An embroidered bear that looks like it's wearing a suit of lace-bordered plate armor and has tiny useless metal wings to match and is at least four times its likely original size charges the horses, who startle madly and go completely out of control.
The wagon goes over. There's a fence, at the side of the road, there's posted warning signs, beware Magic in this ravine until post marking its end, but the wagon with all the slaves in it crashes right through the fence. Gravity's upended, everyone's screaming, some of the screams cut off abruptly as they tumble end over end down the slope. Aya flings manacled hands over the back of her head, feels a familiar snap in her arm as something strikes it - that's broken; and now her nose is too - there's a splinter of wood through her calf and her ear's ringing and wet with blood and she's got to have cracked a rib -
She's completely unharmed, unperforated, not even embroidered as far as she can tell. The steel around her wrists and ankles is gone. She doesn't see any of the other slaves - no, on second though, maybe she does, there's a bright orange snake with a tail that splits into five fish-finned ropes and a beetle the size of her head with the lyrics of Midnight Lightning written across its wing casings in block letters and a surprised-looking rabbit with wheels for forefeet and a broom-end for a tail. Everyone else is either much less recognizable or vanished entirely. But she's fine.
(She checks her heel. It's still marked. So she's unrestrained and unsupervised, but not, technically speaking, free.)
She needs to get out of the magic soonish, before it gets bored with its minimal alterations of her person, decides she'd be prettier as a glass music box decorated with butterfly wings, or a leather-upholstered down pillow that drinks blood, or a goose with windmill blades spinning around its neck. She's not, however, sure that she can climb the hill. It's likely she'd get just far out enough to count as having exited the magic and then fall, taking her chances a second time, and while this occasion she was lucky, nobody else was - she doesn't think she's been lied to all her life about the general safety of the environment. She'll have to go out the other way. She wades into the waist-high grass, routing around the clump made of swords and the clump made of swaying violin strings and the patch that might just be pitch-black flora but might be something else - but most of the grass seems only to be grass; plants tend to be safer in magics than animals. She winds up startling a dozing bird-eel-cat hybrid so thoroughly mixed up that she has no best guess as to what it was originally. It flap-flop-flees.
And then, when she hasn't seen an embroidered plant for a while since the shrub that appeared to be growing assorted national flags for leaves and onions by way of fruit, and thinks she might be close to the edge, there's a door.
It is freestanding in its frame, painted bright and glossy red with a few words in other colors on it running in various directions ("entirely", "yellow", "jump", "choristers", and "melting"), has pink fringe growing out of its hinges, and has where a handle might normally be, a slender open jar affixed with its mouth pointing up which is full of small-denomination coins, dried cloves, and what looks like it might be olive oil.
Aya has no idea how big this magic is. She doesn't know if drinking the water or eating anything vaguely appetizing that she finds around it will be taken as a second invitation to turn her blue or centipedal or dead. She could turn back and try to climb out the way she came, but - then what?
She's nowhere near the border.
Her legal owner is the employer of the fellow who was driving her and the others to the labor rental office.
The magic hasn't given her a set of papers and it has not unmarked her heel, and provoking it is more likely to make things worse than better.
And she's never heard of a door in a magic before.
She gingerly touches the jar, which is cool under her hand - and she pulls - and the door opens, tufts of pink in the hinges squeaking, to reveal what looks like a bar, which definitely isn't behind it if she peers around the frame.
Aya takes a deep breath and she walks in.
"The east has got Perinixu, Opedist, and Kalandax. Perinixu is actually a semi-ally of Rae right now, since Rae's basically moonlighting as a god of runaways and she is moonlighting as the goddess of sanctuaries. So there's a bit of camaraderie there. They're enforced sanctuaries, mind you, they don't like anyone causing any sort of trouble and take that extremely seriously. She's a goddess of recovery and regrowth and such, I think she focuses on plagues? I'm not sure. Opedist is super old, god of mountains and stubbornness. He's just like - sat on his domain for centuries now, stubbornly not doing anything and not moving except through what's necessary. Kalandax, who is right next to him, is a god of volcanoes. Violent change, sometimes necessary, but usually with no regard to who he stomps on. He and Opedist do not get along. They have been going at it for most of my life. It's not so much a war zone on Opedist's side, but Kalandax's, ooooh boy should you watch your step. Might fall into a lava lake or something.
"South's ocean, and home of the bitch goddess herself, Varkalosix. Storm goddess, gets sailors to pay offerings so she doesn't throw a storm their way and sink them to the bottom of the sea. I guess she'll also give some favorable winds if she likes people. She and Rae are kind of worse than Opedist and Kalandax. It doesn't help that their domains are practically cuddling because Varkalobitch decided that she wanted - you know what, this is not unbiased, I am trying to be unbiased. Ahem. She focuses on - er, creative tactics and helping out lots of established systems. Like whaling. Or fishing. She does fishing too, I guess. Also some mercantile commerce. If you trust her to not sink your boat I guess you can make a ton of money."
Idania coughs, then continues, "West has several smaller gods. One of them - Evardeit? Evardeat? something like that, anyway - is a god of the thicket and hunting and is kind of prissy about it. Raezenoth is not making nice with him right now. He can be kind of petty, but I guess if you're not his target you're good. There's also a spring goddess past him, but I know absolutely nothing about her, she's new and Evarsomethingorother's domain is in the way to getting to her. Bereth's there and is another god of harvest, something about dependability, less boring than Cartolomir but rather small scale. There's also a god or goddess of decay, but I didn't even check the gender, when I saw the domain I just left. It hasn't come up with Rae since he's busy with Evarsomethingorother and Varkalobitch."
"So they tend to have - two things that they do, loosely a thing about where they are and a thing about what they find - interesting about it?"
