A Real Goddess Would Let Nobody Die

Add separation anxiety to the list of things that were making it difficult for Nyrkatess to concentrate.

Before Izenakee began to inscribe the Goddesses' Language, Villacqui had decided to leave with Suri, "to help Telf with breakfast." Ever since, Nyrkatess couldn't help worrying, and not only because she knew very well that Villacqui was as clueless as she was when it came to preparing meals.

She knew that Villacqui would be safe in Keyic territory--in a Temple of the Goddesses, no less. She knew that there were no bigots here. She knew that there was no need to worry about anything.

<Is Villacqui having fun?> she worried anyway. Again.

It was just, for years, there would have been a lot of need to worry. Nyrkatess' list wasn't short.

<Feels like it,> Zyriko answered. Again. <She's recovered, from her cleaning spell, and...I think she's teaching writing? Whatever she's doing, I can tell that the children aren't going to let her leave any time soon.>

As nice as that was to hear, it also made Nyrkatess feel like she was missing out. Her wife's magic was a rare treat on its own, but her teaching a lesson!? Nyrkatess slipped into daydreaming.

Villacqui acting all authoritative. Giving instructions, and correcting mistakes, with all her prim and proper mannerisms and speech. Walking from pupil to pupil with precise elegance, always with perfect posture.

...Hnn.

There would be more lessons in the future, surely. Surely there would.

...Please let there be more.

That said, Villacqui was also missing out. Nyrkatess was on a kind of White Goddess job shadowing, and, well, 'the Sacred Realm' deserved the name.

Izenakee and Menelyn-Izena were headed to the first hospital of the day, in an enchanted transport, with the Sun still low in the eastern sky. Having paused while Nyrkatess was distracted, Izenakee's head resumed swinging around like She was a breathless provincial on Her first visit to the city, because that was an accurate description of Nyrkatess, who was sharing Her eyes.

Among the many marvels that had impressed her so far...the best way she could describe it was that the common people of the Garden had the look of white mages.

<Universal access to nutrition, medical care, shampoo and conditioner, cosmetics, high quality clothing--all of it goes a long way,> Izenakee explained. <The common person can be quite impressive, so long as society is willing to allow it.>

'Shampoo and conditioner.' Something like special liquid soaps just for hair, according to the Language inscribed in Nyrkatess' mind. Remarkable.

The bigots would never, could never, allow a society like this one. Their carefully sheltered self-images couldn't survive such direct evidence of their own mediocrity. It was that same pervasive insecurity that made them so, so eager to disparage Villacqui, to mistreat her for having the audacity to undermine their precious delusions with her very existence.

Izenakee smiled and nodded, but the smile soon changed to a smirk.

<If you and Villacqui were walking down that street, it's true that no one here would assume that you are Goddesses, but you would absolutely still turn heads,> She assured Her guest. <Most would infer that you are a mage prodigy, and they would be correct. You are talented.>

There was no hiding anything from Empathy Herself.

<Thank You,> Nyrkatess replied, sheepishly.

Never once had she ever been delusional. She had always been painfully aware that she was naught but an ignorant mortal. As soon as Suri had invited them, Nyrkatess had known that the White Goddess Who had made the original tunic must be truly transcendent, and that she would have a lot to learn. Even so, watching Menelyn cast Her spells at dawn, once for Izenakee and again for Kennalaria, had been sobering. It seemed perfectly reasonable that wearing copies of such an Entity's ancient clothing should be enough to cause literal apotheosis within hours.

<This part of you is one of the things that made your Villacqui fall in love, you know,> Izenakee commented.

Nyrkatess was unsure what She meant.

<That I know my limits?> she guessed.

<That you have a decent idea, better than anyone else would, of how long and difficult the journey will be, yet you have never for a single second thought, 'maybe I'll just stay home, after all.' Instead, you're thinking, 'with so far to go, I can't afford to waste any time.'>

'Stay home?' As in...be content with mediocrity? Give up?

How dreadfully uninspired.

Izenakee giggled, but the words that followed were serious.

<Our job requires a degree of motivation, of zeal, that is not easy to find,> She said. <Yet here you are, only needing to be pointed in the right direction, and unleashed. We approve. Always listen to what your Villacqui has to say; she will keep you on track. Suri and Zyriko, too.>

Izenakee returned to surveying the passing sights of the city, while Nyrkatess' ambition flared.

One gleaming blue tower after another stretched gracefully skyward, with bridges criss-crossing between them, high above the street. Although broadly similar, each was its own unique work of art, interconnected with the others.

