image [https://i.imgur.com/spj7R0e.png]

I admit, I had to swallow spit before I could ask the dark beauty’s pardon.

"Your drink, sera. I was just watching the sunset and noticed you beside me, also with an empty glass," she gestured back to the party, "would you like me to grab you something while I refresh my own cup?"

"Wine. Red wine," I managed before thanking her. She plucked my glass by its gilded lips and vanished into the crowd, but not before I could admire her tight posterior which popped beneath a tightly drawn sash of lemon-yellow silk.

My chest was still tight from the sudden encounter when she reappeared with a glass in each hand and helped herself to a seat on the bare step beside me.

"You're a gift from the Nine," I said, accepting my glass.

"It was nothing at all," her voice was deep for her size, chesty, "to be honest I was looking for an excuse to stay outside a bit longer. I'm not really one for these types of events."

I watched her take a sip. Miniscule beads of sweat freckled her nose between wide eyes the color of a merlot.

"You're with the Mage’s Guild?" I asked, recognizing the sorcerous cut of her gown.

She nodded. "I'm Benezia, alchemy instructor. You’re a member as well?"

"Berry Longfellow," I said, gesturing to myself, "and not for many years. Doctrinal differences mainly, expulsion as a second order effect of those differences. It broke my mother's heart, but now I make my way as an academic."

Girls love to hear about upset mothers.

"What kind of academic?"

I knocked back some wine, it was a different vintage than I'd had before, full bodied with the faintest coppery aftertaste.

"Destiny," I said, "I study the theories of fate and destiny."

"And there's money in that?"

"None yet, but I've seen signs that I'm destined for wealth beyond the emperor's wildest dreams."

She smiled at that. I suppose my appearance spoke for itself. "I won't hold it against you, but in Mournhold they say there are three kinds of professional liars — imperial advisors, fortune tellers, and academics. I suppose that means you fall into two of the three categories."

"They sound very wise then. There's more profit to be made in deceit, and the true masters are often hard to find, extinct even," I chuckled. "But I study them. Learn their methods and I'm attempting to understand the greater unifying theory, assuming there is one. As a result I spend about equal time in libraries, ruins, and the tents of street performers."

"You sound as though you've found your calling, Mr. Longfellow. And an unusual one at that."

"Please, just call me Berry."

I went on to inquire about her life as an instructor but I will not sugar coat it — it was a dry business to hear her ramble on about the most elementary of alchemical practices and the personalities of her students. As a mercy to you I shall bypass it and suffice to say I nodded her along while savoring the plum-like aroma of her perfume. Though during the retelling of a foam related lab mishap I felt a thrill as our knees brushed ever so lightly.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Soon the sky was ink black but for the twinkling eyes of Oblivion. I peered back into the party to see if Marius was on his way to our appointed meeting. No sign, damn him. Consciously I knew I needed to speak with him, but privately I burned to keep my conversation with Benezia going.

"Berry!" she cried, drawing my eyes back. "Your drink is completely empty again, forgive me, I'll top you off."

I nearly rose to insist that I do the honors this time, but I felt sluggish like I'd strapped uneven weights onto my ass. It was to no purpose anyway since Benezia had already plucked my glass and shimmied off.

She was a rare gem, I marveled, generous in both beauty and a servile nature. I was feverishly strategizing my next move when she re-emerged from the bustling pavilion. Somewhere inside several dozen drunken merchants were torturing a polite audience with an impromptu chorus performance of Battle at the Bridge in honor of Saint Alessia — a tune normally accompanied by horns and drums — but there were several brave men making a go at hooting imitation bugle calls and banging on tables like tribals.

"Here you are," she said.

I took a deep sip, it was the same full bodied vintage as before so far as my wine sopped taste buds could tell. "Thank you again. And I really hope I'm not keeping you from anything."

"Not at all. Like I said, these events are just an obligation that comes with my position in the guild. Besides, I've never met someone who studies as an academic like you do. You know how the guild's culture is — so often it's more about the business of magic and mysticism than the study of anything actually mystical. It sounds freeing."

I saw my opportunity and gave her my slyest smile. "Oh it's more than a study, I practice as well."

"Really?"

"Yes, I've been reading your aura for some time now."

"And?"

She was leaning in, I had her.

"Conflicted. Past and present are still too loud in your heart, I'll need to try another medium."

"Such as?"

I extended my hand. "Your palm, please."

A flash of shock, fear even, in her eyes before she laughed it off and offered a hand. It was just a game of course, an imitation of the street performers' charade which I had in fact studied extensively, but it must have tickled her nonetheless and it sent a thrill down my spine to feel those delicate fingers lace over mine. The wine had made her giggly too, or perhaps it merely made the sound echo in my own head.

"These," I said, running my fingers over the creases of her middle finger joints. "Each mark the length of the phases of your life."

"And what do they say?"

I met her red gaze. "That you are now in the second phase of your life, the one which will define you… but what's this?"

I noted some old calluses, a kind common among laborers rather than alchemists, as I ran my thumb along the curve of her palm.

"This is the arc of your life from birth to death. It reckons time not as a linear experience but as a forward looking reflection of the whole. It both responds to your actions in the present, and weighs on you with your starmarked destiny like a ship's anchor, and will draw you towards your fate whether you wish it to or not. Very difficult to parse out, but fortunately I learned a method from a wandering spirit whisperer on the outskirts of Anticlere."

I closed my eyes in a performative act of deep concentration, relishing in her smooth hand as I passed my thumb over the palm line again. When I opened them her face held a barely contained anxiety, her full lips parted like a freshly cut date in more than anticipation — she was terrified. Perhaps I had played my hand (her hand?) too well.

I struggled to think of something to ease the poor girl's mind. The trick of proper fortune telling is to be flattering without ever crossing into the saccharine. I'd learned from more practiced soothsayers that good news must be wrapped in a subtle curse to be believable to all but the most gullible. Suddenly, it came to me.

"You bear the mark of Azura."

Whatever she had feared I would say passed like a dark cloud from her torchlit face. Through a gritted smile she asked what it meant.

"Marked by the twilight mother, you are forever in the places between and are fated to be a mystery to others," checking her reaction I continued, "you came from little, poverty even, and now have been thrust beyond the station the world seemed to have assigned you. You doubt yourself. Because of your background and maybe the mistakes you've made, and because of that you often feel like you are wearing the skin of another — but this is your greatest tool in life. To have conviction while dwelling in the places between will make you invisible to those who would impede you as you achieve your dreams."

She swallowed, but did not take her hand back.