Hounded

to some trouble. There are all sorts of ways to cast lots or runes or otherwise practice divination by interpreting the random as the pattern of the future. I prefer them all to watching the flight of birds or watching clouds, because my involvement in the casting centers the randomness on me. Birds fly because they want to eat or mate or grab something for their nest, and applying that to my future or anyone else’s seems a ludicrous stretch to me. Logically, throwing some sticks on the ground and making predictions is little better, except that I know that my agency and will in the ritual provide enough focus for Fortune to stop and say, » Here’s what’s coming soon to a theatre near you. «
    There used to be a class of Druids that practiced animal sacrifice and read the future from entrails, which I kind of thought was messy and a waste of a good chicken or bull or whatever. People today look at those practices and say, » That’s so cruel! Why couldn’t they simply be vegan like me? « But the Druidic faith allows for a pretty happy afterlife and maybe even a return trip or ten to earth. Since the soul never dies, taking a knife to some flesh here and there is never a big deal. Still, I never got into the whole sacrificing thing. There are far cleaner and more reliable ways to peek under Fortune’s skirts. Druids like me use twenty wands in a bag, each marked with Ogham script representing the twenty trees native to Ireland, and each carrying with it a wealth of prophetic meaning. Much like Tarot, these wands are interpreted differently depending on which direction they fall in relation to the diviner; there is a positive set of meanings if they fall upright, a negative set if they fall downward. Without looking, the caster draws five wands from the bag and tosses them on the ground in front of him, then tries to interpret the message represented by their arrangement. » And how did they fall? « I asked the Morrigan.
    » Four of them were fell, « she said, and waited for that to sink in. It wasn’t going to be a happy time.
    » I see. And which of the trees spoke to you? «
    The Morrigan regarded me as if her next words would cause me to swoon like a corseted Jane Austen character. » Fearn. Tinne. Ngetal. Ura. Idho. «
    Alder, Holly, Reed, Heather, and Yew. The first represented a warrior and was simultaneously the most clearly interpreted and the most vague. The others all suggested that some pretty dire shit was going to befall said warrior, whoever he was. Holly signaled challenges and ordeals, Reed screamed of fear, Heather warned of surprises, and Yew prophesied death.
    » Ah, « I said as nonchalantly as I could. » And how, precisely, did the Alder and the Yew fall in relationship to each other? «
    » The Yew crossed the Alder. «
    Well, that was fairly clear. The warrior was going to die. He’d be surprised by its arrival, scared witless, and he’d fight maniacally against it, but his death was inevitable. The Morrigan noted my acceptance of the casting and said, » So where will you go? «
    » I have not decided yet. «
    » There are even more isolated places in the Mojave Desert, « she suggested, with a slight emphasis on the name. I think she was trying to impress me with her knowledge of American geography since she had bungled the Iraq thing. I wondered if she knew about the dissolution of Yugoslavia, or if she even knew that Transylvania was now part of Romania. Immortals don’t always pay much attention to current events.
    » I mean, Morrigan, I have not decided to go yet. «
    The crow on the bust of Ganesha said nothing, but the eyes flashed red for a brief second, and that, I admit, made me a bit uncomfortable. She really wasn’t my friend. One day—and it could be today—she would decide I’d lived far too long and grown far too cavalier, and that would be it for me.
    » Just give me a few minutes to think about the casting, « I said, and realized immediately afterward that I should have chosen my words more carefully.
    The red eyes came back and the crow’s voice was pitched lower than before, with minor harmonics in it that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. » You would pit your divination skills against mine? «
    » No, no, « I hastened to reassure her. » I’m trying to catch up with you, that’s all. Now, I’m just thinking aloud here, okay? That Alder wand—the warrior—that does not necessarily have to mean me, does it? «
    The red eyes faded back to a