“Hello there,” a pleasant voice drifted on the wind from behind Gabriel and Natasha.

The siblings turned to find a crumpled old lady smiling at them pleasantly from her doorway. The teapot diviner looked like parched desert stone. All of her body’s moisture appeared to pool in her watery, glazed eyes.

“I’ve been expecting you, young mercenaries,” Agnes said.

Gabriel exhaled hard, “She’s good.”

The diviner chuckled, “I stole a teapot, dear, who am I supposed to expect, the queen of the dryads?”

“… Fair point.”

“Anyway, it’s a little nippy out here for an old woman. Would you care to join me inside?”

There was something entirely disarming about the old lady; Gabriel found himself accepting her invitation without really understanding why. Perhaps he was emboldened by the knowledge that she was probably the only living being on the continent that he could actually take in a fair fight.

Agnes cheerfully scooted inside her humble residence and held open the ‘door’ (little more than bound twigs) for the pair. Natasha bounded in, and Gabriel followed behind with a polite nod as he crossed the threshold.

The inside of the hut looked much like the outside – a barely stable pile of kindling. There were some basic furnishings, but nothing extravagant. Tables and chairs had been overlooked in favour of rugs and pelts, and a small firepit in the centre of the room acted as a point of orbit for all cookware, bedding, clothing and accumulated knicknacks. Here and there the light poked through the shoddily constructed walls, and with it came drafts that teased the smoke on its rising journey towards a small circular hole in the roof, which could generously be called a chimney. The only oddity was a repurposed bookshelf, which held a wide selection of teapots, unsurprisingly, both decorative and simple.

“Please, please, take a seat. I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer in the way of hospitality, but I’ll not have guests freezing on my doorstep.”

Gabriel and Natasha dutifully sat cross-legged by the fire and waited patiently while the old lady pottered around. She was making tea, naturally.

When the old lady finally set up a kettle over the fire and lowered herself laboriously onto a cushion, Gabriel decided to get to the crux of the matter.

“I, um, couldn’t help but notice you already have a teapot or two.”

Agnes eyed her collection fondly, “Just as with books, dear, different teapots tell me different things. Mind you, can anyone really have enough teapots?” she grinned.

“What does this one tell you?” Gabriel indicated the one she was currently ladling freshly boiled water into.

“This one? This one tells me when the tea is ready,” she winked.

“Right,” Gabriel tapped his finger on his knee, “Does it… talk to you?”

“I’m gifted, dear, not senile.”

“Right,” he hesitated, “You do steal teapots though. You know, just saying.”

Agnes raised an eyebrow, which took eighty percent of her wrinkles with it, “Aren’t you a cheeky one! I’d buy the teapots, if the sods would sell them to me,” she grumbled.

“Why don’t they?”

The diviner sighed, “A few years back I gave the town mayor a reading which foretold a great disaster to come. The pot told me that, ‘A tide of blue would sweep over Ponbus. There would be a great swelling, and it would cause the destruction and collapse of the mayor’s house.”

“And he didn’t believe you?”

“Oh, no, he did. He took me very seriously indeed, actually. He rushed straight from my home and called the Azure Artisans down from Jandrir that very day. The AA specialize in safeguarding communities from the damage caused by liquids, see? Anyway, he had them set about shoring up the banks of the river, paid exorbitant sums for flood gates to be installed upstream, and even had sandbags carted in from the east.”

“The flood never came?”

She smiled ruefully, “Fate is a fickle creature. Whilst the Azure Artisans were busy swarming about town, their leader took an amorous interest in the mayor’s wife. He got her pregnant and the pair of adulterers eloped soon after.”

Gabriel opened his mouth and closed it again.

Agnes smirked, “Prophecy can be cruel. I only show others the sky. It’s up to them to find the shapes in the clouds.”

The old lady poured them each a cup of tea and handed the piping beverage to her guests.

Surprisingly, it tasted a bit rubbish.

Gabriel cleared his throat, “So how does one become a ‘teapot diviner’?” his skepticism was ripe in his tone.

“Well, I was a pot dealer before.”

“That explains a lot,” Gabriel said into his cup.

Agnes narrowed her tiny little eyes, “Teapots, dear, teapots. I sold them and other bits and bobs from a small shop in town. It was only a matter of time before I noticed my talent for seeing the truth within them. It was inevitable really. Destiny.”

“Yeeeah,” Gabriel sniffed, “Can we have that teapot back now?”

“The young are always in such a rush. Don’t worry, we all get to the same place in the end, no matter how fast or slow we think we are travelling there,” Agnes said as she stoked the fire.

“Bit morbid.”

