July, 1617
Locating a diviner in Iska was harder than it first seemed, especially for a woman of the royal harem. Thankfully, Teres was not being watched, and her personal servant was able to slip out into the city to uncover the location of the woman most in the city knew as a witch. Little more than a week after they had first discussed it, Safiya helped her friend to prepare for a short trip into the city, complete with a lock of her own hair in case the diviner needed something more personal than a friend to make a fortune. Then all she could do was wait as the day dragged on, trying to keep herself occupied and out from under the Queen-Mother's sharp gaze until Teres returned to her.
The young Teliran rose to her feet as her friend entered her suite, reaching to pour her a drink. "Are you well?" she asked worriedly. "How did it go?"
Under the guise of going to the market and accompanied by a harem guard who had been sworn to secrecy, Teres had little trouble slipping out of the harem for a few hours. She had mixed feelings of excitement and worry about what the diviner had told her, some of it in the form of cryptic warnings Teres did not understand. Now that she had returned, she was understandably anxious to share what she had been told, and relieved that she had not been followed and caught. "I am well," she assured her friend as she unwound the silk scarf from her face and head. She hadn't worn it for fear of being recognized, but because it was customary for an unmarried woman to do when in public.
"I was so worried for you," Safiya confessed. "You should not have had to take such a risk." But far better to take the risk than face the future without some idea of what was to come, she thought.
"We have to know a little about what to expect, Safi. It was worth the risk," Teres assured her friend, reaching into a small pouch to return the lock of the Teliran's hair.
Safiya's fingers curled about the little black lock with something akin to relief. She was glad to see it back; there had been a worry in the back of her mind that the diviner - the witch - might have wanted to keep it, and having something so personal in the hands of someone who could do arcane things was not a happy thought. "Come and sit," she encouraged her friend, moving to take a seat herself. "Tell me everything."
Teres followed her friend to a couch and took a seat beside her, winding the scarf between her hands - a sign of nervousness, but this had been her idea, and she intended to see it through to the end. "I shall start at the beginning ..."
The market was always crowded - a bustling, lively place, where honest merchants plied their trade and sold their wares from stalls and shops that seemed intentionally built on top of one another, as though each were trying to push the others out of business by presence alone. It was a place where a face could get lost in the crowd very easily, and few eyes followed the path of anyone who seemed to know where they were going. The diviner made her home behind an apothecary's shop, a sudden place of calm and quiet, heavy with the smoke from incense and dark behind drapes that shut out the sunlight.
Teres had no problem finding the diviner, as she first stopped at the apothecary shop to inquire as to what potions or concoctions she might purchase that might encourage pregnancy. After all, she couldn't return to the palace without something to show for her trip to the market besides a fortune. The smell of the incense made her light-headed and it took a moment or two before her eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight to the darkness behind the drapes as she quietly made her way inside.
The diviner was not, as she might have expected, an aged hag, but was actually a middle-aged woman who seemed remarkably well-off for someone the Church would happily burn for crimes against the Goddess. She stepped out of the shadows, tilting her head to study Teres. "Come you for a man, or a fortune told?" she asked in strange cadence. "Or come you for a friend who is not so bold?"
As much as she might have wanted a man, that was not why Teres was here. "I am here for a friend," she said, withdrawing a silk embroidered pouch from somewhere inside the layers of her dress. Inside the pouch was not coins, but a small lock of dark hair brought so that the diviner would have something of Safiya's to work from.
The diviner's strange eyes lowered to the pouch. "And what fortune do you seek?" she asked curiously. "Of life or love" Which is worth the keeping of a promise of aid when times grow dark for the diviner?"
"How much to tell the fortune of a friend?" Teres counted, finding the woman's way of speaking a little too cryptic, but perhaps some of it would make sense to Safiya.
The diviner's fingers touched the silk pouch, fingering the lock of hair through it. "Your friend is touched with royal hands," she said mysteriously. "A royal fortune may be told in exchange for a promise of a royal pardon if the dark priests come for me."
"That is all you want?" Teres asked incredulously. It was a difficult promise to make, one she did not really have the authority to make, and yet if this was the cost of her friend's fortune, she would have to promise something. "I cannot personally promise that, but I can speak with someone who can."
The diviner held her gaze for a long, uncomfortable moment, with eyes that seemed to see through her and into the friends she held dear. Then the woman nodded. "A promise for a promise," she said, opening her hand for the pouch. "Give it me freely, and the fortune will be true. Make me take it, and darkness will cloud the truth in my tale."
