The Reign of Magic. Wolf Awert
symbol script, but also the runes and other scripts that looked like knotted grass. He never understood why just one script was not enough, but it pleased him to play around with the symbols and rearrange them into new orders.
“Look here,” he said one day. “This is a wonderful grass-word, and it sounds wonderful as well.”
“Yes, but that word doesn’t exist. There is no meaning behind it.”
Nill frowned. “Then I will give it one. I just need to find out what it fits with.”
It was but a small step from the runes to truth-telling, and so Nill asked one evening: “How is it that bones know the future?”
“The bones don’t know it. The one who throws the bones is the one who knows.”
Nill took the bones and tossed them across the stone slab.
“This isn’t how it works. You have to look at the oracle-bones and listen to your inner self.”
Nill listened to his inner self, but heard nothing but the blood rushing in his ears and the unsteady beating of his heart.
“There’s nothing there,” he complained, and the accusation in his voice could not be overheard.
“That is because you have no connection to the stones yet,” said Esara. “Even if body and soul know the future, neither knows that they know.”
Nill stared blankly.
“The art of truth-telling is, in essence, to touch the knowledge of the future that hides within you.”
“But I don’t know the future.”
“Yes you do,” Esara contradicted him. “The future is always preceded by messengers that show what will be tomorrow. Your spirit sees these messengers and knows what will happen. But still your spirit keeps its secrets.”
Nill stayed quiet, rather annoyed. He had a feeling that adults never gave him a clear answer when he wanted to know something.
“Do you know how the weather is going to be tomorrow?” Esara asked.
“Sure, it will be hot and dry.”
“See? You know some of the future already.”
“But everyone knows the weather of tomorrow, that isn’t important.”
Nill felt derided and his indignation showed in every line of his immature face.
“Knowing tomorrow’s weather is very important, and I did tell you that everyone knows the future.”
“But you know it better than others.”
Esara smiled. “The rune stones help me to understand myself better. Look here,” she continued. “This bone here means large-small, near-far, soon or later. This one is the Grand Regent; the sailors call it the great steersman.”
“And how does it show something that is small, far away and soon to become important?”
“It doesn’t.”
Nill shook his head.
Esara lifted a small bone slab. “This one here shows good and evil, useful and destructive. And that one there is of particular importance.” The bone Esara was pointing at had so many surfaces it looked almost like a ball. On every face there was a dark symbol, burned into the bone. “It holds your family, your friends and your enemies.”
“Well I don’t need that one then, I don’t have any family. I only have you.” Nill swallowed hard.
“Of course you have a family. The fact that you don’t know them doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
“If I don’t know them and the family doesn’t know that I exist, then I don’t have a family, because they don’t care for me.”
Esara was lost for words at this, so she simply continued explaining the various bones and their properties. “This bone is home, your house, your village and all houses, buildings and squares where people live. And it’s very important which side is up, but even more important is the way the bones lie in relation to each other.”
From that evening onwards Nill played with the oracle-bones as often as he could, and Esara let him. But one evening he startled her with the words: “Your bones aren’t good. When I’m big I will get you better ones. Every bone should come from a different animal and from a different place. Good bones should have seen the world.”
It was not Nill’s words that made Esara blanch. It was the dancing rune stones on the Stone of Prophecy. Having been tossed, they no longer came to a halt. Some just quivered on the spot, others turned in circles, and the bone for Home was slowly crawling towards the Grand Regent.
Esara took the oracle-bones away from Nill. “Never play with the symbols again,” she said harshly. “It’s far too dangerous. Never tell anyone that you have ever even touched an oracle-bone.”
“Why not?” Nill asked, entirely innocently.
“Oracle-bones lie dormant until they are called upon. They awaken in the truth-teller’s hand when they are tossed, and they find rest anew on the Stone of Prophecy, where they will say what needs to be said.”
“That’s not possible,” Nill exclaimed. “My bones always move. When I lift the bag, when I toss them and when they’ve landed on the stone. They stop when I tell them to stop.”
“Dancing bones tell you that the future is not decided yet. It isn’t wise to keep reminding fate that it has unfinished business it should be taking care of.”
Esara’s fingers were shaking as she collected the bones one at a time and dropped them back into the bag.
“But you keep reminding me of things I have to take care of.”
“That is completely different. Do you honestly believe that you’re above fate?”
“Why not? There must be something that tells fate what to do.” Nill felt very strong and bold, and nothing could have frightened him in that moment, but Esara glared angrily at him.
“Fool. Only a fool will challenge that which he doesn’t know, and an even greater fool doesn’t see who decides over his life.”
I decide over my own life, Nill thought, with all the hubris of youth, but didn’t dare say the words out loud. Esara’s face was far too serious. Instead, he decided to tackle the situation differently and asked: “Does that happen, though, that a human doesn’t have a future and it only happens much later?”
He felt like he was about to discover a great secret.
Everything about Esara’s face showed that this question distressed her, for future and fate, time and destiny are still secrets to the truth-teller, and she knew that one wrong word could change an entire life. With great effort she forced an answer.
“No, everyone has a future, but sometimes it can be several futures or fate can decide not to share the knowledge. Fate does not always want people to know its plans. Truth-tellers know this and have to accept that things happen as they do.”
But truth-tellers did not know that. Esara had lied. Sometimes it could happen that a truth-teller read the signs wrong, or that the vision was unclear and hazy, but oracle-bones that refused to come to a halt was something she had never seen in her life. All security had left her, because a future that did not exist was as the chaos before the making of the world. She tried her utmost to keep this terrible secret from Nill, and pretended the dancing bones to be little more than an annoyance. But she could not fool Nill. He had seen the gray pallor of her skin, the thin layer of shining sweat on her brow. He did not have to glance at her shaking hands to realize how disturbed she was.
It was one of those long evenings when nobody could tell when the day was over and the night began. The sun had gone down but still