable to hear it.

It was only her trust in the Priest and more importantly in Adorján that she believed the thing could speak at all.

So the Priest, attendant god botherer assistants and her Headman had to act as go-betweens for the presence of what Jewel understood to be the most congenial and safe of the local gods.

What had followed was a deeply awkward improvisation on the time honored ritual of Valasect and was ultimately not clear to Jewel that it had endeared her at all to the village.

According to those that could hear the thing rather than sense its vague intrusions and shifting of the tree above them Jewel would say it went well.

But the fact that both Jewel and the God of the Tree were both apparently near complete enigmas to one another left her with concerns regarding her interactions with others.

It also was making Tsulogothulan very curious in their capacity as describer of Jewel.

“Truly you didn't hear it at all?”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Jewel could only huff as she continued to scan through the written reports and verify them with the tallies that Adorján had provided.

When she was a youth she’d assumed at first that dues were held in trust by memory and honor.

That had turned out not to be the case when she first checked the written records that supplemented her father’s memory of what had been given and by which household.

After that she had assumed that they did things with sensible written accounts.

But this too had turned out to be a bit naive.

No, vellum was far too expensive for her peasants to spend on such.

Instead they made use of notched sticks split in half.

Her friend finally spoke again.

“This and the development at your wedding is reason enough to call Fizzbunches and some of the circle for a visit to confer. I’m not the best when it comes to dealing with gods.”

Jewel nodded absently as she ran a finger down her half of the accounting for a shepherd’s due for last year. Like the others it did indeed match what she had written down for his household.

She set the half stick of wood with many careful cuts in the pile of those she had already verified.

Adorján’s predecessors had mostly done the business of making and storing the tallies for Father. Saving the backs of mules ferrying extra wood in favor of simply reporting by messenger what had been taken for his due and kept locally.

For the first ten years of Jewel’s life there had then been a portion of the animal, wool or food stuffs of Valasect sent north to trade in silver that would then come back to Rochford for the tithe owed to the Countess.

But since her Father, Kraok and Jewel herself had started fulfilling their obligations to the Countess that had mostly stopped.

There were still some of the dues that were sent north (and south) to maintain the Rochford Family’s coin but substantially less was needed then when the entire barony’s worth needed to be paid instead of their military service rendered.

Jewel remembered something.

“It also happens with the Silver Lady when they ‘call forth the dawn’. She never acknowledges me and her light has never touched me. It always annoys the Abbot.”

Her friend’s audible blinking adds to the soft sounds of Jewel’s scales running along wood that had been used to mark the Pfennig worth of wheat given the dragon at the last summer’s harvest by one of the smaller families.

More quickly than before the Weird found their words.

“You never mentioned that before.”

Jewel shrugged her wing shoulders to avoid losing her rhythm of reading with her fingers while also confirming with her eyes.

It took a bit of concentration, but compared to simply keeping her attention properly divided between both of her heads it was honestly not all that difficult.

“I didn't realize it was strange until-”

Oh fiends!

Tsulogothulan leaned closer, but Jewel could only glare at the parchment there before her.

“What’s wrong Jewel?”

She huffed, she wanted to spit wyrmflame and dissolve the offending marks on carefully prepared sheep’s skin.

But that would have been so much of a waste.

“I wrote down eight Pfennig instead of nine last year.”

Which seemed to exasperate the Weird, especially when she asked for Tsulogothulan to draw the ink out of the vellum so she could correct her records.