As eager as I may be to meet a god I still have to find the right time to do so.

To be fair I'm not that much eager in the end. This is still quite scary after all and the more I think about it, the more I second guess myself: showing my knowledge will raise questions, leading to the gods knowing I'm a reincarnated. And I'm still unsure about the reaction it will bring.

But then I remember Yoli's body, the monsters attack and the young fisherman that got eaten by the chogsu. Danger is everywhere anyway, so this is worth it.

It just so happens that Shinpilo's celebration is next month,on the 24th of Mistire. Leaving me a bit less than a month to wait and gather up my courage.

My time is filled with fishing.

Since the waters are now colder than ever, none of us are swimming in it any longer but the chilling dizzle can still freeze us to the core. As soon as we get on shore we hurry to Kukku's stall for a warm cup of tea or heated beet-like juice. It sounds disgusting but the red liquid is in fact a little sweet and has a quite pleasant earthy taste. There are also a fire to warm our hands and a little something to nibble on. Kukku's fishcakes are becoming quite good, he loves adding unusual spices into the mix.

This current month 24th is Amidea's daynight celebration. Although Amidea's full moon was a hex days ago, she still gets celebrated under the other two moons. Since she is the goddess of all watery domains the fishermen and everyone at the dock arrange for a party in her honour.

We gift a lot of variegated seafood at the Temple but also directly to the river. Followed by a moment of silence to honour all those that drowned this year. We ask that they may rest in Amidea's palace and that we get spared to join them for years to come. Then there is a meal with all dockers, sailors, fishermen, washerwomen, bath workers, water carriers, tridents etc...

For the occasion I made some mayonnaise with duggu eggs and using the orange seaweed as mustard replacement.

The result is mixed. The taste is a little bit more earthy and spicy, colour is ochre and consistence is a bit too liquid. I lacked enough oil I think but oil is a costly commodity.

Anyhow, it had great success with fried blue not-potatoes. The tridents are especially fond of the thing, one of them threw a few iron coins at Kukku for the rest of the bowl.

Kukku asked me for a recipe, eyes shining with gold fever but when he saw the volume of oil needed he understood that this was far too luxurious. One can't expect Nereians to come throw a month's worth of salary casually every other day. It should still make for a great event food if he can improve a bit on the recipe.

* * * * *

As the day for Shinpilo's celebration approaches, I'm getting the cold feet. well, I literally am in my cloth wraps, but not only. What if this is a mistake? What if the pantheon gets afraid of me? Or considers my very existence an heresy?

I try calming myself down when remembering this is my best option to get some prospect for the future. If I just keep things as they are and don't take that risk I'll end up a fisherman for the rest of my life, possibly shortened when a chogsu will one day wrap a tentacle aroun my ankle and have me for its dinner.

I review my other options to restore some conviction: I don't want to become a tailor or an accountant, I can't expect to enter the Temple easily, it might take me years to accumulate enough money, years of dangerous job. Taonga's option might look at bit more enticing but there is still the caveat of becoming a slave or simply having to explain how I came up with my knowledge. My stunt with Gel reminded me that I need to find a decent explanation for it and a god's blessing would make it up perfectly for that.

There's no one I can discuss my anxiety with.

As close as I am with Gel, I don't think explaining I'm a reincarnate from an other world would be smart.

She can still feel my angst and comes more often in the evenings to cheer me up, asking me to teach her geometry to distract me from my restlessness. When asked about it I just tell her I'm worried the god wont notice my offer. She knows the hefty price I paid for the paper and it seems enough to convince her.

* * * * *

Finally here I was: on the 24th of Mistire.

Gel wanted to escort me to the temple but I turned her down. I am anxious, but not to the point that as a grown up I would require the support of a little girl.

She reluctantly let me go on my own, pouting at me yet still wishing me Fortan's benevolence.

I decided to go at our local temple at the end of daytime for more discretion. It was quite the unnecessary precaution, the streets were empty with the cold pushing people to stay indoor. There was no snow piling up yet but the few puddles were frozen and so were the gutters.

I wondered for a second how our waste water got drained right now?

Shinpilo isn't a popular god.

His worshippers are either scholars, few would live in our neighbourhood, spies that wont be as dumb as to reveal themselves by openly praying him or plotters who all the same won't openly worship him either.

There is a more attended to celebration at the Grand Temple where various scholars in search of mysterious knowledges and nobles in need of hiding secrets will flock to seek the god's approval. But at our local temple I should in all likelihood be the only one.

And indeed there is only what I believe to be a young priestess wearing a night blue robe and whose shawl is covering her face: An apprentice of Shinpilo. She is seated at a desk, transcribing or copying documents under the clear light of a small crystal.

