Free The Crimson Skew by S. E. Grove Page B

Sophia at the roots of the tree.
    Without removing the veil, she looked up and finally seemed to meet Sophia’s eyes. “Your fortune lies told before you,” she said quietly. “Not one fortune, but several. The objects at the edges are all pieces of a life you may live. Some will prove meaningless. Others will prove essential. Just as the tree suggests many fortunes, so the objects pertain to many possible lives.
    â€œThe main trunk of the tree is unavoidable—the path you will certainly take. But the branches are all uncertain. You might take this one,” she gestured, “or that one,” she pointed to another. “These possible paths are so numerous that it would take a lifetime—your lifetime—to describe them. I will describe only those that are most dangerous, most probable, or most important.”
    Sophia did not speak. She waited, an unexpected tenseness coiled in her stomach. The Fates no longer meant anything to her, and she had stopped believing that the world was ordered by some greater power. Yet she found herself watching Maxine’s movements with hopefulness and dread, as if this would actually determine her fortune.
    â€œThis is one path you might take,” Maxine said, indicating the lowest branch of the tree. It ended at the horseshoe. “It is a dangerous path. Along it, you seek vengeance for a friend you have loved. The vengeance takes you into darkness, into a world of terrible deeds. By the end of this path, some of those deeds are your own.”
    Sophia nodded wordlessly as Maxine looked to her for acknowledgment.
    â€œThis path is less likely, but you will find it alluring,” she went on, pointing to a higher branch that led to the broken piece of glass. “It is the path of knowledge. Along it, you will become the greatest cartologer of the known world. Your uncle’s mantle will pass to you. But along with knowledge comes peril. This form of knowledge, while pure in itself, attracts the attention of those who would misuse it. You find yourself a fugitive, an exile, and your knowledge becomes a great burden.”
    Again, she looked up at Sophia, who nodded once more. The knot in her stomach was tightening. Were none of these possible futures happy ones?
    â€œNow, this path,” Maxine continued, gesturing to the path that ended in the velvet ribbon, “is safer. It is the path of prosperity. There is happiness, though there is less knowledge. Your cartology fades into the background, and your life becomes firmly anchored in the material world. Exploration and profit. Treasure and adventure. This path holds only trivial dangers and many pleasures. But I see a vein of discontent pulsing through the pleasure: a sense of being dissatisfied. Beforewarned—this path will bring you happiness, but it may not bring you fulfillment.
    â€œAnd then there is this path,” Maxine concluded, waving her arm over a broad branch that led to the tree ring and the small, brown shape. “I am mystified by this path, for parts of it are obscured to me. It seems dangerous, but I cannot tell you what the dangers are. It seems fulfilling, but I cannot describe the forms of fulfillment. What I see is a pattern: losses followed by discoveries; grief followed by intense joy; bewilderment followed by a font of certain knowledge. This is a complex path.”
    â€œHow will I know?” Sophia finally asked. “How will I know which path I am on? And do I have a choice?”
    â€œThere are choices everywhere,” Maxine replied, waving her arm over the table. “They begin here. Which path of these do you wish to take? I will tell you how to find it.”
    Vengeance, knowledge, prosperity, or uncertainty. Sophia could see, even with such brief descriptions, that all but the first path had both good and bad things about them. Knowledge was important, Sophia reflected, but it would count for very little if she had to spend her life