For three days she walked, setting out at dawn and stopping to rest during the hot hours around noon.  The sun arced over her from right to left, sometimes hiding behind the clouds that scuttled across the sky.  By the end of the second day, traffic on the road had dwindled to the occasional farmer or traveling vendor.  The afternoon of the third day, a spindly truck, all axles and exposed supports, growled past her and choked to a stop.  The driver jumped down and flung up a side panel.

The truck was obviously a makeshift affair, consisting of flat cargo bed and a covered bench behind a large steering wheel.  Muddy cloths covered the mounds of cargo that, by the sharp tang in the air, Alakina guessed was citrus.  The young driver, a wiry youth with wild hair and tidy clothes, noticed her and waved a greeting. “Salutations!”

She nodded, offered a guarded, “Hello.”

He wiped his hands on a rag.  He seemed to quiver with energy, even standing still.  “You any good with gods?”

She tried to parse this sentence in a more logical fashion than the obvious.  “What?”

“Are you handy with gods?  I’ve got one trammeled in the engine and I can’t hex the thing out.”

Alakina had never dealt with either gods or engines.  “No.  I don’t think so.”

“Oh.”  He banged a pipe against the side of the truck.  “Don’t deal much with gods, do you.”

“No.”

He nodded once.  “Smart woman.  If you ask me, you should keep it that way.”  He went back to banging around in the engine and told her over the din, “You’d think I’d be smart enough to get a good dependable horse and wagon, but it’s just not my style.”  He held out his free hand.  “I’m Nico, by the way.”

She put her palm to his in greeting.  “Alakina.”

“Pleasure.”  He stopped banging.  “Well, that’s not doing any good.”  He beckoned her closer and pointed at the engine.  “Look here.  See that coil? The little bugger’s lodged in between that thing and the radiator.  Keeps overheating when it’s not just conking out for no apparent reason.  I’m mad about it, too.  I made it all the way to Traviata without a single problem and then picked up this guy outside of La Cittá.”

She stepped closer and peered into the engine, emboldened by curiosity. “Are, uh, are gods a common problem in engines?”

“Oh sure.  That’s why you don’t see much in the way of engineering technology down here.  Gods love anything mechanical.  The fancier the contraption, the more they like it.  My cousin tried to open a clock shop in Faraway once.  The place was so infested with gods he had to close down after a week.  He ended up charging people admission.  Made a good chunk o’ coins for a while there.”

On impulse, Alakina reached out and put her hand against the coil Nico had pointed out.

“Don’t touch it’s hot–”  Nico stopped when the engine shivered to life.

He stared at the engine, then at Alakina.  “What did you do?”

She stepped away.  “Nothing.  I just touched it.”

He took her hand and tried to examine her finger.  She jerked back.

“You’re not burnt?” he asked.

“No.”

He pursed his lips.  “You’ve got a knack.”  The way he said it invited her to explain.  She said nothing.

He dropped the panel back down over the engine.  “Where are you headed?”

She wanted to start walking again.  “North.”

“Listen, how about I give you a ride?  I have to go north another ten, twelve days before I swing west again.”

She hefted her pack and turned to consider the long stretch of road before her.  Another ten days.

He clapped a hand on her shoulder.  “I’ll take you as far as I can, even feed you, if you’ll just get on friendly terms with that engine and keep it running.”  He looked at least ten years her junior, but his confident air made her feel graceless and awkward.  Her will bent to his.

“All right.”  She hesitated.  “But I don’t know if I can help with this god of yours.”

“Oh, don’t get confused.  The little bugger’s not mine.  Gods don’t belong to anyone.”  He climbed up the side of the truck and reached down to help her up.  She ignored his hand and swung up beside him to the bench.  “And don’t worry,” he said.  “You’ve got a knack with the spirits.  My grandmother will love you.”

They began moving north again, jostling along the bumpy road as they picked up speed.  Nico reached up to adjust the canopy that shielded them from the afternoon sun.  Alakina wrapped her arms around her pack and inhabited the smallest space she could on the far end of the bench.

“Scootch over some,” he told her.  “One good bump and you’ll go flying into the sugar cane.  Won’t be much help then, will you?”

She gripped the bench with one hand but did not move.  She felt Nico studying her, but he said nothing more, merely started to sing in a language she did not recognize.  She watched the fields pass and the sun sink and let her mind float free of all thought.