Chapter 645 - Madam O’Germanova Ⅱ

A low, throbbing cry as if foretelling death causes Sanderson to flinch as he reaches for his wand. "Calm yourself, lad," Madam O'Germnova said with a leering grin. "It's only, Polly."

Cackling Madam O'Germanova rises to her feet and pulls her shawl that much closer around her. Striding over to a corner of the room, she uncovers a birdcage and coos to the bird inside. "Polly want a cracker?" The old gypsy teased.

The thin, mournfully looking greenish-black bird lets out another shriek and impatiently snaps its beak at her. Madam O'Germanova chuckles as she reaches into a semi-open drawer next to the cage and pulls out semi-rotting meat.

Tossing the meat inside, Madam O'Germanova watches the somewhat underfed looking vulture-like creature tear the meat to shred-like pieces. Covering the cage again, she says, "Augurey's have always served me well in the past and still in the present. They are excellent weather predictors and can read a person's intent for true."

Taking a seat again, Madam O'Germanova asks, "So what will it be lad?"

"Divination," Sanderson instantly replied.

Madam O'Germanova wags her long, yellow fingered nail at him. "Tut-tut, Sanderson, you really should know better than that, lad. You don't want no muggle paltry tricks, but an actual reading, and that costs good coin," she said with a moneygrubbing leer as her fingers rub together as if holding a coin between them.

"I have a powerful enemy," Sanderson slowly said. "And I do not trust in tarot cards."

"Mmm," Madam O'Germanova hummed thoughtfully as she scratched her dry skinned chin. "No tarot cards, eh? Then that doesn't leave us much room to work with."

"No, no, a crystal ball is too weak," Madam O'Germanova continued to murmur herself. "And I trust not tea leaves and any of the other old ways to give us a proper reading."

Suddenly a satisfied gleam enters her eyes as Madam O'Germanova lowers her hand and says, "Well, there is one way that I can think of, but it comes with an additional price of its own."

"What?" Sanderson impatiently asked.

"Bone runes," Madam O'Germanova said with relish at almost watching Sanderson flinch. "I have in my possession bone runes forged from the bones of our enemies. But of course, the bones itself will require an additional price, the sacrifice of one of your own bones in exchange for the reading itself."

"Never," Sanderson hissed with indignation as he rose to his feet and caused his chair to fall backward onto the musty carpeted ground with a dull thud.

"Then it will be no skin off of my teeth," Madam O'Germanova cackled with vile glee as she folded her arms over her sagging chest. "But I wonder if the same can be said for you, Sanderson? You would not be here if you were truly not desperate, and with the Priest of the Spirits dead, there is no one else who you'd trust with such sensitive information that will emerge still living from such a private reading."

Sanderson's hands clench for a moment before he forcefully causes them to relax. Bending down, he tightens his chair again and sits back down on the wobbly chair. "How much is required?" Sanderson coldly asked. Find authorized novels in , faster updates, better experience, Please click #%E2%80%99germanova-%E2%85%B1_51537333182319341 for visiting.

Madam O'Germanova smacks her lips in delight and says, "A single digit will do. So, what will it be?" And then pulled out a sharp blade from under her seat that had blood dried stains running down from it.

"I will do so on my own," Sanderson growled causing his yellow wolfish eyes to almost glow. "I'd probably contract some vile disease if I used that."

"Suit yourself," Madam O'Germanova innocently said with a shrug as she watched the lad remove his boot and sock.

Madam O'Germanova wisely keeps quiet as Sanderon without any hesitation slices his pinky toe clean off with a hex, before with a practiced wave of his wand staunching the flow of the blood. Madam O'Germanova eagerly stretches her gnarled hands for the toe, but Sanderson sharply barks, "Only the bone was wagered for, do not take me for a fool, soothsayer. You will not be receiving a single speck of flesh nor blood from me!"

Madam O'Germanova snarls in anger at being found out and can only painfully watch Sanderson vanish the blood and flesh from his bone. Not a single trace of blood nor flesh is left leaving a gleaming, white, tiny pinky toe bone behind. Without another word, Sanderson puts on his shoe and boot, despite the pain in his foot. With one glance around, he casts a cleaning charm to destroy any manicure traces of his blood left behind, before facing the old soothsayer.

"Payment only after the reading is concluded, soothsayer," Sanderson coldly barked as he held his pinky bone tightly held in the palm of his wandless hand.

Madam O'Germanova's lips curl in further displeasure as she says, "Gold now, bone later."

