and blue and another shade of green. Across her lap lay his new clothing.
She fondled and sniffed and tasted it, closed her eyes and drew it through her
dimple-backed hands. And all the while she was moving her lavender-tinted lips.
The vastness of her bosom was almost still as her breathing slowed, her
heartbeat slowed, her muttering slowed and she slid away from herself, a great
gross kitten at her divining.
No charlatan, this mother of eleven who had raised nine, but one with the Gift,
the power. Moonflower Saw.
Now she Saw for Hanse as she had before, and he was not all that happy with it.
Nor was she, even in trance.
“I See you, darling boy, all nobly turned out in this finery, and I See a great
light hosting y-oh! Oh, oh Hanse … it is, it is He! Here is Hanse, aye, and
here is He, Himself-Us, god of gods! And I See. . . ah! Hmp. I like not what
else I See, for it is Mignue, my Mignue, with you and the Lord of Lords.”
He nodded, frowning. That was her pet name for her daughter. He accepted that
somehow Mignureal was a part of this… whatever this was.
“Ah! Here is Hanse with a sword, and wielding it well, well … for a god,
Hanse, soldierly Hanse I See… for a god, against a god!”
Against a god. Father Ils, what means this all? What would you make of me? And
he had an idea: “Who… who gave me the sword?”
“A bas-no, no, a foster son. Ah-a stepson. Yes. A s-“
“And who gave me the clothing? Is that Mignureal?”
“Mignue? No, oh no, she is a good g-ah. I see her. Eshi! It is Eshi Herself who
has given you this clothing, Han-” And she shuddered of a sudden, and sagged,