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Emotion clenched around my throat. I blinked too rapidly. How horrid was my mistrust for others when a simple act of kindness sent my emotions scattering this way and that.
“Thank you.” I wrapped the fox fur around my shoulders and nearly sighed from the soft warmth against my bare skin. “I . . . I don’t have money, but”—I dug into my satchel, searching for anything. My fingers wrapped around the slender bracelet I’d slid off the drunk girl’s wrist in the casino bathroom. “Here. Maybe we can trade.”
The woman gingerly took hold of the bracelet. She narrowed her gaze, studied it against the stormy light, held it up to her nose, then dipped her chin. “You’ve yourself a deal, dearie. May the goddess bless you on your travels.”
I cared little about a goddess, but I felt a little brighter, a little hopeful. Perhaps I was gaining the upper hand in my dream-journey-potential-Afterlife.
“Do you know where I can find the glass star?”
“In the black tent.” The woman tucked the bracelet behind a wrapped loaf of bread she had laid out on her stand and took up her bowl again. “Near the market’s edge. I hope you’re welcomed and receive your answers.”
I nodded a thanks and hurried toward the peaks of a wide, black tent tucked near the trees.
In front of the tent was a pedestal topped with a basin filled with crystal water. Strange. I made a move to step around the pedestal, but came to an abrupt stop. From nowhere, like he’d emerged from the shadows of the tent, a wizened man nudged me backward.
“What brings you to the star?”
“What? I . . . I’m looking for direction.”
The man stroked his impressively long beard. Shaped like a sword, the point nearly reached his belt. “What makes you worthy of the wisdom?”
He spoke like he was God Himself. Never one to respond positively to overbearing authority, my voice clipped out with a bite of arrogance.
“What makes you worthy to stand watch?”
“I am the spectral guard.”
“Hmm.” I feigned indifference.
These people, dream beings or not, seemed rather obsessed with spirits and fate and a goddess. If Lloyd taught me anything useful it was the ability to play off people, fall into their whims until I had them eating out of my own palm.
“You dare insult the honored position?” He narrowed his eyes. “You? A young mage.”
That word continued to be used, and it unsettled me to my core, but I didn’t let on. One shoulder popped and I folded my hands over my chest. “I’m sure it’s great. I just . . . well, it sort of pales compared to my journey.”
“And what, pray tell, is your journey?”
“Well, that is what I’m here to discover, Gandalf.”
“My name is Aelfled the Visionary.” His cheeks flushed beneath his beard. “Who do you claim that makes you so important?”
“No one. But I think the goddess brought me here. One minute I was falling through light.” I altered my tone to something whimsical, dramatic. “The next, I awoke in the wood—the Greenwood—brought here to fulfill my journey.”
For a breath, I considered I’d overplayed my hand. Aelfled gawked at me like I’d lost my mind. Then, all at once, he dipped his chin. “Havestia brings a great many journeys to a head. If the goddess has summoned you to Vondell during such a treacherous season, I gladly stand aside that you may find your next steps.”
The man could win an Academy Award for his poetic prose. I bit down on the inside of my cheek when he bent at the waist and swept his arms wide, beckoning me to step forward.
“Thank you.”
“Wait.” Aelfled held up a hand. “You must anoint your brow with the seer’s water.” He made a gesture to the basin.
“I’ve never been brought here,” I said, hoping he did not take note of the unease in my tone. “How is it done?”
Aelfled’s features shifted from stern and annoyed, to amused and superior. “Allow me to instruct you, Wanderer.”
Two minutes later, I had dragged water across my brow, my lips, the line of my nose, and even the curves of my ears. Through it all, I’d pretended to understand each of Aelfled’s strange chants.
When it was over, the old man pulled back the flap to the tent, bowed with a flourish, and urged me to step inside.
