Garath downed his sixth pour of wine. It had been two days since he returned to his division. His men, to his surprise had received him with delight, and had thrown a feast of wine, dancing drunk till midnight. A letter had been waiting for him, a letter from Werez, the renowned Spiritist of Tezf.
Garath had decided to head for Tezf that noon, he was determined infact to see Werez. When he got to Tezf, it had began to rain and his horse had made several protests until he found shelter in one of the market stables. The rain washed burnt wood and brass down the paths, sending the smell of the fire that had just gone out into the earth. Many of the women had cleared their wares, and the farmer who owned the stable had been gracious enough to shelter him till morning. He had even fed his horse.
"I have no food in the shelter, good master," the farmer had said with heart, though he offered Garath water.
Garath took it, thankfully. The following morning, the man brought Garath stale meat and raisin which he ate quietly and immediately went his way.
When he came to Werez's home, he found a number of men outside the place; merchants, farmers and men who looked like nobles gambling, jeering drunkenly. Two hefty men stood at the doorway with daggers. They were rugged and uninviting. One eyed Garath viciously and flashed him the steel of his dagger.
Garath made a Curt regard.
"I am here to see Werez," he said.
The two men fixed themselves a teary gazed and mocked Garath with their laughter.
"Take a coin," one of the men said, pointing to a table where several coins and stones sat in a bowl. Garath looked at the men as if they were mad.
"I am not here to gamble-"
"Then you're not here to see the medium."
"I have an appointment!"
One man scoffed and faced Garath with his side. "Yeah, right," he said. He pointed to one of the gamblers. "See that man over there, he has been here two days."
Garath eyed him. "I am a commander. I have not come for friends."
"Oh, and he's a deputy, they're all nobles, all but the stupid one," the other guard said pointing to one of the men.
"Pick a stone, or a coin. Two shekels for a round."
Rubbish! Garath thought. He marched back to his horse and rode back into the city, found a wine house and drank himself to the sixth pour. Men and women chattered around him with one theme. They were about a fire that had broken out in the market the night before. There had been a dispute, they said, and apparently one woman had been seriously injured. Garath listened only moments before he drifted to sleep.
When he awoke, dusk had fallen. He paid the master of the house and rode back to Werez's home, this time determined to combat the men if that was what it took. On getting to the entrance, the men had all left, only one guard remained at the door and Garath didn't recognize him as one of the two from earlier. He tied his horse and proceeded to the man. The guard was lanky and looked half asleep, one his arms wrapped in wound cloth. Garath could cover him like a cloak and square him severely.
"Hey, you have two options. Show me to Were, or..."
"You're the commander-" the guard said dismissively.
"Yes."
He examined Garath, then turned. "Come," he said.
Garath immediately followed him and was led through a passage way that oozed with wafting cinnamon incense. By each side of the walls, blue, yellow and violet stone pendulums hung. As they drew closer to the summoning room, Garath could see the fire of the candles that illuminated the room. A large spirit board hung at the entrance with inscriptions of some of Yateph's symbols and foreign language of sorcery. The man stopped at the entrance, bowed to a woman in the room and turned to Garath, directing him with his hand.
Garath nodded and the guard left. Garath entered the enclosed, shadowed room, only illuminated by the candles that sat in the windows, North, South, East and West. A large moss jar sat on the room table by which Garath was standing. On the table we're arum, hemlock and bowls of incense.
Every corner of the room smelt of lemongrass and frankincense. Six pale women sat round the elevated alter, hands joint, chanting, humming and moving with sacred devotion. They were covered scantily. Transparent veils over their head and light silk for their bodies.
"Garath?"
The man turned abruptly to face the medium. She was clothed in like manner, her gown was slit to the thighs where a symbol was burnt deep into her skin. She looked the same from the last time he had seen her; pale, thin and mischievous. Her eyes were conniving and her lips dark with sorcery. She had a bowl of incense in one hand and a black thorn stick in the other, a band was tied round her head and a crystal hung from it to her forehead. Garath watched her slither like a serpent towards the alter, whispering, humming.
"Werez..." Garath said.
"I cannot give you what you seek, it is not your path," she said with her raspy commanding voice. When she mounted the alter, she summoned Garath to come. He walked over the women's circle and sat with We're before a stool that held another board. Garath shifted with dismay, his defenses gone. With Werez he must be vulnerable, that was how she liked her merchants and Garath knew, but he was beyond vulnerable, he was desperate, and Werez saw it. She took pride in it, by the way she watched him and by the way she touched the symbols.
"I.. I must see her," Garath said.
"ZAGRA?" Now, We're laughed. The women hummed louder and Garath tensed.
"Tell me what I must do," Garath said. The women hummed louder.
"Shut up," Werez whispered, but when the women kept their note, Were shot them her terror.
"Shut up!" She yelled and the room went silent. She turned back to Garath, recollecting herself.
"She was just here- the great sorceress, Zagra."
Werez traced in the board.
"On Kings can seek her, I am afraid I cannot help you old friend," she added.
Garath watched her fingers, thin, they rode from letter to letter, drawings to symbols. He clasped his hands.
"I must know Yateph's fate in the coming wars. Our defences are failing, we are better off rubbles of brick in the coming wars. Why," Garath pleaded, "tell me about the wars"
Werez rid her face of colour, drawn aback as if he had spoken an abomination.
"I must not speak on the wars," she said, "I cannot give you what you seek, you must leave."
"Then speak on Yateph. Tell me Yateph's fate, if not for consolation, but for a good turn."
Garath had saved her in the past. When Merek ordered that all sorcerers, sorceresses, witches and their sort be sought out in all Yateiand Chez and be executed. They had just returned from a war which was foretold by an old divineress to hold defeat for Yateph. They had come back with victory and Merek seething with pride had made the order. Garath had found Werez at Yateph's border, clutching a pouch filled with crystals and herb, a slender, white and hungry young woman. He had his her in his tent till the raid was over, then set her on her way to Tefz.
"I can only tell you of the prophecy," she stood and walked to the table to retrieve an old parchment, it's content inscribed in drawings and symbols.
"I know of your allegiance to Merek and your many wars and victim. Yateph beheld him and considered him the one who would bring peace and dominion, who would bring life to the District. But he was not chosen."
Werez set herself by the stool again, holding the parchment open, she read;
"No one who hasn't taken up the great desolation shall be chosen fit to seat on the beast, Power."
She looked up at Garath.
"On the eight month, a certain man will advance with his troop and coquer his enemies in the first Sect. He'll advance till he ascends the throne of authority. But it is he who offers the sacrifice of the chosen seed that'll advance in the great wars and seize victory for himself. He becomes the power of the Region," Werez said without breaking her gaze from him.
"What must Yateph do?" Garath inqured.
Werez stood and descended the alter. Garath followed.
"Tell Goz to find Zagra. Only she has the answers."
Garath departed Tezf that night. When he got to Yateph, there was a midnight parade of merchant men. Garath rode to the castle and was let in on his command. The soldiers informed him of the King's departure but did not disclose his location.
Garath returned back to his division to spend the night. Scarcely sleeping, he pondered on Werez's words, he waited for daybreak so he'll be set on his way. He must find Goz.