Page 32 of The Oracle's Journey

Onyxtoe hummed to himself again and started pulling books off the shelf, looking to the row behind. “I will lend you this book, if I can find it.” He put the books in his arms back and reached up to the next shelf, repeating the process. “Ah!” he exclaimed and extracted a slim book.

He handed it to me and returned to his seat. “It’s the only book I have—that you can read at least—about divine power in mortals. I must admit it’s the first time I’ve had a need for it. If I recall correctly, the child doesn’t necessarily inherit the powers of their divine lineage. They tend to develop in accordance with the nature of the individual.”

“Because the power needs their intent to shape it?” asked Ozanna. While I had talked to Emma about what I knew about innate magic, I didn’t really think she was paying much attention let alone Oz. It was a pleasant surprise.

“Yes,” said Onyxtoe with an excited wave of the hand. “I get the sense that this young friend of yours has matters of the heart on her mind. As many young people do. The weaving was an attempt to connect your souls, after all. It was cast with love, for love, with such pure intent. It’s quite possibly the most beautiful magic I’ve ever seen, even though it is … sloppy. I’d say she’s on her way to becoming something wonderful.”

“You said she may suffer if she’s separated from us for too long,” Oz said. “Would undoing it prevent that? Would it hurt her if we did?”

“It’s possible, but in her current state, I’d say undoing it would hurt her as well. She sensed she needed an anchor, and we should take that seriously. If she believes she needs an anchor, it’s as good as truth.” Onyxtoe turned his gaze to me. “You are familiar with that principle, having innate magic yourself?”

“I understand it in theory,” I replied. It was a source of inadequacy, one I knew didn’t define the quality of my person, but it still hurt.

Onyxtoe frowned, put on a third set of spectacles, and leaned across his desk to look me over from head to toe before removing them. “My good elf, you’re blocked up.”

“What?” asked Oz.

“I told you I wasn’t a very good elf,” I said, pursing my lips before turning to the old dwarf. “Can you expand on that, please?”

“Unfortunately, there’s not an enchantment that I could detect, so an elven healer or mage would be far better than I in this matter.” He paused thoughtfully. “Think of your magic as a fire. You have wood to burn and the ability to light it, but there’s no air flow to keep the fire going. It’s suffocated.” Onyxtoe sighed and fiddled with the spectacles. “I wish I could do more, especially after hearing such a fascinating tale. Though I do have one last thing to share with you about the weaving. Put your hair together.” He gestured to the mats in our hair. I considered Ozanna for a moment and then we did as he asked. “Now, Ms. Black, please think of a question to ask your companion.”

“Do you have a favorite color?” she asked out loud, sounding unsure of what the exercise would prove.

“No, no,” Onyxtoe waved a hand, as if shooing away the question. “Don’t say it aloud. Look at him and just think of something to ask him.”

She turned to face me, and an uncomfortable smirk came to her lips.

Then the strangest thing happened, I had a thought that wasn’t my own. I’d never have noticed if I hadn’t been expecting something to happen. Do you know?

“Know what?” I asked, suddenly understanding how our silent conversation had been communicated so clearly. It hadn’t entirely been body language.

Oz blinked at me, and her eyes widened, probably picking up on my train of thought.

“Now you ask her something,” Onyxtoe said, beaming at us in excitement.

Taking the opportunity to indulge my piqued sense of mischief, I thought, would you care for a little savoring if we get back to the inn before dark?

Oz blushed and looked away, feeling flustered and foolish. A wave of guilt swept over me at the invasion of her private thoughts. I dropped my half of the plait.

I offered her a soft smile and squeezed her hand. “You’re not foolish.”

After clearing his throat, Onyxtoe said, “Well, you see how that works. She couldn’t weave your souls, but she made a bridge, although it’s clumsy and not very practical.”

“As is everything else our friend has attempted recently.” I sighed. “So, you don’t think that we are under any compulsion?”

“No, not in that blessing. Nothing I can detect,” he said and then furrowed his brow. “If anything, you two could be influencing her. But that’s not to say she doesn’t have some other form of influence I can’t detect.”

“Thank you for sharing your wisdom with us, Master Onyxtoe. You’ve certainly given us a lot to think about.” As I looked around the office, I thought of one more question. “When I’m not otherwise engaged, could I return to study some of your collection?”

“Of course,” Onyxtoe boomed. “I’d be happy to have you as a guest in my home as well!”

“You’re too generous,” I said, genuinely shocked by the dwarf’s invitation, and rose to my feet, dropping a stack of gold coins on the desk. “I thank you for the invitation, and I promise to return the book on my way back.”

Onyxtoe frowned at the gold, “That’s too much,” he said.

“No, it’s not.” Oz shook her head. “The insight you’ve given us could prove to be priceless.”

CHAPTER 14

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