The following day, rain plummeted to the earth with great force. Fell and King Arik were overcome by fervour, and they set themselves on wandering the streets together. That day, Rowan and Fyrrah had run off to be alone together, and Halvar was sleeping nearly all day, which normally he did not do. That day, Mira felt a little lonely. She wandered through Arik’s home, wanting something to do but not wanting to traverse the chaos of the city, especially with it raining as it was.

She admired the many works of art on display as the rain drummed on the roof, and for a brief moment, Dayne’s face came back to her. Just a quick flash. She had not been able to see him truly in her mind’s eye for some time. But seeing him and feeling what it was like to sit next to him made her chest ache. Mira closed her eyes, pretending she was back home, walking through the candlelit corridors, smelling the bread baking in the kitchens, listening to Emery and Hamon running around outside, shouting as her mother tried to quiet them.

Her father came to her mind clearly as well, sitting in his favourite chair by the fire.

She licked the dew off thorny branches for hours, wishing she could be home once more—just briefly—a short visit, only a day or two.

Jorn stumbled upon her weepy and alone, staring at an especially beautiful painting of a woman collecting water from a river. Or maybe she was pouring water into the river? It was hard to tell.

“In my country, when we greet, they say, ‘I see you.’” Jorn took a seat beside Mira and looked up at the painting. “It is not meaning just that I see you as you are in front of me, but also that I am seeing past your skin. I am seeing the part of you that is not the body. Because of this, it can serve as the greatest compliment but just as easily the greatest insult.”

Mira was not in the mood to speak. She wanted to be alone and happy with her sadness.

Jorn did not allow this. “I am saying to you that I see you feel sorrow. I am saying to you that you may speak of it if you wish.”

Mira could not help but smile at the man’s sweetness. “It is not sadness as you are thinking,” she said. “I am enjoying it. I am remembering my father.”

“And still I am saying, I see you. I left my father and my home long ago. He likely is not living anymore. I know this feeling. I will not see him until after I die.”

“I do not think I will see my father, even when I die.” The words weighed down Mira’s tongue and throat.

“When it rains, the Northmen run around and shout at the sky,” Jorn said. “But I find a quiet place and pretend that I am free to go wherever I wish. What do you do?”

“I think of where I was born. Always there, it is cloudy, and most days there is rain. Only maybe seven times each summer is it truly sunny and dry.”

“In my country, they say something different, something same. It means there is something shared in all things, even if they first appear conflicted.”

Mira laughed. “Your country has a lot of sayings.”

“Yes. Even more than the Northmen.”

“May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“When you cast stones for people, do you believe what you are saying will truly happen to them?”

He laughed. “You are true Norsen, you do not shy away from the harder thoughts.”

He was done speaking, and Mira was all too aware that he hadn’t answered her question. “So you do not believe it to be truth then?”

He laughed again. “Sometimes I do.”

“I see you,” Mira teased. “You mostly do not.”

“It is not that way!” Jorn laughed as he protested. “It is more that… I think whatever I say, it will become truth. Maybe not true in all ways, but in at least one.”

Mira was utterly unimpressed.

Jorn smirked. “I see you. I will give an example to make my point. I could walk up to any person in this great city, any of them. And I could say, ‘You wish to be forgiven.’ And every one of them will find this true, but not all of them will find it true in the same way.”

“Surely not.”

“My lady, do you not wish to be forgiven for something? Even something small?”

His words pressed against Mira’s chest. She did. She wanted to be forgiven for many things—by her family, mostly for having disappeared. By Halvar for all the times she was woken by his hunger, and rather than coo at him gently and enjoy the time, she fed him with her eyes half open and went back to sleep. By Fell, for all the hours she was cross with him—he never deserved it.

“You see?” Jorn said, eyebrows raised.

“Still, this is not what people have in mind when they come to be read. The people here believe what you say will happen as you say it.”

“Not all Norsern believe this, but the ones that do will make the things true because they believe them.”

Mira nearly rolled her eyes.

