THE KING'S DAUGHTER - Chapter Four (The Seer)
Sorja awaited Aibell in the Princess’s apartment. Aibell entered her day room, not noticing the vase of freshly picked roses on an inlaid table. A serving girl was instructed by the Viscount to place them in the Princess’s room while she was in her sanctuary earlier.
“Aibell, I am very sorry about earlier. I wanted my point to get across, but I did not mean to upset you so. I could not stand by watching as that maggot ruined your name. I cannot believe that no one spoke to the King before this.”
Smiling to Sorja, Aibell replied, “They did not want to incur Father’s wrath, I wager. You were correct, and I was blinded by Urlian’s charm. He is to be banished, you know. By dawn, he will have gone, and he will be naught more than a passing flirtation before my marriage to Prince Denilus, the heir to the Feenoriah Crown! After his father passes to the Summerlands, he will become King, and when my own dear father passes on, I will become Queen in my own right! Our first born will inherit our combined kingdom, and be the ruler of a vast land. Is that not a destiny to be proud of? I shall be the mother of a legacy.”
Sorja did not look convinced of Aibell’s complete turnaround concerning the Elf. “Are you sure you still are not upset about the Viscount’s betrayal?”
“Dearest Sorja, with all your wisdom… like I said, he was naught but a flirtation before I wed. Did you see the miniature the prince sent me? Is he not handsome?” The obvious change in tactics amused Sorja.
“What do you like more? His hair, which is the color of ripe wheat, or his bonny blue eyes?” The Pixxi maiden smiled.
“Well, if I had to pick but one feature, I would have to say his eyes. Never before have I seen eyes of peacock blue! I wonder if many Feenorians have his coloring?”
“I still cannot believe your complete change in attitude. It is almost frightening.” Sorja mused aloud.
Eager to change the subject, Aibell spoke “Can we do a reading with your Alhiocm? I would know my future!”
The Alhiocm, a deck of cards made of thin slices of Birch wood, were painted with bizarre red, blue and black designs. When laid out in a pattern, the reader could tell the level of difficulty of events a person would go through in their life, or more specifically, a situation they focus upon.
Deciding to humor the Princess, Sorja went to get her deck from her own chamber. Upon returning she held in her pale hand the treasured cards. They were fairly rare, for the reader had to make the deck themselves, from start to finish. These days, most people favored the quickness of Water Gazing, as apposed to selecting a Birch tree, making an offering for any spirit dwelling in the tree, before cutting down said tree. Then the long drying of the wood followed by the cutting, sanding and polishing of the timber, so that it was of identical thickness and size. Then the tedious painting of the sacred images and the invoking of energy must be done. To finish it, the Alhiocm were then purified in a ceremony, cleansed by the elements, then a spell laid. For a moon cycle, they lay in a box hewn of the same lumber as the cards, on a bed of mugwort, angelica, rowan, mandrake, dandelion and jasmine, all dried and coarsely ground, to be used as incense during the reading. After that, the Alhiocm were ready to be used.
It took almost three years for Sorja to create her deck, for it was a part of her training in the Pixxish Court. The ink on the cards was made from plants that she herself gathered and prepared. She knew every nuance that the cards held, for she, herself, put them there.
“Are you ready, Aibell?” Sorja placed the highly decorated box on a low table, and then made her way to the fireplace to gather a hot coal in a small silver incense censer. Aibell gathered two large fluffy pillows and placed them on opposite sides of the low table for them to sit upon. A blown glass lamp burned sweetly scented oil nearby, giving out plenty of golden light.
Taking the cards out of the box and handing them to Aibell, Sorja intoned, “Shuffle them, and speak aloud what you would have them reveal to you.” She then took a small handful of the ground herbs that lined the bottom of the box and sprinkled them on the hot coal. Pungent smoke swirled in the air above their heads, thick and white. It then fell to the ground, enveloping the girls in a nose-tickling haze.
