She turned from the decoratively barred window and went back to the
table, where she stood gazing down at the finely carved wooden ox. To
the poor beggars, it would represent a fortune in coppers. She picked
up the carved wooden ox, so dark, so smooth and lifelike, and returned
to the ornate window. There, she paused for a long time, looking out on
the beggars.
She already thought of the Invisible God as all-powerful by his very
nature. But somehow she could not help imagining that surely he must
desire at least a little agreement, some form of willful participation
on her part, to better the lot of her fellow creatures.
Let the beggars sell the wooden ox, for money to buy food.
So saying to herself, she looked carefully, and tossed the wooden ox
out through the ornamental bars past the green ivy vines.
It turned over slowly in the air and landed unbroken in a pile of dirty
straw beside a group of filthy, crippled street beggars.
As Si'Wren stepped back into the shadows of her window sill, an outcry
arose below in the narrow street. The anxious voices of the beggars
could be heard talking animatedly about this perceived 'miracle'.
When at last Si'Wren dared to lean once more into the deeply recessed
window sill for a peek, for the stone of the fortress wall was
exceeding thick, her delight was turned to dismay.
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