Page 105 of Devil's Deal

“Yes. It was an accident.”

“And you saw Strzybog from up close? And the Rodzanica?”

I sigh and nod. Nothing beats the curiosity of children.

“Strzybog smiled a lot and the Rodzanica, not even once. He was very handsome, with golden hair and beard. And when he blew air with his mouth, like so,” I say, pursing my lips to blow out a focused stream of air, “he made wind.”

Sara almost falls into a puddle, her eyes focused on my face in rapture. I catch her arm and keep her upright.

“Careful or you’ll have a mud bath,” I tell her with a fond smile. “Do you know who a Rodzanica is?”

Sara shakes her head. Darobor gives me an approving nod, and I nod back. I suspect why he involved his daughter in my move, and it flatters me to no end. It really helps that the girl is so curious and lively. I like her already.

“There are three Rodzanica sisters,” I explain. “They are triplets, which means they were born the same day and look identical. Their mother is Mokosz, and their father is Rod, the god who is responsible for herding the ancestral souls to Wyraj.”

I glance sideways at the girl and father, and then shrug. Wiosna never hid the more adult themes in the stories she told me, and at eleven, Sara is old enough to hear them.

“And Rod is actually also the son of Mokosz,” I say, glancing at Darobor. “That means, he mated with his mother and got her pregnant, and that’s how the Rodzanica goddesses were born.”

“With his mother?” Sara repeats incredulously. “Eew!”

I grin. “This is exactly what Perun, the husband of Mokosz, thought. He wasn’t even that betrayed by the fact that Mokosz slept with another man, because she does it all the time—for example, she had a very long affair with Weles, Perun’s brother. In fact, Rod is the son of Mokosz and Weles, which might explain why Perun doesn’t like him much. Officially, Perun couldn’t abide the fact that those three goddesses were born from an incestuous union. Incest means mating between close family members. It’s forbidden by the gods.”

Darobor is silent, but when I glance at him, he doesn’t seem put out by the things I’m teaching his daughter. Sara frowns, jumping over a puddle.

“But if it’s forbidden, why did Mokosz and Rod do it?”

“Ah, well, that’s the thing. Gods will create rules and laws, but when it comes to following them, they feel exempt.”

“Rules are for peasants,” Darobor mutters, and I nod.

Sara looks from him to me with an inquisitive frown.

“It means that those who have power set rules for those who are less powerful, and then don’t follow them themselves,” I explain. “Back to the sisters. When Perun found out about them, he sent them to Nawie as punishment. As you know, Nawie is where Weles rules. It’s said to be an entire kingdom underground, with a lot of caverns, glittering jewels, even terrifying winged serpents.”

Sara pouts. “It doesn’t sound like a punishment. I’d like to go there!”

“And you will,” I promise. “Everyone goes there after death. But the Rodzanica sisters were sent into Nawie as little girls and were forbidden from ever going outside, into the sun. They grew up in the caverns, becoming pale and withdrawn. When they were young women, Perun remembered them, and since he was in a merciful mood, he lifted their punishment.”

“So they can get out now?” Sara’s cheeks are red from keeping a good walking pace, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Yes. But the pallor they were shrouded in as children never left. They are pale, sad, and serious, and rarely speak. Also, Perun didn’t really free them. They aren’t like Strzybog, who can go where he wants and spend his days blowing wind up women’s skirts. The Rodzanica sisters have a job.”

“Does Strzybog really do that?” Sara asks, looking indignant.

I snort with laughter, but then I notice we’re almost to the whisperer’s cottage. My cottage. I need to wrap up the story.

“I suspect he does. As for the Rodzanicas, they have to be present at the cradle of every child that’s born. It’s their job to decide the baby’s fate in the world. Once they decide, they leave an invisible mark on the child’s forehead, and it can’t be washed away by any means. It’s forever, and it’s definite. The Rodzanicas decide whom you’ll marry, how many children you’ll have, when you’ll die. Everything. It’s all written in that little sign.”

Sara gapes at me for a few steps, but then the cart comes to a halt, the donkey huffing. Darobor pats its flank and turns to Sara.

“Go tell your mama I’m almost done. She can give you some sweet cream for a job well done.”

The girl jumps up in excitement and runs away, but stops and turns before she reaches the bend in the road.

“Thank you, whisperer! It was a nice story!”

I nod and give her a wave. When she’s gone, I turn to her father. “Well, I really like that girl. She has spirit.”

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