The laughter died down around as the woman finished her story.

�So you have been to Alitor, Migram and even Soloth. Where haven�t you been?� the bartender asked pouring her another full glass of mead.

�What about before that?� asked the man next to her. The girl tossed her glossy hair as though to begin another chapter of her story, but suddenly her smile faded.

�What�s wrong?� the man asked, suddenly concerned.

The girl smiled meekly and then replied, �Well, in my home country, I was a goddess.�

A roar of laughter erupted from the crowd.

�Those dumb country people,� declared one man uproariously, �I bet you had your pick of temple slaves back then.�

They all shared a collective chuckle.

The girl shook her head, �Don�t call them dumb.�

Everyone fell silent.

�They all believed in something. I think, somewhere, we all do. They just thought that it was me.�


It all began on the frigid steps of Nortalto. I was born in the dead of winter. The midwife swore that I had died, but by some miracle, I came back to life. On the same night, the goddess who had come before me passed away. They believed, that night, that her soul was given over to me making me her successor.

There is no real way you can prepare a child to be a goddess, but the people of the village tried. I was immediately given over to the priests and priestesses. They raised me in the way of the word, telling me all of the customs of our people. This is where I learned to read and write. I learned a lot from them and they were all very kind to me. When I was determined to have come of age, I was set up in the high temple with the temple virgins. I was instructed to hear the complaints of the people and give them answers according to my own divine intuition.

Now, you must understand, I was never told to doubt that I was in fact a god. There was many gods in those days and it was not too remarkable to believe that our village had its own. Religion was not persecuted as it is in the city.

The people who came to me had many problems and I gave them the best wisdom I had available to me. I was confident in it because I believed that I was special, but for someone like myself, it was not always possible to ignore my imperfections. Perhaps it was harder than it is for others.

There was a woman who came to be complained of being barren. I told her that she should place a root under her bed, for that is our custom. She did so for three years and no child came.

A man came asking me to bless his goat. The goat was very sick. Its coarse hair was patching all over and its eyes seemed to be smoky and distant. I lay my hands upon its head and said a prayer over it, but the goat died the very same night.

Yet again, a man came to me having been injured in an accident with the plow. He asked me if I could cure his leg. Looking at the leg, I knew there was nothing that I could do. I shook my head and turned him away, but was unable to explain to him why.

These incidents, spread apart over the years, were not as common as one might expect. The people believed in me. Their goddess did provide for them. The crops grew long and healthy and the village prospered. You see, as odd as it may sound to you, I began to feel the spirit of my village�s goddess. I felt her in the wind, I felt her in the soil beneath my feet, I even felt her in me, but I soon realized that she was not me.

At the end of three years, the woman was given a baby boy.

After the man had grieved his only remaining goat, he bought a flock of sheep from a traveler and grew it to be one of the largest flocks in the village.

The man who's leg had been severed became a priest of our order and spent his time among the children of the village, taking care of them while their mothers and fathers were away in the fields.

It was like a glittering thread of gold that glinted off every petal in the world. It was like a breath and a heartbeat that flowed through everything I ever knew. It was so much a part of it, I could hardly tell the fabric from it's maker. For me, this became the goddess.

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