2

Pacing in an alley, Divine rubbed her forehead and swallowed. What was she thinking? She needed to find Madeline and her talisman. Playing cards and flirting with a successful gambler were distractions. But it felt like a breath in a garden to enjoy the moment; to forget her vengeance, even if the scent of the flowers was imagined.

She sighed and decided to explore the city in search of clues before everyone ended their day. At least she would be attempting to find her talisman. The act would clear her head. Small progress was still progress. And if Viktor had really seen Madeline, she must be on a mission to sell Divine’s talisman. There had to be some shops still open at this time of the evening.

The scent of horse excrement told her she was near the Palfrey Post before her eyes did. Viktor’s venture sat cattycorner to the tavern. As much as he boasted that he’d moved on from his bar-managing days, he seemed to want to stay close. Divine wondered if it was hidden jealousy, or a desire to keep his eyes on Saph. She huffed. She couldn’t stop trying to see into the soul of everyone she interacted with. A Soulshield’s want left to itch.

Recalling the map pinned to the wall of the Sultry Sapphire, Divine strolled toward the opposite direction of the Holy District and took in the city.

Iramont was nearly as large as her home city of Arosia. She admired how the past Iramont leaders had planted fruit trees along the streets, ready for anyone who needed a snack. Abundant gardens filled the city with fresh vegetables and herbs available to everyone. It was so unlike her familiar Arosia, where nearly all edible items were imports. Arosia was a major crossroads of continental trade routes, though, and offered a variety of goods from surrounding continents, nearby provinces, as well as the islands.

As the evening breeze brushed her skin, Divine found herself panting along an incline before reaching the summit. Food, lodging, and transportation behind her, the Essentials District morphed into living areas. Window boxes with yellow daisies and mini orange sunflowers hung from most of the windows, aerial gardens on the multilevel habitspaces shared by families. Blossoms made of fallen leaves hung from doorways and other seasonally appropriate decorations, some enhanced by a servant of a deity. The Goddess of Fields was always popular in Arosia as well, people often crafting large displays of wheat and late summer berries lashed together with twine on a window.

In the center of this Living District, an iridescent pool shaped like an elongated quatrefoil sprayed from three fountains. A tiered main that cascaded down levels of metal leaves was flanked by spouts arching out of the vine-encircled pool; the work of a Hydromancer serving the Goddess of Standing Waters. It was easy to envy the followers of the Tranquil Gods, their magic rarely used to impact a person’s state of being directly. How simple a life they must lead, never burdened with tempering anger or cheering sadness.

Divine drew closer to the pool, the allure of hydromancy pulling her body like a drink to her parched well, though she knew she needed to stay to her task. She peeked over the edge. Instead of her red curls, accented with a feather hair clip made of labradorite, Divine saw in the rippling water a vision of seagrass waving in front of pink sand and high turquoise waves. Solhavn. Divine’s mother had been to the island once, when Divine was twelve, but she always said she was like her garden flowers. My roots need strong soil to grow, not rough sand that shifts with the slightest breeze. But strong soil didn’t matter. No amount of sea breezes could cure her body.

Divine blinked as deep laughter echoed against the buildings, pulling her out of the image and the shadow of sorrow. She looked up at families conversing, then surveyed the layout of the Market District. Three additional streets branched away, and Divine’s feet chose the one that lead her further away from Holy District. She was moving before her mind caught up.

The path she chose soon turned into specialty shops. Among the carved leather messenger bags and the flower-embroidered skirts, Divine watched for her locket as an item sold secondhand in the window displays. The same sign of her Goddess, a sword piercing a crescent moon, appeared on various items next to objects with symbols of other deities, but so far no pendants. As she bent closer to one window displaying jewelry, a reflection in the glass caught her attention. She turned around.

Across the avenue, a servant of a Tranquil God in a long plain robe, the autumn-colored folds draped over one arm and the opposite shoulder like a half-made coat, gestured in supplication to passing citizens. Divine watched but tried not to stare.

“Righteousness cannot be obtained by punishing deeds manifested from the soul,” he called. “It is only by goodness that a soul is enriched. Charity. Understanding. Love. The God of Virtue seeks those who would see their neighbors’ souls blessed with such an existence.”

A young man, perhaps fourteen years of age, stopped as he passed. “What kind of magic do you get at confirmation?”

The servant beamed. “The God of Virtue is more concerned with promoting kindness than displays of power.”

“You don’t get anything?”

The Goodly One bowed his head. “Guiding others into righteousness is a gift, but we are ourselves a source of power.”

The boy crossed his arms. “What does that mean?”

