Page 17 of Mischief Maker
“Nothing?” Faela raises her eyes to mine, and they are filled with her desperation, her sadness, her dashed hopes and dreams. “Are you suggesting it’s all just happenstance?”
I shrug. “Wrong place, wrong time.” I don’t know what would cause a deeper illness, or what anyone could possibly do to fix it. “That doesn’t mean you should give up.”
Anger flashes across her face. “I have never given up,” she says harshly. “I have tried and tried, but it doesn’t matter. At some point, persistence becomes foolishness. It’s time for me to end this and start over somewhere else.”
I don’t like this idea, not when I’ve worked hard here, harder than I’ve ever worked for a mortal. I would be loath to walk away now. I’m not ready to give up yet, not when my heart and body still yearn for her. Not when the sickness here eludes my understanding.
I wonder if, perhaps, there is more I can do. Beyond task after task, might my power serve an even greater purpose to fix what has been broken here?
And would I offer that power to her?
Though my mouth hesitates on the answer, that innermost, knowing part of me has already decided. I will not return to my temple yet, not while I can still make a difference here. Perhaps I can turn the tide and undo some of the pain that’s been brought down upon this one girl.
“Give me a chance,” I say, rising off the fence. “Let me try to fix this.”
Faela groans in frustration. “It can’t be fixed. You have already done the best that you can, and it wasn’t enough.” Her gaze drops to her lap, to her tightly clasped hands and her white, strained knuckles. “I don’t know what else you could do. It is hopeless, Kireth.”
My name on her lips sends a shiver through me.
I crouch in the dirt in front of her and, with the utmost care and caution, reach for her cheek. I cannot stand to look at her so despondent, so empty of hope, when she has shown so much strength and determination. She startles but doesn’t pull away.
“Let me try.” Looking her in the eyes, I stroke my thumb over her cheekbone, and she trembles underneath it. What a hunger she has, my little lion, my sad girl. She wants more than all of this, and I would like to give it to her. “Just ask.”
“What should I ask for?” Her voice is a tremulous whisper.
“To find the answer for you. Ask, and I will search until I cannot search any longer.” I would walk to the end of the earth to seek the truth and then confront it if it meant she might not give up.
Faela’s breath hitches. “You would do this?” she asks, disbelieving but ever so slightly hopeful. “You would do that for me?”
“Never have I met a task I could not complete.” I hold up a finger. “Now ask.”
I want her to accept my offer, but I will not do it unless she asks. She must want my help still, otherwise I will give her the words and return to my temple until I am completely forgotten, and then I will fade beyond memory and go to oblivion. Perhaps what she truly wants is to abandon this place that holds so much misery, so many terrible memories, and to forge a new life elsewhere. I would not blame her after all that she’s seen here.
“Will you ask?” I remain kneeling at her side. “Or will you leave?”
She looks around us at the crumbling fences, the rickety house with the collapsing roof, the rows upon rows of dying plants. What she sees there, I do not know.
“I don’t want to go.” She dips her head, hiding her face with her hair. “This is my home.”
“Then ask me, sad girl.” I hold firm. I will not do this unless she spends a task. Those are the rules.
“Kireth.” She brings her eyes firmly to mine. “Please find out why my land is dying.”
I mark a tally in the air. “Forty-one.”
Without any more words between us, I turn and skip away. I must think of how I will solve this mystery, what path will lead me closer to saving this farm. But to discover a cure, I must first learn the cause.
After wandering all around the house, exploring my options, I decide there is only one being who would have the knowledge to understand what has happened here.
I am not pleased at the idea of summoning her, but she will surely know what I’m facing.
“I will be gone for many days,” I tell Faela that afternoon, now that I know where I need to go and what I must do.
She shakes her head and gives me a wan smile. “I understand. Thank you.” Again, I don’t need her thanks, but neither do I chastise her. “Travel safely. Would you like to take some cheese and meat with you?”
“I don’t need to eat,” I remind her. Not that I mind eating all that lovely fresh cheese, and the figs and cherries she brought back from the market when she sold the tiller, but she should save it for rainier days.
“Right. Of course.” Faela packs a bag of food anyway and drapes it over my arm. “Just in case.”
