Free Dragon's Child by M. K. Hume Page A

forward, curious at last.
    ‘Ask,’ she said simply. ‘And I will try to answer.’
    Livinia deferred to her husband.
    ‘Will the Villa Poppinidii remain fruitful?’ Ector demanded autocratically, for he was a little afraid of this small woman.
    Morgan tied the narrow band of leather over her eyes and stared sightlessly at the mirror’s face. She crooned under her breath.
    Artorex stared fixedly at that narrow, pale band.
    What is it? he thought to himself. It looks like . . .
    His mind was too revolted by the image of soft, human skin to continue with his thoughts.
    ‘The Villa Poppinidii will last for a long, long time. Its fields will bear for generations to come and, when it is dead at all but the heart, still it will live on in legend, until men in a far off time will find it and make it bloom once more.’
    ‘Well, that’s a fair prospect,’ Ector replied, seeing none of the menace and all of the good - as usual.
    ‘Will I bear a son?’ Julanna asked timidly.
    Once again, Morgan seemed to listen to silent voices and see strange shapes in her mirror with her covered eyes, although Artorex swore to himself that it was not possible.
    ‘You will bear children, lady, in pain and travail, and you will hold them in your arms and suckle them. Yet no son will live to spare you from later pain.’
    ‘But will Villa Poppinidii have children to hold it strong, children that are of my blood?’ Livinia asked, for this question meant more to her than any other.
    ‘Aye, my lady. You will know that they are yours before your ending - and believe yourself blessed. You have earned the forbearance of the gods.’
    Artorex shuddered, despite himself. Why did the family smile, refusing to recognize the poison in Morgan’s prophecies?
    We hear what we want to hear, Artorex heard Morgan whisper in his head.
    Not I! he thought, savagely.
    Not you! was the soundless, laughing reply.
    Caius was restive for his own turn.
    ‘Will I be a great landowner and warrior?’ he demanded. ‘And will my name live on after I am dead?’
    Morgan stared hard through her leather band. Her hands made strange patterns in the air, and Artorex saw that they were long, clean and comely.
    ‘Under one form or another, your name will endure down the ages.
    You will be steward to a great king and the whole world will know the truth of you.’
    The truth of you? Artorex thought furiously. Spare even Caius from such a fate!
    But the young master was delighted.
    ‘Steward to a great king. Renown for ever. Could a man ask for more?’
    ‘And what of you, Master Artorex?’ Morgan asked softly. ‘Do you have a question for me?’
    ‘None!’ Artorex snapped. His response was far rougher than he intended.
    ‘Come, Artorex, it’s only a game,’ Ector admonished.
    ‘Are you afraid to learn that you will make me a wealthy man, Steward?’ Caius filled the title with enough venom and contempt to poison all the persons present.
    ‘I fear nothing,’ Artorex retorted.
    ‘Then cast the bones,’ Morgan demanded evenly and without challenge.
    ‘Why should I do so? Can you not see my future, as you did for the family?’
    ‘My gift is not easily mastered. Cast the bones, Master Artorex, and I will tell your fate.’
    Unwillingly, Artorex picked up the knucklebones.
    They were smooth and slick under his fingers and seemed to quiver as if they were still alive. Instinctively, Artorex knew they had once been part of a human hand.
    As the great Caesar had cast dice many, many years before, Artorex threw the bones on to the mosaic floor.
    Morgan took off her ghastly eye-band before rocking and moaning over the pattern the bones had made on the tiles. Her voice seemed to come from far away.
    ‘You bear poisoned blood, Great One. Beware of a woman with yellow hair, for she will lead you to ruin.’
    ‘Surely you can give me something better than that,’ Artorex challenged her.
    Morgan stared at him through the lamplight. Her voice changed, and became