Agnes nodded to herself, “Perhaps I am a bit these days. Well, anyway, your teapot.”

With an effort that made Gabriel feel slightly guilty, Agnes hauled herself up and inspected her collection.

“I assume this is the one you’re after,” she said, taking a simple clay pot down from its perch.

“Just how many of those are stolen?”

“Don’t you worry yourself about matters that don’t concern you,” she shuffled back to the fireplace and sank to the floor like a melting candle, “Will you permit me a reading before you go? I have a feeling this one was meant for you,” she said, caressing the teapot tenderly and, honestly, a little creepily.

“I think just the teapot for today.”

“Gabby,” Natasha reprimanded softly, tugging at his sleeve.

“Seriously? Okay, fine, whatever. Let’s see what a mildly agreeable beverage has to say about my fate, shall we?”

“It may show me that, or it may not. It shows many things… Things that were. Things that are, and some things,” Agnes looked at the pair ominously, “that have not yet come to pass.”

“You’re overdoing that a bit, aren’t you? It’s tea, you’re supposed to brew it, not blanch it,” Gabriel eyed the kettle warily as it started to boil over.

Agnes ignored Gabriel and set about making a second batch of tea in the new teapot, throwing in a mixture of leaves and herbs and topping it up with steaming water from the kettle.

She swirled it a few times and then tipped the contents, leaves and all, out into the cauldron.

“Okay then,” the mercenary frowned, “Don’t you need those?” he said, indicating the leaves churning in the roil of the boiling water.

“I’m a teapot diviner, child, not some charlatan who pretends to see stories of love and betrayal in a dried-up old plant.”

“Yeah, that would be silly. Go on, what do you see then?”

“I see you are impatient.”

“At this point, I would probably be asking for my money back.”

“Hush, dear, I must concentrate,” Agnes held the pot in her lap and traced her fingers over the clay. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she hummed arrhythmically.

“Oh, yeah, no, I believe it now,” Gabriel whispered to his sister.

Agnes ceased her humming and muttered a string of syllables in a language that probably didn’t exist. Then, she opened her eyes, and addressed Gabriel directly.

“I see death in your future,” Agnes wheezed.

“Oh, wow, the teapot told you I’m mortal? Amazing.”

“Not necessarily yours,” she continued, “but it follows you. It surrounds you.”

“As if I wasn’t popular enough already.”

Agnesgushed him with a wizened hand, “Wings of crimson and white beat thunderously. They are deafening. Elsewhere, metal drums against metal. It rings through the mountains and creates avalanches that tear down ancient oak. Blood spills on a floor of black glass, shattered beneath a hail of gems. Four small candles shine from within the dark mirror, casting shadows of valour and courage,” she frowned, “but that is not your story.”

“Helpful.”

“You are near, though. I feel you. You are holding on to something, refusing to let go even as you drown in claret.”

“Joys.”

“Black wolves are howling in the night. I hear them even now. They are chasing a lame hare.”

“Am I one of the wolves?”

“The hare is proud, but it is sluggish, and indecisive. Their jaws will surely find it.”

“Again, I’m one of the wolves, right?”

“Fists of flame embrace you. They burn, but they burn for you. The sun sets on a night of fire and fury. It does not rise on the morrow, or for many morrows after that. When it does, though, you will be there to see it. However, it will not warm you. Its warmth can no longer touch you,” Agnes’ gaze softened, and she looked upon Gabriel with fresh pity.

Gabriel looked back expectantly, “Is that it?”

The diviner chewed on her lip, “For a time.”

“Oh, okay, great. Just wolves, fire and endless nights to look forward to. For a moment there I was worried this was going to put a downer on my day!”

“I am sorry. It certainly sounds grim, but one never knows in what ways prophecy will manifest itself, until it does.”

“So, it’s useless then,” Gabriel said, standing.

Natasha rose with her brother, but without her usual vim.

“I guess I’ll just go and find out in what way disaster chooses to rear its head today,” Gabriel said, with a nod to the door.

“Today? Today I feel it brings companionship,” Agnes responded with forced cheer.

“Yeah. The teapot, if you don’t mind. Come on, Natasha, we have a boat to catch.”

Bling nodded dreamily, her eyes unfocused, “Boat.”

Agnes handed over the teapot as Bling wandered soporifically outside.

The diviner halted Gabriel in the doorway with a skeletal hand, “There was one more thing, although I am almost afraid to tell you.”

“But you’re going to, aren’t you?”

Agnes took in a deep breath, “The girl. I saw her. Only… she was carved of ivory, driving an ornate carriage. The carriage moved backwards, though the wheels never turned. It was dragging in its wake the three horses that had guided it. One horse of black. One horse of brown. One horse of red.”