"It is not for me," Teres reiterated again, as she handed the pouch over not wanting to touch the lock of hair held inside. If the diviner chose to tell her something of her own future, she would not argue, but this was for the sister of her heart.
"Nay, 'tis for the king's heart and blood," the woman said confidently, gesturing for Teres to take a seat on the myriad cushions that littered the floor. She moved herself to a small brazier, sprinkling something pungent from a small pot over the coals ....something that created clouds of sweet-smelling smoke that she passed the little lock of hair through over and over again, muttering to herself.
Teresa did as indicated, settling herself on the cushions, her hands folded in her lap about as demurely as possible. She watched with a mix of skepticism, hopefulness, and curiosity as the woman went about her business.
"Threes," the diviner said suddenly, sitting back on her heels, still fingering the black lock in her hand. "I see threes. Three male seeds of the king's line; two men his companions to make three. Two women of your number his heart's companions, and this, too, makes three. And you shall be one of them, heart and soul and mind. Beware of the night's shade and the knife in the dark. If the king's heart is cut out, he will not find another."
Teres furrowed her brows as she listened, trying to deciper the woman's cryptic predictions, which seemed to include her. "Night's shade?" she echoed. Didn't that word have something to do with plants" Three male seeds of the king's line. What could that possibly mean' Was she referring to the king's cousins, and then perhaps the king and two of his friends or advisers" It was very confusing, and as interesting as it was, it did not really answer the one question she needed to know. "Yes, but will she give him an heir?" she asked, impatiently.
The diviner turned her head to look at the young woman pointedly. "Listen with your mind and not your heart," she advised. "What does one do with seeds?"
"Plant them," Teres replied, stating the obvious. Could she have misinterpreted what the diviner had said. Could the three male seeds she had mentioned by children, and if so, were they children of Safiya's, too' "But two women of our number" Does that mean he will have two concubines?" she asked, still confused.
"I see threes," the diviner responded. "Three seeds, three men, three women. Three hearts made whole in joining." Teres was not going to get a straight answer from her; what was the point of having your fortune told if it was easy to interpret?
Locating a diviner in Iska was harder than it first seemed, especially for a woman of the royal harem. Thankfully, Teres was not being watched, and her personal servant was able to slip out into the city to uncover the location of the woman most in the city knew as a witch. Little more than a week after they had first discussed it, Safiya helped her friend to prepare for a short trip into the city, complete with a lock of her own hair in case the diviner needed something more personal than a friend to make a fortune. Then all she could do was wait as the day dragged on, trying to keep herself occupied and out from under the Queen-Mother's sharp gaze until Teres returned to her.
The young Teliran rose to her feet as her friend entered her suite, reaching to pour her a drink. "Are you well?" she asked worriedly. "How did it go?"
Under the guise of going to the market and accompanied by a harem guard who had been sworn to secrecy, Teres had little trouble slipping out of the harem for a few hours. She had mixed feelings of excitement and worry about what the diviner had told her, some of it in the form of cryptic warnings Teres did not understand. Now that she had returned, she was understandably anxious to share what she had been told, and relieved that she had not been followed and caught. "I am well," she assured her friend as she unwound the silk scarf from her face and head. She hadn't worn it for fear of being recognized, but because it was customary for an unmarried woman to do when in public.
"I was so worried for you," Safiya confessed. "You should not have had to take such a risk." But far better to take the risk than face the future without some idea of what was to come, she thought.
"We have to know a little about what to expect, Safi. It was worth the risk," Teres assured her friend, reaching into a small pouch to return the lock of the Teliran's hair.
Safiya's fingers curled about the little black lock with something akin to relief. She was glad to see it back; there had been a worry in the back of her mind that the diviner - the witch - might have wanted to keep it, and having something so personal in the hands of someone who could do arcane things was not a happy thought. "Come and sit," she encouraged her friend, moving to take a seat herself. "Tell me everything."
Teres followed her friend to a couch and took a seat beside her, winding the scarf between her hands - a sign of nervousness, but this had been her idea, and she intended to see it through to the end. "I shall start at the beginning ..."
