Page 55 of Boy of Chaotic Making

He smiled at her. “Such is the bane of an augurist, Miss Larkin. Would have, should have, could have. They will plague your life. Sometimes, the gift of future-seeing isnotseeing.”

Hulda sunk back in her chair, then remembered herself and straightened her spine. “I understand the philosophy. I do. But I feel souseless. I’d rather not be an augurist at all than such a pathetic one.”

“Notpathetic,” he said firmly, and Hulda immediately felt chastened. “Magic is a gift, however small. But that’s why you’re here. Let’s see what we can do with what you have. Make the most of it. Anything else of interest?”

That vision of Merritt and the nude woman rose in her thoughts; she quickly began counting in Latin to banish it. “When I do see things, they’re often quite random,” she offered instead.One problem at a time.She didn’t want to flush—or worse, cry—in front of this esteemed man. “Such as, oh, a plate breaking in three days’ time. Or I once had a vision of myself being flustered from losing a pen. It happened that afternoon.”

Professor Griffiths nodded, and it was a relief to have another person instantly understand the vexation of the thing without further explanation. “Soothsaying is often tied to your own thoughts. When you read a pattern determined by another individual, it is that individual’s future you see more often than not. But, well ...” He rubbed his chin. “Say you are entering a pie into a county fair. It’s heavy on your mind. It’s important to you to win the blue ribbon, so to speak. And so, when you peer into the tea leaves of a neighbor, you might see her experience at the fair, such as, oh, petting the head of a lamb. As opposed to a vision of the chimney in her home collapsing. The chimney is arguably the more life-affecting incident, but your own concerns direct the augury elsewhere.”

Hulda scribbled down notes in a clean ledger she’d purchased specifically for these lessons. “That does seem consequent.” Merritt was always on her mind, as was their wedding. Never a fear of his fidelity, however ... not until now.

He wouldn’t have relations with another woman. He won’t!

“Are you all right?”

Hulda blinked. “Yes. I was just pondering something.”

He nodded. “How far into the future do your visions usually stretch?”

“A few weeks or so. On occasion, months. Never more than a year,” she answered. Thus why she’d never seen Merritt when she was in her twenties and despairing of her spinsterhood. Or seen herself as director of BIKER.

“Let’s try some exercises.” The professor pulled himself closer to the table. “I want you to close your eyes.”

Hulda felt silly doing so, but she wanted to learn, and so she clasped her hands in her lap and obeyed.

“I want you to think of what you’ll do when this exercise is over. Your best guess is fine. And then what you’ll do after that; leave this office, most likely. And then, whatever comes after that, regardless of how inconsequential. We’re going to flow with the entirety of the day. Now we’re approaching lunch. What will be served? What will you eat, and how much?”

Hulda pictured all of it as keenly as she could. By the time she mentally went to bed, she felt as though she could lie her head down right there and fall asleep. But then Professor Griffiths had her think it all through again backward, from bedtime to this exercise. Then forward again, only this time imagining very unlikely things. Hulda imagined her skirt ripping on her way out, then heavy snowfall, an Italian luncheon with children all under the age of three, Owein being moved into the body of a hippopotamus, Merritt shaving his head, her learning to play the harp in a matter of minutes, and then falling asleep on a bench out in the garden.

Then, as before, she imagined it backward, all the way back to the office.

By the time she opened her eyes, the late-morning light seemed too bright. Professor Griffiths watched her with a pleased expression.

“Most certainly my best student. Now, let’s try focusing on a specific incident youknowwill be in your future.”

The first thing that came to mind was her wedding.

Professor Griffiths set out an array of sticks, some as short as her pinky, others as long as a cubit. They were flat, with one side dark and the other light. He handed them to Hulda, and at his direction, she scattered them across the table.

“Let your vision go out of focus,” he said softly. “Let your thoughts revolve around that future event.”

She thought of Blaugdone Island. Of Merritt. Wondered what he might wear. She had her dress ready; it was a rich blue with lace trim, the kind of frippery she normally didn’t prefer, but it was a wedding after all. She’d yet to show it to anyone or don it. She tried to imagine the flowers, the guests, the pastor. For a moment, she felt a prickle in her mind, almost like a sneeze—as though her augury were about to kick in but refused at the last minute.

She tried again. No luck.But the wedding happens! This means nothing.

Right?

Leaning away from the sticks, Hulda rubbed her temples. “I’m afraid it’s not working.”

“That’s quite all right.” He gathered the sticks and offered them to her. “Let’s try again.”

She accepted the bundle, then paused. “Might I try something?”

He gestured to the table. “All yours.”

Hulda reached into her black bag, pushed aside a little wrapped gift she’d brought from the States, and retrieved her receipt book—the one with all her notes on the goings-on at Cyprus Hall. She opened it to her most cluttered page and set it on the table before her.

“What’s this?” Professor Griffiths inquired.

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