by Deva Fagan
“I, Fortunata the All-Knowing, now part the veils cast over what may be, and look forward into the future.” I began with my standard flummery, which gave me a few more precious moments to think. I knew of no princesses in peril, dire or otherwise. But I did know a whole city that was. “I see a city. It floats upon the river, its very streets are water. But the water runs with blood, under the cruel villain who has slain so many. He holds the city in his iron fist, and the people suffer. There, the princess is there. In Sirenza, in Dire Peril under the threat of the Bloody Captain.”
I took a long, shaky breath. There had to be any number of eligible young ladies in that city who were in dire peril. One of them would do. And if Captain Niccolo was killed in the process, all the better, as far as I was concerned. I had given them a nice, simple prophecy and now I could go. Perhaps in a few days this horrible fluttering in my belly would calm down.
“But the princesses of Sirenza were slain—that is what the rumors say,” said one of the courtiers.
I forced myself to unlock my clenched fists and smooth out the robes I’d been clutching. I wanted to turn and run, before I got any deeper into this dark wood of lies. But I had come too far now to turn back.
“The Bloody Captain did seek to slay all the royal family of Sirenza,” I said. “But the princess escaped. She was hidden among the people.” That should do it. The prince would probably get hold of the first pretty girl he found. I didn’t suppose she would object to becoming a princess.
“Oh, great seer, how shall the princess be known?” asked the queen.
Vainly I searched my mind for something suitable. What had I gotten myself into? Panic champed on the edges of my thoughts. I pushed it back. I had to do this. If I could make this fortune work, it might earn Father and me the coin we needed to leave Ubaldo forever. I stared into space, hoping I looked suitably enigmatic as my mind raced desperately for an answer. Then Allessandra’s advice came back to me. She had always said to use what is at hand. People will more readily accept a fortune if it is composed of things they see every day. I remembered the bronze from the hall.
“The slippers,” I said. “The golden slippers of Queen Rosetta. They will fit only a True Princess, a girl suited to wed her grandson.” There had to be some girls in Sirenza who would fit them. As long as the prince found one of them, my fortune would suffice.
There was an appreciative oohing and ahhing from the crowd of courtiers, but the queen looked puzzled. “The slippers?” she repeated.
I’d said something wrong. I swallowed the lump that had lodged in my throat. “The slippers that were gifted her by the doge of Valenzia.” Curse it! I sounded like I was asking a question, not delivering mystical truth from beyond.
“But we have only the one! The other was lost, years ago, in the Black Wood. Stolen by the Witch of the Black Wood, so my husband said.”
“Then it shall be recovered,” I said quickly. By the seven Hells! Why had I used the plural? I had seen only one, but I assumed. . . . I raised my hand to wipe my sweaty brow. Belatedly, I turned the gesture into a sort of theatrical wave, as if I were sweeping away the fog that cloaked my vision. I couldn’t give up. If the prince had to go off into the Black Wood for a bit, that would only enhance the quest. “Yes, the prince must recover the stolen slipper from the Witch of the Black Wood.”
“But, how shall the witch be defeated?” asked the queen. “She has magics upon her that will guard her from the blades of mortal folk.”
Yes, I thought, a witch had little to fear from mortals. Because witches, like fortunes and fairies, were nothing but lies. You couldn’t harm something that didn’t exist. I struggled to think of an answer, the thrum of my heart loud in my ears. Ubaldo stirred beside me, a low warning rumble. I bit down on the furious words I would have spoken had we not been standing before the queen. Ubaldo had no right to be angry, bringing me here without a hint of what was to come. If he’d told me his plan, I might have concocted a better story. But here I was, trying to produce a believable prophecy to defeat a witch that didn’t exist, with my throat dry as kindling. Ubaldo shifted and surreptitiously pinched my arm. I gritted my teeth. Enough. I could do this. I was good at it. Even Ubaldo knew that. I would finish this.