“I would know of my future with Prince Denilus.” Aibell shuffled the cards face down, their backs covered with swirling lines of black and blue, all expertly drawn, all identical. Finishing, Aibell handed over the cards to the Pixxi, who then sorted the cards into eight piles.
When she completed the sorting, she handed a pile to Aibell and bade her to select a single card from the group. Seven more times she repeated this, adding the bulk of the cards to the discard pile. Handing the discard pile to Aibell, Sorja told her, “Close your eyes and concentrate. Focus on your heart beating, and as you do so, rifle through these cards and select the one that calls to you.”
Aibell did as she was asked, slowly going though the pile one by one, until one just felt right. Finding it, she handed it over to Sorja. Sorja then took the nine cards, and started the pattern. Laying the first eight in a circle end-to-end, she placed the last picked card in the center. Upon doing so, she started a chant in the Pixxish tongue. The center card began to blaze bright blue where the indigo lines were drawn. The black lines glowed white, and as each second passed, grew brighter. Minutes ticked by, and the glowing took shape. A translucent sphere began to form over the center card.
“What do you see? What does my future hold?” Aibell asked earnestly, interrupting the Pixxish hymn.
“We will see when the time is right,” replied the Pixxi. “And now is not the time.” She continued the chanting; forming words that Aibell had never heard, despite the fact that she was fluent in the tongue of the seer. A word or two made sense, but everything else sounded like gibberish. Then one by one, each of the cards forming the circle began to light up. The rays seemed to gather at the apex where the orb had already began to grow. Brilliant, dazzling, breathtaking; the cards seemed alive with an inner light.
The incense was making Aibell a little lightheaded. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion, taking too long. The cards lost their sharply defined edges and became fuzzy and indistinct.
The Pixxi fell silent, and seemed to meditate for a few moments. Then reaching over, she flipped over the closest card, which was also the first chosen in the sorting process, revealing pigeon blood red intermingled with the indigo blue and jet black lines. The illustration was all knotwork, complicated and perfect in its execution. The drawing was of Caoit, the feline protectress. “You will shortly face a confrontational situation that you thought was not possible.”
Sorja’s eyes began to glow brighter than their normal buttercup yellow. Just as she reached over to flip another card, in that very moment when the tips of her fingers grazed the silken wood, loud banging on the dayroom door reverberated throughout the room. Sorja paused, unsure if she should continue, for her focus was shattered like a dropped mirror when the battering started. Deciding to err on the side of caution, she moved away from the cards and placed a lid on the incense censer.
“Why are you stopping? We haven’t finished yet!” Aibell glanced at the door. “Ignore them, Sorja. Please?”
“When I left to get my cards, I told a chambermaid to not let anyone disturb us, unless it was a crisis. Let me go answer it.” And before getting a reaction from the Princess, she stood up and walked to the door.
Opening it, the servant lass stood waiting, a sheepish look on her face. “Milady, you have been sent for! You are to hurry, they said!”
“By whom, for what and where to, I should like to know.” Sorja balled her hands on her hips.
“Forgive me milady, I know naught who it was who sent for you. The messenger will know, ‘tis certain.” The maid curtsied and left. Closing the door, Sorja turned to the waiting Princess.
“I have been summoned, so I must go. Do not touch the Alhiocm, for the energy they have generated must dissipate. Let no one else touch them either.” Turning about, she made her way out to the Great Hall.
The unfamiliar messenger in the Great Hall bade to get her herb chest and follow, which she complied. Having a footman fetch the large trunk made of White Willow, and then strap it to her mount, she followed the man to his destination.
He was not a fount of information, that was for certain. When plied with questions concerning who sent for her, he would just shrug. “I goes south, milady healer. I goes south.”
Mounting her horse, and with a wave of her hand, she said in reply, “Then south we go, my good fellow. South it is.”
Thank you for reading! If you’d like more of the story, help yourself to the rest of the posted chapters: