I glance round at Gurd and Makri, both of whom also seem startled at the sight of the wealth pouring from Lisutaris’s purse to lie at the Priestess’s feet. When the process finally comes to an end, the High Priestess smiles, quite faintly. Much more faintly than I would if someone had just given me such a huge pile of gold, silver and jewels.
“You are very generous.”
“We revere the Goddess Vitina, this oracle, and you, High Priestess.”
Lisutaris bows again, as does Ibella. I think you could safely say that Lisutaris wasn’t quite telling the truth when she said she had a vague interest in the old religion. Number one devotee might be nearer the mark.
The High Priestess has taken all this calmly, though I’m sure there’s a glint in the eye of the junior priestess beside her. I can’t blame her. It’s a hefty bundle of cash. The junior priestess picks up a silver chalice from an ornate, gilded table. She hands it to the High Priestess.
“I know you have little time to spare, Lisutaris, now you are War Leader,” says the High Priestess. “Do you wish to consult the wisdom of the Goddess?”
“Yes, High Priestess.”
We finally seem to be getting down to business. I’m curious about the procedure, though a little uneasy. If it involves a lot of religious singing and dancing, I’m not going to enjoy it. If we have to chant anything, Makri will really hate it. I wonder what Makri and I are doing here anyway. And Hanama and Gurd. We’re just the hired help. We didn’t come to consult anyone.
“Should we wait outside?” I venture.
The elderly High Priestess looks at me for the first time. “The oracle is for everyone.”
“It’s all right, we just came along to escort - ”
“The oracle is for everyone,” she repeats, ending the conversation.
Beside me, Gurd is looking ill at ease. The Northern barbarian is not keen on sorcery at the best of times, and he’s uncomfortable at the thought of being included in any sort of magical goings on. I’m not that keen either, though I wonder if I could turn it to my advantage. Might the priestess be able to point me in the direction of some winners at the chariot races? I believe the race meeting in Simnia is still going ahead, despite the war.
Four of us - Makri, Hanama, Gurd and myself - have been hanging back. The priestess of Vitina motions for us to advance, which we do, slowly.
Makri whispers in my ear. “I don’t believe in oracles.”
“Neither do I. Unless they say something good. But they never say anything good.”
We find ourselves organised in to a loose line in front of the priestess.
“Do we have to pay for this?” I ask. “I didn’t bring any money.”
Lisutaris shoots me a hostile glance. I glare back at her. She might be in the midst of some religious fervour with her favourite Goddess but I didn’t sign up for any oracles. I refuse to be browbeaten into revering a temple which has obviously been raking in the cash for years from gullible customers. I’m still staggered at the pile of gold Lisutaris handed over.
“Please remain silent for the High Priestess,” says her assistant. We fall silent. The High Priestess, resplendent in her robe, looks down the line, taking in every one of us. She sips from the silver chalice in her hand. I’m half-expecting her to go into a trance and start shouting out prophesies but she seems quite calm as she takes a few steps towards us. Not frothing at the mouth or anything. She halts in front of Hanama. The assassin, not a tall woman, looks up at her calmly enough.
“Much death,” says the High Priestess.
She steps over to Gurd, and looks him in the eye.
“Much life.”
Gurd looks relieved. Whatever that means, it doesn’t sound too bad. The Priestess halts again, in front of Ibella.
“Fear only poison.”
The High Priestess turns towards Makri, and pauses. She stares at Makri for quite a long time, as if she’s not sure what to make of her. Understandable I suppose. Makri’s weird make up would probably be confusing for any respectable Priestess.
“Fortunate or unfortunate queen,” she says, finally.
I suppress a snort of derision at the thought of Makri being queen of anywhere. My faith in this oracle is diminishing fast, and it wasn’t that great to begin with. I wish she’d just give Lisutaris her prophesy so we could get out of here. She arrives in front of Coranius the Grinder. He’s a famously bad-tempered and impatient man, but he seems quite placid in this environment. It just goes to show how completely the Sorcerers Guild has fallen under the spell of this cult. Gullible, you might say.
“Glorious ending.”
Coranius doesn’t react, though it doesn’t sound like the greatest oracle a man could have. Depends on when the ending comes, I suppose. Throughout all this, I’ve been edging back, hoping that the High Priestess might just ignore me. Perhaps if I let her see I’m really not the sort of man who enjoys an oracle she’ll just pass me by. Unfortunately, she halts in front of me. I don’t like the look in her eye. I think she might have it in for me for asking if we had to pay. She glances at me for only a few seconds, and come out with the following.
“You will throw down your shield and flee.”
“What?”
She turns to leave.
“What’s that supposed to mean? I demand. “Are you calling me a coward?”
“Silence in this temple!” cries Lisutaris, angrily. “But she said - ”
“Silence!”
I glare balefully at our War Leader, and at the back of the High Priestess as she walks away. How dare she give me such an insulting oracle. I’ll have a few sharp words to say about this farce when we’re outside.
The priestess finally approaches Lisutaris. I suppose she’s been saving this for her big finish. Oracles always love a bit of suspense. Charlatans, all of them. She stares at Lisutaris for a few moments. For the first time, the High Priestess’s eyes close. She stands with her eyes closed for thirty seconds or so. Finally she opens them.
“The Goddess Vitina has something of great importance to say to you, Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky.”
We wait, impatiently in my case.
“But it is not yet time. Her oracle will be transmitted to you at the appropriate moment.”
I’m astonished, and only just manage to avoid laughing. Lisutaris drags us out here on this foolish mission, hands over a huge pile of gold, and she doesn’t even get a prophesy? Absolutely ridiculous. I’m half-expecting Lisutaris to complain. You’d think she had good reason to. Unfortunately, all that happens is that the sorcerer bows her head respectfully.
“Thank you for your attentions, High Priestess.”
“You are welcome, Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky. And you are welcome to visit this temple at any time.”
I’ll bet she is, if she’s bringing a magic pocket full of gold. I’m disgusted with the whole thing. You will throw down your shield and flee, indeed. An outrageous slander. I’m not going to let that pass by unchallenged. We troop silently out of the temple. Outside, the recriminations begin right away. Lisutaris gets in first.