“The future is clouded,” Emmarelda puzzled, her fingers stretching and clawing over the crystal ball. Her two fellow fortune tellers made low hums that harmonized just at the edge of sound. The cloudy mist within the crystal ball swirled as the heat from Emmarelda’s hands warmed the gas within. Both techniques were simple theatrics, but as always the effect on the mark was impressive. The burly merchant drew back, sucking in a lung full of the incense laced air. He immediately reddened fighting back the urge not to sneeze. Emmarelda suppressed her irritation, a coughing fit would hardly improve the mood.

“Do you feel the truth in you, is it choking in your throat?” Emmarelda demanded.

“I feel it!” the merchant wheezed and began to cough and splutter. Zargela clandestinely pulled the incense burner further away from the mark, blushing furiously in admission her mistake.

“The truth! It clarifies!” Emmarelda declared theatrically, drawing her hands back so the gasses cooled and became less opaque.

“Has my wife been unfaithful to me?” he gasped. Only if she is lucky Emmarelda thought disgustedly as she observed the man before her. He was typical of the class of men who were gaining power in the kingdom, men who grew fat on trade and the privileges they had been able to extract from the King and the Government over the past fifty years. He was pudding faced and round, flushed red and drink veined his eyes sunken and piggish. He wore a cologne so awful it actually managed to overpower the decades of incense which permeated the reading room.


“You must cross my palm with silver, to allow me to read the strands of fate!” Emmarelda declared theatrically. The merchant fumbled for his purse, sweat glistening on his skin. He fumbled it and spilled a half dozen silver coins onto the table. Zargela swept her hand over the table and the coins seemed to vanish. At the same time Vadoma touched a valve beneath the table and the luciferite lamps flared.

“I see! I see that her heart is true and her devotion shines like gold!” Emmarelda cried almost hysterically, then sagged back as though faint, throwing her hand up over her brow as the lights returned to normal.
“The Great Emmarelda has exhausted herself peering into the turbulent heart of a woman,” Zargela declared, “you must withdraw so your energy does not harm her!”


“Thank you… thank you!” the merchant babbled as he was quickly ushered out before he could ask for a refund for his spilled coins. Once Zargela coughed to let her know the merchant was gone, Emmarelda miraculously recovered herself and smiled smuggly.

“Not too bad,” she commented as the coins vanished into a pouch.

“Why did you tell him she was faithful?” Vadoma asked curiously.

“Well it will do no harm to the girl for one, and you dont come to a fortune teller if you want bad news,” Emmarelda explained to the younger girl.

“Send in the next…ow!” Emmarelda pulled her hand away from the crystal ball as though stung. Gingerly she extended her hand again and felt an odd prickling in the glass.

“What the..” Before she could investigate further there came a curse from one of the bouncers as a handsome man shoved his way into the room. Emmarelda sat up and made a hand sign for them to back off. People with powerful emotions were always easy to manipulate.

“I see you come here with great need…” Emmarelda declared in her most mysterious voice, accompanied by a slight flare of the lamps for dramatic effect.