Book II, Part 5
The storm broke by morning, leaving a few scattered gray clouds that continued an intermittent drizzle over the city. Cal, Benzan, Lok, and Delem left their inn early, making their way toward the docks district of the city. The would meet Dana there; after they had agreed last night to let the young woman accompany them, she had departed to, as she put it, “wrap up some loose ends.” They would also meet the Tymoran agent that they were supposed to escort for the first time; apparently she had been unavailable to see them until the very day of the departure. They knew the way, having already made one visit earlier in the tenday to see the ship and introduce themselves to its captain, an elf by the name of Kael Horath.
“I hope the weather holds up,” Benzan said, looking up at the lingering clouds overhead. To the west, over the sea, the skies appeared clear, but they all knew how quickly the winter storms could blow in from the ocean and unload their wet cargo.
“Well, hopefully the name of the vessel bodes well for a winter journey,” Cal said optimistically. “And that captain seems to know what he’s about, from what I could see.”
“Never did any ocean sailing, did you?” Benzan returned. “I’ve only sailed on the Sea of Fallen Stars, but I can tell you, that even that isn’t pleasant to ride in the wintertime.”
“Well, I
did live in Waterdeep, and there was a fair amount of sailing going on out of there,” Cal replied. “It will be all right, you’ll see. Once we get further south, past the horn of Tethyr, the weather will improve some, and we’ll have a strong southerly breeze to speed our way.”
At the mention of Tethyr, Delem frowned, but did not say anything.
They saw that they were passing into the docks district of the city, a place of loud noises, strange smells, and unusual sights. People from all over the west of Faerun were in evidence despite the lingering rain, and the sounds of a dozen tongues filled the air. Over it all hung the salty tang of the sea, and the cries of seagulls hovering on the breeze.
“Starting a journey, travelers?” a scratchy voice called out to them from alongside the boulevard. “A long journey, should see what the fates have in store fer you, first.”
The four companions turned to see that the voice belonged to a wizened old woman, her face a maze of wrinkles, dressed in a once-colorful smock that hung about her bony frame like a shroud. She was hovering in the entry of a small shop, its waterlogged frame looking like it could collapse at any moment.
“A fortune teller,” Delem said.
“Read the threads of fate fer you, travelers,” the woman crowed at them, “only a pair o’gold fer each of you.”
Benzan and Lok had already turned to go, but Cal stopped them. “Maybe I should,” the gnome said. “Might help keep me from getting killed again.”
Benzan turned to him. “Don’t tell me you believe in this mummery?”
“Come on, we’ve got a little time,” Cal persisted. “What do you say, Delem?”
The sorcerer shrugged. “I guess.”
The four of them followed the old crone into the crowded front room of the run-down shack. The place smelled of herbs and other odors less readily defined, and old hangings of tattered cloth decorated with arcane symbols covered the walls. There was a tiny table in the center of the room, upon which rested a block of quartz that was only approximately spherical in shape.
The old woman directed them to sit down at the chairs around the table; or at least for Cal and Delem to sit, for there were only three chairs in the room all together. She sat down facing them and bent low over the crystal.
“So, who wishes to know of their future?” the old woman cackled.
“Why don’t you do a reading for all of us,” Cal said. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” he said, somehow reading Benzan’s scowl without even turning. He counted out a number of gold pieces, and placed them on the table beside the quartz crystal.
The money quickly vanished, and the woman began moving her hands over the crystal, muttering phrases to herself that might have been arcane syllables or manufactured gibberish. The crystal did begin to glow, slightly, a blue radiance that cast a pallor over the woman’s face.
“Four strangers, meet on a desolate road,” she said. “Already they have faced dangers together, binding them as one against the darkness that lurks hidden. Spirits of fate, speak through me of where their course will take them.”
Delem glanced up at Benzan, who shrugged. “She’s got the showmanship down, I’ll give you that,” he whispered.
The woman opened her mouth to speak again, but suddenly, surprising them with the violence of it, she jerked back in her chair, her eyes popping wide. She opened her mouth, and a hollow voice, different from her earlier screeching, came from deep within her. Her lips did not move, but the voice was clearly audible.
“Four strands in the web of fate, four threads in the weave of life
Will walk the roads of the West during a time of strife
One will produce a scion that will prove the bane of nations
One will end his days in peace, surrounded by generations
One will be forever destroyed, his soul consumed in the fire
One will… one will…”
The old woman hesitated, squirming in her seat as if resisting the words that wanted to come.
“… one will join the ranks of gods, to which few mortals can aspire!”
With that, she collapsed forward onto the table, as suddenly as if the string keeping her taut had been abruptly cut. Delem crouched beside her, concerned, but Benzan said, “It’s all part of the act, I’m sure she’s fine.”
Indeed, the woman stirred, and as her head rose she looked at them with a lingering confusion in her eyes. “I’m sorry… sometimes the spirits do not wish to share their wisdom. No refunds.”
As the four companions left the shack and continued on their way, they spoke of the unusual scene they had just witnessed.
“That was weird,” Cal said.
“She knew about us, how we met,” Delem said, his expression troubled. Clearly, the “consumed in the fire” line had given him pause, and he glanced back several times at the shack even after it disappeared into the crowd behind them.
“They always make it vague enough to apply to anybody,” Benzan said. “Look, if she really was legit, a powerful diviner, do you think she’d be selling visions for two gold a shot down by the docks? She was a canny one, I’ll grant you that, and maybe it was worth the gold for the show, but I wouldn’t worry too much about that ‘prophecy’ if I were you.”
“I liked the ‘end his days in peace’ one, myself,” Lok offered as they saw the tall masts of ships rise up above the crowds ahead of them, marking their destination.
Still talking about their strange encounter with the fortune teller, they made their way to their ship.