"Yeah, basically. Sometimes you can find gods with wildly different domains but they have the same thing they find interesting about both of 'em. It's weird, when that happens."
"I am way less aware of non-divine politics than I am of divine-politics, I just kind of ignore country borders and they let me do it because I am an acolyte. I'll give it a shot, though. There's Santelos, where women are apparently beautiful creatures to be worshiped and are very much in charge. Uh - have a queen? Royal family? Lots of backstabby politics? That's about all I know about them, unless you want to hear about how they have great pastries. It spans several domains - some of Opedir's, some of Cartolomir's, and I think they have all of Tamaryse's. Rae's in Aragrail, which is a loose collection of lords that agree to back each other up in case of war. Other than language it varies a lot what sorts of customs are in each. I was born in the Tarvincial province, I can tell you a lot about that, but less about the others because I kind of stopped caring when I got acolytehood. Uh... The others I'm not sure about, I don't even remember their names anymore, I can identify them but by things like 'Oh that's the place with the weird guards' and 'That place smells but they have great pancakes' or something."
"Is it largely safe for you to travel around sampling the pancakes because you're an acolyte or is tourism more or less a reasonable lifestyle choice for anybody?"
"Bit of column A, bit of column B. It's reasonable, but expect to not have as easy of a time of it as I do. You would probably need to explain who you are and why you are not terrible, maybe where you're from. If you say you're from Rae's domain they will probably not expect you to have anything official, so that's a plus. Also, just - give a few offerings to the local gods in case of bandits or something. I'm an acolyte and it's usually still smart to give a petty trinket so they don't get annoyed with me and send something nasty my way."
"I really, really don't have any things unless I'm going to be able to get away with pulling out strands of hair. The magic even vanished the manacles I fell in with when it healed me."
"Well, you can usually find suitable offerings if you look, even without money. It can actually even come from the domain of the god you're making the offering to. You can go pick a flower and that will work if you put thought into it or it struck you as something you liked or found appropriate. Maybe not on like, Rae, but for the nature gods I know they would go for it. It's actually really not focused on 'you have spent lots of money on me therefore you get nice stuff' - it's about how much you care, and how much respect you are paying. So if your hair is important to you and you offer up a lock of it, that means a lot, but if you are just giving up strands of it because you don't want to take the time to find something else, then that would probably not."
"Okay. Flowers, I can pick. What are the offerings for, exactly? Do they do something that the gods are so fixated on them?"
"Kind of! They're... I think gods can live without them, but they certainly help with that. It's people taking the time to consider them and give them attention that they need to survive. The more you care about the thing you give, the more they get from it, and... They kind of need that. I guess maybe there are some foreign gods that might not care about them and focus on like - people singing about them or something, but offerings is the way to go for this continent, for sure."
"So if I follow you through that door - what's the immediate situation? Where does lunch come from, how can I get started learning the language, where could I find a safe place to sleep, and what does my ability to travel away from the nearest population center look like if I want to do that?"
"Immediate situation is, Rae tells you, 'There are a ton of ways to survive here I'm not a mean god go figure them out.' It's actually not a - harsh desert, it's pretty fair, and basically everyone's expected to figure out how to feed themselves when they're in it. It's not mean about it, it's not unforgiving, and it's not like - Immediate Death: The Domain. Rae's a fan of giving people the means to take care of themselves rather than handing it to them. Sorry, I know that annoys some people. Uh, I'm willing to help with learning the language when I have time, but I might not always have time, so you can probably ask someone who lives by windy place to help. Ability to travel - hitch a ride with a caravan, or pack up some things and walk."
"I'm - bright, I think, I haven't had that much opportunity for direct comparison - but physically clumsy, narrowly experienced, and as we've discussed incapable of speaking your language unless the fact that we can understand each other now is a persistent effect the magic slapped on me, which means my most marketable skill is now un-. I'm not sure a place designed to be - however exquisitely - fair for the independent survival of locals will be hospitable to me. It's possible I should explore this bar more instead."
"That's up to you. I mean, I'm not gonna drag you in after me. But I was just some idiot girl at like - seventeen and I had absolutely no life experience. I did just fine. Better than fine, actually. It's not just - fair to the people that live there, it's... I mentioned Rae was moonlighting as a god of runaways? Because he will not give them an unfair situation. Like, if you need water, the most obvious thing to need in a desert, there will be - hints. To where to find some, to where to go to retrieve it. Shrubs that are only in a certain area, a place with some shade, wind that incessantly goes in a certain direction. It will never be nonexistent or unreachable unless you give up. That sort of thing."
"From the desert itself? Usually about a dozen or so each year, I'd estimate. It's... Usually not the people that are trying to find refuge, it's the people that aren't and stick to their guns and ignore every sign that there's something that could save them just around the corner."
"Okay, that's not so bad. Even if I assume you were leaving old age out of your estimate."
"I was. Do you want to leave with me to windy place, or see if there's another option that's better? I won't be insulted if you don't want to come with me, I know it's not for everyone."
"An hour? Maybe two? If nothing comes up, which, something could. If something does I'll warn you and let you choose then before booking it to do acolyte duties."
Aya starts walking slowly around the area of the bar. There's nobody else in it at the moment. No bartender, no patrons, no waiters, no janitor. There's stairs, over there -
As she passes the bar, a napkin appears by the hand she's trailing along its surface for balance.
It says Welcome.
Aya stares at it.
She would explore it, but she decides that if it's a permanent feature she will have time to, later. Aya seems to want time to explore her options, and Idania doesn't want to give the impression that there is a magical woman looking over her shoulder as she does it. So, she finds a nice place to sit at the bar, retrieves her necklace, and murmurs to it.
Obligingly, Raezenoth starts telling her about his day.
They have a strange relationship.