I said the first thing that came to mind. “The prince shall find a weapon to defeat the witch in a village three days’ travel to the . . . east,” I improvised. “He shall ride forth from Doma tomorrow, upon a snow-white steed, panoplied for his great quest. He shall face great danger, and terrible trials, yet his courage and honor shall guide him true, and he shall return to Doma with the True Princess at his side. That is the wisdom of the All-Knowing Eye.”
I dipped in a rough curtsy, holding my breath. I had gotten a trifle carried away at the end there. But now it was done, for good or ill. The roiling tension rushed out from me, leaving my limbs shaky and my belly sour. There was a long pause, during which the only sound was the scratch of a quill on parchment. With a twinge of foreboding, I saw that Jacopo the clerk had been recording my words.
The queen smiled, a trifle fixedly. “The thanks of all Doma to you, Fortunata, for this prophecy. My son shall make ready to depart on the morn.”
A halfhearted wave of clapping rose from the crowd of courtiers. A glance from the queen provoked a few additional cheers, but for the most part, the onlookers remained remarkably unenthusiastic. Well, I thought, slightly offended, it was the best I could do on short notice. Hadn’t they heard the part about the witch? That was worth at least a few huzzahs.
I steadied myself with a deep breath. Ubaldo had better hold to his word and give Father and me our share of the earnings. I never wanted to go through this again. Thank the Saints it was over.
“And now,” the queen said, “you will wish to refresh yourself before embarking on the journey.”
“The journey?” I repeated dumbly.
“Of course. You will accompany my son on his quest, and see that it comes to pass as you have foretold,” the queen said. “Your father has sworn that you possess the True Sight, but so too have others before you. Doma does not look well upon those who swear falsely, and to do so before the queen means death.”
“D-death?” I stammered.
“Be at peace, Fortunata, for if you truly have the Sight, there is no reason to fear. Your father will be our guest, and granted warm lodging and plentiful food, until the time your prophecy comes to pass.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
The queen snapped her fingers, and Jacopo scuttled forward to hand her the parchment he had been inscribing. She glanced it over, then held it aloft.
“As I said, to swear falsely means death. That is our law. Here stands a record of your prophecy for my son. If this fortune does not come to pass, your father will die.”
CHAPTER
6
I LOOKED AROUND Father’s prison bleakly. It was certainly no stinking dungeon, nor a high, remote tower. It was a perfectly comfortable, well-appointed chamber, the walls hung with rich tapestries, the huge wooden bed hung with red velvet, the wide windows letting in streams of afternoon sunlight, with heavy drapes standing ready against the chill of evening. A silver tray held a roast fowl, fried cabbage, and a plump almond pastry. It was, in fact, one of the finest rooms I had ever seen. But it was still a prison.
“Look, Nata, this is a de Nussi, here, in my very room!” Father had his nose pressed up against a painting of the ascension of Saint Rosa that hung beside the bed.
“Father, you can’t stay here,” I said. “We must find a way to escape. They’re going to execute you!”
He turned from the painting, brow furrowed. “Execute me? Whatever for?”
“My fortune, if it doesn’t come true, Papa, the queen said—”
Father chuckled, waving aside my fears. “Oh, Nata, it will come true. You’ve the True Sight, just as I said. That prince of theirs will have his princess back here by next Saints’ Day, I’d wager. Not nearly long enough for me to tire of th
is beautiful room. Ah, how your mother would have loved it. She always had a hankering for velvet.”
I went to the window and pushed past the drapes to peer down. Very far down. The people milling about the plaza were small as dolls, and the pigeons mere specks. There was no escape that way. While Father continued to exclaim over the thickly woven rug and finely crafted chairs, I marched to the door and threw it open. Two stern guards regarded me, stiff at attention on either side of the doorway.
I turned back, and threw myself down on the couch Father was admiring, cradling my head in my hands. It was no use. My horrible, false fortune would never come true, and Father was going to pay the price for my foolishness.
The couch creaked as he sat beside me. “Nata, dear, don’t worry. I told you, I’ll be fine.”
