Free Wrath of the Furies by Steven Saylor

serve me a strange brew, you take my money, you tell me nothing I don’t already know, and now you mock me!”
    She sighed. “You have a tongue to speak, it seems, but you have no ears to hear. This is a waste of my time and yours.”
    From the patch of darkness came a slithering sound, and my squinting eyes perceived a vague movement. I decided the fortune-teller had remained unseen for long enough. I rose to my feet and stepped toward her, intending to pull her into the light. I shielded my eyes from the glow of the window, thinking to see her more clearly, but when I reached for what I took to be the cowl of her cloak my hands encountered only a pile of empty cloth with no person inside.
    â€œIt’s only a pile of rags!” I said, tossing aside the various pieces until nothing remained and the corner was empty.
    â€œHow in Hades…?” I whispered, looking about the room. With my back to the window I could now see Bethesda quite clearly, and the rug on which she sat, and the empty cups on the rug—but nothing else. Except for the two of us, the room was empty. The only way into or out of the room was through the door by which we had entered, or else through the window, and the fortune-teller had exited by neither route, for we would have seen her do so. Unless the room had a trapdoor …
    Before I could set about examining the wall and floor beneath the window, a voice called out from the doorway.
    â€œTime to go!”
    It was the little boy who had shown us in—or so I thought. But when I looked at the person in the doorway I saw not a boy but a very small woman, her wizened features starkly lit by the morning light from the window.
    â€œTime to go!” she said again.
    I frowned. “Who are you? You can’t be the person who greeted us at the door…”
    Bethesda, rising from the rug, turned to look at the woman. “Of course it’s the same person, Master. She opened the door for us and showed us in, and brought the two cups.”
    â€œYou recognize her?”
    â€œOf course, Master. Do you not?”
    â€œThe voice is the same, yes. But I thought…”
    â€œPerhaps you were mistaken. Would it be the first time, Roman?” The dwarfish woman’s wrinkled features were drawn into a smile. I drew a sharp breath. Now she sounded like the fortune-teller!
    â€œTime for you to go!” she said again, clapping her hands for emphasis. She ushered us down the narrow hallway, which was now light enough so that I could avoid banging my elbows. She opened the door and shooed us into the street.
    I put my hand on the door before she could close it.
    â€œWho are you?” I said. “What happened here?”
    The little woman looked up at me. She sighed. “Alas, Roman, sometimes things are not what they seem.”
    â€œSo I’ve discovered. But I would see things as they are.”
    â€œWould you, Roman? Is that truly your desire?”
    â€œAlways.”
    â€œAlways?” She laughed. “To always and everywhere see things as they truly are—that is not a blessing, Roman, but a curse, and only a handful of mortals must bear it. They are called fortune-tellers.”
    â€œOr finders,” I said, thinking of my father, who strove always to see things as they were. It was from him that I had inherited the same curse, if a curse it was.…
    The little woman took advantage of the lapse in my concentration to push the door shut. I heard a bolt fall, and knew she had locked the door.
    So ended my visit to Ameretat the fortune-teller.

 
    V
    â€œLook, Master! Is that a dolphin, swimming alongside the ship? I’ve seen pictures of them in mosaics, and statues in fountains, but never a real dolphin. Look, there’s another! And listen—do you hear? They seem to be chattering to each other. Or laughing! Do dolphins speak? Do they laugh? I wonder, are those two a couple? Do dolphins pair, as mortals