Zebulun and Quinn went to the town of Kriston in the far north of the kingdom. The walled city boasted twelve hundred inhabitants. A thin ring of trees circled the city, their source of firewood. Beyond the trees lay farms and ranches.
They went to the market to buy food. They saw a beggar seated at the edge of the market. He stared down at the handful of copper coins in his bowl with sadness.
Zebulun placed a silver coin in his bowl. The beggar’s eyes lit up. He looked up at Zebulun with gratitude and said, "Thank you. This will feed me for a week."
"Why are you in such a state?" asked Zebulun.
"I can’t work," said the beggar. "My legs don’t work."
"Why not?" asked Quinn.
"I was a soldier," said the beggar. "Cavalry. I got thrown from a horse. I haven’t walked since."
"I can heal you," said Zebulun.
The former soldier looked up with skepticism. "How?"
"Lie down."
The beggar looked wary, but laid down as asked. Zebulun knelt over him and placed his hand over his chest. The spiritual energy flowed from him into the man’s heart, where it found its way to the destroyed nerves in his spine.
The beggar gasped. "It burns!"
"It will pass," said Zebulun.
After a few moments, Zebulun rose and held out his hand to the beggar. The beggar looked at him with a sidelong glance, but grasped his hand. Zebulun pulled him to his feet and let go. The beggar swayed, but remained standing. He turned, took a couple of steps, and collapsed. Zebulun caught him.
"You’re legs are weak from lack of use," said Zebulun. "It will take time to strengthen them. But your injury is healed."
The beggar stared at him, wide-eyed. "Who are you?"
"Zebulun Koh," he said, "prophet of Ur. This is my companion, Quinn."
"Hi!" said Quinn. "What’s your name?"
"Obadiah," he said. He looked at Zebulun. "How can I repay you?"
"Tell me who else in this city needs help."
Obadiah showed them around. Zebulun healed several cattle-related injuries, including two broken legs and one man who got gored by a bull. He cured a little boy of his chronic stomach malady, to the delight of the boy and his parents.
Toward the end of the day, they found themselves in the home of a rich man named Nicholas. His wife lie in her bed, pale and wan, dying of consumption. Zebulun held his palms above her for a full ten minutes before stopping. The woman seemed to breath easier. Some color returned to her face.
Zebulun left Quinn and Obadiah to feast on the fruit and cheese provided by the host. He asked Nicholas to join him on the balcony. The rich man’s hilltop tower rose three stories, highest in the city, so they could see far.
"I’ve given her strength," said Zebulun, "and eased her pain, but I cannot arrest the disease. It may return."
Nicholas looked at him, then off to the setting sun. "I thank you for anything you can do. I’ve seen that crippled beggar in the market for years. Now I see him up and walking." Nicholas shook his head. "How do you have this power?"
"I am prophet of Ur, creator of this world. I have his blessing to go forth and heal."
"And this deity of yours asks for nothing? No rituals or sacrifices?"
"None."
"What does he want?"
"To make us better," said Zebulun, "so that the world can be better. He wants to help us."
"Should we worship him?" asked Nicholas.
"Ur neither wants nor needs your worship. Ur is complete."
"Does he hear our prayers?"
"Ur hears all prayers," said Zebulun.
"But will he answer them?" asked Nicholas.
Zebulun looked at Nicholas for a moment, then turned his face to the sunset. Orange and gold blazed across the horizon, flanked by meadows filled with violet bluebonnets on the ground and clouds lit up like fire in the sky. Zebulun took a deep breath and said, "He answered mine."