The Wanderer by Cherry; Wilder, Katya Reimann Page B

destiny lies before you. You will travel in many lands and know men and women of every degree. Mark well these words: I see a frightened boy, splashed by water from your own hands; you are beside him. When he looks at you, you both smile. I see a tall man, reading in a book, his pen held in readiness. O the Lance! The Krac’Duar! I see the Lance! And yes, I see a woman, an old woman sitting before a mirror—Goddess—I know her! Yet I must not speak her name.” She broke free of the glass then and turned to Gael, a little distracted, throwing a velvet cloth to cover the glass ball.
    Again she took Gael’s hands. “Do not tell anyone of my reading here today. What are your plans after this training with Druda Strawn?”
    “The Plantation …” Gael said. “To serve with the Westlings!”
    Pearl of Andine shook her head.
    “No,” she said. “Your training will be completed elsewhere. You will not go on to serve Knaar of Val’Nur.”
    Gael could not help herself—she touched the lady’s skirts—could Lady Pearl tell her nothing more? The lady sighed, briefly covering Gael’s fingers with her own. “You may go so far as to ask the Druda this: make him tell you the history of the Krac’Duar. I cannot tell you further, and you must not press me.”
    The reading was complete. Lady Pearl put away her aids; at
the last, she reached into a drawer, under the tablecloth. She brought out a pendant on a silver chain; it was shaped like a lily flower, in white and green, with a tiny pearl in the flower’s center.
    “Wear this!” she said. “It will protect you, Gael Maddoc. Till we meet again!”
    As they rode away from Cannford Old House, Jehane gave a mysterious smile.
    “Well,” she said, “did you get a fine fortune?”
    “More than I expected,” said Gael, wondering what Jehane had been told. “But we must not breathe a word—even to each other!”
    “All fortunes end that way …” laughed Jehane. “Look, there are those wretched boys coming back from the village!”
    The summer exercises were nearly done. The Druda rode out as far as Goldgrave, a thriving town on the plateau, growing into a city. He took the two kedran recruits, along with Prys Oghal and the Naylor twins. It was a reward for good work, and certainly Gael’s head was full of words and sounds. She could read at last.
    Goldgrave was a fine place, where they stayed at an inn; there were market stalls on the town square, and she spent three of Hem Duro’s silver shields to buy presents for the Winter Feast It was the first money she had ever had to spend in her life.
    She found a fine set of battle figures for her father and a shawl for her mother and a pair of leather gloves for Bress and sweetmeats for all the family and a little book bound in purple leather for Druda Strawn—a book of Chyrian Tales written on vellum in the common speech. She saw a whole stall full of “Emyan Ware,” cheap but still attractive pictures in the style of the miniatures done by the great Lienish artist. She bought a picture of a tree, decorated for the Winter Feast, with two children dancing—perhaps they were Gael and her brother Bress.
    On the third day they rode out beyond Goldgrave to the northwest. In a bleak landscape, amidst a few ancient ruins of stone, the Druda made a summoning, and there before them stood a mighty gate, with pillars, in the wilderness, slowly fading from their sight. Gael wanted then to ask him of the Krac’Duar, but there was no chance, no privacy. In respect to the
Lady Pearl’s wishes, she held her tongue and waited. They rode back through mist and rain to rejoin the others at the Halfway House: summer was at an end.
    Gael Maddoc was sad to see the last of the training ride, and for reasons she would hardly admit to herself. Yes, indeed, she would miss the companionship of Jehane and the others. But not in the same way that Jehane would miss her meetings with the handsome Egon Baran—she wondered if there had been talk