“I see. Natasha will be upset… she loves horses,” he shook his head solemnly, “Whelp, bye! Been awesome! Thanks, you addled loon. Enjoy being batshit crazy! Oh, and, uh,” he looked at her levelly, “maybe lay off the pot,” he said, waving goodbye with the reclaimed teapot.

Unfortunately, it’s not really possible to slam a twig door. Still, Gabriel gave it a hearty effort.

Gabriel tried to engage Natasha in some light conversation on the way back to town, but she remained mopey and reserved. He inwardly cursed himself for allowing the old crone to give them a reading; he’d forgotten how hard it was to convince Natasha that there was a difference between fiction and reality. To compound matters, even when Natasha had been her ordinary self, it had always been a task to convince her that most people are, in fact, lying, untrustworthy pricks.

Right now, Gabriel couldn’t see why everyone else wasn’t an advocate for universal cynicism. For some reason they still talked about it as if it were a bad thing.

If Gabriel’s mood on the way back to town could be called negative, it was downright gloomy when he finally met back up with the others. They hadn’t moved in the time the brother and sister had been away, but they were unfortunately joined by a familiar, very slappable face.

“Gabriel! Wonderful to see you again,” Archimedes called out in his unbearably jovial way, “I’ve just been chatting with your delightful travel companions, Lydia and Figo. What a charming set of new friends you’ve found. I’m dismayed not to have this pleasant and capable couple as a part of The White Fangs.”

Vish extended various digits at Archimedes back, the meaning of which Gabriel could only guess.

“For gods’ sake. What is he doing here?” Gabriel asked his team, indicating the offending party with a thumb.

“He said you were old friends,” Lydia shrugged.

“Indeed we are, even if Gabriel likes to pretend otherwise from time to time,” Archimedes said, clapping Gabriel on the shoulder in a gesture of painful comradery.

“What do you want, Archimedes?” Gabriel sighed.

“Just to chat, Gabe, just to chat. We have business in Jandrir, as I hear you do-”

Gabriel glared at Figo.

“- so I thought, ‘I know, why not travel together!’ It will be just like old times. What do you say?”

“Umm, no?”

Archimedes’ smile never cracked, but the jolliness did evaporate from his voice when he leaned in and said, “We really do need to talk, Gabriel. I have something very important to tell you.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, “Alright, fine. Let’s talk on the boat.”

“Excellent! Shall we?” Archimedes said, rounding up his small army of mercenaries and following Gabriel to the pier.

Gabriel handed over the teapot to a surly looking teamster without any preamble, and made to board the raft, already laden with goods ready to be towed upriver.

“Hol’ up,” the sour-faced man reunited with his crockery halted them, “Pleased as pudding to have me pot back, don’t get me wrong, but the deal was for five o’ yas. Even if I wanted to let you all on, which I don’t, wouldn’t be good for stability.”

It was unclear to Gabriel how true that was, but he wasn’t particularly in the mood to argue, for once, and he definitely wasn’t keen to argue this particular point, “Oh, shame, would you look at that, Archimedes? Looks like we’ll have to meet you there. No room for you and your lot.”

“So it would seem,” Archimedes said, stroking his chin, “Perhaps two of your number wouldn’t mind joining my fellows on the boats behind.”

“Two?” Gabriel noted.

“There’s someone else who needs to accompany us.”

The two mercenaries sized each other up for a moment, but Gabriel didn’t detect a threat.

“Fine. Any volunteers?” Gabriel asked the group.

When nobody responded, Archimedes tried a different approach, “Natasha, would you be so kind as to take the second boat? I promise I will take good care of your brother.”

Natasha looked slightly uneasy at the prospect of being separated from the others, but she eventually nodded and smiled with some of her usual heart, “Archimedes,” she confirmed.

“Thank you so much, Natasha. And, well…”

There was an awkward silence as Archimedes and Vish pointedly did not look at one another.

Gabriel watched the non-exchange and decided to intervene, “Look at it this way, Vish. If you take the other boat, you don’t have to talk to him.”

Vish’s eyes danced around the top of his sockets while he thought about this, “Okay, sold. I am not doing it because you want me to though,” Vish pointed out to Archimedes.

“Yes, quite. Well, it’s appreciated, I suppose. Let’s get a move on, shall we?”

Archimedes split his band into teams of five and gave them each money for passage. He boarded the first raft with Gabriel, Lydia and Figo, bringing a woman wearing a heavy cowl along with him. Bling and Vish followed behind with three of Archimedes companions, who mostly stared at them mistrustfully.

