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58. Fortune teller
🕑 Added 2025-08-30 10:51:49 +0000 UTCThe next week was spent on my new routine. I would teach some basics of magic to Ophelia, then let her meditate on the cube and read. In the meantime, I was digging through all the clutter in the storage looking for the designs of my family’s old mansion or an explanation on why the judgment ritual was suggesting my orbit was not complete.
But for now, there was nothing. If the Vatican organizes the Sabbath sometime soon, I could try to talk to the Egyptian delegation. Maybe they still have some documents from the designer.
At least Q’Shar was having much more luck than I did. Our initial guess turned out to be correct. After analyzing the documents and looking for someone with recognizable techniques, they managed to find the most likely suspect.
The clan in question had a fist technique with the imaginative name Needle Fist that would leave a characteristic deep puncture wound in the middle of the strike. Add to that they seemed to be in contact with the smaller family I wiped out in the process, and the fact that their head was a massive asshole with a big ego and short temper, it all fit.
They were called the Winser Clan. A smaller family with their own voting rights. Lap dogs of a much bigger family in their area, but from the looks of it, they went behind the main family’s backs. To make the whole thing even funnier, the main family’s second son went missing not long ago, and he did fit the description of the driver they killed.
Sadly, Q’Shar didn’t agree with my approach of disappearing some people and whined something about votes and leverage. So we ended up postponing any retaliation until after the Sabbath as “their votes can decide something, something," more politics I left to the cats. I was mostly content with the pouch, not like I would forget them anyway, and I did owe Q’Shar this much for his help. So the Winser clan's unfortunate accident was postponed to after the Sabbath.
What's more, according to my broker, I should be getting a call from Eman any day now, as the fortune teller finished her trip to Europe and will be traveling through the USA. So things were aligning well.
At least most of them.
After another few hours of finding nothing, I just sighed and gave up rummaging through the shelves. No progress on that front.
I looked behind me at Ophelia, who was now out of meditation and looking curiously in my direction.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“Yeah.” I clicked my tongue. “All the books and grimoires, and I can’t find what I’m looking for.”
“Well. I’d offer my help, but I’m not sure I could read any of those, huh?” she chuckled.
“Yeah, you might find them… problematic.”
I could see she was becoming more and more curious throughout the past week, as she watched me get through strange-looking tomes and coffers. I once caught her trying to extend her neck to see what was inside one of those, which earned her a glimpse of an eldritch idol and a nice nightmare about swimming in a sea of eyes. But right now, she was shifting in her chair, which, as I learned over the past few days, was a sign of wanting to ask something and not knowing how.
“Sooooo.” She finally started. “What’s so important to spend a week buried in all that?”
I considered keeping her guessing for a little longer, but finally relented.
“Two things, but mostly information on building a circle. Something you will be interested in very soon if you continue at that pace.”
Ophelia absentmindedly looked at the cube she was holding, her fingers still covering three out of seven tuning runes.
“Will I start casting spells when I build the orbit?” she asked, a slight smile of excitement on her face.
“You will first need a proper meditation technique.”
"It's something important, I take it?”
“Very.”
She nodded and went for her book. But I could see she wasn't paying any attention to it, as her eyes were just glued to the same spot on the page.
I waited for the question that came soon after.
“So is everything alright with your orbit? Or is it one of those taboo things you don’t ask other mages?”
“It’s a little taboo, but fine to ask your teacher. And honestly, I’m not sure. We’ll know when we see a fortune teller.”
“To tell us the future and fortune?"
“No. That’s diviners and oracles. Fortune tellers, the real ones, tell you things about yourself. Your skills, attributes and so on.”
Ophelia closed her eyes and raised her hand over the cube as if it were a crystal ball. “Ooooo, I sense a powerful Dexterity in you.” She opened her eyes. “Like that?”
“You would be surprised how close you were. But don’t mock crystal balls in front of a fortune teller.”
“Another taboo?”
“No. More like leaning on a cross and going, ‘ooo look at me, I’m Jesus.’”
Ophelia winced. “Right. Sorry.”
“Oh don’t be, you can offend all the gods you want in my presence.”
