“Truth serum?” Vitoria asked, eyeing her cup with suspicion long before she sipped.
“If I thought you’d lie, I’d draw out my truth runes. It’s clarity draught,” Eda Mire corrected. “I need to know exactly what you saw last night. Every detail. Every face. Every word.”
So we told her. The games, the memorial, the Ripper’s approach. His questions, his suspicions, the way he’d studied us like specimens in a jar. Through it all, Eda Mire’s expression grew darker.
“He followed you out?” she asked when we finished.
Calder nodded. “For a while. Lost him in the crowd near the docks.”
“The docks.” Something flickered across her face. “Vitoria? What else did you hear? Besides the usual smuggling gossip.”
Vitoria frowned. “Nothing much. Some dock workers talking about unusual cargo shipments. More witches moving through than usual. But that’s been going on for weeks.”
“Months,” Eda Mire corrected quietly. “Ever since the rumors started.”
“What rumors?” I asked.
Eda Mire moved to the window, peering through glass so dirty it turned the world sepia. “That one of the fury-born has been spotted in the city. The Oracle, they say. Walking among us like a common citizen.”
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
The Furies were legends. Nearly goddesses. The three sisters had stormed this world and remade it in magic’s image. They mostly stayed hidden in their sanctuary with their female descendants, protected by four dragons and secrets older than memory. It was rumored you could no longer tell a Sister Fury from a fury-born, their children, and that’s how they preferred it. Camouflaged among their own kind.
The Oracle was one of the few that left the sanctuary, but she didn’t take strolls through city streets. She was destined to deliver prophecy around the world, and she’d been doing it for a very, very long time.
“I’ve never heard of her coming to Grimora,” I said. “In fact, rumor at the Chancellery is that the Magistrate holds some kind of grudge against the Furies for refusing his numerous invitations.”
“Hmm. I’ve met her once, a long time ago. The timing is interesting. It can’t be the games. Why would she care for mortal entertainment?” Eda Mire turned back to us, her face grave. “You’re sure you saw nothing? She’s blonde, blind and wears a tattered blindfold. Last time I saw her, she kept a large black raven close by. Think hard.”
We shook our heads.
“She usually travels with a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed like any sellsword, yet there’s a gravity to him. Something carved into the line of his jaw, the way he holds himself as if born to command. His eyes burn too bright, like embers trapped behind glass. Not a man. A?—”
“Guardian,” Calder said, cutting in. He closed his eyes, and I did the same. “Give me his physical description.”
“Dark brown hair, amber eyes, the dragon marked on his neck would give him away if he isn’t hiding it.”
I felt the clarity drought brightening my mind as I thought back to the crowd. Everything slowed as I scanned those I’dtaken in, even whispers I didn’t realize I’d heard, anything that would confirm the Oracle’s presence. Nothing.
“Maybe she’s not here. And if she is, it makes no difference to us,” Vitoria said, sliding her cup back toward Eda Mire. “All races come and go through this city at one point or another.”
“If the Oracle is here, it’s to deliver a prophecy. A great change. A warning. I can promise you that.” She moved around the counter, and for the first time since I’d known her, Eda Mire looked every year of her age. “The Furies are beloved, protected even, because they gifted this world magic, and some fear they can take it away. The Oracle is not to be taken lightly. She is truth. She is premonition.”
“What do you want us to do?” Calder asked, setting down his empty cup.
Eda Mire’s smile was as sharp as winter. “Survive. Same as always.” Her eyes searched my face with an intensity that made my breath catch. “Whatever happens, remember thatthisis your family. Each of you is important. Protect each other. If the Oracle is here to further damn the witches, do everything you can to save each other. Go home. Keep your heads down. And if anyone comes asking questions about last night, you were drunk and celebrating like half the city.”
“What about you?” I asked.
Her smile turned oddly soft, almost maternal, touched with something that might have been regret. “I’ll be fine, child. I always am.”
But as we left through the back door, I caught her reflection in the grimy window. She wasn’t watching us go.
She watched the street as if she expected someone to follow.
Our apartment felt oddlynormal after Eda Mire’s warnings, like the world was pretending nothing had changed. Because it hadn’t.
Vitoria was right. Even if the Oracle was in Grimora, it truly made no difference to us. Were we supposed to be afraid? To hide?
