Dreams of the Oracle

Chapter 15

The woman who called herself Milady looked out the window of her carriage and into the dim streets of Rakston. Torches lit the main street but the rest of the small city was shrouded in night. But for her, her driver, and a tired looking night watchman standing at one corner, the street was deserted. She pulled her black cloak around her and looked up at the starry, moonless, sky. The soothsayers of old had called this "Almost Night" when the moon was gone but the stars still shone. It was the time when evil prepared for "Black Night." "Black Night" was when even the stars were hidden and evil ran rampant, and when the Caelestors were supposed to return.

Though well versed in the mysteries and beliefs of old, Milady did not submit to the superstitions and fears of the ancients. She had traveled the world and seen the power of sorcery and magic, but knew that power was neither good nor evil. She had come to understand that the ancients had feared the power that they had taught themselves to wield. The more intense and powerful the sorcery, the more they feared it. They had simply labeled greater magic as "evil" and shied away from its awesome potential. A tight smile pulled at her lips. She had no such fears.

The carriage turned down one darkened street. Simple, thatch-roofed shops and dwellings were just visible in the shadows. She leaned back and closed her eyes. She herself had no natural talent for sorcery, which made her resent those who wouldn't push themselves to the limits of their abilities all the more. Abruptly, she stifled her dark emotions and focused on the task at hand. They were almost to the meeting place. Her master was sending something that would aid in the subjugation of the Oracle. She felt a thrill of excitement pulse through her veins. Whatever it was would be intensely powerful.

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of a small, windowless dwelling. Light flickered underneath the door signaling life and movement within. She waited and her driver, a large Rashaka in its human guise, opened the door of the carriage for her. The creature's green eyes glimmered like flames trapped inside twin emeralds. She stepped out without sparing her slave a second glance, but she loved the glowing eyes of the Rashakas! Those eyes were evidence of the ancient sorcery that gave them existence. She unconsciously reached within her robes and stroked the swearing knife. The wonderful instrument that bound such awesome power to her will.

She stepped up to the darkened building and knocked three times with her pale hand. The Rashaka stood at her side, it was dressed as a king's soldier. She had ordered them all to use that guise when in human form some time ago. They could do more with fewer questions asked when people believed them to be agents of the king. She waited patiently in the darkness, staring at the closed door. Finally, it cracked open releasing a sliver of light that cut through the shadows of the darkened street. A man with a badly scarred face and beady eyes peered out into the night,

"Who goes there?" he whispered nervously.

"Open the door," said the woman, in her cold voice.

"Milady!" he gasped, "Milady, forgive me for making you wait! I–"

"Stop," interrupted the woman, effectively cutting off anything else he would have said. She stepped into a medium sized room lit by a brick fireplace. The roaring fire warmed her right to her bones.

"I trust that you know why I am here, Davalin," she said.

Davalin was still on his knees with his head bowed. He lifted it as he replied, "Yes milady."

"See to it," she said.

Davalin rose to his feet immediately and scampered up the stairs, his body fairly shaking with nervousness. She watched him go, cataloguing his weaknesses and uses as he ascended the staircase. Truly, he wasn't much of a man. She stepped over to one of the wicker chairs and took a seat, glad to be seated in something solid and unmoving after the bumpy carriage ride.