“Yeeeeah I’ll pass. So what does fortune telli–”
I interrupted her. “You’ll see when we go to one.”
“And the other thing you’re digging for?”
“House designs.”
“I’d say hire an architect, but I’m guessing it’s more than just a nice-looking house.”
I couldn’t help smiling at the idea of a wizard’s mansion being just a nice-looking house. “No. It’s much more than that. They need to obey many laws and numerological principles beyond just not collapsing from a strong wind. The house needs to be upgradable, magically conductive. And if you want folded dimensions, it’s even more complicated. And I do want those.”
“The original design was very good, I take it?”
I looked at her from behind some documents, my eyebrows raised.
“What? Was that another taboo?” she asked, sighing in resignation.
“No. It was designed by someone famous. Way before the time of my grandfather, during the end of Egypt’s Third Dynasty, under the reign of Nefren-Ka. You might have even heard about the guy who designed it.”
“Oh?”
“Imhotep.”
Ophelia choked to my growing amusement. “The man who designed the pyramids? Over two thousand years B.C. That one?”
“Yeeeep.”
I confirmed and went back to my document, feeling my apprentice trying to stare a hole through me.
“Okay, but how does that work? I mean, it was thousands of years ago. And we know his name in the ‘mortal’ world. And who was your family to…”
I watched her ramble on with growing amusement. I guess I know why my father enjoyed teaching me so much. It was entertaining. I sat there with a smile and, like a proper mysterious wizard, answered in more and more riddles until she took the cue and went back to the cube in a much worse mood than she started.
Teaching was so much fun.
It was another week before I got a call from an unknown number. It was Eman himself informing me that the fortune teller was currently traveling through the USA. So I took Ophelia, who was now struggling with the sixth rune, and we were on our way.
The trip took a lot of time as the town was in Texas. After a quick flight and then renting a car, we drove for another three hours to a small town.
The place Eman told me about was easy to find. It was a small traveling carnival. It seemed to be somewhat popular as we parked among many other cars. I got up, adjusting the white shirt I had on. I’ve spent so many past days in the wizard robes that wearing normal clothes felt unnatural. I waited for the day when I could just dress like a proper crazy person, but that was still far away.
“The mysterious and powerful fortune teller is here?” asked Ophelia, getting out of the car.
She looked around skeptically.
“Apparently.” I shrugged. “I read that a lot of fortune tellers and diviners traveled around. So maybe it’s a tradition? I’m not sure, honestly.”
“Why are they this rare, though?” she asked as we wove through the crowds, scanning for a tent.
“The Church really didn’t like them. Fortune tellers were one of the top targets for the Inquisition because ‘one’s fortune can only be known by God,’ so almost all of them were killed.”
“But they don’t actually tell fortunes, right?”
“Nope,” I said as some children ran in front of us carrying massive cones of ice cream. I looked around, noticing a couple of carnival games, and an idea came into my mind. “Let’s go for those.”
“Are they magical?”
“Yeah, at scamming you.”
“So we’re going to get scammed?”
“No,” I shook my head. “You are getting scammed. Try the one with horseshoes.” I pointed as we went in the direction of the game.
We got in line with a group of teenagers trying to impress their chosen crushes and kids betting on who will do better. There were quite a few people waiting to get their money taken. I could see from here that the horseshoes were clearly weighted to one side, judging by how they flew. A classic carnival scam.
“Is fortune a thing?” Ophelia asked as we were in the line for the game.
“More or less. I think it’s like many possible paths, and some can see a few of them, but honestly, it’s not a subject I’m knowledgeable on.”
“So it’s not like there’s some inevitable fate?”
“No, that I can assure you of.”
“You’re sure our destiny is not set in stone?” She locked her eyes with mine.
“Yes.”
“You absolutely sure?”
I looked at her. She seemed to be bothered by the idea. No one wanted to learn that their fate was beyond their control, but that was the first time I saw her this riled up about something since the ritual.
“Yes. The famous case of Aleson of Delphi settles it.”
“Like the Oracle of Delphi?”
