I fold my arms, levelling her with a harsh glare. I would tell her that I’d also have them if she hadn’t left me alone in the village and run off to the hills where I had to travel for hours just to see her, but I don’t want to show that side of bitterness in front of Marcello.
Tira though, knows exactly how I feel, and I can tell that based on the amusement dancing across her features as she watches the exchange of barbs between me and the Werma.
Marcello must finally decide that he isn’t in immediate danger because he moves a little farther into the room. “Am I to understand that you can see the future?”
“Aye, and the past and all else the vapors choose to show me.”
I roll my eyes at the mention of thevaporswhich is just a fancy name for the mushrooms that she inhales to get herself into a trance like state so that she can view her visions without reality muddling them up.
He lets out a small laugh, glancing from me to Tira. “And you believe this? That someone can view the future and the past?”
There are many things I would discredit the Werma for. Her visions are perhaps the only thing authentic about her.
She smiles slightly. “Tell me, boy, how did you survive as a babe?”
Marcello stills, wary confusion settling across his features. “What are you talking about?”
“That cold and bitter winter all those seasons ago. Blood was upon the snow. You and your mother were taken. This was when your father was just a lowly legate, wasn’t it? But your fortress was attacked while he and the army were away.” She tilts her head. “You were taken. Your mother was killed, but you were not. How do you think that happened?”
Marcello steps back slightly, holding up his hands which are bound in front of him. “How do you know about that? Were you in that tribe?”
She laughs lightly. “I belong to no tribe.”
I bristle at that.
“Besides, the one that took you exists no more. Do you ever wonder why?”
“My father—” he begins.
“Your father found only corpses,” she snaps. “Because the very thing that saved your life killed all those who threatened you. It’s the very thing that will kill my daughter.”
I stiffen, although I’m unsure what I find more blood chilling. That the Werma finally admitted that I am indeed, for some unknown reason dying… or that she referred me as her daughter for the first time since I was a small child.
She holds out her withered hands, gesturing to the bowl. “Come, young man, that is if you can trust an old soothsayer to be able to use the keys of your past to unlock your future.”
Marcello hesitates a second, before finally moving forward. Something that the Werma said must have quieted his distrust enough to at least get him to that wooden bowl.
The Werma turns to me, her eyes flicking over to me before she nods to the table. “Go with him, Laduga. This is the key to your future as well.”
I hesitate a second. I want to go out into the cold night, let the air of the hills wash over my overly warm cheeks before I mount my dragons and fly far from here. But she has the answers that I came here to learn. I step forward. Trying not to flinch as the Werma raises a knife near my head. She takes a lock of hair and slices it off.
She drops it into the bowl before slicing into Marcello’s arm with a quick swipe. He jumps. “Ow!”
“Tut,” the Werma crones as she balances a droplet of his blood on the edge of her stone knife. It hangs there for a second before dripping down into the murky water below.
As the droplet hits the water, it expands until the whole bowl is blood red. And slowly as I peer into it, I begin to see images form in the shadows of the bowl.
“Watch closely,” the Werma breathes into my ear. “For so it was in the past, so it will be again.”
Then she grips the back of my head. Out of the corner of my eye I see her do the same with Marcello. And then with an unnatural strength she shoves both of our heads forward, into the shallow water of the bowl.
Chapter Nine
The Sound of Distant Drums
JustasifIwere having my visions, I find myself transported to another time and place altogether. I blink, swaying slightly over the jarring transition. Cold wind whips through my clothing and skin as if I were actually standing in a pile of snow on a bleak winter night.
I know from prior experience that my body is back in the Werma’s hut, it is only my consciousness that has been moved. But it doesn’t always feel like that.
