Nito and I had met someone else that went by that title. It hadn’t even been that long ago. Witches had magic and could answer any question you asked them correctly, but only once. We’d stopped in Barcia specifically to take advantage of that power.
“You can give a correct answer to anything?”
I couldn’t stop the tinge of doubt that crept into my voice. After all, the witch we’d found in Barcia was actually a fake that used her sharp observation and conversational skills to falsify miracles. A laugh burst forth from Jill, and she quickly covered her mouth to stifle it.
“Your world has witches?” she asked.
“Nope, I’ve just had dealings with them before.”
“So that’s why you know that old fairy tale,” she realized, shaking her head. “That’s not what witches do, though I’ve often wished it were...”
Nothing in her tone implied deceit. It just felt matter of fact, like she was talking about obvious, everyday things. Besides, she had no reason to lie to me about this.
“So you’re a real witch, then? With magic and stuff?”
I half rose from my seat in excitement as I said it, but Jill just grew even more flustered.
“I-I can’t use it, I’m sorry. That’s what mages do!”
“What’s a witch do, then?”
“Witches are like civilian doctors that use pharmacology and supernatural methods... We do things like stewing herbs to create medicines, making people feel better, easing pain, and so on... Ceremonially, we also expel evil.”
“That’s way too down to earth.”
If anything, such a role seemed like it would have been more at home in my own world.
“The thing is...witchhood is heritable.”
“Heritable?”
“The common assumption is that magic is carried in the blood. The lineage weakened as magic declined...but there were still families that passed it on, and those descendants are still called witches.”
“Wouldn’t that mean you could use magic?”
“Well...it’s more like I have magic than I’m able to use it. They say that medicines made by a witch, as well as their prayers, have mana within them, so they can at least somewhat influence a person.”
“So you make those magic medicines?”
“I, um, don’t have the skill,” she explained, so I guessed that it wasn’t something you could do just because of your lineage. “I end up putting mana in my singing. However much I practice, I can’t control it...”
When I heard the phrase “mana in my singing,” I had a vivid recollection of when we’d eavesdropped on Jill in the theater.
“When I heard you singing, I felt chills up my back and my head went all woolly, and then I felt really refreshed. Was that...?”
“Yes, it was,” she admitted hesitantly.
“For real?! That’s totally magic!”
I’d slipped into really casual speech there. As soon as I noticed it, I quickly covered my mouth. Jill lowered her head again.
“I’m sorry for not asking if it was okay...”
“Forget all that. I want to thank you for how amazing it was... Why don’t you sing in front of people? I’m sure you’d be a wonderful singer.”
Nito and I had both been agape and charmed by her singing, and I knew anyone else would feel the same. Still, Jill just hunched over further.
“My family all forbade it...”
“They forbade it? Why?”
“I’d always thought that would be better too. I love singing. But...if I sang while I was sad, then anyone that listened would get sad. If I sang while suffering, so would they. That’s a witch’s power... And, because I use song as a medium, it doesn’t matter how much mana someone has, it affects everyone the same.”
I saw what she was getting at. If it were just that she had a wonderful singing voice then it’d be fine, but her voice had mana within it, which could control people’s feelings.
“Does it end up being like brainwashing?” I asked. “Like, if they were sad, would just listening to your music make them feel overjoyed?”
“I can’t make people feel things they don’t want to. Magic that can control emotions takes exceedingly great power...”
“Then I think that’s even better... When someone wants to enjoy themselves, you can give them a smile, and when they’re sad, you can cry with them and sympathize. I’ve always thought that music’s influence on the heart is one of its best features.”
Jill looked back at me and softly shook her head.
“That isn’t the only problem... Witches live in secret. Things always get much more difficult if we’re found by people with influence, and there’s also prejudice against magic these days...so people that knew about it would be able to tell what I was doing, and they’d out me.”
To that, at least, I had no answer. Jill gaining acclaim for her voice would have made things more difficult for her. Despite being able to move hearts like no other, she could never sing proudly in front of people, all to protect her family. I could only sigh in sympathy at the unfulfilling circumstance it must have been.
“Did you never dream of it?” I asked.
“Dream?”
I searched for words. If I was too blunt, it would hurt her. The passing of time had a way of distorting and darkening memories, but still, I had to know how she felt.
“Of singing for people...a song from you, just for them.”
Jill’s eyes fell as I spoke, and even after I’d finished, she didn’t reply for a while. Just as I was beginning to regret asking, she spoke up.
“I always dreamed of it,” she answered. “I always sang—in the living room, in our little bathroom, and under my covers. My only audience was my family. I loved singing, and I didn’t have any other skills. I couldn’t sing for other people either, though...but I’d think of it every time I passed the theater. I’d dream of standing under its lights and singing out like the songstresses of old, of cheering up and energizing the audience, and of being able to love myself.”
“But it doesn’t matter,” she concluded with a small smile. “The world is dead... My dream can remain a dream, and that’s for the best.”
I couldn’t hold her gaze this time. I couldn’t pretend to understand her feelings about the world she’d spent her whole life in suddenly falling to ruin. I hadn’t suffered as she had, and so I couldn’t comment.
The silence didn’t last long, though.
“I’m sorry. I just ended up taking over the conversation and going on and on. I’ll never sing for a huge audience; I don’t think I could. But, if my singing has some power, some meaning to it...then I want to sing for Paula.”
Even as I shook my head at her initial self-derision, she raised her hands to her lips, her fingers laced together, as if she were praying fervently.
“I’ve always thought...that maybe I can erase those reservations, that pain, that sadness with my song...”
Was that possible? Jill’s singing could give people’s emotions a push. Maybe it could be a push of courage to take that one more step—a song of hope. The issue was that it couldn’t make someone feel something they didn’t want to feel. So if Fago didn’t want to reconcile, it would be for naught.
“That’s all I can do...but I don’t know how to do it best, or what emotions to sing with...so would you think about it with me?”
The equation she’d given me was one designed for the problem I’d had no solution to. The only problem now was that I had no idea how to actually apply said equation.
“It feels like this is something out of a story, songs being so tied to emotions like that.”
It just didn’t feel realistic, so much so that it made me want to laugh.
“Personally, I think you’re much more ‘out of a story,’” Jill said out of nowhere, getting an utterly shocked look from me. “There were so many stories about otherworlders in the past. They all had some influence on the world. Not just in culture or technology...but on people’s feelings, thoughts, and actions. I thought that with your values from another world, you might have some ideas...and I got my hopes up. Um, I’m sorry.”
I could only give a half smile. I was no great figure from the past. Even if the rest of the otherworlders had been amazing, I was just a normal person, not some hero or savior. She was relying on me, though, so I couldn’t just say it was impossible. It was almost like some small measure of pride was pushing me to give it a shot. I felt competitive, like I couldn’t give up and do nothing. It wasn’t for Jill or Paula, it was just...
I couldn’t help but laugh and shake my head at my own train of thought.
“Got it. I’ll think of something—something great,” I told her.
“Thank you!”
Jill bowed deeply once again, sending me into another panic. Once she was finally upright again and back to normal, I asked her about the last thing that was bothering me.
“How did you know I was an otherworlder?” I asked.
Her expression looked so mature in that moment, and I couldn’t parse any meaning from it.
“Witches can see other people’s mana, like a vague light emanating from them. Everyone from this world has mana.”
Oh, I get it, I thought, predicting her next statement.
“Otherworlders don’t have mana.”