They were poor, but at time of offering at the temple, they gave their very last coin with a wish. Not for wealth for themselves, but, of all things, for the children of the local lord who was not unkind, would survive their illnesses. And the poor who gave their very last? The gods always know. -- BKF
See a copper, pick it up, and all the day you'll have good luck. So the saying goes. The truth of the luck of a relatively worthless coin is debatable. Then again, worth is relative.
To Old Dimaas, who lived on forage and the few things ze could forage or trade for, a single copper coin was more money than ze had seen in hir life.
It was covered in verdigris and filthy, but it had turned up inside a fish that ze caught. Dimaas had seen people in the town use such coins as trade. Ze took it to the town with hir trade goods to see what may be bought.
Then ze heard the news from the crier.
The lord of their land, who had ruled more justly than many others, was living through a crisis. His children were suffering from the latest wave of red-rash, and may not survive it. Or if they did, they may well survive it maimed[1].
Dimaas had lost three siblings to red-rash. Not from the infection, but from the troubles they caused. Ze clung tight to hir green copper coin and left hir trades at the chandlers for the clerks to settle.
Ze had something more important to buy than a curiosity or a fleeting treat. Something that may do nothing, but at least it was worth a hope. Dimaas didn't have much that the gods or mortals might value, but ze had hir time and a relative fortune.
Ze didn't know about the Power of the Last.
Lore and law alike says that anyone who gifts the last of whatever they have, with no expectation of gain, will have a great boon.
The soldier returning home gives hir last ration biscuit to a beggar, and receives a magic sack that would serve hir into better times...
The wandering traveler gives the last of her petticoats to a bedraggled creature, and is granted three wishes...
A devilborn down on his luck gives the last food he could afford to a hungry creature raiding his pack, and eventually becomes a king...
And here in the town's Temple of All Gods, a mad, half-blind hermit gives their last -and only- copper as an offering for a prayer. Of fucking course all the gods would be paying attention.
"Ain't never had much call for any of you or your blessings," said Old Dimaas as ze knelt. "Ain't never needed you, and I ain't never bothered none of you. But I know of someone who does need you. Not for a blessing, but for a mercy. Th' Lord Garklewold is worried for his kiddies. No doubt, you hear him begging for their little lives. All's I ask is that you listen, and let 'em come good. 'Cause of I know what it's like to lose a brother, a sister, or a sibling. And I know what it's like to be sick in bed and listenin' to yer mother bury 'em. Wouldn't wish that on nobody, nohow. So have some mercy and let a family pass through that trial unharmed."
Dimaas spent as many minutes as ze could, waiting for a sign.
There was none.
Ze stood, dusting off hir knees and hands. Dimaas bowed to the altar and shambled back to the chandlers for hir supplies. Ze carted them all the way back to the little hut that was hir home, and went about life as ze knew it. Dimaas didn't hear if hir prayer did any good.
Not until the Lord's third son came to the town, giving hir description and asking after hir. He came on a fine horse, with heavy saddlebags and fine travel clothes.
"It is you," he said when he found hir. "I saw you in my fever dream. Praying for my family and I. I owe you my life. Ask of me anything, and I will gift it."
"Reckon I need help with my roof," said Dimaas. "It's been leaking and my old eyes can't fathom where the flaw is."
Of course, the lad paid the debt in full.
[1] Unfun fact, Measles can cause lasting harms to the unprotected, which can include: pneumonia, encephalitis, or blindness.
[Photo by Roman Manshin on Unsplash]
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