Lower Gordorf was vibrantly alive, with children running about the narrow streets with colourful paper sails on sticks. Old women chatted amongst each other at the same time scolding their grans when they were caught throwing stones at the stray dogs that sniffed about for scraps. Gay women lingered near doors of lady houses showing as much skin as they dared in their tightly fitted dresses with low cut necklines flashing seductive smiles at the men who whistled approvingly. Lads jostled one another in the street for sport while a group of barefooted little girls played ring around the posy, near a dark skinned woman nursing her baby. A group of old men played a quiet game of chess while cheering on some younger men who delightfully filled the air with the jangling of tambourines, strumming of guitars, peal of fiddles, whistling pipes and every whatnot their hands were capable of playing.

"Oh, how delightful it all is, Lia! You are a true darling for persuading Ms. Cotts to let us join you in your fun, don't you agree, Marge?"

"It was nice of her," was her uninterested reply.

"And I sewed up my skirt just in time for this," said Ammie, twirling her skirt handsomely about her. "Who would have known?"

"Eres is a dear, Ammie, no matter what you think. He's actually gone out of his way to change my candied apple for salted nut and popcorn all because he knew I preferred it."

"It wasn't for you, Harriet, it was to please Lia. She likes nothing better than a respectful and thoughtful gentleman. Isn't that so, sweet girl?" She nudged me with her elbow.

Marge taking a look over her shoulder hurried at my side, whispering fiercely in my ear,

"Whatever you do don't get too close to the mountain wench. I don't know what possessed Cotts to send her along as if she were invited! "

"Shh! You mustn't be so rude with your tongue Marge! I'd asked her first, you know, and she deserves an outing as well as everybody else."

"I would've been able to bear Mr. Henfield and his noisy sisters happily if she hadn't come along," she muttered, surveying the trio with an air of disapproval as the girls tried to throw their rings on the poles while their brother cheered them on encouragingly. Quistelle stood aloof looking very pretty in her well mended dress watching them with shy delight.

"She's a no good thief!" Marge said crashing the tranquility of my thoughts then.

"Upon my word, Marge Finnicktoff!"

"You think too well of people, Lia, you always have. From the moment I heard a mountain wench was to come here, I knew something would be amiss, but no! 'Treat her as kindly as ever ' said the great Mrs. Ivanhallow, only to have our wicked Halstung steal from the pantry and boldly lie about it!"

This was like a bitter slap in the face and I bore it bravely until those four negative words installed themselves in one progressive statement.

"She didn't steal anything." I said simply.

Marge stared as though she were face to face with the most idiotic person in Gordorf, if not the world!

"She has admitted to being in the pantry after everyone had gone to bed and has stolen—for I cannot believe she had eaten it—three days worth of food! And Ms. Cotts, to my mortification, was firm in her belief that 'the dear must have been unbelievably hungry'! and only gave her a mild scolding saying she needn't fib about such things. By Gordorf's beard! It was a disgrace to Bedlaam and she ought to be severely punished!"

I shrugged. "Perhaps you may think so, but others obviously don't. And from what I've seen it wouldn't hurt her to have extra meals since she is, as Mrs. Satcher states, merely skin and bones."

Her eyes flashed visibly.

"She came from beyond those cursed mountains and that alone is a sure sign of bad apples, Malstoyke."

I quickly turned to go, saying with a hint of annoyance, "I wash my hands of this whole affair, and refuse to listen to any more." But Marge was never one to back down.

"She has stolen under Bedlaam's roof and I—,"

"She didn't steal anything from the pantry!"

This drew the attention of several passersby and even Ammie and Harriet, who were busily deciding which games to play, looked in our direction. Marge's eyes became suspicious and I wished I'd held my tongue. Her gaze pierced me through and through. Thankfully, Eres, who was not at all keen on an argument ruining his fun, sauntered over to us saying in his amiable way,

"Marge you oughtta know better than upsetting my girl with your crotchety ways."

He carefully drew my shawl over my shoulders.

"I''d like her to be fun and lively when the big show starts, please."

Marge narrowed her eyes at him.

"Don't you know when to leave ladies to their own battles, Dacklefoy?"

"Well, it would be an unfair one, if you ask me. I see only one lady and an extremely cross bungy," he said gallantly.

If looks could kill, Eres Dacklefoy would've fallen lifeless then and there considering how Marge glared.

"She's a crotchety crone isn't she?" he said, having put some distance between us.

I couldn't help but sigh.

"She can be disagreeable at times, but I wouldn't call her crotchety or a crone."

"Alright, no need to look at me so harshly, I beg pardon. I have an idea that'll cheer you up,.... hmm, let me see—Aha! Look there!"

A man dressed in a long black robe was disappearing inside a brown tent.

"What is it?"

He smiled mysteriously.

"Never mind, you'll find out soon enough."

He confidently led the way to the opening.

I pulled away from his grasp.

"A fortune teller, Eres? You can't be serious."

"As serious as old Jiggs when he said he wouldn't sell me that sling shot," he said holding out his hand. "It ain't gonna be so bad."

I rubbed my arms.

"You know how I feel about things like this. It's all so... eerie."

"How about this?" he said thoughtfully. "I'll go first?"

I shook my head.

He threw up his hands. "Alright fine! You needn't do it, but I will—and don't try to change my mind! But I'd appreciate it if you came with me, you know for... moril support."

"You mean 'moral' support?" I said, trying not to laugh.

He laughed. "Yes, thank you, moral support."

I sighed, to Eres' amusement, before draping my shawl tightly about me.

"Well, if we must. Let us hurry and be done with it."

