~*~
The fortuneteller did not consider herself an unkindly woman, and she came very close to feeling a pang of guilt. Usually she needed to work harder. This young notso made it almost too easy. She seldom saw a more willing customer. Yes, she almost felt guilty. Almost, but dinnertime comes every day and one has to eat after all.
“Well, I could do a card reading. That might say more. But I’d have to charge you. It takes a bit of time, and I do need to make a living. These free readings don’t put food on the table, you know.”
“Well, how much would you need?”
“I can see you’re a nice boy, so I’d only ask you for two silver-fruit. But, I have to be honest with you. The cards probably won’t tell us a whole lot more than a simple palm reading.” She never uttered a more honest statement to a customer in her life. “And I have a feeling that whatever lies ahead for you might be pretty involved.”
“Oh, I see. Well, maybe there’s something else we could do.” The old woman suspected Muce racked his seemingly simple brain for all the information he ever collected about magic.
“How about a crystal ball?” he finally suggested. “Do you have one of those?”
“Crystal ball? Sure, I have a crystal ball. No one in my business would be without one. Whoever heard of a fortuneteller without a crystal? But I’ll let you in on a little secret; it’s really just to impress the suckers. It’s fancy but no better than cards when you get right down to it. No, if you want to know the future, you have to read entrails. Yep, that’s the ticket. You can’t go wrong with guts. Guts know, you know.” She winked and tapped the side of her nose with a wrinkled finger. “Have you ever heard someone say that their guts tell them things or they always trust their gut?” She paused, waiting for him to answer.
“Well, yeah, sure.”
“There you go.”
Her customer considered for a moment. It must have sounded logical enough to him. “But can you do that? Read entrails, I mean.”
“Sure, it’s actually sort of a specialty with me. I’m something of an entrails expert, if I do say so myself. But it’s a pretty expensive procedure. I mean, you have to have the entrails to begin with. That means you have to defray the cost of the source of the entrails. Those things don’t grow on trees, you know. Then there’s the cost of the specialist. Not just anyone can do this. It takes a considerable amount of training and experience, and that costs a lot to get, both in time and in money. And then that’s only if they have the gift, otherwise, all the learning and practice in the world won’t help. But, it just so happens I have all of that, so you’re in luck. If you had to call in an expert, you’d be paying for transportation and lodging too. So, if you look at it that way, you’d really be getting a bargain.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. But how much would it cost me to have you do it? I mean, considering you’re already here, and all.”
“Well, let’s see. I could probably do the procedure for two gold-trees.”
“Gee, I don’t know. That’s a lot of money.”
“I’ll tell you what. You seem like a nice young man, and I like you. On top of that, I have a feeling this could be important, you being the companion of a prince. How about one gold and eight silver pieces? But don’t tell anyone. I can’t give everyone rates like that.”
He paused only a moment before responding. “Well, all right. I suppose so. Like you said, I’m the companion of a prince now, so I have a responsibility to know as much as I can about, uh, stuff.” He reached into the folds of his cloak for his purse.
“Of course you do. I can see you’re going to be an important asset to this prince of yours already, and I can tell you that without doing any reading.”
Muce placed the required coins on the table. The old woman immediately snatched them, grabbed her cane, and rose from her chair.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, leaving the tent through a flap in the back.
Rattling and squawking noises entered from beyond the canvas shortly followed by the fortuneteller returning with a dead chicken held firmly by the neck.
“I keep a few of these just for this kind of thing.” She limped to the wicker trunk and opened it. “These are special birds. Only those hatched from an egg laid on the first day of a full moon will do. Then, they have to be fed only on grain grown next to running water.”
She retrieved a long knife with an ornate handle and a large red towel from the trunk.
“And a bunch of other stuff too, but I’m giving away trade secrets here. Can you move those cards for me?” She motioned with her head at the deck on the table.
“Oh, sure.”
She spread the towel with care, smoothing out any wrinkles, and placed the chicken in the center of it. Giving it a critical examination to imply mystical analysis, she laid the knife parallel to the dead bird on the side facing her. Still standing, she closed her eyes and began reciting words she knew would be incomprehensible to her customer, since she invented them herself. Slowly opening her eyes, she reached down and grasped the bird by the neck. She lifted it with theatrical exaggeration and held it motionless in her outstretched left hand. Without looking, she found the knife handle, lifted it from the table, and held it in her other hand. She straightened her back as much as her aging frame would allow while continuing her chant. After a suitably long time, which often announced its end with a pain in her hip, she exclaimed, “Gah!” and quickly ripped open the chicken with the knife, spilling the bird’s warm guts on the towel.
“All right now. Let’s see what we have,” she said, settling into her chair.
Her customer looked on with obvious fascination.
“Hmm. That’s interesting. I see a journey here. Perhaps a long journey.”
“Really? Wow! That’s probably right! You see the prince needs to decide what we’re going to do about the war, and all, and he was thinking about going to see that Warden thing to see if he could find out anything, but that’s in Gotrox somewhere, and that would be kind of a long journey. Well, not real long but kind of far.”
“Yes, I see that now. A journey that takes you to a foreign land is what it says. That can mean far away, but it doesn’t have to. Let’s see. What else do we have here?”
“Where’s the thing that tells you I’m going on a journey? Does it say if it’s going to be easy? Should I pack extra food? One of my favorite things to eat is potatoes, which is good because they travel well. I really like potatoes. My mom used to make this kind that—”
“Do you want to know what this bird’s liver says or not?” the old woman asked harshly.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“That’s quite all right. Let’s see. Where was I? Oh, yes. Here we go. I see danger and delay. I see hardship and, uh, hunger.”
Muce shuddered a bit but remained silent.
“I see sleepless nights and weary days. Pain and loss. Worry, sadness, twists, turns, mud, blood, and confusion!” Her voice rose in volume as she progressed through the list. She paused and took a dramatic breath. “But at the end there is success and great reward. You must work for it and overcome several obstacles. It will not be easy. It seems you have a very rough road ahead, young man.”
She paused for a moment. Muce still said nothing, his face a mask of stunned awe.
“I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you,” she said finally.
“Wow. A very rough road, huh?” His eyes remained wide.
“Yes, that’s what it indicates.”
He cocked his head as if considering the implications of her predictions. “Do you think maybe I should get some new boots?”
“What?”
“New boots. For that rough road. The ones I have now are starting to get a bit worn, and it wouldn’t be good to have worn boots on a rough road.”
She rose from her chair and grabbed the cane leaning against the table. “No, I don’t suppose it would a bad idea at that. I think it’s a very good one, in fact. Why
don’t you go out right now and see about those boots?” She gave him an encouraging pat on the back.
“Thanks, I will.” He gave her a big, innocent smile and then stepped out of the tent and back into the bustling, open-air market.
After he left, she took the chicken out the back of the tent and sat on a stool near a black iron pot of water steaming over some hot coals. She dipped the bird and began plucking. Her next reading would have to involve vegetables. Chicken soup would be so much better with potatoes and onions.