18. Danse Macabre [part III]

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They didn't go far. They entered a side elevator, that jerked up. In a matter of seconds, they arrived right under the spectacular dome. It was completely transparent, and one side of the half-floor was a room. There, a man was sitting on a mass of comfortable, large cushions. The air smelt of pleasant incenses and soft rhythmical music made a nice background. The guard went back to the elevator and left the floor. Banshee looked around her and stopped her eyes on the small man on the cushions, not so sure of what she ought to do.

«Come on child, I'm not going to bite you. Come here and sit down.» he invited her. She took off her boots and left them by the elevator, then she walked unsteadily to the man.

He was old. The wrinkles on his face was something you didn't see so often on a Mage. They all usually learned some magic to at least look younger than they were. He had a long beard, disappearing far under him it seemed, or at least behind his lotus-crossed legs. He wore a cheery yellow caftan, richly decorated with embroideries of various natural themes and colors and his expression was calm and peaceful. She could have sworn that his smile had enlarged when she had taken off her boots.

«A respectful girl. Nice. I always prefer to work with nice people. Some of the ones who get to come to me are selfish bastards.»

Banshee smiled and sat down in front of him. The cushions were extremely comfortable. Or maybe she was so tired everything would feel comfortable.

«I hope I'm not disturbing ye Councilor...»

«Oh, please, call me Reyansh. Every person so thoughtful as to take off the shoes not to disturb the balance of my room deserves as much.»

«All rite then, Reyansh.» she repeated. «It's nice fer ye Diviner to keep yer name...»

«You don't like your battle name, huh? I see. You had to leave your family behind, haven't you? And you feel that your name is a precious tie to them, and you miss that. It's a dire matter, and I'm sorry.»

«Wow! Ye just divined that without flickering?» exclaimed Banshee, a tad too loud. She covered her mouth right after. Reyansh let go of a small, amused laugh.

«Garaham told me a bit about you all when he came here to ask for those questions. He insisted on paying. That boy will let his pride wear him down, I swear.» he smiled. «So, your questions.»

«It's personal.» she muttered.

«Oh, personal, right. Very well, then it's important and we should get into it at once.» Reyansh's smile was as comforting as a father's. Banshee started to relax. «Please, be sure to be as precise as possible pertaining to the question you need to be answered, because once I start Divining, there is no turning back.» he said, turning professional but always with a kind, friendly tone.

Banshee thought for some moments.

«Can you see what my brother Killian and Staccato are both doing right now?» there was no better formulation. If the Divination would have yielded two images, it would have been proof that Staccato was lying. If not, she would have had her answer. And a whole lot of suffering with it.

Reyansh nodded, seemingly pleased.

«Very well. Just, before I start, just humor me for a second: what would you like the answer to be?» he asked, as he extended one hand to take Banshee's.

«I... I absolutely don't know.» she answered, honestly. Reyansh's smile widened.

«Good girl. Now, let's see.»

In front of the man, a crystal ball appeared. If it would have looked tacky and clichéd everywhere else, the quiet seriousness of the man dignified the object with a glaze of professionalism. The ball levitated between them, and he focused, grasping at the most difficult fluxes of them all: the unraveled and often incomplete fluxes of the unknown.

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