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We need to hurry. The door will only stay here for about half a minute.
Elias opened the door and I followed him, a nagging question in my mind. Could he read those runes?
We were in a small room, with cushions, and candles, a crystal ball, a pool of water that glowed with orange radiance. There had been incense burned here recently, and the air smelled spicy. There was a tray with a silver teapot, and many porcelain cups, each one seeming to have come from some far off land, covered with different kinds of writing that were unknown to me.
“Auntie Marga?”
A woman walked into the room. She looked around thirty-five years old, which was younger than I’d expected. Her hair was blond, and her eyes a dark blue. She smiled, showing bright white teeth.
I look younger than you imagined. Young for a crystal-ball scrying witch.
I smiled. Young to be Karsten’s mother, and this boy’s Aunt. Karsten sent me, and I was lost, until I found his cousin, here.
Marga smiled at her nephew. Then thank you, Elias, for bringing him here. You may go now.
Elias nodded at his aunt and disappeared back out the way we had come.
Marga smiled at me. “Come grab a cushion. I hope I hold the answers you seek, but it’s always better to seek them in a state of relaxation. So sit down, and we’ll see what we can do.”
I nodded. I needed to meet Woltan for my morning practice but practice could wait. Better to arrive there in any case without these questions in my mind.
Marga’s smile was warm and infectious. She snapped her finger and a flame lit on a small brazier. She put the silver tea kettle upon it. The water was boiling in a moment, and Marga dropped in spices and tea leaves. Then she was pouring tea into two cups. The preparation of the tea filled the room with new spicy aromas that blended in with the smell of incense. It all was helping me relax, something I would have thought impossible just a few minutes before.
Marga handed me my tea and I took a sip.
She took a sip of her own tea, and then she smiled. “You have questions for me.”
I nodded. “That is all I seem to have since this morning. I had a dream. And then I talked to Karsten about it.”
“Tell me everything about your dream, and then I will examine your hands, and we will scry a bit if you like.”
So I told her about the man with the green eyes and the dark hood and the blood-red aura. I told her how the man had called out to me as the dream ended, and how he had called me Neffe.
Her smile faded to a slim remnant of itself. She looked at me, and she was silent for a moment before she spoke. “What did my son say?”
“He told me that the only person with a blood-red aura is the dark lord.”
“You know enough of the old tongues as well to know what Neffe means.”
I nodded. “He was calling me nephew.”
“And what happened after he called out to you?”
“I woke up.”
She paused for a moment. “Did it seem real to you?”
I wanted to shake my head, but it was probably better to be truthful. I nodded.
“The dream was well read by my son. He would have done well to follow me as a dream-reader, but he chose another path.”
The silence was chilling.
I spoke up then. “He sent you these rolls, for us to share.”
Marga stared at them, and a little bit of smile came back to her face, a little bit of warmth. “Is he a good baker, you think?”
I handed her a roll and bit into one myself. They were still warm. “These are the best rolls I have ever eaten.”
