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Due to her discovery of the eagle feather, Madi was utterly confident that her troupe’s performance this night was going to be a stunning success. Even so, she found herself breathless by the conclusion of the opening number, as excited as the rest of the crowd as they cheered and applauded enthusiastically.

  The opening ceremony was to consist of five songs in all, the fourth a ballad which saw Oliveah alone upon the stage with only her harp for accompaniment. Her voice, a high, smooth soprano, soared with perfection over the crowd as it told the story of a lost and then rediscovered love. It was a song as old as Dhanen’Mar itself, but in Oliveah’s hands, it was given a new life that brought tears to many an eye. Feeling her own eyes well with pride, Madi wondered if her friend knew just how very talented she was. It was sometimes difficult to be certain when it came to Oliveah—she was as level-headed as they came, at least for a Dhan’Marian.

  The final number was fast, loud, and designed to end the performance with a tumultuous and uplifting crescendo of both sound and sight. Clapping along with the rest of the crowd, Madi watched, transfixed, as the tumblers flipped in dizzying displays to the beat, as the dancers writhed in rhythm, as the fire-masters twirled their flaming batons, and as Reavis and Oliveah led them, their voices the power behind them all.

  The audience, a large gathering comprised of thousands, went utterly wild as the last note died and the yellow curtains upon the stage swept closed. Completely caught up in the revelry and infectious celebration of the crowd, Madi had to forcefully remind herself that she had no time to dawdle, that she did in fact have a very busy night of readings ahead of her.

  She broke away from the outer fringes of the crowd where she’d been watching and headed west down the generous, cobbled path that would lead her from the Performance Circle. Nearing the street, she passed by the same Justice officer who had given her such a hard time earlier.

  “Lady Savannon,” he nodded now as she swept by.

  “Officer,” she returned curtly, noting the respect now heavy in his tone. Of course, that respect had not been gained at learning of her standing as a diviner—instead hinging solely upon the truth of her family name. It was a fact that all male Savannons were born to Commerce, and all females to Destiny, and consequently this made her family one very dangerous to offend or oppose; a truth that angered her at times. She often felt that the reputation of her line worked only to smother much of her own identity.

  Madi did not overly mind being feared as a diviner, but she absolutely detested being feared as a Savannon.

  Now outside the Circle, she found the streets thronging. This was not surprising, for many, and not just those born to Arts, waited all year for the festival of Ardin’s Pride, a chance to toss all responsibility aside and do nothing but enjoy the numerous entertainments Tyrell had to offer. Historically, the opening and closing nights never failed to be the rowdiest, explaining the dense presence of the Legion of Justice, their white-mantled bodies present in every direction she looked.

  Madi took the next street south, her destination only a few blocks down. Twice men grabbed at her hand, attempting to entice her into joining them for the evening, but she politely declined their offers and kept to her path. Although her schedule this week was busy, she’d tried to leave herself a few days and nights off to seek out her own enjoyment, times she was very much looking forward to. Indeed, the next morning she and Oliveah planned to do nothing but shop.

  It was still several minutes before Thirteenth-hour when Madi entered into the Savannon-owned shop, The Seeing Eye, operated by her cousins Mika and Haile. The two lived and worked here in Tyrell year-round, earning the family a healthy income by selling the many arcane items displayed within the shop.

  Madi nodded a greeting to both as she stepped inside. Not surprisingly, Mika was behind the counter, counting out the day’s earnings, while Haile busied herself by stocking and organizing shelves filled with augury stones, spirit boards, healing ointments, good and bad luck potions, books on auguries and omens, catalyst gems, and a slew of other items fashioned and endorsed by the Savannon line of diviners.

  “How went the opening festivities?” Haile asked, glancing up from straightening a few jars of wart-cure.

  “Exceptional,” Madi told her, still infused with the light-hearted energy of the crowd. “A pity you had to miss them.”

  Haile looked forlorn, but said nothing.

  Mika spoke up, finally tearing his gaze away from the coins before him. “Everything is all set up for you, Madi.” He then diligently checked his time-piece. “It’s nearly Thirteenth, you’d best get yourself ready.”

  Madi agreed—she was booked solid for the next two hours, and her first appointment would be along at any moment. Leaving her cousins behind, she moved past Mika and swept aside the beaded curtain hanging at the rear of the shop, entering into the small room where she would give her readings.