I couldn’t bear to look up, to see his faithful gaze. He had believed in me, and I had let him down utterly. Father patted my shoulder. “I know your fortune will come to pass.”
His words broke my descent into despair, tossing me the slenderest of ropes. I raised my head and covered his hand with my own, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re right, Papa. It will come true.” I continued on, as much to reassure myself as my father. I would need all the Saints smiling on me to pull this off. “Then we’ll be free of Ubaldo. We can go back to Valenzia, or any other city you like. We’ll buy a house of our own, with velvet drapes and a great big workshop for you. It will be so fine you won’t need magic.”
“You’ve all our magic now, Nata,” he said. “But look where it’s gotten us. Into the palace of a queen!”
And into a whole stew of trouble. My frail, newborn hope didn’t cloud my eyes to that fact. I had no magic. But I would get us out of this with what I did have. My wits and my cleverness had earned me, or rather Ubaldo, a pig’s weight of guilders. Now they were all I had to get us out of this mess. If Father’s life depended on it, well then, I would have to make my fortune come true.
I LEFT FATHER happily admiring the porcelain ewers in the washroom and decided to set out in search of anything that might help me. I had some thought of going to see the slipper in the grand hall. I had foretold that the prince must recover a matching shoe from a witch I didn’t believe existed in a forest so vast none knew its farthest boundary. The real slipper was probably rotting under a dozen years’ worth of mulch by now. Perhaps I could have a duplicate made.
As I stepped into the hall outside Father’s chamber, what little optimism I had disappeared. A third red-garbed figure had joined the guards in the hall.
“Hello, Captain Ribisi,” I said, attempting politeness.
He inclined his gray head. “Mistress Fortunata. Don’t tell me some vision draws you forth?” The twitch of his lips told how little he believed that.
“No, ah, I only wished to get a bit of fresh air. And I hoped to see some of your beautiful palace. Before I leave. With the prince. On the quest.” My halting words only made his lips twitch again.
“You seem very certain you will be leaving.”
“Of course. As the queen said, once the prince makes his proclamation of the prophecy, I’m to accompany him on the quest. Unless I’ve misunderstood?” I tried to hide the excitement in my voice. Perhaps Papa and I could escape together, while the prince was off searching for a nonexistent witch.
“Yes, that is what the Edicts decree. You should know, however, that you are not the first so-called seer to come to Doma.”
“I had heard something of that,” I admitted.
“In that case, you might also have heard that every one of them failed to deliver a true prophecy.”
Curiosity overwhelmed my attempts to appear remote and all-knowing. “Did any of them come close?”
“None of them even made it out of the city.”
My mind whirled, trying to find sense in this. What could stop every single prophesied quest from leaving the city? All that was supposed to happen before we departed was that business about the prince proclaiming the truth of the prophecy to the people. I realized my mouth was open, and shut it.
Just then a patter of footsteps announced a breathless page, come to call Captain Ribisi away on some other matter.
“Enjoy your tour of the palace, Mistress Fortunata,” he said, before turning to follow the page.
Saints be praised. I sped off down the hallway, eager to be out of the man’s cold glare. But I couldn’t escape the chill his warning had cast over me. There was something I did not know, and I felt sure it was going to be trouble. How many other seers had come before me? What had become of them? Why had they failed? All I could hope was that my exploration might yield more clues.
It took me quite some time to find my way down the numerous stairways and winding passages back to the main hall. The servants were bustling about in such a state I did not dare to ask directions. Besides, why would a true seer need something as simple as directions?
Before long I lost all sense of where I might be. I found myself in a wide, windowless corridor lit by braziers. It terminated at a large door, similar to so many others I had passed through already. I sighed and debated going back, but decided to at least see what was on the other side of this door. With any luck, it would be the sweeping staircase down to the ground floor of the palace.
I shoved the heavy door open. There was no staircase. Instead I found a richly furnished room, all violet and gold. It was quite dark, but the single shaft of light from the one window showed me something of great interest: a large painting covering nearly all of the facing wall.
