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36

ESSA

“T his is a bad idea,” Ollie said as we stepped onto the narrow stone footbridge that led to the temple.

I glanced down. The black depths on either side showed no sign of a bottom. “You’re right. They might’ve at least put up a railing,”

“No,” Ollie snapped. “I mean visiting the oracle.”

We’d ridden the entire day to get here along a winding road that led up into the Yrdam mountains. Travelling this path via dragon back was far simpler, but Othura needed to rest and recover from her wound. And so, we slogged along on horseback down an ancient path that snaked through valleys and gulches, across gurgling streams and among trickling rills, moving steadily upward until the air grew thin and the trees grew sparse. It was an ancient and treacherous road, trod by pilgrims since before the days of recorded history. And it led to the place where I might find the answers I needed: the temple of the Oracle.

Many of Maethalia’s most famous tales featured the Oracle. Her words had influenced countless historical events over the centuries, and her track record could be summarized in a single sentence: she was always right, but her advice often turned out badly.

That, more than the alarmingly narrow foot bridge, was the reason for Ollie’s reticence.

And yet, my mother and the queens before her had made this journey for generations for a reason. If there was a simple way to learn the truth about Kit, this was it. And I had to know the truth.

We staked the horses and crossed the chasm.

On either side, crows looked down at us like sentinels, perched on the heads of statues so ancient their faces had been erased by time. Like a child on a balance beam, I hurried ahead, my arms spread in an uneven T. When I reached the far side, I turned back to find Ollie less than half of the way across.

“Oh, come on, Ol,” I said.

“I don’t relish heights,” he said through gritted teeth. “You know that.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m the rider and you’re the Torouman, isn’t it?” I said.

His breath was ragged now, sweat beading on his brow.

“Say something… to distract me,” he said. “Where were you? During the ball when I was looking for you?”

“I was tangled up naked with Kit. We’re madly in love.”

Ollie looked at me, wide-eyed, and his arms windmilled as he nearly lost his balance.

“Kidding!” I said as he righted himself. “We were in that room above the ballroom. Remember? Where I used to hide out when we were kids.”

“In the secret room? Doing what ?” he said, balancing the last few steps then leaping to me. I grabbed him and steadied him.

“Oh, Ollie. I love you.” I said wistfully. He’d always been like a protective brother to me. That was the nature and the role of the Torouman. To follow and council and defend their charge, to cross every chasm, even unto death. I knew Hoatan was loyal to mother that way, too. It was a profound thing to have a person like that in one’s life. I tried not to take it for granted ever, but in this moment especially, I felt suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for him.

He studied me. “You joke. But you do care for him, don’t you?”

“Oh, I…” I looked away, trying to deflect. But there was no explaining away the blush on my cheeks or the smile that was creeping onto my lips. I forced myself to meet Ollie’s eyes. “He believes in me,” I said at last.

Ollie smiled. “As he should.”

One of the crows looking down on us gave a raucous call, breaking the moment.

“Come on,” I said, leading Ollie onward.

A rough staircase had been cut into the stone cliff face rising before us, so ancient and weathered that it looked almost as if it were a natural part of the rockface. We climbed it using our arms as well as our legs, for it was so steep it was nearly a ladder.

At the top, we found ourselves face-to-face with two female warriors, golden masks over their faces, blade-tipped spears in their white-gloved hands. They guarded a set of stone doors carved top to bottom with runes and strange ancient glyphs. My hand went to the hilt of my sword, but neither guard moved nor spoke as we stepped toward them. I would have thought they were incredibly lifelike statues except I could see their eyes shift behind their masks as they tracked our movement.

I stood tall and spoke in my most official-sounding voice. “I am Essaphine, princess of Maethalia and this is my Torouman, Ollyvar. We seek audience with the Oracle.”

For an instant, no one moved or spoke. Then, there came a low boom, that sounded as if it came from deep inside the mountain itself, and the doors swung open, revealing a dark passageway cut into the living stone of the mountain, lit with flickering torchlight. It sloped downward ominously, and Ollie and I exchanged a glance as we passed the sentries and entered. After we’d gone a few steps, the doors boomed shut behind us.

I expected the passage to lead into a black cavern. Instead, a glow emanated ahead and we soon passed through an archway and into daylight—and I stopped and stared in wonder. A mountaintop crater formed a sort of courtyard, nearly the size of the main courtyard back at the palace, and it was filled with the richest garden I’d ever seen. Butterflies flitted. Lazy bees hummed from flower to flower and lush grasses formed a carpet under our feet. A stream of clear water flowed through it all and even from here, I could see the silvery scales of fishes flashing past. It made me want to lie down and stretch out on the grass and nap, letting my exhaustion melt away as the sun warmed my face. It was so completely at odds with the forbidding path we’d travelled to reach this place that the contrast was jarring.

