A Real Goddess Would Let Nobody Die

The world's criminal element had long-since learned to behave when the Goddesses were visiting a city, but They could be in only one Temple at a time.

Upon first arriving in a city after some time away, Izenakee would always detect a few citizens whose emotions signaled a violation of The Creed.

Some had made mistakes, would submit themselves to Justice, and receive an appropriate scolding and instructions for making amends. These, Empathy could forgive, and She knew better than anyone how remorseful they became. Even in Menelyn's body, Izena had a way of making wrongdoers resolve never to give Her a reason to direct Her "I am annoyed, and you are the cause" face at them again. The ability to manifest such resolve was an important survival instinct.

Others resented the very ideas of peace and comity, and the Goddesses for promoting them, for declaring their preferred ideals of ruthlessness and exploitation to be anathema. Empathy understood what they felt, but could never condone it. And, they often thought escape was somehow possible.

Izenakee shook Her head. In 300 years of immortality, She'd seen it all.

The Goddesses had just now arrived in Ezenta, and Izenakee's customary search had found one target.

He was already feeling strong paranoia. He had noticed Their arrival; Salvation's entrances were never subtle. But, he had not yet felt dread or remorse. He was one of those. That would soon change, starting with dread.

Empathy checked the target's mind to learn the exact nature of his crime.

Arson, murder, pre-meditated. Motive was business competition and personal quarrel. Victims would be beyond Salvation's reach. He was one of those who resented the Goddesses, for presuming to condemn his ruthlessness. He lacked anything resembling empathy.

None were beyond the reach of Justice, and The Listener had already heard his confession. It was time for the accusation.

<I know that you have violated The Creed, Markon. You lack compassion, have caused harm, and have destroyed livelihoods. You feel no remorse. You lack empathy. You are consumed by spite and malice and resentment. You are anathema. Surrender and try to make amends. You cannot escape Justice, and you cannot hide from Me.>

His knees were weak with dread now, Izenakee felt it, but still there was no remorse, only indignation. He felt his crimes to be justified, Her judgment naive. Then, She could not feel the target's mind anymore.

She sighed at the futility. This type never learned. They were too focussed on themselves, their own problems, their own goals, their own needs, to be mindful of what happened to others.

Recently, enchanted items concealing the user from red magic had become popular in the underworld. Izena had already dealt with the rogue blue mage responsible, but some were still in circulation. This target had acquired one, and thought it would save him.

Justice had pursued the mage because of his intent to violate The Creed, not because it had been effective.

Izenakee shook Her head. It is possible to choose to reject The Creed, but not to reject axioms.

The Red Goddess cannot be deceived.

----

Markon willed his legs to do their damn jobs. This was no time to freeze in terror. The concealer would not last forever. Concealin' a man from that uppity bitch cost more than a pittance of mana, even he knew that much. He had to be far from the city when it ran out, and had to move quick before Justice got him.

But his legs would not move, like he was some coward.

"C'mon," he growled at himself. "The bitch can't see ya, but time is tickin'. C'mon."

But still, he shuddered. That had been a nightmare worse than any he'd ever had. His memories had been pulled right out of his mind, and then that voice had rang out in his head. He could still feel it, echoing inside his skull, the cold jolting down his spine, sweat everywhere. There was no way to avoid hearing a voice that the ears didn't hear, except the one he'd spent all his coin on.

The concealer had been so pricey, so hard to find, and there was no way to get more charge anymore. He had wanted to save it for a real jam. It was a real jam now, but the problem was that it had been a real jam earlier. He shoulda used it right off when he saw that light in the sky. He cursed his wafflin' when he'd first saw it. He hadn't known how fast the bitch worked, had thought he could squeeze out a few more minutes.

How dare she act like she knew him when she lived all dolled up in those fancy 'Sanctuaries' surrounded by a hundred guards and ten thousand groveling worshippers? "Empathy?" Not everybody got waited on hand and foot. Try living as Markon for a day. She wouldn't be able to make it ten minutes if she wasn't getting fawned over. Some people needed to work to survive, and sometimes work was dirty. Life was dirty. What did she ever do except get born special and stick her perfect nose where it didn't belong? The bitch had never done a hard day's work in all her centuries of life.