She doesn't even lift her gaze as I enter the temple, probably not even noticing me, absorbed in her own work. But I notice her feminine hands still delicates and full of youth running a quill on some decent quality paper.

The temple always stays open during any daynight so that all humanoids can come pay their respect to the gods whenever they want to.

Some daynights attract more flock than others: Tupu's naming day of course, but also Husnd: whole families coming to ask for his protection, or Arteus: where it is common for artisans to make a display of their abilities in his name.

Despite being one of the “bad” gods, Fusaad has some success too: farmers asking for better crops and fertile land or sick people coming in hope of a miraculous recovery.

Akolaï has its own specific audience: young couples in love or ones looking to charm someone in particular and older people, mostly men, asking for renewed “vigour”.

But Shinpilo is not one of those popular gods, when I walk up to his shrine there are almost no offerings. The few scrolls of paper are probably gifts from the local priests themselves.

Shinpilo's icone depicts a giant eye fogged in a dark cloud, quite ominous. I wonder what sort of humanoid he (she?) was before ascending to godhood?

Now is not the time to turn on my heels: I kneel in front of the shrine, taking my three precious sheets of paper out of their cloth wrap.

I'm not sure how to proceed exactly so I devised a plan of my own.

I put the sheet with the alphabet and words first: it is the less understandable one I believe, and mutters a short prayer I came up with :

“O Shinpilo, I stand before you asking for your protection, I come bearing gifts, knowledge and tools to lift humanoids and help them in their struggles. I beg of you to accept this small alms and

to grant me your protection in return.” I pause, waiting for any sign of a reaction.

Nothing.

Even the young priestess doesn't seem to have heard me, she is still copying at her desk without a pause or change of pace indicating she noticed me.

Unfazed, I follow up. It was within my expectations to not succeed on the first try. After all garnering the attention of a god should not be taken for granted nor easy to obtain.

I lay down the page covered in numbers and geometry theorems. This time I make my prayer in English, whispering to not be heard by the priestess. Maybe an unknown language will attract the god's curiosity ?

Again no reaction.

I'm left with my last sheet, that is also my ace and best (and last) hope. As I present my offering I change my prayer slightly, going back to tanguana:

“I bring forth the knowledge of matter and what makes the world. How humanoids can use the fabric of the world itself to help them against the monsters.”

As I'm catching my breath, full of expectation, nothing happens.

I sigh in slight despair, my shoulders dripping down as the weight of failure falls on them.

This was an uncertain bet, so failure was well within the awaited outcome. I've already planned my next step: having the priests notice my ideas, convince them they are my own creations and hope for an apprenticeship at the temple. If this was to fail too I can still fall back on the Typhoon or try my luck with the scholar's association but both of these are riskier and uncertain.

As I'm brooding on what's to come and on the waste of money it was, a low rumble surrounds me and fog starts creeping out of the icone. The priestess in the back yelps as the sound startles her, turning in astonishment towards me .

“What did you do? What's going on? Who are you?” She manages to ask with a somewhat manly voice.

I don't have the time to answer her, I'm surrounded by the dark clouds cutting me out from the rest of the world, the voice of the young acolyte fading away before getting completely muffled down.

* * * * *

This is nothing like the void of death.

There are rolling clouds, dark and grey, and bubbling blue fog swirling around me.

I can't feel any wind but there is a distinct rumble coming from the clouds, like a far away thunder. The mist right in front of me tears apart to let a giant eye appear.

The globe is a meter wide, it's blue iris constantly shifting colour going from ice blue to navy blue, then sapphire, azure and cobalt before turning as deep as night and back to clear turquoise.

The eye is rolling on itself before focusing on me, its pupil contracting as its gaze fixes on me: now I managed to get a god's attention.

Contrarily to my prediction I don't feel any weight from this gaze or crushing suffocation, just avidity and unnatural curiosity that seeps out of it, almost palpable.

Voices comes from all around, out of the fog. There are dozens of them although a few are clearer than other: one sounds like a well learned scholar, perusing a book in front of a bookcase full of dusty tomes, in his voice I can almost smell the scent of old paper.

Another is the voice of what I imagine to be a lusty librarian: whispering suggestive titles of books in my ears in a lascivious voice that sends shivers down my spine.

The last most audible voice is one of an old professor, sounding annoyed and tired of having to explain for the thousandth time the same basic concept to another stupid student.

The other are more whispers than voices, barely heard, covered by the surrounding thunder.