“It’s a paradise,” said Ollie in wonder.

“Yes,” I said, walking on. “But let’s not let our guard down.”

We followed a stone path, crossed a little bridge over the stream, and found ourselves before a low stone building. White curtains hung to either side of the doorway, rustled by breeze. Peering in the open door, we could see what looked like a cozy home lit by many windows and skylights with plush rugs on the floors and vases of flowers on the tables.

“Come in!” a friendly voice called from within.

“This is not what I was expecting,” Ollie whispered. He was smiling, but one hand remained on the hilt of his sword as he followed me inside.

* * *

We found the oracle seated on a chaise with her bare feet up, sipping a cup of tea. She raised a hand to wave to us and I saw a mark on her palm in the shape of a star—and it was glowing with a strange bluish light.

“Ah, the princess and her Torouman. I knew you’d come. Of course I did. I’m all seeing and all knowing, right?” she laughed, gesturing to a pair of chairs. “Come on. Have a seat.”

I frowned. “You’re…”

“Not super old and hideous? I know. I get that a lot.”

She looked to be no older than my mother—in her mid-forties, perhaps. She had long, dark hair and wore a dress of airy, black fabric over a long, lean frame. The only adornment to her garb that hinted of anything special or supernatural was a thin silver tiara with a diamond dangling from it so that it lay upon her forehead.

Before her, approximately six feet wide and as high as my knees, there stood a basin of dark stone. The water in it was black and utterly still so that I thought for a moment it was a slab of polished metal—but of course it was a large scrying bowl. Ollie and I took chairs at its edge and looked to the oracle expectantly. Without haste, she poured us tea from a little cart at her elbow and handed the cups to Ollie and me.

It tasted bitter, but filled me with an immediate warmth that made my head swim.

“This isn’t the drought of the Gray Brothers,” the oracle said, noticing Ollie’s hesitation. “It isn’t addicting and it won’t make you feel drunk. But it will facilitate visions. The psychogenic qualities come from an herb that’s grown only here in the temple garden. Ope—that’s a bit of a secret. The elder priestesses would probably be pissed off that I told you, so if you don’t mind, try not to repeat it. But I was a teacher, once upon a time. I can’t seem to help blabbing interesting facts.”

She stopped, her eyes narrowing. “You look perplexed.”

I shook my head. There were so many strange things about this oracle that I was having a hard time processing them all. First, there was her appearance. Then there was her accent, which was clipped and lazy in a way that reminded me of Kit’s—but different. I hardly knew where to begin. “It’s just… you were a teacher?” I said. “I thought you’ve been an oracle for thousands of years. And you look so young.”

The oracle laughed. “Oh, that. It’s another big secret. You see, there has been a changing lineup of oracles over the years. I showed up—oh, two or three years ago now. A sojourner on a search for knowledge. I found this place, and the oracle at the time decided I was a worthy apprentice.” She shrugged. “The rest is history. I find it quite addicting, though,” she added, gazing down at the still black water. “Being able to see the past, present, and future. Being able to see what’s happening on the other side of the world… this world, anyway.”

She seemed a little sad as she trailed off.

Ollie and I exchanged a glance and he cleared his throat. “Since you seem to be so forthright,” he began. “They say there’s a danger to using the oracle. That the visions come from the demons of the void. That the information contained in them can backfire on those who receive it.”

With effort, the oracle tore her eyes from the dark water to level them back on us. “It’s true,” she said. “I’m still studying how the visions are created and where they come from. I do think there is an intelligence—or intelligences—behind them, and I’m not sure they’re entirely benevolent. But everything seen when scrying is real and true. It’s up to the seer to interpret their visions and act rightly. Which brings us to you. Unless I’m wrong, your question is urgent and time is short. So tell me, what would you like to see?”

I hesitated, gathering my thoughts, unsure where to begin. “There’s a man,” I said.

“There always is,” the oracle gave a wistful grin.

“He came to us from the United Republic of Admar.”

“Ah, the enemy state,” the oracle nodded knowingly.

“He was a reporter, coming to do a story on our country. But his plane crashed and—anyway, I need to know if he’s who he says he is. Is he a reporter? Is he trying to help me? Or is he a spy?”

“Say no more,” the oracle said, waving away my words. As she did, I again noticed the glowing star on her hand again. It illuminated the water as she reached out and touched it with one finger, sending ripples across its surface.

“I find it is always best to start with the present. So let us begin with seeing where your dashing foreigner is now. Ask the water and it will show you. Be direct and use his full name.”

Eyeing the black water with foreboding, I took a steadying breath. Kit is true, I told myself. And he is good, even if he is from URA. And he… he cares about me. Nothing this demon water can show me will change that.

