The Fortune Teller(14)

Too many temples existed, I thought, for any one prayer to possibly reach its destination. In Alexandria every temple relied on a certain number of worshippers, so the competition to gain the attention of a passerby was fierce. Spectacles rivaling the best theatrical shows would erupt outside temple doors throughout the day. Ariston’s uncle, the one he was staying with, was a purveyor of such wonders, and his work was in high demand. Alexandrians loved anything to do with magic, so each temple’s keeper would try to outdo the others with marvels that often revolved around fortune telling.

Ariston’s uncle had just finished building his latest contraption, a magical fish that spewed gold-painted coins from its mouth. Each coin had a fortune carved upon its face.

We arrived just as the mechanical fish was being hoisted into the air, with an aquamarine banner flying behind its fins like an ocean wave.

The device drew a crowd as coins rained from the fish’s mouth, and a sea of hands reached to catch them. Some came flying toward me, glinting in the light. I caught one and squealed with laughter.

Before I could read the fortune, Ariston cupped my face with his hands and kissed me full on the mouth, a stolen kiss, bold and lustful. His arm wrapped around my waist and he pulled me against him. I came alive and claimed him with equal passion.

“Marry me,” he whispered. “Come with me to Antioch. I leave tomorrow.”

I could not speak. How I wanted to shout yes to the crowd, but I could not. I was a girl of eighteen, several years past the usual age of marriage, and now my father and two brothers depended on me to run their household. The thought of abandoning my family was unthinkable. They would never forgive me.

Ariston took my silence for his answer. He dropped his hands and stepped back.

“My father—” I started.

“Don’t.” He stopped me gently. Words would have tarnished the moment even more.

I nodded, too distraught to speak. He had already known my answer, yet he had asked me anyway.

From his robes he pulled out the codex that contained his translation. “Read the Oracle’s scroll and look for me in your magic symbols.” Without another word he turned away and walked toward the library.

I couldn’t fathom that this moment was good-bye. My hands gripped the codex as I watched him go. He turned back to look at me, his face full of longing, and then disappeared into the crowd.

I ran home and wept for hours. When my father and brothers returned I found it difficult to look at them. They had no idea the sacrifice I had made, that I had changed the course of my life for them by not changing it at all. I tried to join in the playful banter at dinner and listen to them recall the day’s events. But my laughter rang false and the wine tasted bitter. My mother had left her sons and husband in my care, and sitting in her chair that night was the first time I resented her for forcing me to take her place.

Later, in my room, I lit my reading lantern and opened Ariston’s translation to find out what a seer from thousands of years ago might have to say. As I read I began to understand why Ariston had looked at me so quizzically.

The Oracle of Wadjet had known my name.





The Empress

The plane’s descent into JFK forced Semele to stop reading. She had been immersed in the manuscript since takeoff eight and a half hours ago. As hard as it was to pull herself out of Ionna’s story, she powered down her computer and packed everything away in the bag under her feet.

When she glanced up, she saw a man from the next row looking at her, and she gave him a polite smile. She stared out the window, watching the plane touch down. Being back in New York felt surreal.

She checked her cell phone on the cab ride to her office, irrationally thinking that Theo might have called her. When she saw her voice mails she grimaced.

She had three, and two were from her mother:

“It’s me. Are you back in town yet? I really do need to talk to you. Please call me back.”

The second was more of the same: “Darling, we can’t go on like this. If you could just call me so I can explain everything. I know you’re still upset—”

Semele deleted both. She didn’t want to think about her mother right now. Their issues were insurmountable, although Semele knew at some point she’d have to call her back and discuss what happened. There was also a voice mail from Bren. She didn’t want to think about that either.

*

The cab pulled up to her office building on the Upper East Side. The sleek, modern exterior contrasted with the classical European structures around it. Kairos Collections Management took up the top three floors of the twelve-story building.

Semele hurried inside to get out of the windy drizzle. November in New York was always unpredictable, but it seemed colder and wetter than usual. She couldn’t have planned a grayer, more dreary homecoming.

She headed to the executive offices on the twelfth floor to drop off her things, thinking she would grab an espresso in the break room. The jet lag was already kicking in.

When she rounded the hallway corner, she stopped—her office door was wide open when it should have been locked. She could hear the sharp clicking of high heels on the floor inside and then caught a cloying whiff of perfume.

A second later Raina stepped out.

“Oh, you’re back,” Raina drawled in her lilting Russian accent, looking neither guilty nor apologetic for being caught in Semele’s office. Instead, she gave Semele a scathing once-over.