“Enya! Enyaaa!”

The sound of my name makes me groan in annoyance. ‘Just five more minutes,’ is what I want to say, but I know better than to argue with my father, the head of the Visperia family. I roll over to my side and sit up.

Fantastic, my red hair has once again got all tangled up. It’s long; perhaps too long for my tastes, and I’d most rather take a knife to it and cut it short, but Father demands it to stay long.

“How could you be the Red Seer if you got rid of the hair?” he always says while rubbing his greedy palms, “Let them think you were dragon-kissed, Enya! It helps keep up the appearances.”

It’s going to take so long to untangle this mess… so I start, my slender fingers picking up the hairbrush and dutifully untangling the locks.

I’m not very pretty, I know. The hair is all I got going for me. But dresses, make up, skin ointments… it all costs money. And while living on the road, in a wagon, you cannot really put time or care into it. My father makes me wear a hood over my face, so that my sun-kissed freckles aren’t seen.

I look out of the wooden cart. My brother and his girlfriend are already setting up the stand. Another village, another lot of clients who all want their fortune to be read by a Niemi, a girl like me. That’s how they call my people. It comes from the old word for ‘mute’ — not because we did not speak, but because we did not speak the common tongue. It’s said we are descended from the fae themselves, that we dance at midnight to the sounds of wolf howls, that we do magic…

We don’t, of course. It’s all just superstition.

“Get it going, Enya,” my brother scoffs as he looks at me, “I wish we could all sleep in like you.”

“I was telling fortunes until the dawn,” I say. He’s so horrible to me, and for no reason! His girlfriend is even worse. Neither of them are a pretty sight; my brother does not share my red hair, but instead has dark brown patches on his head which he shaves, and his wife-to-be is a woman of too much make up and crooked teeth. 

“Yeah, yeah, fortunes… you just pick up a few cards and spin some tale,” he shrugs. “While we haul you around…”

None of them think my fortunes are real. Or maybe they do, but they’re scared. However, deep down I know that the words that come to me when I read the cards are not  my own. They’re voices of… I’m not sure what, but whether it’s ghosts or spirits or fey, something has taken notice of me.

“Put on yer ugly coat,” his horrible girlfriend throws a coat on me. It’s almost a caricature of Niemi culture. I’ve seen proper Niemi dresses from my aunt. My mother really made a mistake when she eloped with my crooked father.

I snatch the robe and put it on. We don’t have a mirror, so I have no idea how I look, but I’m dressed in patched up robes with dozens of jingling bells and hoops.

Outside, the Sun has risen high. People will start gathering for the fair soon. Which means it’s time to get to work.

I pull the curtains between my desk and bed, then get out my crystal ball and cards. The ball is generally useless, it’s just for the appearances, but the cards? They are the real deal. Or at least I think so.

I’ve never found out if any of my fortunes have come true.

I drag my fingers over the cards. They were the gift from my mother, the only thing she’s left me - aside from the red hair and a star-shaped beauty mark on my neck. 

I light some incense, letting the sweet smell spread around the cart. I inhale deeply. Wild flowers, smoke, sun-kissed weeds… How I yearn for them, to be wild, free! But instead I must stay here. Caged. Paraded around. All because of my gift.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Or a curse. However you wish it.

“Only five golds per fortune!” I can hear my brother yell. He’s ushering curious people to the wagon.

“Five golds? That’s a steep price,” one of the men scoffs. “Others charge two or three!”

“Yes, but this is the famous Red Seer,” my father laughs.

There are whispers and chatter between the villagers. My name travels far.

“How do we know she’s real?” Some woman crosses her arms and spits on the ground. “She could be an impostor, not the real deal!”

“Oh, wait until you see her red hair… and if not, you know that the tales tell of the star-shaped beauty mark…”

I hope they don’t make me strip again. They’ve done it a couple of times and it was always horrible.

“Now, come in, whoever wants to have their fortune read!”

***

People rotate. Women come in — they always want to know about their marriage prospects, about love… they’re mostly peasant women, though sometimes noble ladies come incognito, hooded and cloaked. It always pains me when I have to tell a bad fortune…

…And I used to, but my Father told me to stop.

“Lie if you have to, Enya,” he said, “we have a business to run.”

So when I draw The Tower and The Star for the woman across me, instead of telling her her dreams will be crushed, I say something else. That there is a romance waiting for her.

Men usually want to know about business and gold. Does it pay off to invest into radishes this year? Will the King hear out their proposals? Basically, it’s lots of the same questions.

The night drags out. I am worn out and tired, and my head hurts. I am just about to close the cart when…

“Wait, Enya, one more.” My brother knocks on my window.

“It’s almost dawn,” I reply, “I’m done here.”

“He’s a wealthy man.”

Of course. I sigh and roll my eyes, even though I have no more fortunes left in me to tell. I fix my hood and lean back in the seat, waiting to be swept off my feet. So many noble men believe that just their presence is enough to impress me. It’s usually not.

The curtain moves back and a stranger ducks his head to come inside. I rise my eyebrows.

He might be the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. What the hell is he doing, getting a Niemi reading? These folks usually get their fortunes from dozens of Seers in the courts. Practically every well-standing castle has their own!

His hair is long and brown, spotted with golden strands. Not golden hue; but actual gold. His outfit is decked in gemstones, and he wears a tie around his neck pinned with a brilliant amber needle. Long and lean face gives away aura of mystery and… dependability. I immediately know that I’m dealing with an intelligent man and that no fake fortunes will fly.

He sits across me and smiles.

His eyes glow in the dark.

“So, you’re the famous Red Seer,” he slowly begins. His voice is calm, it echoes through the night like a melody. “Please, take off your hood. I wish to see you better.”

“The hood stays on,” I immediately shoot back. I don’t want him to see my face. It’s not the prettiest face in the world. It’s spotted, freckled, pale and red.

He simply slides a bag of gemstones towards me.

“Your Father doesn’t have to know about these. Just take the hood off.”

My hands shake as I take the little sachet. It’s filled with yellow sapphires, amber, beryl, citrine… My breath stops in my throat.

Now, even more than ever, I don’t want to take it off. I cannot be bought.

“I don’t want them. The hood stays on.”

He laughs. “Red hair is a sign of feisty nature, indeed…” He leans closer. Our noses are almost touching. “Please. Indulge me.”

“Not even for all the gold in the world.”

It’s personal.

He leans back and nods. “Keep the gemstones. I will pay gold for the fortune as well, do not fret.”

I shrug. What a weird man. “I will need your name and date of birth,” I say as I shuffle the cards.

“The name’s Duarte. Date of birth… Golden moon of the First Eon of the Old Era.”

I blink. And then laugh.

“Is this a jest?” I ask. “First Eon of the Old Era? That was thousands and thousands years ago. Impossible. Your bones would be dust by now.”

“It’s not a joke, Enya.” The man leans closer.

“How do you know my name?” My voice is less amused now. Nobody knows my name, except from my family. Maybe he overheard it while my stupid brother was yelling for the entire village to hear. “Get out. I won’t be intimidated.”

“Ah, sorry. Or do you prefer Anise?”

Our eyes lock. My heart is beating hundred times in a minute. “W-what?” I feel dizzy all of a sudden. I grab on the table, my knuckles whitening.

“Apologies. I thought you’d prefer your Niemi name.”

Everything in me screams to run. But I stay still, sitting there. His eyes shine for a second, so cat-like in their nature.

“Who are you?” I ask, my voice trembling.

He just slickly smiles.

“Why don’t you read my fortune and tell me?”