Page 8 of Stranger's Choice
He waited until after his noon meal. He settled into one of the many rooms in the palace where small entertainments were held for the delight of any guest of the Emperor. Tjalik always left to enjoy his own meal at this point in the day, and Sebin watched the courtiers and eavesdropped on as many conversations as he could. He overheard far more without the translator nearby. He would forego his eavesdropping today, though, in order to connect with the oracle instead.
Once she returned from whatever task she had assigned herself on his behalf.
She glided across the room to his side moments later, with none of the awkward clumsiness that had afflicted her for about half a day in evidence. She held a pitcher in her hands, and since Sebin was holding his goblet, he held it out automatically. He didn’t want any more wine, but it was no use trying to deter her.
Golden peach wine poured out from the pitcher to splash and mix with the red already in the cup.
Sebin watched the oracle. She studiously looked at the floor as she poured, carefully avoiding seeing the two wines combine. He wondered if she’d use that same concentration on the floor to justify overfilling the glass as well. She didn’t. She stopped shy of the rim. In fact, she stopped earlier than she had any other time she had refilled his drink in the past day. Perhaps she couldn’t be as exact when looking at the floor, and she did not want to risk the liquid overflowing. As much as she seemed set on annoying Sebin, she did not want to catch others’ attention.
She set the pitcher down, and Sebin took a sip of his wine. He did not shudder at the taste, but kept his eyes on the oracle, reading the frustration building in her when he refused to acknowledge her actions.
One sip was all Sebin could take, both because the two wines clashed horribly, and because he wanted, once and for all, to learn the woman’s name. He stood up and exited the room.
The oracle followed in his wake.
After wandering a few halls at random until they reached an empty part of the palace, Sebin stopped and spun around. The oracle took a step back, then froze, staring at him.
He tapped his chest. “Sebin.”
The oracle blinked at him.
He said his name again, slowly, tapping his chest, then looking at her significantly. She knew his name. He knew she did. Surely she’d understand what he wanted.
She repeated his name.
“Sebin.” He tapped his chest again, then reached out toward her. She flinched back, and he stopped with his finger barely halfway between them. He pulled back, pointed at himself again and repeated his name, then pointed at her without reaching out.
“Auraelie.” Her voice was soft, but not meek. No, she said her name like it was a gauntlet she threw at his feet. “My name is Auraelie.”
Sebin smiled. “Auraelie.”
Finally, he had addressed at least one issue of having the oracle follow him around. Now if only he could figure out what the Emperor hoped to get out of having her serve him, and why she had switched after a few days from being the perfect servant to one courting dismissal.