Nyrkatess sympathized with them. The towers were impressive, making admirable attempts to reach their lofty goal, but...Soaring above them all, humbling Esto's skyline, literally piercing the heavens into the unfathomable beyond, was the lift to the Temple of the Stars. All those breathtaking skyscrapers may as well be garden sheds.

<A gift fit for a Goddess,> Izenakee agreed, and returned Her gaze to ground level. <Conceived and constructed by mortals who lived in a society that nurtured their talents.>

Many of the people on the sidewalk seemed to be waiting for the Goddesses' transport. Others stopped where they were when it came into view. Some people knelt on both knees, as had been typical in the Temple, but most bowed their heads respectfully as the transport passed by.

Respectfully, not subserviently, nor fearfully.

Ever since she had learned why Villacqui was treated poorly, where she came from and what had happened to her, Nyrkatess had had some understanding of how ugly her society was. So ugly that she didn't want to look at it, or think about it, or interact with it. When she was very young, she had tried to get her attendants to do things with her, anything, instead of acting like furniture, but they would only ever do chores. Otherwise: near the wall, heads down, cowering in silence and ignoring her, all the time.

<But you understand why they acted that way,> Izenakee said.

Of course she did, eventually. To be too friendly with the future Heiress would have been, to put it lightly, 'brazenly impertinent for someone of their station.'

<I didn't, at first,> Nyrkatess answered. <By the time I did...Villacqui was who mattered to me. All I wanted was...for us to be left alone. I hated that we had to keep up facades, all the time, because the attendants were always around, and they couldn't be trusted. Villacqui was always, always, always afraid.>

<I had to act the part, too,> Zyriko sympathized. <But you mustn't resent them. Everyone has something to protect. Everyone has their own Villacqui.>

<I don't blame them,> Nyrkatess insisted. And that was honest, as far as she was aware--she had been thinking all of it over, after hearing that her soul had been tainted. <I...obviously, I wanted Villacqui to like me, but more than that...I felt personally responsible. She was taken from her family, and forced to live among bigots who sneered at her, and disrespected her, and were cruel to her, and the whole time, she needed to flatter and obey and pretend as if she was grateful for the opportunity to breathe the same air. As if the cruelty was a blessing.>

It was such a relief that Villacqui really had enjoyed being Villacqui. Nyrkatess had always worried that it was a convenient lie she told herself to keep the guilt from crushing her.

Bluh.

She tried to clear the distractions from her mind. After watching Menelyn cast her spells at dawn, just before leaving the Sanctuary, she had been given an assignment, and she meant to take it seriously.

"Ask yourself: Why do you so badly want to be One of Us?" Menelyn had instructed. "Is it only because you want to be glamorous? If that's your answer, then I want you to ask yourself why. To what end? Or is it because you are afraid of aging? It is natural for a young lady of eighteen years not to be ready to be old, but I assure you, watching the world age past you, fade, and leave you behind, again and again and again and again and again for millennia, irreversibly, is hardly a blessing. Or do you want to be Our Sister so badly because there is some sacred purpose that burns at you, something that you simply must achieve? Think on it."

Nyrkatess was perfectly aware that the Goddesses already knew whatever her answer was better than she did--Izenakee knew everything. That meant that this question was in fact a lesson: she needed to understand her own answer. So, Nyrkatess concentrated, and thought, as Esto and its citizens whooshed by.

Eventually, the transport reached its destination. It was a tower much like any other, except this one had a large crowd waiting in the surrounding plaza. A sign near the public transit station in the plaza read, 'Old Hospital, Est. AG 77.'

<It opened as 'City of Dreams Hospital,' on My hundredth birthday,> Izena recounted, while Their Guards prepared for Them to disembark. <At the time, Esto was newly reestablished, one of the first razed cities to be reoccupied on a large scale. To general dismay and frustration, it was devastated by a severe quake, seven years prior to this hospital's opening. When We came and helped, in the aftermath, it sent a powerful message: 'The world will never again be like it was. Prayers will never again go unanswered. Within a day of any tragedy, benevolent Goddesses will descend from the sky on a platform of Light, help all who need help, and ask for nothing in return. That shall be the new world order.'>

It was as Villacqui had said. 'A real Goddess answers prayers.'

<It was a humbler place, then,> Menelyn reminisced. <Two stories, and a single white mage on staff!>

<And no eighty-story portrait of Our Daughter healing souls from across the street,> Izena added.