  After giving the darkened room a quick once-over, she nodded in approval. Mika had everything ready for her. The candles and incense already burned, her augury stones were in their pouch on the table next to her glass fortune ball, a pot of tea steeped in case she was required to read leaves, as well as many more items, other possible divining tools, displayed upon the shelves lining the walls. Everything was near to hand, and she was grateful for Mika’s efficient manner. The methods of her readings could differ widely depending on her subject, and Madi liked to keep all her options open. One of her strangest divinations had been made through geomancy—a practice that consisted of throwing earth into the air and then reading how it came to fall upon a flat surface.

  She moved now to stand before the mirror at the far wall and gave herself a quick inspection. Her station demanded that she appear dignified, and she was pleased to note that her brief trek through Tyrell’s rowdy streets had not disheveled her. She quickly smoothed a few locks of her ebony hair back into place and then seated herself at the table.

  “I’m ready,” she called out to Mika. “You may send the first in when she arrives.”

  “Very good,” Mika called back, sounding distracted as he no doubt continued to add up his precious figures.

  If the matter was solely up to Madi, she would charge nothing for her readings—her family was one of the wealthiest in Dhanen’Mar, after all, and she hardly needed the money. But being part of a troupe demanded that she ask for at least a small fee, which she handed over to Moriss in totality, requesting no salary for her services. The week of Ardin’s Pride was different, however, for all performers were permitted to keep the entirety of their earnings, and so everything she brought in this week would be going into the Savannon coffers. Being as she was given a seasonal allowance from her father that amounted to more than she could ever hope to spend, Madi did not mind this. In truth, the majority of her money went into donations to the temple of Ehle, in Kohtala, the home city of Destiny.

  The appointments for this night as well as for the following week had all been made by Mika and Haile, who’d been promoting her presence in Tyrell for the week of Ardin’s Pride for some time. She wanted to wince at imagining what Mika was likely charging for her services, a thought that only reaffirmed to her the good she was doing by being a part of the Moriss Tipley Troupe. It was said people saved lifetimes to afford a reading from a Savannon diviner, a fact that did not hold true when she was on the road with her troupe. It was because of this that her chosen position was not looked upon kindly by some members of her family, but the support of others as well as her own steely resolve had refused to waver. The relationships within her family were complicated.

  While she waited now, Madi removed a slip of parchment from the pocket of her dress and read over the names of her upcoming appointments. First upon the list, and due at Thirteenth-hour, was a woman named Risane Tulan. The Tulans were a wealthy line that dealt primarily in horses, and Madi had made the acquaintance of many members of their family throughout her life. She had found them, with very few
exceptions, to be a haughty, pretentious people. Insight told her now that Risane was coming to her regarding a matter of the heart. Madi found this unsurprising, and further surmised that Risane sought assurances that she would wed the wealthy, handsome nobleman of her choice, and produce for him handsome, well-bred sons. Madi fought off a sigh—readings for the highborn could at times be tedious and feel like a waste of her talents, but she would do her duty and provide aid to any who sought her out, no matter how frivolous their reasons.

  She also recognized the second and third names on her list, both also born of well-known, established families, although the third was somewhat unique in the fact that many of her line were born to Death. But the fourth, and final, name on her list was completely unfamiliar to her.

  Lendiv Vakli, she read, pondering.

  If he was not from one of Dhanen’Mar’s affluent families, which his unfamiliar name clearly implied, then it was likely he was one who’d saved for many a year just to step into the presence of a Savannon diviner. It was a pity this man had not found her while she’d been traveling about the country with her troupe—for his reading would have cost a pittance in comparison to what it would this day. Perhaps she would speak to Mika about making this man some sort of bargain.

  “The Lady Risane Tulan,” she then heard Mika announce.

  Madi remained seated as the curtain parted and gave entrance to her first customer, a woman of about her own age but with a dreadfully plain face and self-important expression. Madi told her to take a seat at the table across from her, and then proceeded to listen as Risane explained that she was here to gain confirmation that she would marry the nobleman she currently fancied and bear him several strong sons who would not be born to War, Thieves, Chaos, or Death. The woman’s own Birth medallion displayed Love, backed by her prominently displayed Choice medallion, Commerce.

  Withholding another sigh, Madi adhered to the intuition that suggested tea leaves for this reading, and she bade Risane to drink of the steaming brew.