The market was always crowded - a bustling, lively place, where honest merchants plied their trade and sold their wares from stalls and shops that seemed intentionally built on top of one another, as though each were trying to push the others out of business by presence alone. It was a place where a face could get lost in the crowd very easily, and few eyes followed the path of anyone who seemed to know where they were going. The diviner made her home behind an apothecary's shop, a sudden place of calm and quiet, heavy with the smoke from incense and dark behind drapes that shut out the sunlight.
Teres had no problem finding the diviner, as she first stopped at the apothecary shop to inquire as to what potions or concoctions she might purchase that might encourage pregnancy. After all, she couldn't return to the palace without something to show for her trip to the market besides a fortune. The smell of the incense made her light-headed and it took a moment or two before her eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight to the darkness behind the drapes as she quietly made her way inside.
The diviner was not, as she might have expected, an aged hag, but was actually a middle-aged woman who seemed remarkably well-off for someone the Church would happily burn for crimes against the Goddess. She stepped out of the shadows, tilting her head to study Teres. "Come you for a man, or a fortune told?" she asked in strange cadence. "Or come you for a friend who is not so bold?"
As much as she might have wanted a man, that was not why Teres was here. "I am here for a friend," she said, withdrawing a silk embroidered pouch from somewhere inside the layers of her dress. Inside the pouch was not coins, but a small lock of dark hair brought so that the diviner would have something of Safiya's to work from.
The diviner's strange eyes lowered to the pouch. "And what fortune do you seek?" she asked curiously. "Of life or love" Which is worth the keeping of a promise of aid when times grow dark for the diviner?"
"How much to tell the fortune of a friend?" Teres counted, finding the woman's way of speaking a little too cryptic, but perhaps some of it would make sense to Safiya.
The diviner's fingers touched the silk pouch, fingering the lock of hair through it. "Your friend is touched with royal hands," she said mysteriously. "A royal fortune may be told in exchange for a promise of a royal pardon if the dark priests come for me."
"That is all you want?" Teres asked incredulously. It was a difficult promise to make, one she did not really have the authority to make, and yet if this was the cost of her friend's fortune, she would have to promise something. "I cannot personally promise that, but I can speak with someone who can."
The diviner held her gaze for a long, uncomfortable moment, with eyes that seemed to see through her and into the friends she held dear. Then the woman nodded. "A promise for a promise," she said, opening her hand for the pouch. "Give it me freely, and the fortune will be true. Make me take it, and darkness will cloud the truth in my tale."
"It is not for me," Teres reiterated again, as she handed the pouch over not wanting to touch the lock of hair held inside. If the diviner chose to tell her something of her own future, she would not argue, but this was for the sister of her heart.
"Nay, 'tis for the king's heart and blood," the woman said confidently, gesturing for Teres to take a seat on the myriad cushions that littered the floor. She moved herself to a small brazier, sprinkling something pungent from a small pot over the coals ....something that created clouds of sweet-smelling smoke that she passed the little lock of hair through over and over again, muttering to herself.
Teresa did as indicated, settling herself on the cushions, her hands folded in her lap about as demurely as possible. She watched with a mix of skepticism, hopefulness, and curiosity as the woman went about her business.
"Threes," the diviner said suddenly, sitting back on her heels, still fingering the black lock in her hand. "I see threes. Three male seeds of the king's line; two men his companions to make three. Two women of your number his heart's companions, and this, too, makes three. And you shall be one of them, heart and soul and mind. Beware of the night's shade and the knife in the dark. If the king's heart is cut out, he will not find another."
Teres furrowed her brows as she listened, trying to deciper the woman's cryptic predictions, which seemed to include her. "Night's shade?" she echoed. Didn't that word have something to do with plants" Three male seeds of the king's line. What could that possibly mean' Was she referring to the king's cousins, and then perhaps the king and two of his friends or advisers" It was very confusing, and as interesting as it was, it did not really answer the one question she needed to know. "Yes, but will she give him an heir?" she asked, impatiently.
The diviner turned her head to look at the young woman pointedly. "Listen with your mind and not your heart," she advised. "What does one do with seeds?"
"Plant them," Teres replied, stating the obvious. Could she have misinterpreted what the diviner had said. Could the three male seeds she had mentioned by children, and if so, were they children of Safiya's, too' "But two women of our number" Does that mean he will have two concubines?" she asked, still confused.
"I see threes," the diviner responded. "Three seeds, three men, three women. Three hearts made whole in joining." Teres was not going to get a straight answer from her; what was the point of having your fortune told if it was easy to interpret?