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  The old woman’s smile deepened, and she gave Laszlo an approving nod. “I knew I liked the looks of you, young master. A good face. Strong nose. Maybe an eligible bachelor?” She squinted at him and waved a hand in the air. “My sixth husband, he's getting old. In seven, eight years, I need a new one.”

  She tapped her chest. “I am Grandmother Zoray. And you, my young lord, maybe you make a fine number seven, eh?”

  Laszlo grinned. “You’ll have to negotiate with my father,” he said lightly. “But that shouldn’t be too hard. He’s famous for how badly he negotiates.”

  Katalin choked on a laugh.

  The old woman chuckled and gestured to the young girl beside her. “This is Esmeralda the Ancient.”

  Esmeralda, who looked maybe eleven years old, dipped a small, solemn nod.

  Katalin squinted at her. “The Ancient?”

  “Yes, yes. Very ancient.” She winked at Esmeralda and turned back to Laszlo. “Come, let’s see what the cards say for my future husband.”

  She led them into the tent, Esmeralda trailing behind.

  As they stepped inside, Katalin leaned toward Laszlo and muttered, “You need someone to follow you around so you don’t just give away all your coins.”

  Laszlo shot her a quick, guilty look but said nothing.

  Zoray began with ceremony, waving her hand over a small clay bowl full of charcoal. A faint trail of smoke rose, filling the tent with a scent both sweet and bitter. She waved her hands through it, drawing the curling tendrils of smoke toward Laszlo, murmuring words neither he nor Katalin understood. Esmeralda mimicked her movements, her dark eyes flicking between them, sparkling with amusement.

  Laszlo stood stiffly, his hands by his sides, watching as the woman retrieved a wooden cup filled with water. She pulled a small pouch from her belt, pinched out a measure of dried herbs, and sprinkled them into the cup. She lifted it toward him.

  “Spit.”

  Laszlo hesitated, glancing at Katalin, who only shrugged. He exhaled sharply and did as he was told.

  Zoray swirled the liquid three times, staring into it. After a moment she upended the cup onto the dirt floor. The water splattered at her feet, soaking into the ground.

  She crouched low, her sharp gaze fixed on the spreading dampness. Esmeralda knelt beside her, tilting her head as Zoray pointed at something in the mud. They spoke in hushed tones, their language smooth and flowing, words rolling together like a river over stone.

  Katalin leaned forward, squinting at the ground. It was just wet earth. Whatever they saw, it was invisible to her.

  The old woman exhaled through her nose, stood, brushed her hands together. “Come,” she said, gesturing toward a small wooden table draped in faded blue fabric. A cloudy crystal ball rested in its center. She settled into the seat opposite them, resting her fingertips lightly against the glass.

  “Your immediate future,” she intoned, voice slipping into a rhythmic cadence. The flickering lantern light caught in her dark eyes.

  “I see change. A great shift in your life. You will go to new places, meet new faces. Some will become dear to you. Others will test you.”

  Laszlo sat motionless, watching her carefully.

  “You will work hard. You will be challenged. Adventure is in your path.”

  She blinked, as if the vision had passed, and sat back. “This is what I see.”

  Laszlo frowned slightly, leaning back in his chair. “And the deeper reading?” His tone carried a trace of skepticism, as if he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or disappointed by the vague predictions.

  The old woman’s lips curved into a knowing smile. From beneath the table, she pulled a worn deck of cards, the edges softened by years of use. She shuffled with practiced ease, the cards whispering as they slipped against one another.

  “Cut the deck,” she instructed.

  Laszlo tilted his head, an exaggerated look of confusion on his face. He unsheathed his dagger and held it over the deck as if preparing to slice the cards in two.

  Zoray huffed and swatted his hand. “Stupid boy.” She said something sharp to Esmeralda.

  For the first time, Esmeralda spoke back, using their foreign tongue, her tone flat.

  Whatever she said made Zoray snort with laughter.

  Laszlo and Katalin exchanged a look.

  “What did she say?” Katalin asked.

  Zoray grinned, showing a few missing teeth. “She says stupid boy make good husband. Maybe she negotiate with father.”

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  Laszlo chuckled, shaking his head as he finally split the deck properly.

  Zoray took the shuffled cards and laid them out in a deliberate pattern across the table. The old woman fell silent, her weathered face creasing deeply as she studied the spread with intense focus.

  Finally, Grandmother Zoray spoke. “Oh no. Not good.”

  She looked sadly at Laszlo, gestured for Esmeralda to examine the cards.

  Esmeralda leaned in, studying the spread. She sighed, her dark eyes glistening, as if by magic, she produced a red silk handkerchief and dabbed at forming tears.

  Katalin and Laszlo exchanged looks, both raising their eyebrows.

  Zoray laid a few more cards over the ones already on the table, studying them intently.

  Laszlo leaned forward, trying to make sense of the cards. “What do you see?”

  “Great pain and confusion,” Zoray murmured. “Years lost in the wilderness.”

  She flipped another card, then another, her expression shifting slightly.

  “But not hopeless,” she said. “You will return. But heartbroken.”

  She sat back with a sad expression. “You will never have the thing you truly desire.”

  Esmeralda whispered something, her voice barely above a breath.

  Grandmother Zoray nodded, as if in agreement and looked back at Laszlo. “Maybe we negotiate with father now, eh? You stay safe here, clean up after pigs and horses until old enough to marry.”

  Laszlo sat in silence, seemingly stunned.

  Zoray shrugged. “No? Well, maybe you think about it.”

  She gathered up the cards, stacking them neatly. Esmeralda exhaled, as if releasing something heavy.

  “Your fortune is told.”