  After assuring the woman that she would indeed wed the man she fancied, and bear him two sons and one daughter (although she could give no promises as to their Birth Patrons, as all three remained unclear), Madi next saw a middle-aged lord who questioned the fidelity of his much-younger wife—and for good reason, according to the augury stones.

  The heavy-set lord took this revelation in silently, fuming, before issuing forth his next request.

  “Can you put name to the one with whom she betrays me?”

  “I have no name to give you, but can see that he wears a Travelers Birth medallion,” she replied, suspecting where this was now heading. It was the most unsavory part of being a diviner, but something she could do nothing to change.

  The lord’s eyes gleamed, and his Revenge Choice medallion briefly caught the glow of the nearest candle. “Tell me this, then, diviner. If I should have them killed, will my deed go unpunished?”

  He wanted to know if he would get away with the murders, obviously. And if she tossed the stones, and they showed he would, she’d have no choice but to tell him—and then tell no other living soul that this conversation had ever taken place. For all diviners were bound to the strictest secrecy regarding anything they were told or learned during a session, and to break that confidentiality meant being stripped of their title and possibly even jailed. There was no leeway regarding this matter.

  With a heavy heart, she put the lord’s question to the stones and gave them a final toss. He seemed to hold his breath as he waited for her answer, and laughed gleefully when she gave it. Money would be required to change hands, but the murders of his wife and her lover would go unpunished.

  Promising to leave for her a nice tip, the lord ambled his way back through the beaded curtain to settle his debt with Mika. Madi fought off a shudder as she watched him go. Praise be to Ehle that these sorts of readings were rare, but nonetheless they tended to make her feel unclean and guilty. She knew she had just aided in the killing of two people. She also knew there was absolutely nothing further she could do about it. It was the only part of being a diviner she truly detested—for she felt unequivocally that her purpose in life was to help people, not harm them.

  Madi shook her head and attempted to clear her mind before her next appointment arrived.

  Her third customer was a frail-looking woman who appeared to be in her late twenties. She was a Reif, a family of noble standing but one who tried to stay distanced from the many intrigues of court. Their line was also afflicted by the Death Patron quite frequently. The Reifs were generally ridiculed and ostracized for this, but since Madi had never met any of their clan personally, she held no opinion regarding them as of yet.

  The woman before her held herself nobly, but her eyes were kind and she gave what seemed a genuine smile as she sank down opposite Madi at the table. Her Birth medallion was Death—which never boded an easy life—and her Choice Healing. It was not an uncommon pairing for those born to the dominion she was.

  “How may I aid you this day, lady?” Madi asked quietly.

  She then listened as Mila Reif spoke of the three miscarriages she’d suffered over the past five years and of her desire to know if she would ever deliver a healthy child, or if she and her husband should simply stop hoping.

  Madi felt terrible for the woman, who seemed a truly kind person, and hoped she would be able to give a positive answer. After a brief moment of contemplation, she reached for her deck of fortune cards and handed them to Mila.

  “Shuffle and then cut with your left hand,” she instructed.

  Mila did so slowly, and then watched as Madi began laying the cards out in a pattern.

  Madi held her face impassive as she studied the cards. Yes, there were the three miscarriages—all girls. It also appeared as though some sort of tragedy had taken Mila’s parents when she’d been but a child.

  “You were raised by your aunt and uncle?” Madi asked her.

  Mila nodded. “Since I was five. They also have two sons of their own, with one of them also bearing the curse of our family.” She was speaking of their Birth Patron, of course—her own and her cousin’s.

  Madi looked back to the cards. “You and your cousin are very close, are you not?”

  “As if he truly was my brother.”

  Madi saw shadows she did not understand around that young man, but since he was not the subject Mila had come to question her about, she moved on to the next cards. She was then silent a long while as she struggled to find a way to say what she next must.

  “Please, do not be hesitant,” Mila’s soft voice issued quietly. “I knew it would be wise to prepare myself for anything you might say, good or ill, before coming here tonight.”

  Madi nodded and raised her head to meet the other woman’s eyes. “I see a son. He is healthy and born to War. But he is not of your husband.”

  Mila’s sudden jubilation froze, and it was clear her mind was buzzing about the implications of this.

  “Is my husband to die, leaving me to remarry, or will I be taken by force?” she finally asked in a steady tone.

  Madi shook her head. “My lady, I regret I cannot answer that, for the cards are unclear. But there is violence surrounding this child—not by his doing, but violence all the same.”

