Gúrdu stopped chewing and swallowed his huge mouthful with another crunch and a wet gurgle. “It’s dangerous to assume that type of thing, hidna.”
The warning growl in his voice made her stop ten feet from his platform. “My bad. You surprised me by sending me a message on the forum, so I will admit being a little hasty to jump to conclusions.” Cheyenne cleared her throat.
The raug growled again, but this time it rose into a dark, heavy chuckle that echoed around the room. “You weren’t nearly this hasty to back down the first time we met. You should see your face right now.” A louder laugh burst from his meaty gray lips before dying quickly.
Cheyenne sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with my face. You just like to screw with me.”
He spread his thick arms in a slow, sweeping gesture. “I stood witness to the Nós Aní binding of the Aranél. It’s a rare opportunity to screw with a drow, hidna.” His lips peeled back in an eager grin, exposing yellow teeth with plenty of sludgy black food bits still clinging to them.
“Well, I’m glad you find that so amusing.”
“I find many things amusing.” Gúrdu’s smile disappeared. “That doesn’t include what you came to me to hear, just so you’re not assuming anything else about this visit.”
Cheyenne slowly navigated her way through the remaining cushions toward him and shrugged. “Kinda hard to imagine anything having to do with a prophecy is amusing.”
“You’re right about that.” The raug’s glowing orange-brown eyes fixed on the drow halfling as she found the least-disgusting cushion and lowered herself to sit on it. “Take off the charms, hidna. You have nothing to hide in here. Not that you can hide it, obviously.”
“The charms? Oh.” She quickly removed Ember’s illusion earrings and stuffed them into her pocket. “Not much of a difference.”
He studied her pale skin and black-dyed hair. “This time, you’re not trying to be wholly something you’re not.”
“The first time, I was trying to get answers from a raug Oracle and figured showing up at his front door looking like a human wouldn’t even get me inside.”
Gúrdu chuckled again. “You’re smarter than you look.”
Cheyenne snorted. “Thanks. Are we gonna keep chatting like this is a social call? Totally up to you. I just put a few other things on hold so I could get over here for these messages of yours.”
“Yes, doing nothing in your apartment must have been very disappointing to leave behind.”
The halfling narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin. “If I didn’t know you’re an Oracle, I’d think you’ve been spying on me.”
“All Oracles are spies, hidna. But for whom? That’s the question so many greedy little magicals try to fit into the right box.” Gúrdu’s thick gray tongue poked between his lips as he slurped more gooey black leftovers from his last meal back into his mouth. “I spy for myself, and on occasion, for those I would like to see reach a certain outcome.”
“Like me making the crossing with L’zar.”
“That is one such outcome. Should we keep discussing my motives, or do you want to stop talking and receive the threads I’ve pulled out for you?”
Again with the thread-and-tapestry analogy. “Let’s go with the threads.”
“Hmm.” Gúrdu reached out with a red claw toward the bowl of water on the closest table. The bowl flashed with silver light and hovered through the air before settling gently beside the raug’s crossed legs. The silver tray came next from a different low round table scattered among the cushions on the floor.
And here’s the part where he picks up all the sticks, dips them in the water, and eats them.
The Oracle grunted as he chewed, splinters of wood flying from between his mouth. He dipped his clawed finger into the bowl of water, then raised it to his forehead and drew a clear wet line down in the bridge of his nose, over his wood-flecked lips, and down to the underside of his chin.
“You will hear, hidna.” The bundle of dry twigs plinked onto the silver tray. “So many things have been woven around the Aranél of the new Cycle, and only one is worth sharing with you for free.”
Cheyenne sat straighter over her crossed legs, listening intently. Finally, someone’s about to tell it to me straight, even if it’s mixed up in a prophecy.
“The threads are re-weaving, drow.” Gúrdu swallowed his mouthful of sticks and closed his eyes. “Sometimes they snap. Sometimes when we thought they vanished, they reappear. In all my time of reading the weave, I have only seen one such thread unchanged. Maybe it means something. Maybe it’s bullshit. But I am one of the forsaken who wishes to turn the Cycle anew. If you find anything useful in this, I’ll be glad to know it helped you do what you’re already preparing to do.”
He’s talking about making the crossing with L’zar again. That has to be it. Not gonna ask for clarification. Cheyenne pressed her fists into her lap and stared at the raug Oracle, who’d now fallen silent but for the slow, steady breath filling his massive chest and rushing out of him again like an ocean tide.
Gúrdu’s next breath wheezed out of him as he set the backs of his gray palms on his knees. Then he gasped and opened his eyes. They were pure white now, seeing only the prophecy, but the flames in the lanterns hanging from the ceiling surged to two feet tall and took on the same eerie green glow.
“Blood bonds with blood. Blood flows both ways.” The Oracle’s voice rose in a thick growl in dozens of voices, echoing through the room as if they sat in a stone cavern instead. ‘The black rivers of Ambar’ogúl thicken, waiting to herald the last scion and the first phér móre.
