The next step was deeper than he had expected. Furthermore, the water was warm, when he had expected coldness. That surprised him so much that he almost toppled in bodily. Steadying himself with a hand on the wall again, he rested his weight on the slimy slab and waited until the widening ripples died away. Warm water explained the mist, on a cold morning.
The surface cleared very slowly, surprisingly slowly. Gradually the reflections steadied—the moon, the clouds, the mists. Trees. His own face. All dark and indistinct.
Except that the moon was now full.
No, it was a pale image of the sun. All the random shapes of mist and scum and shadows and reflections had subtly reformed into a meaningful pattern—an indistinct, alien landscape. He was seeing a daylight view darkened as by smoky glass. First, he made out a distant castle, on a peak. Then he picked out the summer cloud behind it, dimmed to patches of pale gray. The stretch of water in the foreground must be the sea, for waves were running onto a beach. So that angular rock was an island, and now he saw that there was a town on the slope below the towers.
Where was this? What use was a prophecy that he couldn’t identify? Just as he was about to call out to ask the others if they knew the place, he realized that what he had thought to be his own reflection was someone else. He was staring into the puzzled eyes of a boy, a young jotunn in the shabby work clothes of a fisherman or farmhand. He was standing in the foreground with his hands in his pockets.
Startled, Shandie moved. Ripples flowed out from his shin; the image was gone. Tight with excitement, he waited for it to re-form. This time the water stilled more quickly, but the moon was again at the quarter and there was no castle, no boy. The magic show was over.
He retrieved his right foot, removed the other sandal, and tried with his left foot. The water seemed much colder and the ripples faded swiftly; he was going to be shown nothing more. One prophecy to a customer.
Carrying his sandals, he walked up the stair, feeling exceedingly frustrated. Perhaps the poor old thing had tried its best for him, but its best had been unsatisfying. His journey had been wasted. At the same time, he felt uneasy at the spookiness of sorcery. He was much more familiar with the occult than most mundanes. As a child, he had once watched the wardens all materialize in Emine’s Rotunda, and that same evening he had seen a sorcerer vanish in a pillar of fire. He had sat in the visitors’ gallery when Witch Grunth appeared in the Senate chamber to receive the address of welcome upon her accession. Olybino had been a frequent visitor during his military days. But he was not so familiar with the occult that he could feel blase about it.
“You came a long way to wash your feet,” Acopulo remarked snidely, ”if I may say so!” He was the only one of the group who might say so and he knew it. Even so, he was presuming far.
Shandie ignored the irreverence. “You saw nothing?”
“You did?” the scholar demanded.
The others had not made a sound, but their silent shock was unquestionable.
“Yes, I saw a vision of a castle and a town, but where it was I have no idea. And I saw a boy. Fifteen or sixteen, maybe.” Shandie thought for a moment. “A jotunn, but an odd face. His eyes seemed dark, although it was hard to tell colors. His hair needed a good brushing . . . reminded me of someone, but I don’t know who. And you saw nothing?”
No, they all said, they had seen nothing.
“And my other foot got nothing, so it is one per person. One of you try, then. By the way—the water is quite warm. It shocked me so much I almost fell in.”
The others exchanged uneasy glances, none willing to claim precedence.
“Dawn will be here shortly,” Acopulo said. “You go first, Signifer, and we grown-ups can take our time on the stairs.” With a glance to Shandie for his consent, Ylo hurried off. The two civilian advisors followed.
Shandie put on his sandals. Then he leaned on the crumbling balustrade with Hardgraa and watched the procession going down. “You will not venture, Centurion?”
“Not unless you want me to, sir. I’d rather not know.”
“Sensible man! All I’ve gotten out of this is an Evil-begotten mystery that will probably worry me for years. Every time I go near the sea, I shall wonder. Our young friend is going to go with the right foot, also. I expect he will see cohorts of gorgeous women.”
Hardgraa grunted. “Probably! The other foot would show legions of angry husbands.”
Shandie chuckled. He was always taken unaware when the gruff old campaigner chose to reveal his sense of humor. “More’n likely!”
The ripples were barely visible from the terrace, Shandie noticed. He could see nothing unusual happening in the pool. Ylo seemed to have witnessed something, though, for he made a remark to Acopulo, who had now reached the bottom. The two exchanged a few words. The little man laughed. He sat down carefully and Ylo helped him remove his boot—his right boot. The signifer came trotting up the stairs, slowing only to pass the wide bulk of Umpily.
“Well?” Shandie said as Ylo reached the top. “The most beautiful woman in the world?”
“Oh, yes! You saw her?” The brightening sky gave enough light now to show the excitement on the signifer’s face.
“No. I was just guessing. Really? That’s what you saw?” Ylo nodded agreement so vigorously that his wolf ears flapped. “Yes, your Highness! Absolutely . . . Beyond description!”
“Lying naked on a bed?”
“In a garden, but, yes. Naked.” Ylo sighed deeply. ”Incredible!”
Well, he ought to be a good judge.
Hardgraa made a soft snorting noise. “I hope you noted her features so you’ll recognize her when you meet in public?”
“I’ll know her anywhere!” Ylo promised.
Shandie wished he was as confident about his own vision. When he got back to Hub, he would crack a whip over the Imperial bureaucracy and demand a list of all offshore islands with castles on them. The sun had been low behind the island, so it must lie off either the east coast or the west, not north or south. The search would keep the quill-pushers out of trouble for a while. But it would not explain the strange woman who had initiated this seance, a woman who claimed she did not fear the wardens.
Down below, Umpily was gingerly lowering his left foot into the water. Acopulo was mounting the steps, carrying his right boot.
“Any luck?” Shandie called.
“I saw something,” the little man said, but he added nothing more until he had reached the terrace. “But not very helpful.”
“You wish to tell me in private?”
“No. It’s certainly not worth keeping secret.” The political advisor sat down stiffly on a section of fallen balustrade and pulled on his boot. “I saw my old mentor, the venerated Doctor Sagorn.” He sniffed.
During his student years, Shandie had heard Acopulo relate many tales of the great sage, too many tales. “Is he still alive, then?”
“I don’t see how he can possibly be. He was old as the Protocol when I knew him, and that was thirty years ago.” Acopulo screwed up his wizened features. “I seem to have been granted a retroactive prophecy! One should trust in the Gods and not such sorcerous gimcrackery.” He had already forgotten that he had recommended the experiment himself.
“His Lordship is going with the left foot,” Hardgraa remarked thoughtfully.
Acopulo lowered his voice. “He may be seeking news of his dear wife! I suspect a lack of trust!” He snickered maliciously.
“His wife died almost a year ago,” Shandie said. “You didn’t know?”
The scholar choked and began spluttering apologies. Feeling that he had been rather malicious himself, Shandie pulled a face and turned away to wait for the fat man. Umpily had sat down on the stairs to replace his boot. He took his time coming up. The sky was blue and the moon a faint smudge now, half hidden in cloud.
“Well?” Shandie demanded.
“Not well, Highness,” Umpily puffed. “I . . . I saw no vision at all.” His flabby features seemed unusually rigid and pale.
“That was unfortunate,” Shandie said cautiously. “I expect the light was wrong, or the pool exhausted by its efforts. Let us be on our way, gentlemen. We have a long, hard journey ahead of us.”
Strange intelligence:
Say from whence
You owe this strange intelligence? or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
With such prophetic greeting?
Speak, I charge you.