Augury

My first post, a piece of flash fiction. The painting is by Odilon Redon.

The Augury

In the darkness that would never lighten, she let the memories run behind her eyes, of sunny meadows, her mother’s face, the bright hangings on the walls of her father’s house. Not all the lamps of the world could lighten her darkness now, for she was the seer, and to see, she had first to be blinded.

She was gifted, they had told her father. She would make a fine offering to the temple. She remembered her father’s face as he weighed up the options—an advantageous marriage, or to have the temple in his debt. A daughter was useful only for what she would bring in exchange. She remembered the cupid smile that twisted his lips when he made up his mind.

Her mother had cried and begged him to relent, but it made no difference. They had put out her eyes all the same. She had been small then, a child too tiny to put up a fight. But she knew how to defend herself now. In these years of darkness, she had learned many things. She had learned how to taste the fear in the air when a man came to ask for an augury, to know why he feared, and sometimes, the truth gave her a bitter satisfaction that came close to making up for the loss of her sight.

‘I know you’re there,’ she said to the presence that hung in the doorway behind her. ‘I might be blind, but you can’t hide from me.’

The air moved, sandals whispered as he approached, thinking he made no sound. The movement stopped. She raised a hand to hush his request. ‘You have a boon to ask, and I know what it is. Will the ship bring back untold wealth, or will it founder and take your investment with it?’

She sensed the tensing of his muscles, the rage that he should be asking a favour of a woman, and her of all women. She knew that he was afraid of her. He had every reason, after all. But he was even more afraid for his fortune. She smiled inwardly and with her foot, stirred the luck, good or bad, in the heap of peacock feathers.

‘I see the ship, the storm that strikes as it enters the straits. I see the crew furl the sails, but too late. The ship is blown onto the rocks and is wrecked. The cargo is lost, your investment, all you possessed, at the bottom of the sea with all hands.’

She hesitated, waiting for the sharp intake of breath, the gasp that signalled the beginning of despair. The smile made its way to her lips. ‘All lost. Even the child who stowed away on his first adventure, against his father’s express wishes. Your beloved son, Father.’

She savoured with unutterable delectation, the sharp pang of horror, and the darkness lifted just a little.