XVIII

Inside was a large, round table, many shelves of herbs and small jars and two people in their fifties. They were smiling, a little plump and very welcoming.
    “Hello,” greeted the woman with a wide smile. She was dark haired and dark-skinned. “And what services shall we perform today?”
    “Yeah, err,” Kiyor was trying to work out what to say. “It’s kind of odd what I want you to do.”
    “As long as we can do it, we will,” assured the man. His hair was also black and his skin very brown, but had less weight than his wife.
    “We would like you to find a place, closed off from the World, where magic is done,” explained Kiyor carefully.
    The gypsy pair puzzled a bit. “It can be done, but magic in a closed place is rare,” explained the woman.
    “You do your magic in the open?” asked Rowan with surprise. This alarmed Kiyor.
    The woman smiled. “Of course child, magic is done best when in tune with nature.” She looked at Kiyor again. “It will take some time to prepare, perhaps you would like a seat?”
    “Thank you,” answered Kiyor gratefully. He signalled to Rowan to sit down as well.
    “I will just get you some tea,” said the woman. She went through a doorway into the kitchen. Her husband peered through another doorway.
    “ARNI!” he shouted.
    “What?!” called back a girl.
    “ASSEMBLE THE FAMILY!” he ordered. “PREPARE FOR SCRYING!”
    “Okay Papa!” came back the answer. “Tamiz! Ciaro! Scry time!”
    “Scrying?” Rowan asked Kiyor.
    He shrugged. “I guess it’s their way of looking.”
    Their host-man took a seat at the table. “Scrying is what we do when we find answers, or in your case, a place.”
    The other host returned with a tray of a teapot and cups. She put it on the table and poured the tea into a few cups. “Herbal Tea, brewed from Camomile and Cinnamon, with a drop of honey. This will help you relax before our ritual.”
    Her husband received a cup with gracious gratitude. He sipped happily. Kiyor seemed satisfied when he tried the tea. Rowan thanked her host when she was given a cup, but stared at it for a while. It smelled of leaves. She then took a tentative sip. It tasted very strong, but had a sweet aftertaste.
    The man explained what was expected of their clients during the ritual. “When we scry, you can watch; you will need to in order to identify the place you seek. You must be very still, so that we can do our work.”
    “We’ll try,” joked Kiyor. The hosts took it in good humour.
    Confused, Rowan started quietly “But you-” He interrupted her with a snappy wave of his hand
    A girl of 19 walked in. She was also tanned but had a few blonde streaks in her hair. “Mama, Papa, the things are ready. Shall we bring them in?”
    “Yes Arni, do,” answered her mother thankfully. “Oh no! Don’t stand up yet,” she said when she saw Rowan prepare to get up. “It will take a few more minutes before we are ready.”
    “Go in now Tamiz,” Arni passively ordered as she exited. A teenage boy came in rolling his eyes and carrying something covered in a cloth. He seemed 16-17. Unlike the rest of his family, his hair was light brown..
    Tamiz carefully placed the object in the middle of the table, then took off the cloth, revealing quite a large Crystal Ball. The other boy who entered, who must have been Ciaro, laid out a few tablets of engraved symbols around the Ball. He didn’t appear much older than 13. Arni reappeared with a pot of ink(?), a liquid and a small brush.
    “It’s better if you get up now,” Arni addressed Kiyor and Rowan.
    The pair stood up, leaving their half-drunk cups to be tended by the woman. They stood in front of the door they came in by. Arni used the brush to draw a symbol on the front of her hand.
    “Kiyor, why do you envy them?” Rowan asked quietly. Kiyor suddenly looked at her.
    He thought about his answer. “Their family’s so small.”
    “You are part of a large family,” Rowan pointed out. “You are privileged to be born into one so powerful.”
    He laughed. He faced her squarely. “I don’t care about power. It doesn’t get me a single ounce of joy or triumph. Power might be what you and your mother seek and you two are very good at getting it, but it’s not on my list of things to gain.”
    Rowan stared at him, as if this thought had never occurred to her. But not striving for power had never occurred to her as a reason for living.
“Arni, stop treating me like a little kid!” snapped Tamiz. “I thought we agreed to treat each other like equals.”
    “It’s true, we did,” remembered Arni. “But how can I keep you still?”
    “Can you lock the door please?” asked Ciaro to the pair.
    Rowan and Kiyor looked behind them and searched the door. They both seemed to find the lock at the same time but it was Kiyor who locked it.
    With everything sorted, the Crystal Ball was in the middle of the table, surrounded by the tablets of symbols. The family of similarly dressed denim, string bracelets, home-made shirts and pendants sat around and placed in front of them their hands with the painted symbols.
    “Majriat,” said the woman clearly.
    “Kris,” followed her husband.
    “Shenkur,” announced Arni.
    “Zerutil,” followed Tamiz.
    “Quetzem.” Ciaro.
    The woman spoke again. “Spirit of the Earth, draw on our power, we ask you to seek a place, one that is closed off and a source of magic.”
    The symbols on the hands glowed in a light green. Images suddenly appeared in the Crystal Ball. They were quick images of caves, tunnels and basements. The image that was shown was very focussed. It was a dome-like chamber: very dark. There was an altar in the middle, with a large unlit candle on it. The place was daunting and riddled with dark atmospheres.
    “Is this the place?” asked Arni hurriedly in anxiety.
    “What’s troubling you?” asked Rowan.
    “This place has dark magic,” panicked Ciaro, who seemed to be fighting.
    “Yeah, that’s it,” Kiyor quickly said.
    Slowly, the glows on the hands and the image faded. The family let out a collective breath.
    “Sorry to do that to you,” said Kiyor apologetically.
    The man shook his head. “No apology necessary, you only asked to see the place. Now,” he stood up, “we still have the matter of our fee.”
    “How much?” asked the young customer with a sigh.
    “500 Gold pieces,” the man finalised in his business manner.
    Kiyor dug for his wallet. “Do you take Debit Card?”
    “We do.”

©Ruth Amy Louise Hüneke 2008