~

"Welcome to The Tent of Truth, son and daughter."

I clung to Eres when the deep brooding voice greeted us as we entered. The hooded man stepped out of his dark corner, a burning matchstick between his fingers. My eyes followed the trail of smoke as he waved it through the air as though casting some spell.

Eres caught my wrist and whispered harshly near my ear. "Hey, you said you'd stay, so where are you going? There's nothing to be afraid of. I'm right here."

That was little comfort.

The man waved to two vacant chairs. Eres slid into his seat with an ease he was born with while I slowly sat on the edge of mine, ready to take to my heels if need be. The stranger settled across from us. He drew three candles near the centre of the table. Removing his hood, he revealed a severely solemn, deeply lined face and gray beard; the flickering flames only slightly softened his cruel features. Rich black paint outlined his eyes giving a mysterious effect.

"What have you a wish to learn, my son?" His deep voice seemed to bounce off of the tent walls which was impossible!

"I would like to know my future, sir."

I shot Eres an incredulous look.

Our host closed his eyes then quietly arose from his chair, opened an intricately carved chest and withdrew a silver bowl, a small pouch of sand, and five sticks about twelve inches in length.

"Before I can show you your future," he said as he dreamily poured granules of sand into the bowl, "I must have a glimpse of your past."

He organized the pieces of wood along the edge of the bowl.

"My son, please place your forefinger in the bowl's centre. Thank you. You may withdraw your hand."

He lit the sticks with one of the three candles. The smoke crawled above our heads and slowly images of him at various stages of his life danced upon the air.

"As Gordorf breathes," Eres said in awe.

There he was when aunt and uncle took us berry picking one glorious summer. Then the scuffle he had with his childhood nemesis, Nathaniel Creggins. In another, he galloped away on his father's saddle on their fence in a pair of oversized boots. There was the time he'd witness Meadow bring forth her first calf. He and his Pa on their way home from the field; an argument with his mother; a fight with Pete and many others.

Managing to peel my eyes from the images over or heads, our host sat transfixed, not on the scene above, but on me!

I shifted, lowering my gaze.

Bowing his head he waved a hand over the bowl.

"I have seen what I needed from your past, and here's what I make of the future: I see deep sorrow and regret followed by something valuable that will make you prosper if you should see it. I see jealousy, drink and secluded labour. I see fire and a beloved. I see a fault overcome and devoted friends part ways."

He raised his head. "That is what your future holds."

Eres sat entranced and only then did I see a figure disappearing down a long windy road before the image was gone. The hairs on my neck were standing as I nearly fell over my seat in my haste to be off. Eres helped me balance and bowed to the man as he dropped some pieces of silver into the coin platter.

"Thank you for your time, good sir."

"All roads somewhere lead," he said just before we stepped outside. "But not all to the same place. If you wish to change your fate, change first the path you take."

I looked away as his eyes pierced my own. Eres nodded and guided me out.

We walked in silence for a while, each busy with our thoughts. Eres suddenly chuckled.

"I suppose you were pretty scared in there since you're still clinging to me."

"Weren't you? Anyone would've been!"

Eres squinted into the night's sky for a moment.

"I'll confess it got a little creepy near the end but it was worth it."

"In the end! Why, I was frightened before it even started!"

"Yeah, I saw you ready to bolt for the exit like that raccoon Pete used to keep," he laughed.

"It was so strange," I whispered, "yet so real. I've never seen anything like it."

"Strange characters come to Gordorf this time of year," he said looking about with a satisfied air. "Only last time you were in Olivington."

"Perhaps I ought to have stayed at the house," I said, remembering my initial plans of working my fingers as dry as parchment.

"Is it the weather that has you shuddering or our fortune teller?"

"Mostly the fortune teller—it's warm out." I put my shawl over my arm. "What did you think of his prediction?"

"Curious," he said after a thoughtful silence. "He really had me with all his fancy smoke and pictures of my life. How he managed it, there's no knowing, but I hear the best of this sort comes from beyond the mountains. He could have been one of them."

Beyond the mountains?

"But, anyway, it isn't anything I'd work myself up over. And don't you worry your pretty head about it either. I could use a drink right about now," he said, looking about.

"Have you drunk yourself into a stupour recently? I asked with an edge to my tone.

"So you saw that one did you?" he said with a boyish grin, not at all ashamed of himself. He shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"And what kind of example are you setting for your brother in losing yourself to fine wines?"

"Ale's cheaper and Pete's a good lad and doesn't take to booze like most lads his age. He was a little late in saving my neck that time, though. Oh, come now, Lia are you upset?" he said, hurrying after me.

"Disgusted is a much better word for it. You make light of your conduct as though it were the most natural thing in the world and hold your brother responsible for getting you out of your mess. It is the most reproachable thing indeed!"

"Alright, alright, enough of your scolding and lecturing as if I weren't a man capable of spending my time and money as I please. I'm sure I'll get enough of that from Mum when she picks Pete's mouth clean. That boy can't tell a little white lie if his life depended on it."

"Of that I'm glad, for one lie always leads to another!" I snapped. "No matter how small."

"Picking your way around the truth is just as bad," he said. "Or do you mean to tell me you don't do that anymore?"

I stopped to glower at him.

"It's so like you to bring up someone else's fault whenever you're caught in your own."

He shook his golden locks from his face.

"Now is the time to change the conversation 'cause you're getting crabby and the show's prob'ly about to start."

He looked about in search of something then, spying his target, gave a shrill whistle.

"You got them tickets yet, Pete?"

The boy waved the golden slips while flashing us a toothy grin.