  “But he . . . is good?” she asked, tears rising to the corners of her eyes.

  Madi looked again at the cards, wanting to be certain.

  “I see no evil intent within him.”

  Mila was suddenly nodding. “Yes, that makes sense, if he is born to War—no doubt he will make his way to Lutarre Keep, and one day ride with the warlords. Surely that would explain the violence you see.”

  “That is entirely possible,” Madi told her, frustrated that she could discern no clearer conclusions from the cards. But that was sometimes the way of it.

  “Thank you, diviner,” Mila said then, wiping away her loose tears. “Although you may not have told me exa
ctly what I longed to hear, I feel more joy than I could possibly express to know that I will bear a healthy child.”

  Despite these words, Madi was still left feeling depressed once the woman departed. She hoped her final reading, with the mysterious Lendiv Vakli, would end on a happier note than had her previous two.

  Her last appointment arrived precisely on time. She turned her eyes curiously to the curtain as she heard Mika greet the man, and when the beads parted a moment later, an instant change in the feel of the air alerted her.

  “Diviner,” Lendiv Vakli greeted her as he entered.

  “Please, take a seat,” she replied with a gesture and a nod, even as she rapidly attempted to assess the feel now all about her—or, more accurately, all about him. It was dense, heavy, leading her to conclude that there was much to this man hidden beneath the surface of his appearance.

  His age seemed near to thirty, yellow of hair and blue of eye. He was not tall and not short, of medium build, and clearly Dhan’Marian. Given his odd name, she’d been wondering if he was native to another country, perhaps one upon the western continent. Obviously, however, this was not the case.

  His Birth medallion displayed that he’d been born to Arts. His Choice Patron was concealed.

  He observed her study of him and smirked slightly as he dropped into his seat.

  “Do I catch your fancy, diviner?” he asked.

  She raised a dark brow at him. “I find you interesting, although not particularly your appearance,” she told him.

  He laughed. “A diviner worth her salt—always trust to a Savannon. A lesson I have learned the hard way, I’m afraid.”

  She narrowed her eyes even more. “How may I be of assistance to you this evening?”

  He sat back and gestured. “I thought that would be obvious. Tell me my fortune.”

  “One typically has a specific request to put forth to me,” she replied.

  “Is that required?” he came back, an obvious challenge.

  She pursed her lips together, barely able to refrain from frowning. “It is not. If you do not ask after anything specific, I will simply relay what I am shown.”

  He nodded. “Then let us begin, for I am a busy man.”

  Madi’s gaze strayed, seemingly of its own accord, to her glass fortune ball. She reached out and pulled it to the center of the table, and then asked the man to briefly lay his hands upon its base. He did so without comment.

  Madi leaned forward and gazed into the ball. She was still somewhat unsettled by the feel of her customer, and tried to prepare herself for anything as she looked into the depths of the glass.

  “You are a man of many faces,” she began. “In fact, you are wearing one not your own even now.”

  He snorted. “Did you truly believe “Lendiv Vakli” to be my real name? To be anyone’s real name? Use your head, diviner.”

  She glanced up at him. “Surely you must realize that such a subterfuge is unnecessary with me. Diviners are bound to very strict laws regarding the confidentiality of our clients.”

  “I am aware,” was his only reply.

  Madi fought off another frown and looked back into the ball. Colors were now swirling there about the images, their shades and hues becoming very clear, and utterly indisputable.

  “You carry with you a great secret. A secret of such magnitude that it could potentially affect . . . all of Dhanen’Mar,” she trailed off, unable to keep herself from looking back up at him.

  His eyes had narrowed and he was leaning toward her now. “Go on,” he said.

  She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat and looked back. “You have come to me for the purpose of discovering your next step. If you should pursue the truth that lies beneath this secret, or leave it be and forever turn away.”

  “And?” he demanded, sounding incredibly tense now.

  Madi blinked, staring down into the colors of the ball now completely obscuring the images. The dominant color was yellow, its outer fringes purple. She knew what that meant.

  “The one you must next speak to wears the medallions of Arts and Destiny. This person is a woman and her name is . . .” Madi broke off and stared in shock at the letters the colors in the ball had now formed. This could not be right. But how could she deny it?

  “Well?” the man across from her demanded, now sounding nearly frenzied. “What is the name?”

  Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet him.

  “Oliveah Oslund,” she said.

  Chapter 3