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Faith looked into the eyes of her client from where she sat, the tripod positioning her at the same height as the King opposite her. She poured a libation of wine to the floor, and waited for just a heartbeat too long, just enough to set the man on edge.
When she spoke, her voice was faint but clear, like a scream from a dream, or a bird whispering from a tree, “You will lose something you hold dear, but the strength will remain. Endure, and you will thrive. Do not fall into the follies of your ancestors, despite how they call to you.”
The King nodded to her, eyes shimmering, “You have my thanks, my lady.”
As soon as he left the room, giggles started to escape from Faith’s lips, starting at a bubble of a whisper, and growing into a raucous sound that echoed throughout the Room of Prophecies.
A soft voice called from outside, “Oracle?”
Faith jolted, before settling in her tripod again, “Come in.”
“What did you tell this one?”
“Oh, the same crap as always.” Faith slid off of the tripod, standing in front of Jackie’s rollator, “You got any ideas of what I could tell the next chump?”
“Hmm…”