“How we treat others has far more impact on how they live their lives than igniting fire upon things. With a kind gesture or word, we can infect happiness that spreads from soul to soul. Too easily can an unkind act cause others to act vengeful to those near them, spreading like a disease.”

Other denizens passed, some avoiding eye contact with the servant of the God of Virtue as they hurried past. Judging by the boy’s interest, he hadn’t yet pledged devotion to a God or Goddess. And if Divine’s estimate of his age was correct, he still had a year if he wanted to become a servant of a deity.

“You don’t have magic?” the boy asked, tapping his foot.

The servant sighed. “Not every worshipper is able to use magic, regardless of confirmation. It is the same as all the deities. For those who are blessed by His Hand of Virtue, we are granted large magical wells, but we cannot access them. Only those we allow can draw from our power.”

“Then…you’re like a talisman?”

“In a way.”

“That’s useless. No wonder no one ever wants to join.” The boy shook his head and left.

The Goodly One rubbed his nose and began quoting from his creed again.

An idea formed and though it was likely to fail, Divine steeled herself and walked to the Goodly One.

As she drew closer, she could see a thin chain around his neck. His God’s pendant lay against the fabric below his collarbone; a circular base made of silver with a raised kite-like shape containing a stone of rainbow hues, the pair hugged by a nest of interwoven links.

“Good evening,” she said. “Not having much success in converting followers tonight?”

“It’s not really the gathering of souls that we seek, but to…save them from errantly devoting themselves to unkind causes. But you already know what I speak of,” the man added, displaying a knowing nod.

“Your temple is often seen as an extension of the soul-guiding aspects of the Goddess of Souls. An opponent to the Goddess of Condemnation.”

The man smiled. “I think opponent is a strong word, but we do try to avoid the agents. Soulshaper?”

“Soulshield.” Divine glanced at her feet. “One who has lost her talisman.”

“Or do you mean to say stolen.”

Divine’s eyes shot back to his face. “How did you—”

“Several of our servants have had their talismans forcibly removed.”

“What? Why?”

The man shrugged, shifting the autumn-colored folds of one shoulder. “Ever it has been the goal of the deities to amass power. What better way to force a servant to abandon their chosen divine than to rob them of the well that ties them to their God? The God, then, receives none of the boost of their well. A weakened God is not appealing to new followers. Less followers, less power…”

He let the statement hang in the air like a hovering bird, an ending trill to its song on its beak. The power of temples usually referred to the amount of servants wielding a magical blessing from their deity—the reach of their influence and presence in the provinces. But he almost made it sound like the God himself would gain more power from a person aligning themselves to him through confirmation. Divine suppressed a shudder thinking about the God of Storms creating something more akin to a hurricane over the mountains with that extra power instead of a regular thunderstorm.

“But what could they do with the talismans? Even if the person sold it to a Kellas pirate, they only turn them into magical—though incredibly potent—munitions.”

“Ah, this is where I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed.”

Divine chewed on her lower lip. Despite their soul-focused purposes, she hadn’t interacted with servants of the God of Virtue much. They didn’t seem to harbor the anger and resentment that poisoned interactions like some of the temples. Was it possible that he had more information about talismans than what had been shared with her by her temple?

The Goodly One leaned closer. “There are some who are able to manipulate talismans for their own purposes, not just the Kellas.”

“You mean, they can access our wells?” Divine’s stomach felt sick. Her well was her sacred space.

“I have heard some have found a way to use them as secondary talismans. And some sever the connection completely.”

Divine gasped. “But how could they use them? The longer the talisman is out of contact with its creator, the weaker the connection is.”

“Servants of the God of Virtue are, at its basic level, access points to magic wells. Talismans. Do you think we grow weaker when we are not used by others?”

“This was not how I envisioned this conversation going.” Divine ran a hand through her curls.

“You had wanted to ask about using a Goodly One’s well.”

“Yes…but how could you possibly know that?”

“I can, in a way, feel your intent. Like a bump from a swell of your well’s water.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Goodly Ones are more connected to the source of magic than you’ve probably been told. We are all more connected. And you are not as disconnected from your well as you might think. Or you are a…” he shook his head, “no, ignore my musings. Go ahead. Ask.”

Divine took a shaky breath, her mind whirling. She couldn’t recall a time in her life that the God of Virtue’s servants had allowed themselves to be the extra well for another magic-user. But she had to try.

“I’ve promised to go on an adventure of sorts. But I’m useless without my magic, so I’m looking for my talisman but…I’m afraid where it is will bring me more harm than good. What if—you know that my temple exists to do good for others. I’d only use the well for that. Protection, healing. What if one of your Goodly Ones”—the man shook his head but Divine plowed on—“or you. What if you accompanied me?”