“My oh mY, wHat dO wE hAve heRe?” says the voice in its three different tones. “iNteREstinG, Very iNteREstinG, what is this hAfniuM? Is wAter rEalY maDe of TwO thIngs? HOw uNiquE a vIEw.”

The eye locks stare with mine, the voices are getting clearer and less overlapping.

“How do you know such things? Where did a young child learned things even I don't know yet?” The question sounds inquisitive in the scholar tone, curious in the librarian one and suspicious for the professor's one.

I had steeled my resolve beforehand for this, here goes nothing:

“I'm no child, I'm a soul coming from another world, willing to share his knowledge in exchange for your protection.” My voice is more shaky than I'd like and almost covered by the thunder. The words are trembling out of my mouth, the blood rushing through my carotids makes my throat shiver out of my control.

Maybe to better hear me, the swirling maelstrom surrounding us calms down and the rumbles fades in the distance. Now I feel more like I'm lost in a sheet of inky fog. The eye's iris also stabilizes a bit, still switching colour but settling more around a deep blue.

This time only the scholar's voice is heard: “So you are one of those, they brought some more. But this time at least you are an interesting one, even of some use maybe?”

Wait a minute [one of those]? So I'm not the only one? There are others coming from earth? And who is/are “they” that brought me here?

Before I can voice any question the god goes on. This time it's the lusty librarian's voice that dominates: “I'm interested in your chemistry thing, would you be interested in becoming one of mine? A blessed one in my service?” alluring me to accept her offer. Her arousing voice promising me of the benefits to expect if I associate with her.

But I'm not that weak willed.

Although a blessing is my end game, I also know that when dealing with a god, especially the god of lies and plots, you better be ready to haggle and discuss terms carefully.

I also had planned for this during the last month, anticipating the loopholes and traps that I'll have to avoid.

“This would be my honour, o revered Shinpilo, but I'd like to know more about the terms before accepting.” I try to sound as conciliate as possible to not upset my godly interlocutor.

A thundering rumble and change in the swirling clouds greats my objection. The big eye turns up to the sky before laughing. The globe shakes like a pinata and the thunderclaps rhythm the occular vibration.

Again it's the voice of the lusty librarian that dominates the others with a playful giggle:

“A wise choice. One should always be careful when dealing with the gods. I like you.” If a wink could be made sound it would be her voice right now.

The god doesn't seem angry, good for me.

The eye goes on in the old professor's tone: “And what would your conditions be?” he asks with a hint of exasperation.

After some discussion, terms definition, clauses clarification and a lot of haggling, we finally came to an understanding:

I will share my knowledge at the pace I want to,with all friendly humanoids; am allowed to keep my origins a secret and can impute the origin of some of my knowledge on Shinpilo.

In return, I am also constrained by some conditions: I cant seek the blessing of any other god, can't keep any knowledge out limit and must provide the priests of Shinpilo with written accounts of my knowledges as I go on.

Since the conditions I request are quite harsh and limiting (at least according to the soft spoken scholar voice), my blessing wont impart me with much powers in return either. Which I don't really mind much, my real objective being getting a blessing to use as leverage to join the Temple.

Before we seal the deal I try adding a clause: getting answers about who “they” are and how, why and how many more were brought too in this world?

This clause was dismissed by the old professor in a hoarse laugh: “You are not the first, that much I can tell. How? Even I don't know. As for if there are more coming from your world, I don't really care.”

The voice switches to the lusty librarian's sultry tone: “But if you want to know more about [them], you'll have to make a more befitting offering.” she lets the words float seductively, “This much was decent enough to gain my blessing,” my three sheets of paper float in front of us “but what you are asking for will be far more costlier.” she derides me a little. “If you intend to learn more on this mater, come meet me in my Temple with an adequate gift and it will be my pleasure to dissipate that mystery but until then, we'll stick to our current business.”

The calm scholar takes the lead “Are you ready to seal our deal?”

As I nod I can feel the god's attention entirely focused on me. From his pupil comes out a beam of blue light, engulfing me entirely. Despite being surrounded by the laser like beam, I only feel a slight burn around my right eye.

As the light fades out the old professor speaks again. “Fine, we are done. You are now under my blessing and protection as long as you keep your end of the deal. Now go, you have a lot of mess to clean up in that small temple...”

The tempest and fog around me dissipate as if powerful winds are scattering it apart.

As I look around, I can see five silhouettes: four followers of Shinpilo with their blue robes and covered faces and one senior priest with a white beard, not showing any particular obedience.

All are looking at me with apprehension and suspicion. As I try to stand up I feel completely drained and fall back, my consciousness fading as I hear their alarmed shouts.