And yet, I was afraid.

The oracle seemed to sense my thoughts. “The truth can be scary,” she said. “But we must have knowledge to name the thing that truly scares us—and defeat it.”

I nodded, steeling myself.

“Void,” I said. “Show me Kit?—”

“Kitty,” Ollie reminded me.

“Show me Kitty Rowley.”

For a moment, the ripples the oracle had made in the water calmed down. Then, they increased again in a rhythmic beat, as if the footsteps of some great beast approached, disturbing the water. Then, suddenly, water went still again. But nothing was there. Or… no, there was something. When I looked beyond the surface, into the depths, I could make out a face, growing clearer by the moment. But it wasn’t Kit's face. This was a woman, very pretty, with short blonde hair. The salt tracks of dried tears trailed from her make-up smeared eyes. Rivulets of blood trailed from two wounds on her neck, but she paid the injury no mind, instead staring upward as if as entranced by the ceiling of the bedroom she was in.

As we watched, she blinked and seemed to come back from her stupor. She looked to her left. A handsome man lay in the bed next to her, so unnaturally still that I thought he must be dead. His chest did not rise or fall with breath. But somehow, I knew he remained alive. No, not alive, some part of me corrected, but not dead, either.

“That isn’t him,” Ollie protested.

“Shhh,” I hushed him, watching with rapt attention as the woman cautiously rose from the bed, wrapping a torn robe around herself to cover her nakedness. She moved out of the bedroom into what appeared to be a sitting room. From the stark, utilitarian style of the furnishings, I could tell she was clearly not in Maethalia. This had to be taking place in URA. The woman went to a table, where a briefcase stood open. With a wary glance at the open bedroom door, she opened a folder, picked up a scrap of paper, and looked at it.

“Let me see the paper,” I told the water. I didn’t know if such a command would work, but instantly the paper was near enough to read, as if brought closer with my own hand.

But the figures on the page were unfamiliar although URA used the same letters as Maethalia did. I should have been able to understand…

“It’s a cipher,” Ollie said.

“Let us read it,” I told the void.

The figures on the page blurred, rearranged themselves, and suddenly the writing became familiar.

The woman’s lips whispered the words at the same time we read them.

“The crates are in place beneath the city. At the appointed time, send all the squadrons. The time to end the war is nigh.”

“Crates beneath the city…” Ollie mused, rubbing his chin.

“Show us the crates,” I commanded.

The vision in the water blurred and shifted. When it reconstituted, it showed a vast catacomb filled with countless wooden crates.

“Those are the catacombs beneath Issastar,” Ollie said, frowning.

As we watched, a long-haired figure in a black robe strode up to one of the crates, inspecting it.

“Prelate Kortoi,” Ollie whispered.

The prelate began to lift the lid of the crate and Ollie and I leaned closer, ready to see what lay within.

Then, suddenly, the water went black again. The Oracle released a pent-up breath, as if some great exertion on her part had ended.

“That’s it,” she said. “That’s all it will show us today.”

My mind was spinning. “Kortoi. Could he be in league with whoever that was in URA?” I asked.

Ollie shook his head. “And what could be inside those crates? Weapons? Explosives?”

“Whatever they are, the city is in danger,” I said. “We’d better get back.”

“I agree. But we still haven’t seen Kit,” Ollie protested. “I don’t understand why it showed us this woman instead.”

The oracle pursed her lips. “You asked to see Kitty Rowley. The scrying is never wrong. The woman you saw is Kitty Rowley.”

Ollie rubbed his furrowed brow. “That means Kit…”

“Is not Kit,” I finished, a sick feeling opening up like a wound in my belly.

“So who is he?” Ollie said.

“That is what I mean to find out,” I said, rising from my seat and nodding to the Oracle. “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful.”

She shrugged. “But don’t thank me yet. Remember, you have to be very careful with how you respond to these visions. The void isn’t our friend. And the visions can be confusing. Some of the things they show us have already come to pass. Some are happening now. And some will happen in the future—but only if conditions remain as they are now.”

I nodded. “Thank you all the same.”

“Come see me again some time,” the Oracle said. “It gets lonely sitting here on this mountaintop drinking tea all day with these uptight priestesses.”

I smiled. I liked this strange Oracle. “I will,” I said.

“Until then, I’ll be watching—and I’ll be rooting for you,” the Oracle said.

As I went to turn and go, my eyes wandered once more to the scrying basin and I thought I saw something in the dark water. It was Kit, striding alone through a city of Issastar that was devastated and in flames. Tears shone in his eyes as he screamed my name.

Essa! Essa! ESSA!

Then, in a blink, the vision was gone.