I slipped into the room, pulling the door closed behind me, then tiptoed over to the painting. A richly garbed lady upon a pure white horse galloped through a tangle of dark trees. She rode sidesaddle, trailing her long, pale gown over the flanks of the horse. One foot peeked out from the hem, clad in a golden slipper. The other foot was bare. Behind her, flying through the dark trees with her ragged black sleeves stretched out like wings, came the witch. Her face was slightly green and speckled with warts. In one clawlike hand she held the second gold slipper.
I searched the painting for clues as to where this might have taken place, but found none. Disappointed, I was turning to depart when I heard voices outside. I looked around at the rest of the room for the first time, and my heart jumped. It was a personal chamber, a lady’s, judging by the array of brushes and jeweled hair ornaments laid out on the toilette table nearby.
“I have it, Princess, as you asked,” said a man outside.
“Silence, you fool!” said a woman’s voice. “Not out here!”
Princess Donata! I looked wildly for a way out, but found none. There was another door, but it was on the far side of the room. I couldn’t reach it in time. I darted instead for the window and pulled the heavy drape in front of me just as the door creaked open. I begged the Saints not to let her discover me.
Footsteps shuffled across the thick carpets, then the door shut once more. “Now, then, where is it?”
“Here, my princess, a fair copy, down to the last letter.” I frowned, recognizing the voice of Jacopo, the fat clerk from the audience hall that morning. What was he doing meeting clandestinely with Princess Donata?
“And this is exactly what she said?”
“Yes, Your Highness, every word of the prophecy.”
She snickered. I could hear the rustle of parchment being unfurled. “No more prophecy than any of the others. I doubt we need interfere with this one to gain our purpose. Look at this rubbish. Witches and the Black Wood. Mother’s ridiculous slippers. And a princess from Sirenza?” She gave a sharp bark of laughter. “The Bloody Captain’s no fool. There’s not a girl alive in Sirenza with even a drop of royal blood.”
“But what if—”
“Oh, I will be prepared. If there is the merest hint that the little fool’s prophecy might come to pass, it will be dealt with. But I doubt my nephew will make it out of the city, and I won’t have to lift a finger. Not with all this nonsense about slippers and Sirenza and snow-
white steeds.” She chuckled again, though I couldn’t understand what was so amusing.
“And then you will be queen,” said Jacopo silkily.
“And those who have helped me shall be richly rewarded.” I could almost hear the clink of golden coins in her voice. “Now go. Leave me.”
Jacopo departed, trailing a flood of obsequious compliments. Princess Donata, alas, gave no sign of leaving. She was probably plotting and scheming ways to foil my fortune while my legs grew stiff and my nose itched with dust from her curtains.
I heard steps again, moving away. I risked a peek through a gap in the drapes. Princess Donata stood at the far end of the room, rummaging in a tall armoire. I watched, one hand pinching my nose against the threat of a sneeze. At last Princess Donata passed out of sight through the smaller door on the other side of the room.
Before I could think better of it, I had scrambled out from my hiding place and darted across the room. Throwing open the main doors, I burst out into the hall. I did not look back. My stomach felt cold, and despair gnawed at my heart. Now not only must I make my own extravagant fortune come true, but I must do so against the efforts of a power-hungry princess who wanted the throne for herself. What had I done to deserve this fate? Were the Saints punishing me for all the false fortunes I had given? Well, curse the Saints, then, for I had done what I must to keep us alive.
I burst around a corner and collided with someone. The impact sent me staggering back. My long fortune-telling robes wound around my feet, tripping me. I blinked up at the person I had run into.
He looked like the statues of Marco the Fair, most beautiful of all the Saints. Cornsilk yellow hair lay in curls like gold coins across his sun-tinged brow. For a moment I feared the Saints had sent one of their own to punish me for my curse. But this Saint did not look angry. I stared into brilliant green eyes that turned all the world quiet and reverent as a forest glade in the sun. I realized I was staring.
