Thraxas and the Oracle (10 page)

“It is good of you to visit,” says the High Priestess. She has a clear, strong voice.

“I would not pass up the opportunity, High Priestess.”

“I appreciate it’s difficult for you these days.”

Lisutaris produces something from inside her cloak. Her purse, which, I recall, contains a magic pocket.

“I’ve brought you an offering from the Guild.”

“There was no need.”

“We feel the need, High Priestess.”

If I was surprised at the proceedings so far, it’s nothing to what I feel when Lisutaris starts emptying gold out of her purse. The magic pocket inside her purse is effectively limitless in volume. You can fit anything in there, and it takes up no space and weighs nothing till you bring it out again. Lisutaris starts hauling out thousand-guran gold bars, laying them at the High Priestess’s feet. The Priestess watches this quite calmly, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. As the pile mounts, my amazement grows. Just how much money does the Sorcerers Guild give to this place? Apart from the thousand-guran bars, there’s a large bundle of gold coins, a good-sized pile of assorted jewels, a ceremonial tripod made of gold, several silver tiaras, a few gold crowns and even a small gold statue.

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.

“Is there no end to your boorish behaviour? How dare you speak disrespectfully to the High priestess!”

“What? You heard what she said to me!
You will throw down your shield and flee!
I’ve never been so insulted in my life!”

“You’ve been insulted far worse,” rages Lisutaris. “Did you fail to notice how important this expedition was to me? Is it impossible for you to show respect for others?”

“Not when they’re accusing me of cowardice! What’s the matter with you and the rest of the Sorcerers Guild? How much gold have you given that old fraud over the years?”

Lisutaris’s eyes blaze. It’s probably not a great idea to annoy such a powerful sorcerer as Lisutaris. I’m wearing a good spell-protection charm round my neck, woven from red Elvish cloth, but it’s not strong enough to deflect a spell from the Head of the Sorcerers Guild. Very few things are strong enough to do that. Nonetheless, I refuse to back down.

“This whole enterprise has been a dangerous waste of time. If we get ambushed and killed on the way back, don’t blame me.”

“It was not a waste of time,” says Ibella.

“Really? Lisutaris didn’t even get an oracle!”

“It will be transmitted at the appropriate time,” says Lisutaris.

I laugh. “I notice the High Priestess didn’t mention that before you handed over the cash. If I was paying that much I’d expect quicker results.”

“The High Priestess is not answerable to you!” cries Lisutaris, furiously.

“Seems like she’s not answerable to anyone. Has it not struck any of you that these were the worst oracles ever? No insight whatsoever. She said
'much death'
to Hanama. How much prophetic power did that require? Hanama’s an assassin! Hardly a brilliant piece of fortune telling, was it?”

“I took it as an interesting insight,” says Hanama, stiffly.

“I liked my oracle,” says Gurd.

“That’s because she said
'much life'
to you! Anyone would like that when they’re going to war. Doesn’t mean the woman has any power of telling the future. As for Makri -
'fortunate or unfortunate queen?'
Some chance.”

Lisutaris takes a stride towards me. “Captain Thraxas. I’m ordering you to be quiet.”

Lisutaris is of course, my commanding officer. She can order me to be quiet. Here, on this secret mission, I wasn’t expecting her to. I stare at her.

“Very good, Commander,” I say.

“I’ve got a
glorious ending
to look forward to,” grunts Coranius. From his tone, it’s impossible to tell what he thinks about that prediction. “We should be going.”

It’s late afternoon. I clamber on my horse, less gracefully than I’d have liked. The atmosphere among us is bad. Lisutaris is still furious, and I’m about as angry as a troll with a toothache. Nonetheless, it’s still my responsibility to lead us back to camp. I turn in my saddle to check that we’re lined up in the correct order. “Move out,” I say, and we head away from the temple. Behind me I hear Ibella talking to Lisutaris.

“The Priestess told me to
fear only poison.
Not so bad, in the circumstances.”

“Have you properly applied my
Spell of Resisting Poison?”
asks Lisutaris.

“Yes.”

“Then you’re protected from all known harmful substances. Make sure you maintain the spell.”

That sounds like a useful piece of sorcery. Unfortunately it’s not on offer to me. Many of the Sorcerers Guild’s most powerful spells are only given out to the most important members of the army, and the highest ranking diplomats. They don’t have the power to protect everyone. We pass out of the temple courtyard, through the clearing, and back into the clinging undergrowth. We’re immediately plunged into near-darkness from the weight of vegetation above and around us. It suits my mood. I hate oracles.

Chapter Ten

It seems darker on the return journey. Perhaps the afternoon sky has clouded over, though the canopy of trees reaching over the narrow path makes it impossible to tell. We travel in silence, broken only by a bird cawing somewhere in the forest, a sound that rapidly becomes irritating. I try and forget my annoyance, and concentrate on getting us back to our base camp as swiftly as possible. I still have a very bad feeling about this mission, and I trust my feelings. They’ve helped me survive through many campaigns. I don’t like the noisy squawking from the unseen bird. It stops. I don’t like that either. I hold up my hand, bringing us to a halt, then dismount and squeeze my way past the others till I’m standing next to Lisutaris. She asks me why we’ve halted.

“Someone’s watching us.”

Lisutaris turns her head, scanning each side of the pathway. “I can’t sense anyone.”

“I can.”

“Let me check.” Coranius the Grinder holds up his hand and mutters a few words. After a few seconds there’s a faint flash of light.

“What was that?”

“Standard scanning spell. I can’t sense anyone nearby. We’re alone in this forest.”

“I don’t think we are. I don’t like the way that bird went silent.”

“Maybe it’s having its dinner,” says Coranius, with some degree of sarcasm.

Lisutaris frowns. I’m not her favourite person at the moment, but she doesn’t dismiss my concern out of hand. She speaks a few words in some ancient language. “I’ve scanned the area too,” she says, seconds later. “I didn’t pick up anyone either.” Lisutaris never seems to need much preparation to perform her spells. They just happen instantly. It’s impressive. That doesn’t mean she’s always right.

“Can we move along?” comes Hanama’s voice, from the rear of the column. “There’s no point wasting time here.”

“I’d listen to Thraxas,” says Gurd. “I’ve marched through a lot of forests with him. He can recognise danger.”

I ask Lisutaris if she can put up some sort of sorcerous protection around our group. “I don’t want someone firing a crossbow bolt into you.”