As Markon was thinking this, just when his legs started to budge, the dread returned all at once. Everyone he could see, even the animals, began glowing with the white light of shields, except him. The shielded people froze as if listening, and then all turned towards him.

That was a lot of contempt.

Markon liked to think he was a tough guy. He whimpered.

A city guard, standing watch across the street, was among the shielded. Taking in Markon's conspicuous lack of a shield and the blue sheen of the concealer in his hand, he shook his head at him, but simply stood his ground.

"It wouldn't have mattered if you used it earlier," he said matter-of-factly.

Somehow, Markon's legs finally found their strength, and he ran in the opposite direction of the guard.

"It's not me you need to run from!" the guard laughed after him. "Not that running will do any good!"

----

Izenakee urged Her assistants to keep Her target in view. It wasn't coercion, just little suggestions.

<Was that a worm on the left?>

<I wonder if there's a shiny thing in that warehouse?>

<Did that man have some bread?>

<That branch over there looks like a good perch.>

<That shed seems like a good hiding place.>

Simultaneously, She prepared the messages that would allow Her to resume Her conversation with Markon. He would find his way to the closest thing to remorse that he was capable of feeling, the closest thing to empathy that She could teach him.

----

Markon's whole body was hurting, but he couldn't rest. The concealer wouldn't last much longer, and he needed to get outta sight. He ran into an abandoned warehouse. The lack of eyes made him relax a little, but then his heart nearly exploded when he ran straight into a guard waiting outside the exit. The guard was shielded, and didn't budge.

"Even if you activated it before They got here, the Red Goddess says She would have noticed that people in the city could see a man that She couldn't," said the guard, making no effort to stop him.

Markon kept running, in the opposite direction of the guard, and leapt over a railing to the river docks below. A shielded fisherman appeared to be waiting for him, watching him drop with scorn plain on his face. Markon tripped and stumbled to the ground when he landed.

"The Empathy Goddess says you should think more about others, the people around you," the fisherman said, as Markon collected himself. "We notice you, so She notices you."

Markon ran away, elbowing through the passively watching and fully shielded crowd at the docks.

This was the worst day of his life.

He sprinted into an alley and came out in a public park. He would feel this tomorrow, he knew, but--

Markon stumbled when, out of nowhere, he heard a voice from his left.

"How do you think They found the mage who sold those things so quickly? You think he and his cronies had none of their own?" asked a shielded elderly woman, who was sitting on a bench feeding shielded birds. She didn't even deign to look at him.

The birds turned to look at him.

He kept running, dashing up stairs toward the walls. He was so close now to the concealed entrance to the tunnel that he had dug beneath the city walls, for just this kind of jam. As long as he could get there, and get out of range before the concealer's charge ran out, this nightmare would be over.

He rounded the last corner, and sank to his knees when he saw a pair of shielded guards, wearing the insignia of the nearby Southern Gate, standing on top of the carefully hidden entrance to his tunnel. The straw covering it had already been removed.

They looked at him impassively for a moment, before the one on the left spoke.

"We're not supposed to try to stop you, Markon, only to accept your surrender if you have finally felt remorse, and to let Her speak through us," he said. "Or, you can go through the tunnel if you wish, and the Black Goddess will meet you on the other side of the walls. She will extend to you the same compassion that you extend to others. The White Goddess will provide you as much healing as She can provide to your victims."

Markon sank to the ground.

"The Red Goddess wants you to know that Carten and Mika's friends and families were very pleased when She told them that you had been identified. If you choose not to meet with the Black Goddess outside the walls, they will be waiting in the Temple. They have some things they want to say to you in person."

----

Empathy did not need to wait for the enchantment to run dry to know that Her target had finally, belatedly, felt something resembling remorse. She continued Her chat with the bereaved.