  Grandmother Zoray squinted at Katalin, tilting her head slightly. She gestured for her to stand. As Katalin moved away from the table, Zoray hummed thoughtfully. “So small, this one. Like a sparrow, yes? Maybe too small. Hard to find husband with tiny hips.”

  Esmeralda, still standing behind her, shook her head and murmured something in their language.

  Katalin arched a brow.

  Zoray nodded sagely and translated, “She says you not too small. You grow stocky. Good hips for making big babies.”

  Katalin snorted and did a slight bow in Esmeralda’s direction. “Thank you.”

  Esmeralda grinned and replied to the bow with a slight nod of her head.

  Zoray motioned Katalin forward, and the performance began again with the the smoking bowl. With exaggerated movements, she scooped a pinch of dried herbs from her pouch and sprinkled them into a wooden cup of water before having Katalin spit into the mix. She swirled the liquid with a dramatic flourish, murmuring words in her own tongue, before tilting the cup and spilling its contents onto the packed dirt floor.

  Esmeralda, now fully invested, leaned in closer than she had with Laszlo’s reading, watching intently. Zoray pointed at something in the dampened soil, speaking in low tones. Esmeralda nodded along, her expression growing more serious as the old woman gestured again.

  Katalin glanced at Laszlo, who just shrugged.

  Finally, Zoray waved Katalin back toward her seat at the small table and turned her attention to the cloudy crystal ball. She frowned, tilting her head slightly as if trying to see something clearer. With a quiet sigh, she held out her hand, palm up. Without a word, Esmeralda reached into the folds of her skirt and produced another silk handkerchief, this one deep blue. Zoray used it to polish the crystal in slow, circular motions before handing it back.

  She studied the glass sphere again, tilting her head slightly and furrowed her brow.

  “Strange,” she murmured. “Adventures and changes. New places. New people. Just like new husband.” She lifted her gaze, eyes flicking between Katalin and Laszlo. “But different people and different places. Odd.”

  Katalin frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Zoray didn’t answer right away. She shifted in her seat, adjusting her angle as if looking at the ball from a different perspective. “Give me your hands,” she said instead.

  Katalin placed her hands on the table. The old woman took them, turning them over in her own. “No calluses. Not really,” she muttered, tracing her thumb along Katalin’s palms. “And yet, I see struggle. Work. Hard work. But happiness in its doing.”

  Katalin grinned ear to ear. That could mean only one thing—she was going to learn to smith.

  Zoray caught the reaction and exchanged a few amused words with Esmeralda. The girl nodded and her gaze lingered on Katalin a moment before she glanced away.

  Laszlo leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. “And her deeper reading?”

  Zoray gave a dramatic sigh. “Yes, yes. Let’s see if she finds a rich husband and has many maids.”

  She shuffled the deck with her usual practiced ease and slid it toward Katalin. “Cut, and no knives.”

  Katalin let out a small laugh and split the deck. Zoray took it back and began dealing.

  Just as she finished laying out the pattern, she let out a quiet gasp and immediately scooped them up. Without a word, she reshuffled, but this time, her fingers faltered—a brief hesitation, a single card slipping askew before she corrected it.

  Katalin nodded in appreciation. Grandmother Zoray put on a good show.

  Zoray had started again, dealing the first few cards with deliberate movements.

  She stopped.

  Katalin wasn’t sure, but… the cards looked the same?

  Esmeralda watched the old woman closely, concern flickering in her eyes. She leaned in to see the cards—froze. The concern vanished, replaced by something almost like fear. Without a word, she took several small steps back.

  Katalin watched in confusion as Esmeralda lifted her hands, fingers forming a quick, fluid motion—one Katalin recognized. It wasn’t a warding sign. It was a blessing. Or a plea for one.

  Zoray exhaled sharply through her nose, tapping her fingers once against the edge of the table. She and Esmeralda exchanged a few tense words in their language.

  Esmeralda swallowed hard and backed further away, her gaze darting between Katalin and the table where the cards lay.

  With swift, practiced movements, Zoray gathered up the remaining cards in a single sweep, tucking them away. “We are done now,” she said brusquely. “Go.”

  Katalin blinked. “Wait, what? You barely even—”

  “We are done.” Zoray’s tone was final.

  Laszlo frowned. “What about her deeper reading?”

  Zoray’s smile returned, but it was forced and stiff. The warmth had vanished from her expression. “Yes. Yes. Love, husband, many children. Very happy.” She flicked her fingers toward the tent flap. “Go now.”

  Katalin scowled, unconvinced, but before she could argue, Zoray was already ushering them to their feet, steering them toward the exit with surprising force for a woman of her age.

  As they stepped outside, Esmeralda remained huddled in the corner, eyes downcast.

  The moment they were out, Zoray yanked the tent flaps shut behind them. Katalin blinked against the early afternoon sunlight.

  Laszlo gave her an amused look, crossing his arms. “That was different,” he said. “What do you think about that bit at the end?”

  Katalin grinned. “I think it’s all part of the show. Make it mysterious—” she wiggled her fingers dramatically, lowering her voice into a mock-spooky whisper “—keeps people coming back.”

  Laszlo shook his head, exhaling a short laugh. “Crestport is a strange place.” He glanced around, taking in the lively market. “What’s next? We still have hours to kill.”

  Katalin glanced around, turned toward the harbor. The distinctive scent of the Pride Sea washed over her—mineral-rich freshwater mingling with beach grass and sun-warmed stone. The breeze carried notes of cattail marsh and fresh fish, blending with the market's aromas of cedar-smoke and spiced bread.

  “I know,” she said, pointing toward the docks. “Let’s watch the boats.”