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Wednesday, July 4, 2012

The Scrying Bowl


They prepared the fire in the centre. A ceramic dish of pure white, octagonal in shape, needing two men to heft and carry, was carefully brought in. Rosewood was stacked in a pyramid shape in the centre of the heavy dish, ready to be lit. Alongside, a simple wooden bowl, two hands wide, its origin lost to antiquity, stood waiting, the dark wood polished to a high sheen by time and use.
Rosewater dripped, drop by slow drop, into the ancient bowl until it was finally filled. Vannis had given this honour to Namud, and smiled when the young man realised what a tiresome process it was. Generally, as in when scrying for a newborn’s name, this slow process was unnecessary, but given the gravity of their situation, Vannis had opted for the old, formal ceremony. The state of mind it engendered would aid them well, making them more receptive to visions. Well, he needed to be receptive; he would be gazing into the future.
Namud sat back at last, and Vannis took his place before the two dishes. The remaining fifteen sat cross-legged in a circle about him. When all was ready, Vannis nodded, and together they declared: ‘Manik!’ The rosewood burst into fragrant flame to burn with a steady blue light. ‘Saldan!’ and the pyramid collapsed into bright blue embers in the shape of a flying blue dragon. The smell of roses perfumed the air. Vannis nodded at Namud, who shuffled forward on his knees. He lifted the wooden bowl, careful not to spill, and placed it gently on the hot dragon, before briefly dipping his fingers in the warming rosewater and shuffling back into the circle. Silent, the others came to do likewise, dipping fingers to show homage to the future. Last was Vannis, who then remained with his face bent over the steaming water.
He waited until he saw the first bubble shoot to the surface, and then nodded. As one, they declared: ‘Manil!’ The steamy surface of the water instantly cleared and was mirror smooth.
Vannis kept his attention focused on the reflection in order not to miss a moment of the visions that were coming, for future there would be, whether or not any of them lived in it. He cleared his mind even further, while the Valleur collectively held their breaths, afraid to make the slightest move. Never had a scrying been so important.


Gathering of Rain

1 comment:

  1. The picture doesn't quite do justice, I know (not pure, not octagonal) but I hope you garner at least the 'feel' of the times!

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