The mortal nodded, looked at me in an angry way one more time, then turned and walked away. “But I said I was sorry,” I said, in his wake. I did not like that the mortal had gone away still angry.
“Your regret doesn’t negate what he saw,” said Ia, “which was a godling abusing her power—destroying mortal lives out of sheer carelessness—and then doing nothing whatsoever to remedy the situation until prompted.”
He sounded a lot like Papa Tempa. Except, he sounded like Papa Tempa mad. I squirmed. “I tried to fix things.”
“Things. Not people.”
“I didn’t know how!”
“Then you should have called someone who did. Yeine would have been able to repair the damage easily; why did you not summon her?”
Oh. I. “I, um, didn’t think of that.”
“No, you didn’t. Instead you had a meltdown.” He took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t be here, Sibling. Go somewhere else and grow up a bit before you return.”
“But—” He was turning to go! He was so mad he didn’t even want to talk to me. I stood where he’d left me, with my hand upraised to try and get his attention, but he didn’t look back. After a moment he was gone down the street.
Everything was awful and I hadn’t even been on the planet five minutes.
Should I leave, like Ia had told me? I didn’t want to, but maybe he was right. Maybe I needed to learn how to handle mortals better if I was going to be here in a place full of them. But how was I to learn anything about mortals better if I didn’t meet some?
That was it! I would go and meet the boy who was mad at me, again. I would find out how to make him less mad.
So I ran in the direction he had gone. He wasn’t far; mortals are very slow! I caught up to him on a street that had a lot fewer people on it, but more walls and statues and an air of importance. The mortal boy was standing in the shadows against a wall, across the street from a big domed building that felt more important than everything else around.
“Hello,” I said when I stopped beside him. I said it very carefully this time, in a whisper!
He jumped and stared at me, first surprised and then—oh. He was still mad. Still really mad. “Go away, godling.”
I bit my lip. “But I want to show you I can be good and not hurt mortals! Please? I’m really sorry.”
His jaw flexed. “You should apologize to the people you injured and killed!”
“But I can’t! They got NEGATED.” That was the word for what I’d seen Ia do. “You’re the only one that remembers. It was scary, wasn’t it? I’m sorry I scared you, even if I didn’t hurt you.”
He stared at me again, then sighed and rubbed his forehead with the back of the hand that held the paper-on-sticks I’d seen before. “By all the infinite hells. Fine; apology accepted. Now leave. I have important—” Abruptly he paused. Looked at me. His eyes narrowed. “Huh.”
“Huh?” I straightened; I could tell he was thinking better thoughts about me! “Huh!”
That seemed to stop him from thinking better thoughts. “Gods, you’re a strange thing.”
“I’m not strange.” I scowled. “I just don’t know what I’m doing; that’s different.”
He blinked, then chuckled. “Well, at least you’re honest.” He took a deep breath, considered a moment longer, then said, “If you truly want to apologize, do me a favor, godling. Then I’ll consider all debts paid between us.”
I perked up. “OK! What favor?”
He held forth the paper thing. “I need you to take this scroll and put it somewhere.”
I took it carefully. It was even more fragile than most mortal stuff. “Where?”
“Look at me.” I did, and he took a deep breath, then yelled at me with his mind. I saw a place inside the big dome-building. A circle near its center, where a group of important-feeling women sat on cushions and stools and talked about important-sounding stuff. Not far from them, sitting in a basket nearby, were lots of scrolls just like the one I held. “There. Do you see it?”
I grimaced. “Yes. You didn’t have to yell it, though. I was right here.”
He blinked, then smiled. “Forgive me; I’ve never spoken without words to a godling before. I just knew it could be done.”
“Well, you should not be rude when you do it.” But then he raised his eyebrows, and I remembered I had been much ruder, so I felt bad again. “… Sorry.”
“Gods. Maybe I’m a fool to involve you in this.”
“No!” I inhaled and held up the scroll. “I can put it there! I promise!”
“Without being seen. You will need to—” He frowned, as if trying to remember something. “Dissipate your presence, I think is the wording you godlings use. Yes? Become your true immaterial self, take this scroll there, and make it material when no one’s watching, so that it’s just another scroll in the pile. All right?”
“OK! And then I’ll come back and tell you—”
“No. I won’t be here when you get back. I’ll know you did it successfully if… certain things happen. But I need to be able to say, honestly, that I know nothing of what you did within the Raringa’s walls.” Oh, yes; that was the big domed building. I could feel the truth of its name, spoken over centuries by many mortal voices, shaped by many mortal thoughts. “Seat of warriors”? I was not sure what that meant. “Just go, and do it, and like I said, apology accepted even if I never see you again. Especially if I never see you again. All right?”
“Um. OK!” He still did not like me, but at least if I did this, it would mean I had been good some, and not all bad. “OK, I am going now.”
“Good luck, godling.” That was a nice thing for him to say! I grinned as I dissipated myself. I was getting better at dealing with mortals!
It was extra easy to go through the domed place’s walls and into the big room with the circle of cushions. Nobody was looking at the pile of scrolls, so it was extra easy to put the boy’s scroll in among the rest. Then I stayed for a while, trying to figure out what the women were saying, but it was boring stuff about something called tariffs. I got tired from hearing it, and finally left.
The boy was gone like he’d said he would be, which was sad. But I had learned at least that bad things could be countered by good things! So then I decided to go find Ia. Maybe I could apologize to him, too, do him a favor, and be good again!
It was sort of hard to find him. I could feel other siblings of mine all over the planet, all glowy-bright and magic-smelling, but Ia’s glow was sort of subdued and fuzzy. He was close by, though, so I took shape again and ran to catch up, trying very hard not to bump into any mortals. That was hard because they were everywhere and kept bumping into me. I made sure I bumped into them gently, at least.
He was at the edge of town on the roof of a small building, looking out over the city with his arms folded. He reminded me of Papa Tempa, standing like that! I appeared beside him and said, “Hello?”
He didn’t even look at me, though his jaw flexed the same way the mortal boy’s had. “I told you, Sibling. You don’t know enough to be here safely. Must I force you home?”
“I… I want to learn how to be safe!”
“Not at the mortals’ expense. Learn it elsewhere. And grow up.”
“But…” How could I make him know what I was thinking? He was all bristly and fuzzy; I couldn’t mesh with him and share thoughts in the way I would have in the gods’ realm. I wasn’t even sure if it was polite to speak as gods spoke in this realm. I had to use words. “That’s why I came here! I want to grow up!”
Ia shook his head. “This world has suffered much at the hands of our kind. It does not need more gods who will view its lives as playthings.”