“THE DESIRE TO know the future gnaws at our bones,” said Safred, the Well of Secrets. “Or so a stonecaster told me.”
Her uncle Cael grunted and kept cutting up the carrots. Carrots, beets, onion and garlic, lemon juice and oil. Delicious.
“Are you going to bake that?” Safred said hopefully. She wasn’t fond of salad, but Cael loved it.
Cael grinned at her. “The desire to know the future gnaws at our bones.”
She laughed, then sighed.
“They’re coming. Send out the word. The girl is badly hurt.” She paused. “They may not get here in time. It will be difficult.”
“Don’t tire yourself out.”
“You’d rather I let her die? Besides, you’ll like her, this Bramble. She’s contrary.”
He grimaced at her but went out to the street to spread the word, as she had instructed. The Well of Secrets sat for a few moments more, wondering if she had the strength to bring the Kill Reborn back from her second death. The gods were silent on the matter, although she had asked them, a thing she rarely did. Prophecy was all very well, but sometimes things came to a tipping point, where the future could go either way, or they came to a person who held the future in her hand, and this was such a time and Bramble such a person. If the Kill Reborn lived… if the girl Bramble survived… which was more important? Safred thought that not even the gods knew. What would happen in the next day would shape the future of the Domains, perhaps of the world, and Safred was as blind to it as — as Cael was.
“Gnaws like a rat,” she said, and laughed so that she would not cry.