he had said as she lay on the ground, the terrible flame scouring her life away. Don’t struggle against me.
I don’t want to be saved, she had replied. I’m tired. Let me go.
The Most High had sighed then, a sound encapsulating the weariness of the world. Ah, if only the world would let go. But you must learn, Stella Pellwen, that the world does not let go, not when you play such a large part in it.
Save someone else, she persisted. Others are dead or dying and want to live. Save them.
If I let you die , many others will follow. Do you want that?
She had responded with anger. Then don’t arrange the world in such a way that it depends on me! Change the story! Write me out of it!
You know it does not work that way. Your friend Leith knew this, and eventually accepted his role. It’s not like you to be selfish.
But I’m so tired! she had cried.
So am I, said the Most High. I make you a promise, Stella Pellwen. When the world lets me go, I will ensure it lets you go also.
Reluctantly she had allowed him to fill the empty spaces she had been driven from. Immortal by virtue of her Water of Life-touched blood, she had been vulnerable to anything that stopped her heart, preventing the tainted blood from renewing her skin, muscles and bones. The lightning strike had convulsed her heart, and the blood had ceased flowing. It had taken direct and continued intervention from the Most High to restart her circulation.
Will it always be like this? she asked as another family came to pay their respects.
No. Soon your body will begin to renew your heart. When that happens I can leave you alone.
Why am I so important?
I truly do not know, answered the Most High.
What sort of answer is that? Of course you know.
I do not. I am aware of possibilities, that is all. Every choice you make subtly alters the balance of those possibilities. Because you are one of the travellers you act as a—forgive me the pun—lightning rod to the gods, attracting their attention. Were you to leave, they would have less reason to focus on this group. And in many possible futures you have important tasks to complete.
Always important tasks. I’ve had seventy years of important tasks. When do I get to rest?
Seventy years? the voice said, and for a moment the Most High sounded ancient. Seventy whole years? That is a very long time.
You don’t have much of a talent for sarcasm, Stella replied. She knew this was no way to talk to a god, especially not one who had in anger split Dona Mihst asunder and cursed the First Men, but she spoke with the carelessness of one with nothing left to lose.
No, I do not. When people converse with me they are generally seeking answers, not humour.
It was a fair point, and Stella chewed on it for a while.
Around them the refugees from the storm settled down, organising whatever comforts they could and preparing for sleep. Children cried, old men chattered and quite a few snored; sounds infinitely preferable to the screaming that had filled Corata Pit a few hours previously. There was little to eat, but hunger was a small inconvenience.
I have questions for you, Stella said.
The Most High smiled, lighting up her mind. I’m sure you do, he said. Please ask them, but be patient with my replies.
She’d intended to ask him about his children, the Son and the Daughter, but her thoughts turned to her own family. Bitter thoughts.
Why did my brother die?
He drank himself to death, said the Most High. But you know this, so it is another question you wish to ask.
Why did he have to die while I was away serving you? The question was more accurate, nearer to what she really wanted to say, but the asking carried mixed feelings, anger and guilt among them.
Ah. He didn’t have to die. Death attended upon the lifestyle he chose.
That is only part of the reason, Stella snapped. Why didn’t you prevent it? Why couldn’t his death have waited until I returned? We rendered you a great service and suffered for it.
Near the heart of it, this.
Child, you left Loulea with Leith and the others because you wanted to escape the village. You saw your destiny in the wider world. But you did not consider the effect your feigned death had on your brother, who had already been driven half-mad by