“Another example. You say to a father that he will quarrel with his son. He leaves, wondering what could possibly start a disagreement between them. All day he thinks of this. Usually, they have no problems. Has something happened he does not know about? He begins to bother his son, asking where he has been, what has been happening. This annoys the son, and they quarrel.”

Mira’s mind hurt a little when she thought of this. It was a profound concept, but one that made complete sense. “Surely this would not always be the case?”

“I will give you another example. Let us say you tell a king that someone will disappoint him.”

Jorn’s gleaming eyes fixed on hers, and Mira’s stomach sank with the weight of her own words.

“Do you think he will be more suspicious? Do you think he would start looking for reasons to distrust those around him? Do you think if he kept looking, he would find the reasons he seeks and act harshly? Or no, let us say, you tell a king he will lose something very important to him, so important that he will spend one-fifth of his life searching for it. What do you think the king does then?”

“I should not have….” Mira looked up at the soothsayer with wide eyes. “I did not think… enough. I did not think at all.”

He laughed again. “The words have been said; there is no changing them now. Perhaps because of your reading, the king will discover a plot against him? And he will be eternally grateful to you? Perhaps not.”

Mira could not believe she had been so careless with her words. “I will not cast stones again.”

“I think you will; I have seen this for you. Many great performances.”

“You are not the first to say this to me...”

“Performance can mean many things. When I looked, I thought of casting stones and speaking to people of their dreams. I thought you would do the same work as me. But maybe this is just my image. You play beautiful music; maybe this is what the stones mean. Besides, readings only come true when the listener believes them. You say you do not believe, so you should have no worries.”

In truth, it was not this part of her readings that worried her. “Two different people have looked at my palm and said to me that I will have many men in my life.”

“I saw this too. But again, this is likely, not true in every way. You speak of your father; he was a man in your life, was he not? Fell. Halvar. Your soter friend—the one who follows Fyrrah around. King Arik is one of the men, I am certain.”

“Both times, I thought they spoke of love.”

“Yes. Some of the men will likely be this.”

Mira shook her head. “I will only be with Fell.”

“These are the words of a very young person.”

Mira could no longer revel in the happiness of her sorrow. She was angry with Jorn for all of his words and wished he hadn’t sat down to speak with her. She wished she hadn’t agreed to read for the king, that she had gone to bed early the night Arik came to Gittenurg so they did not have a chance to speak, so he would not have insisted she come further north with him.

***

That night, Mira dreamt she was back in Gittenurg with Fell and Halvar. They walked along the shore and found a place to lay down. The waves washed in around them and slowly pulled Fell out to sea. He did not fight the current but let it take him gently. With each wave that pressed against the shore and slithered back to the sea, he was pulled a little deeper into the water. Mira could not understand why he didn’t resist, why he didn’t stand up and move to where the water couldn’t reach him. Eventually, he was gone, and she was left alone with Halvar, crying. When she woke, Mira found she was crying outside of the dream as well.

Fell pulled her into him, half asleep. “What is it?”

“A horrible dream.”

“Tell me.”

“We were back home, laying on the shore; the sea came and pulled you away. You did not try to stop it. You let it take you, and I was all alone.” Mira’s voice shook in a weepy way.

His giant hands ran over her face and through her hair. “It was only a dream.”

“No,” she whispered. “You will let yourself be taken from me. You will go to Byernen, and something bad will happen. I know it. I know it in my bones.”

He woke more fully and looked at her. His eyes were such a pale blue that she could see them even in the dark. He stroked her cheeks with the back of his fingers, wiping her tears away.

When he spoke, Fell’s voice was firm—not a drop of his usual lightheartedness remained. “Only the gods know what I will encounter in Byernen, but whatever it is, I will find my way back to you. In this life or in the great halls of Hyrold, we will be together again. I know it in my bones.”

Mira wept, and Fell kissed her, growing hard but making no move to take her. He soothed her as she cried, and only when all the tears in her body were gone did he push himself into her.