Dinner in the refectory is a dismal, solemn affair. A dozen sisters in white robes file in silently to join you in a meal of boiled grain and boiled greens. The sisters seem to intentionally avoid looking at you. Med does notice one young woman glancing furtively at the Countess, but she looks away immediately when Med catches her eye.
No one says a word, and the meal progresses in silence until Pral belches. He asks forgiveness, rather loudly, and then the silence returns.
Shortly after dinner, the Countess is ushered off somewhere within the buildings and is not seen again. Pallets and blankets are brought outside, and the men, grumbling, prepare for a wretched night in the darkening courtyard,
In the reddish dusk, Med casts his spell. The same odd feeling he's had before creeps in, but nothing else seems to happen. Pral looks him over for a while, but sees nothing different. When Med asks him to throw something at him, he compiles eagerly by playfully hurling a rock at Med's head.
Med ducks instinctively and then whirls around to see where the stone went. Behind him, is Sir Nills, who has thrown up an arm to block the flying object. Med gasps. Something in the man's hand is casting a pure, golden light that shimmers like sunshine on water. Oddly, the light, though bright, seems not too illuminate anything around it or to cast any shadows.
Looking back at Pral, Med realizes that Pral hasn't noticed anything. In an attempt to get a better look, he approaches Sir Nills to apologize, but by the time he has reached him the light has faded, and then vanished. Nills eyes him suspiciously but has nothing to say. His hands are empty.
Later, Med whispers to Pral, asking him whether he noticed the light. Pral seems confused, and then says that yes, of course he did. Med is fairly certain that he's lying so that he won't look stupid.
Ben: If Med wants to study a spell, let me know which one and I'll roll the dice.
The night passes quietly. Tired from the climb and feeling safe within four thick walls, no one seems much inclined to stand a watch. When first light begins to show in the cold windy sky it catches everyone sleeping.
It's only the arrival of the woman who first greeted you at the gate that wakes you all.
"Any who would see the Oracle, follow me now," she says. Giving you only a moment to shake off sleep, she goes on, "Leave your weapons here."
Murton goes back to sleep, but everyone else is overcome by curiosity and follows her through an arched passage and into another courtyard. Yet another passage leads out from the second courtyard. This one rises up a long flight of stairs before emerging into a blast of cold air.
You find yourselves standing on a flat, round platform about the size of the great room down at the inn. Except for an ornate but crumbling stone railing, nothing encloses the space. No mountain peak looms above. In all directions are long views to distant horizons, barely visible in the predawn light. The full arch of the Skyvein, now pink, sweeps above you. Three bright stars are still visible in the west. The wind is fierce and bitter.
In the center of the platform is a raised dais on which a simple, wooden stool has been placed. The Countess and several hooded sisters are kneeling in a circle around this. Your guide kneels as well and indicates that you should do the same.
There is silence, but for the wind, and a long time seems to pass. The sky grows brighter by imperceptible degrees.
Finally, another figure comes limping up the stairs. She is a young woman, hardly more than a girl. Her robe is the same simple white as the others, but her hood is thrown back to reveal a very ordinary face. Leaning heavily on a walking stick, she makes her way to the dais, dragging her right leg. She sits, straight-backed, on the stool and immediately begins to sing.
Her song is high-pitched and wordless, but filled with a haunting beauty. It lasts only for a short time.
"It is time to ask your questions," she murmurs.
The Countess rises and clears her throat. "I seek to bring power, glory, truth and righteousness to the throne by aiding the Church of Vexia in Ailmoran. I am at the service of the goddess. How may I best serve her there?"
The seated woman nods to indicate her understanding. Almost in a whisper, she says, "Are there any more questioners?" Her eyes sweep the circle, pausing on each of the visitors. The first ray of sunlight reaches over the eastern horizon and strikes her, adding a halo to her plain, brown hair.
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