“Yep.” It was a famous story in the world of magic. “Before they opened their doors to the mortal world, the oracles were highly respected in the arcane world. It was said that their predictions always came true. Of course, if they didn't, then it was because you misunderstood them. But there were skeptics, the most famous one being a philosopher named Aleson. In a famous case, he challenged the oracle to tell him his fate in front of the whole city, and if it came true, he would kneel in front of the temple for a week straight and praise the oracle to all his students. So the oracles prepared. They waited for the stars and planets to be aligned, and they brought the best teller they had and read him his fate. They told him that he would meet the love of his life soon and marry her, then he would realize the week of kneeling is worth the love and that they would have two sons.”
Ophelia was listening intently. I smiled as what came after was my favorite part of the story. “So, the guy listened to the whole speech without interrupting even once. Finally, after the divination was done, everyone waited for his rebuttal. They wanted the famous philosopher to share some of his wisdom as the whole city looked on. And when it came time for his speech, he simply took out a dagger and killed himself.”
Ophelia’s eyebrows shot up.
“Well, he proved them wrong, technically. Some praise him for his dedication to proving his thesis. Others remember him as the one who freed mankind’s fate from stone and rewrote it on water. I, on the other hand, aspire for his level of spite.”
Ophelia stared in shock before slowly shaking her head, but I could see she was feeling a bit better. We approached the games, and she paid for a go, then looked to me for instructions as she was handed the horseshoes.
“Throw. It’s not complicated.”
She did. And she hit the pole on the first try. It could be a fluke, but then she did that again and again.
Now, both the game owner and she were looking at it, stunned.
“You should get used to your new body. You have the dexterity of an Olympic athlete now,” I whispered to my stunned apprentice.
After getting some tickets as a prize, we went on our way, trying a few more carnival games as she slowly realized her body worked differently now.
The walk was pleasant. The sun shone, and the all-around clamor of people became a calming white noise. Until we finally arrived in front of the fortune teller’s tent.
It was a sizable purple tent, clearly well-made, fashioned from good quality fabric, as it stayed clean despite the dust in the air. Although the spot was to the side, not in the center of the carnival, it was overall better decorated than anything else here. There was a two-person line. I immediately noticed that the first person had a magic signature. Weak one for sure, but still.
We nodded at each other.
The wait took another hour before it was our turn. The man with magic spent 45 minutes and came out looking like he ate something foul rather than learned more about himself, while another mundane person just took 15 minutes and came out looking happy.
I stopped Ophelia from following me. “You always go to a fortune teller alone. And yes, it’s another taboo. A massive one. Even parents can’t enter with their children.”
“Got it,” she said as she stayed behind.
I entered the tent.
And was immediately surprised.
It was practically scam central. Every possible way to lose your money was proudly on display. From a collection of oh-so-mysterious crystals and fake crystal balls, to sky charts and zodiac merch.
“Welcome, you whose winds of fate brought you here,” came an old female voice as its owner came from the deeper part of the tent.
It was an older woman with a hunched back. She had a face covered with wrinkles framed by long white hair coming into a thick braid, which twisted around her neck and onto her shoulder. She wore a loose gown in the same color as the tent. The gown, as well as her whole body, was decorated with numerous crystals, stones, and amulets. All of it as fake as possible. If not for the aura of the second circle lightly emanating from her, I would have thought that I was in the wrong place.
She took one look at me as her eyebrows rose. She then stopped and straightened up, her hands crossing on her chest. “You should’ve said somethin’ boy, spare me the whole goddamn charade.”
“Sorry?”
“Eeeh, whatever,” she said and then started to rummage through one of the coffers. “Here, hold this.”
She then pushed a black ball into my hands.
I was honestly surprised. It looked like an 8-ball. I could do that much fortune-telling myself. Was this a scam after all? With my eyebrows stitched closely together, I looked down at the ball as the die inside spun.
The woman was powering it.
“Is this really a–” I started, but then the die stopped.
‘Estimated spending 2000 obols,’ said the ball before the woman snatched it from my hands like an eagle diving for a rabbit.
I stood there in stunned silence as she looked at the device, then smiled a wide grin and pointed at the chair.
“Would dear customer like some tea or coffee?” she said with a crooked smile.
I fucking hate Magic 8-balls.