"Agreed," Sanderson before reaching for his side and tossing a small pouch filled with galleons onto the table.

The coins make a loud clinking noise as Madam O'Germanova hefts the bag in her hand and nods at the ample weight, before putting it away on her person. "Very well, Sanderson, let us begin," With a snap of her fingers, all the candles in the tent begin to brightly burn lighting up the entire tent.

Reaching in between her saggy bosom, Madam O'Germanova produced a small red pouch. With reverent hands, Madam O'Germanova begins to chant in her own language welcoming the spirits of her ancestors, "Miśto Avilăn." One by one the lit candles begin to go out as if announcing the presence of the dead.

Madam O'Germanova's chanting, at last, ceases when their only three candles left burning representing the three living bodies within the tent. From within the red pouch, she first draws a pure white cloth with no adornments. She carefully spreads the cloth onto the table acting as a symbolic boundary for the runes that will be cast upon it.

Madam O'Germanova carefully hands over the red pouch to Sanderson, who with care receives it in hand. "Nine runes must be cast, the first three represent the past, three for the present, and three for the future. And always keep in mind your questions, Sanderson, do not let go astray even for a second or the answer ye seek will be lost."

Sanderson does not speak, before carefully holding the red pouch in hand as he makes his intentions clear to the spirits. Firmly gripping the pouch, he scatters the opening lightly onto the table as exactly nine runes scatter onto the white cloth.

Madam O'Germanova instantly holds out her palm to take the red pouch back, before turning back to study the runes on the rune cloth. She points to the three that are closest together on her left. "Mannaz, Sowilo, Uruz," she said.

"Mannaz is the nature of humanity reflected in yourself. And indeed, you are the darkness, which is reflected, Sanderson."

"Sowilo, awareness of one's inner self, and you, Sanderson thrive in that darkness which you represent."

"Uruz, strength, power which you have always wielded for better or for worse against those that dare cross you."

Sanderson's face grows strained with impatience. He already knew those things of himself. He wished to see that which lay at present before him and in the future."

Madam O'Germanova furrows her brows as she points to the three runes that had fallen towards the lower middle of the cloth. "The present, Eiwaz, Pethro, Ansuz."

"Eihwaz, you have learned patience and know-how to endure merely bidding your time. But you seek something, Pethro, unexplained, hidden things," Madam O'Germanova paused with a frown to glance up at him.

"Ansuz in reverse," Madam O'Germanova slowly said. "You have been deceived by one in whom you wholly trust. Someone close that has long been with you, but I cannot read their identity, it is hidden from me. I am sorry for that, lad."

Sanderson's eyes narrow into snake-like slits sending a shiver down Madam O'Germanova's back. She did not pity the fool, who had betrayed Sanderson. They knew exactly who they were double-crossing when they fully decided to do so.

Madam O'Germanova's hand slightly trembles as she eyes the three runes cast on the upper right of the rune cloth. In a quiet voice, she whispers, "The future, Hagalaz, Odin, Dagaz."

"Hagalaz representing great death and destruction," Madam O'Germanova murmured. "Much turmoil will come and what part you will have to play, I cannot tell."

"Odin's Rune," Madam O'Germanova pointed at the blank rune that had nothing written on it. "The very Spirits have yet to decide fate itself. And so, Destiny remains uncertain, and is still being actively woven as we speak."

"And Dagaz," Madam O'Germanova said with a frown. "At the end of it all, it will be the Dawn of a New Era, but whether it will be good or bad is yet unknown. It simply will be for better or for worse."

Murmuring in her own native tongue, Madam O'Germanova dismisses the ancestral spirits that accompanied as the candles turn on by one until they are lit again. With a sweep of her hand, she pockets the run along with the rune cloth and closes the red pouch shut.

Staring up at Sanderson, Madam O'Germanova says, "I apologize, Sanderson, but I no longer possess the powers that I wielded many years ago. I am old now, and at last I begin to feel my old age. And sadly, with great envy, I admit this, but I have never wielded the kind of power which that deceased Priest of the Spirits amply wielded."

"It is enough," Sanderson said dismissively, before tossing his pinky toe bone onto the table, before sweeping out of the tent without another word.

Shaking her head at the boy's temper, Madam O'Germanova murmurs under her breath, "That boy still refuses to acknowledge his heritage." Shaking her head, she collects the bone with a bit of an expectant gleam, before nodding her head, and pocketing the rune. She would make a powerful rune from this bone to gift to her great-great-granddaughter. It would be sure to bring her great luck.