“We have all taken a vow. We let our wells be used, long ago, and corruption resulted. The Goddess of Condemnation wasn’t very happy about it either. Your temple isn’t the only one out of favor with her.”

Divine’s stomach sank. She would have to find Madeline and retrieve her talisman if she hoped to use her well again. Divine turned her back to the Goodly One. It was a pointless idea. Just a way to continue to avoid facing the knife that cut her the deepest.

“May His Hand of Virtue treat you fairly,” Divine said softly, recounting a common phrase of his temple.

“I’ll tell him you asked for his blessing on me when I see him next,” the Goodly One intoned.

Divine turned around. A playful smile danced on the man’s lips.

“Now you’re going to tell me that you see your God?”

“The deities don’t always stay on the Zenith.”

“You’ve really seen yours?”

“Well, yes.”

Divine furrowed her brow. “He, what, just shows up sometimes?”

“Mostly on Wind’s Days. He likes to check in with the God of Storms. You have not seen your Goddess, I assume?”

Divine thought. “There are times, when I reach into my well where I feel that I’m not alone or I hear a whisper of a voice that is not mine. But to see her in the flesh—no, I have not had the fortune.”

“Hmm. Does it make you feel more powerful when you feel this?”

“I guess? Yes, maybe a little.”

“Some would say that feeling is unique to an Old Soul. If you find you have more questions later, do seek me out. I think I could help.”

“You know, you know an awful lot about all of this,” Divine said, pretending she knew what he meant by the first part of his statement.

“Let’s just say I’ve been here from the beginning.”

“You’ve been here since your temple was built?”

“Something like that.”

Running her gaze over his clean-shaven face, Divine searched for lines that would give away his age but only found creases at the corners of his mouth. There was no way he had been here since his God’s temple was erected. And if he was wrong about that, maybe she shouldn’t take all of what he had to say as truth. Though, his openness and confidence had her nearly believing him. Again, she wished she could use her magic to search for hints of lies in his emotions. But if he could shield himself like Madeline did, she wouldn’t be able to discern his level of candor either.

“I should let you go. Maybe they”—Divine thumbed to the side where some other shoppers where milling about—“will think I’ve signed up since I’ve lingered here so long. I hope it helps your recruitment.”

“Even though it means less souls for your Goddess? You are exceptionally kind.”

Leaving the Goodly One, Divine looked for a shop to continue the search for her talisman though her thoughts spiraled into examining everything he had told her. Before her, three shops closed their doors nearly in sync. Even the doors were rejecting her.

Shadows now carpeted the street. Above, the sky was a darkened blue with muted clouds. Sunset came so earlier this time of year. Soon the lampposts would burst to life, enough light stored in the Trickster crystals to pierce the dark. Divine would have liked to explore some of the other areas before they closed. Maybe another day—when she had her magic, and her dignity back. All this talk of deities and magic weighed her steps. She turned back in the direction of the Sultry Sapphire.

The sweet and tart smell of apples ready for picking filled her nose as she passed a community garden between family dwellings. She partook in the crisp fruit, groaning at the sweetness with a hint of sour as the juices pooled in her mouth. She savored the distraction.

A birdbath stood between two trees, across from a bench where Divine sat to finish her apple. A child held hands with her mother as they strolled past, one of the last summer roses in her hand, all thin petals of pale pink—roses like her mother had grown under their windowsill.

An ache sat on Divine’s chest, of love, loss, and connection, and she switched her gaze to the trees. What did she really know of life and the world? Hidden truths, secrets, trusts broken. Panic coiled in her, ready to send her breaths to a crescendo.

A rainbow bird landed on a branch with leaves painted with fire, puffing its teal and purple chest feathers. A bird like the inked shoulder Divine had trailed kisses, lips climbing a sand-colored ladder, to Madeline’s neck; hot breath and fingers in her chin-length hair. When the wind blew, it would toss Madeline’s icy brown strands, revealing a glimpse of her clipped undercut and etched pattern placed behind her ear, hidden from a casual view, like her true character.

Divine squeezed her eyes shut and took a shuddering breath. She told herself the emptiness inside her chest was her missing the connection to her magic well. The months she’d been without her talisman wrecked her body like the absence of alcohol to someone suffering withdrawals, or someone with an empty well sitting in a city with a large Holy presence.

But lying to herself was easier than admitting she’d lived a lie; easier than thinking she continued to choose the wrong path at every crossroad; easier than trying to put back a heart given away.

Divine dropped the apple core, covering her face and the hot tears.