The Orphan of Saint Olette

Twenty-one

Shay wasn't an idiot, by any means. He was illiterate, and he thought with his fists instead of the brains that he did possess, but that did not make him an idiot. Even an idiot could have figured out why the Oracle wanted him singled out, and if he were a more prideful man he might have been insulted that she thought she could trick him so easily. He would just have to keep his guard up until morning. Oracles couldn't do their stuff while a person was asleep, could they? Maybe he would have to forgo sleep for the night, as well. That wasn't something he was looking forward to.

"Shay, I have a favour to ask," the Oracle said, still seated at that miniature table of hers. He was starting to think she was nailed to the floor.

"If it's about my future, you already know the answer," he said a little sternly.

"It is not about your future, though I am certain you will let me read you eventually," she said, a playful grin on her face that the Olmaean couldn't help chuckling at. "Shay, I need your help. I would ask Rinian, but he does not seem the type."

"Y'know, I don't remember telling you my name."

The Oracle laughed. "I am an Oracle, Shay."

The Olmaean had to give that one to her, he supposed. It didn't make him any less uneasy on the matter, though. Strangers knowing his name wasn't something he could afford, prophetic visions or not. Still, now that she wasn't spouting nonsense, he knew he should take the opportunity to quiz her on all things Oracle. He knew Aoife would never forgive him if he wasted an opportunity like that, especially when she and Rinian were so hungry for knowledge.

"How is it you know my name like that, but you need my permission to read my future?" he questioned, and the look on the Oracle's face implied it was a question she'd heard plenty of times before.

"Names are easy. Seeing someone's destiny is a much more delicate process."

"What's with the eyes on the hands?"

"There are numerous ways of divining the future," the Oracle began to explain, finally moving from her position behind the table.

She stood, walking to the other side of the shack and giving Shay an eyeful in the process, and he couldn't deny something in him began to stir at the sight of her. He'd seen plenty of naked women in his twenty three years, but they had all been women he had charmed out of their skirts. The Oracle was different, though. She stood naked before him, and she was utterly unattainable. And frankly that only made him more interested. Well, that and that perky little bottom of hers.

The Oracle made her way back to the table, placing a small wooden box down on top of it. The box was a lot like her home, looking as if it were about to collapse at any moment, but inside it was an array of objects, books and glass bottles. She rooted around in the box, pulling a few faded crystals from it and setting them down beside it.

"Most Oracles use these, but they are not the most reliable, and they are costly to replace when they burn out," she went on to explain, only earning more confusion from Shay. "When you use crystals like this, you channel yourself and the person into them. There is only so much each crystal can take, and when they can take no more, they burn out, like a match."

"So you use the smoke and the eyes because...?"

"Have you ever heard the saying 'the eyes are the window to the soul?'"

Shay nodded. "All the wackos in Olmaea used to say it to try and sell protection charms and things like that."

"Well, they were not wrong, in part. It is not these eyes," she gestured at her own eyes, "That are the window to the soul. Each man, and woman, possesses another set of eyes, for the soul to observe. The wildsmen in the East claim these eyes are in the forehead, but Oracles believe otherwise, so we are taught to draw them on the hands."