The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,94
Random said—if that was really her name.
They nodded.
“I’m not!” She looked up at the man who had opened the doors. “Master Sabrai, can they come in? It’s almost time for tea.”
As if in response, Jerrin’s stomach made a loud rumble.
“Random,” Master Sabrai began, his expression forbidding.
Random then ran out from behind his back, leaped down the stairs in one jump, and came to stand before Tessa, who happened to be the middle person in the grouping of three. “You want food? Today, I want food!” She caught Jerrin’s hand—he had one free—and tugged at it; as the Tha’alani hadn’t let go of each other’s hands, they were dragged up the stairs.
“Can they?” Random asked again.
“They have not been given leave to visit an Oracle,” Master Sabrai said, in the same forbidding tone.
“They haven’t been given permission to have an Oracle talk about the future,” she said. “But—we’re not in jail, right? We haven’t done anything wrong?”
Clearly Random understood Master Sabrai better than three children who had never before encountered him.
“And I’m hungry,” Random continued. “I haven’t eaten in two days. I promise I’ll eat if you’ll let them visit with me.” She hadn’t let go of Jerrin’s hand. “They didn’t bring money and they didn’t eat lunch, either. So they’re hungry. Please?” Even adding that word, she had already begun to drag the three down the hall and away from the man who probably should have said no.
* * *
If the room into which they were led was a disappointment, the children didn’t seem to feel it the way some children would have. They had stories of what Oracles did, not about how they did it, where they lived, or what they were like. They had expected Oracles to be like the man Random had called Master Sabrai, but accepted his word that he wasn’t one of them.
It was Tobi who asked Random if she knew who the Oracle was.
Random stared at him in some confusion. “The Oracle?”
“Well, there’s supposed to be a person here who can see the future.”
Random nodded, still confused. After a moment, in which her expression much more closely matched Master Sabrai’s, she said, “There’s more than just one.” And then, expression more guarded, she said, “I’m an Oracle.”
There was instant excitement, but muted. Interacting with legends was not part of their training, and regardless, Random was obviously a child, as they were, and probably excluded from the lives of adults in just the same way.
“How does it work?” Tessa asked.
Random hushed them loudly, and not ten seconds later, food was brought into the room. There was a lot of bread, some cheese, apples, grapes, and something pink none of the Tha’alani recognized. Milk, however, was milk anywhere.
“Have you really not eaten for two days?” Jerrin, whose stomach had intermittently been complaining, asked.
“Jerrin can’t go without food for two hours,” Tobi added.
“I wasn’t hungry,” Random said. “Sometimes that happens. Food tastes wrong, or bad, or I can’t keep it down.” Her smile was conspiratorial as she leaned across her plate. “Or maybe I knew that you’d come and I had to starve so that Master Sabrai would say you could come in. We’re not allowed to leave,” she added. “Not without guards.” Before they could comment, she added, “Imperial guards. I don’t like ’em. I like ours better.”
“Imperial guards guard the Emperor?” Tobi asked. He couldn’t believe that a Dragon required guards—but maybe they were all Dragon guards, in which case, he wouldn’t like them any better.
“Well, I guess so. I’ve never seen the Emperor, not in person. There’s a really big painting on one of our walls that kind of looks like what he’d look like if he were to turn into a Dragon—and Master Sabrai says it’s accurate. I can take you there, if you want.”
Tobi definitely wanted. It was Tessa who said, “We don’t want to get you in trouble.” The rallying cry of considerate children everywhere.
“You won’t,” Random replied cheerfully.
* * *
“Master Sabrai says that Oracles are like artists. We don’t just look into the future. It’s not like opening a book and reading it.”
“What’s it like?”
Random shrugged. “It’s different for all of us—that’s why he says it’s like art.” This appeared to make as much sense to Random as it did to any of the Tha’alani. “But sometimes we get these feelings, or these images, or these words—except for most of us it’s not actual words, ’cause that would be too easy.” Her frown, like her smile, was mercurial.