Wait, what?!

Menelyn's giggles dueled with the morning sunlight, while Izenakee turned to show Nyrkatess what They were talking about.

...Why wasn't every building covered with one of those, on every side?

...Villacqui could sparkle like that, some day...

"They're ready for Us," Izenakee announced, wrenching Nyrkatess back to the present.

The Sisters exited the transport, and began to cross the plaza through a cleared lane leading toward the hospital's entryway.

<Why not have Your Daughter bring You directly?> Nyrkatess asked, as They walked. <Wouldn't that save a lot of time and hassle?>

<We could do it that way, and We do, in special cases, but there are a few reasons for...all this,> Menelyn answered. <If We appeared suddenly, it would be disruptive. All of this buildup gives people time to prepare, and adjust. More importantly, this is a religious ceremony. We have visited hospitals in this exact way for thousands of years. I have walked across this plaza, from that road, more than a hundred thousand times. To a large segment of the public, the cycle of healing is a sacred ritual. Salvation leaves Her Temple in the early morning, and travels to the hospitals, and waves to everyone, and heals all who need healing, and returns to Her Temple at dusk, and that is the way of things. That has always been the way of things, and it always will be, and so the world will be fine.>

Menelyn was, indeed, waving and smiling at the people watching, and the recorders broadcasting the event. Children toddled up to Her from the crowd, allowed through by the Guards flanking the aisle. Whenever one reached Her, She would crouch briefly, let them touch Her, then cast gratuitously excessive cleaning and repair spells, which left them literally glowing.

<My Sister alluded to a related point, earlier,> Menelyn continued. <A Goddess' job is to keep people safe, yes, but also to make them feel safe. It was no small feat to achieve this, for Villacqui. And, by the way, appearances do matter, for this part. A Goddess embraces the spotlight. It's Her job, to live in it. She stands in the middle of the plaza projecting confidence and security. She has everything under control. She intervenes with theatrical flair, and looks fabulous the whole time, constantly reminding everyone that they have a Goddess on their side, so there's no reason to worry. Even if there is a reason to worry, that's Her responsibility, not the people She serves.>

<It took ages, but My teachings sank in!> Izena rejoiced.

Menelyn's serene smile shifted to one that showed a little teeth.

<Be mindful of what your appearance can do,> Kennalaria chimed in, from the Dome. <It can make people feel lesser and unimportant, but if you treat them with respect, like they're valuable and worth your time, it can have exactly the opposite effect. Compassion costs no mana, but can help as much as any spell. The most important thing that My Mother is leaving in Her wake, in that plaza, is this sense that someone like Her cares. You are capable of producing the same effect, if your wife is right about how kind and generous you are capable of being.>

Nykatess contemplated Their advice in silence, until They reached the first patient's room.

<Severe burns are one of the categories that pass to Menelyn, because the body's own innate healing mechanisms are damaged, and it's difficult to reconstruct the original pattern when so much information has been mangled,> Izenakee narrated. <Would you like to watch, from Menelyn's perspective?>

<Yes,> Nyrkatess answered immediately. She was here to learn.

<I'll be with the friends and family, so Menelyn is free to work,> Izenakee said.

Once Nyrkatess was sharing Menelyn's view, she had to work to suppress her nausea. Being a Tvokess, she had seen her fair share of medical ick--her distaste for pregnancy was born from experience--but this was difficult to look at.

<If there isn't enough for the repair spell to interpolate, you can supplement by combining a pattern taken from undamaged tissues of the same patient with your own knowledge of the structure of typical healthy tissues,> Menelyn expounded. <The rest is a little life-guiding, to grow and shape the fresh tissues properly--your strongest discipline. It's best practice to clean wounds and cleanse infections, before doing anything else. Now, opposite shields, disinfection spells benefit from high vorticity, which is most easily achieved by introducing a velocity shear instability into your mana flow. When you're ready, I will show how to do this.>

<What is the benefit?>

<High vorticity imparts a fractal character to the flow, and thus the spell, making it effective against pathogens of any size and form.>

<...Are You saying, You can cleanse all possible infections with a single spell? You don't even need to make a diagnosis?>

<Exactly right. It saves time and mana. Efficiency is always valuable, but it's especially critical on the battlefield, and in disaster relief. And, if you're wondering, Suri can make healing items, but no item can replicate all of these kinds of finesses.>

Nyrkatess could feel her body crying. She was so, so tired of being ignorant. At last, enlightenment was within reach.