The journey began with nothing but banal small-talk, which Archimedes singlehandedly kept going as their raft was tugged out of Ponbus and up the river. Theirs was part of a long chain of boats, separated from one another by a raft’s width. Each one was roughly the size of a small cottage. Gabriel could see Natasha looking anxiously over at them from behind a chest-high wall of vegetable crates. He waved at her frequently to reassure her.

Once they were completely out of sight of town, Archimedes dropped the pleasantries.

“Okay, Gabriel, time to talk, don’t you think?”

“What’s this all about?”

Archimedes tapped the woman on the shoulder, who removed her hood and blinked the invading light from her eyes.

Gabriel recognized her instantly, but her presence here was so incongruous that it took his brain a while to believe his eyes.

“Eileen?”

“Gabriel.”

“What is this? I didn’t expect you to join The White Fangs,” Gabriel said with a frown.

“Nor did I,” Eileen half-whispered.

Gabriel noticed something was amiss, “What’s going on here?”

“Dexy is dead, Gabriel,” Archimedes said bluntly.

Gabriel could feel a pit open in his stomach. Something felt very wrong.

“How?”

“He was murdered,” Eileen responded, her voice rattling slightly.

A shadow passed over the boat, adding to the chill of her words.

“Who would want to murder Dexy?”

“That’s what we would like to know, Gabriel,” Archimedes answered, “Go on, Eileen, tell him.”

“Dexy was playing cards the night he was killed,” a smile flickered across her ovular face, “Nothing new there. The guy he was playing against, though, he wasn’t anyone I’d seen before. He looked refined, gentlemanly, even. He was ugly, from what I could see, but definitely a monied sort. Anyway, it was neck on neck for a while, and then Dexy started to lose coin hard and fast.”

“So he was killed to settle a gambling debt,” Gabriel jumped ahead.

“That’s what the town guard declared it as. They said he’d fallen in with the wrong sorts and that, while it was a great pity, there was fuck all they could do about it. Bastards,” she cursed, taking a moment to savour her hate.

Archimedes put a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

“There’s more to it though,” Eileen swallowed and took a breath to steady herself, “I was at the next table at the time, drinking with the other Midnight Runners. I reckon he didn’t think I heard them talking, seeing as how rowdy our lot was. I did though. I did hear him.”

Another shadow passed over the boat, sending a shiver down Gabriel’s spine.

“When Dexy started to lose,” Eileen continued, “the guy offered him an out. Instead of betting money, he said Dexy could bet information,” Eileen’s eyes met Gabriel’s and he could now clearly see the accusation there, “Information about you.”

“About me?” Gabriel was taken aback.

“About you and your lot, yeah. I didn’t catch it all, but he definitely knew a little about you and Vish.”

“What did he want to know?” Gabriel said, that sinking, chilling feeling expanding through his torso.

Eileen rubbed at her eyes with a gloved knuckle, “Never got to find out. Dexy won the next few rounds, and that was that. He got his money back and walked away.”

“You mean he actually took the wager?” Gabriel scoffed.

“Gabriel,” Archimedes cautioned.

“Right, sorry,” he exhaled slowly, “Please continue.”

“The next morning the city watch found Dex dead in a gutter, left there to rot like compost,” she spat, “He’d been stabbed, and beaten, but…”

“But?” Gabriel prompted, as a shadow engulfed the boat once more. This time the shadow lingered for much longer.

“He’d been beaten with stones, they said, yet it didn’t look like he’d tried to run.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Archimedes said, “I suspect that holding magic may have been at play.”

Gabriel massaged his brow, the action reminding him how much his head hurt, “So a high-class gentleman mage is after us, and has killed someone I know just to get some dirt on our little band?”

“So it would seem,” Archimedes confirmed, “It’s a good job you haven’t run into any trouble yet.”

Gabriel let out a small laugh, “Well, we have, but at least none relating to…” a memory of seven black-clad bandits accosting them on the road to Ponbus flashed through his mind, “Ooooooh.”

“Then you have been targeted,” Archimedes grimaced, “Gabriel, what have you got yourself into?”

Gabriel looked at his feet, “I’m not even sure I know.”

A loud cawing-screeching sound rang out from above them, reverberating though the wood of the raft.

The shadow flitted by once more.

“I,” Archimedes looked apologetic, “I don’t suppose that was our dear Natasha, was it?”

Gabriel looked up at where a creature was flying close to the sun. At first it just looked like a bird, which probably explained why nobody else had thought it remarkable, but when it blocked the light Gabriel got the impression that this thing was bigger. It was much bigger, in fact.

Gabriel sighed, “Not this time, sadly.”