It was a cold and clear morning when Anselm arrived at the marketplace he had spotted the day before. He found a second-hand furniture shop and purchased a small folding table and two folding chairs. These he took to an empty spot along the street that ran through the marketplace, and set up the table with a chair on each side. He sat facing the marketplace and propped a little sign up on the table. It said:
ANSELM THE SEER
You got questions? Anselm's got answers. 5 sm per question.
Warning: Don't ask if you don't want to know.
Disclaimer: The management assumes no responsibility for appallingly bad news.”
Then he waited.
He had located himself so that the morning sun was at his back, allowing his black hood to cast a deep shadow over his face. This served two purposes. First, it obscured somewhat the visual effects of an undead body. He wasn't really trying to hide the fact that he was Nuit. He just didn't want to draw any more attention to it than was necessary. Second, it create a somewhat mysterious, almost spooky effect. This was intentional. It was part of the fortune-teller atmosphere he cultivated. As someone had once told him – he couldn't remember who anymore – perception is ninety percent of the game.
While he waited for his first customer, he gazed unblinking out across the marketplace square. But he wasn't actually watching anything. Instead, his mind was exploring a grassy area directly behind him. He eventually discovered a mouse. It was devouring some tasty morsel it had found, although he could not quite make out what it was. He carefully detached his astral arm and let it float back toward the mouse. The tiny creature sensed something even though it couldn't see anything. He could feel its fear. He gently poked it. It jumped and squealed at the same time, and then ran off and out of his range. He carefully drew his astral arm back to his body and re-attached it. Then he turned his attention to the young woman standing in front of him.
“Can you really tell the future?” she asked. She wore black and white striped pants and a bright pink shirt. It was an astonishing combination.
“Please sit,” He pointed at the chair in front of the table. She hesitated, looked around and then sat down with a sigh. Anselm studied her from beneath his hood. Her blond hair hung down around her waist in two long braids. She had what he suspected were genuine diamond ear rings and three expensive looking rings.
“Well, can you?” she repeated her question.
“No,” he said flatly.
“Oh.” She seemed surprised and then disappointed. She was chewing on her lower lip and nervously rubbing her hands together. She pointed at his sign. “It says you are a seer.”
“I am,” he said. “I just can't see into the future. Nobody can, actually. But I can see into the ebb and flow of your life. If you would like.”
Now he waited. He had thrown her off guard with a blatantly honest answer. Then offered her a different way to think about what he did. Now he waited for her to decide he was the real thing. Perception is everything, he thought to himself.
She continued to look around nervously, as though she was afraid someone she knew would see her here. She kept glancing at him but then immediately shifted her eyes elsewhere. She's probably never seen a Nuit up close, he thought.
“Okay,” she said in a small voice. Having reached a decision, she seemed to relax.
“Give me your hand,” he said.
“What?”
“Give me your hand,” he repeated, adding a touch of command to his voice.
“Oh,” she whispered and slowly stretched her right hand out toward him. As he suspected, she was susceptible to suggestion.
“Turn the palm up please.”
As she did so, he drew out from beneath his cloak a small gray pouch and emptied the contents into his right hand. He held his hand open so she could see the set of eighteen tiny carved bones with intricate designs on them. He gently placed his left index and middle fingers on her palm and began to trace the lines on her hand. He was wearing thin black cotton gloves so that she wouldn't have to subject herself to his physical touch, which he had found was unnerving to most people. As he traced her life lines he asked, “What is your question?”
“Is my fiance cheating on me?” she blurted out in a shaky voice.
“My dear,” Anselm said quietly, his fingers still tracing the lines of her palm. “For that question you should hire a private investigator. Why don't you tell me what your real question is?”
“How can I hold on to him?”
Anselm turned his right hand and let the bones fall out on to the surface of the table. He maintained contact with her palm, letting his mind touch her ever so carefully through the tips of his fingers. With his right hand he quickly arranged the bones around into three lines of six. Then he examined them for several seconds.
“Fire above, lake below. This is disharmony.” He intoned. “A small matter will turn out alright.” He pointed at the pattern of bones. “The first line is strong. Regret disappears. When you lose the horse, don't chase it. It will return on its own. This requires conciliation and adjustment.”
He knew from experience that she would find this totally baffling. But he had picked up two tiny emotional surges as he spoke the oracle. The first occurred when he said, 'Regret disappears.' The second when he said, 'It will return on its own'. Pulling together everything he had learned from the time she stood in front of him until this moment, he formulated the question that would allow her to see herself and her fiance clearly for just a moment.
“Tell me my dear, what do you suppose is the cause this disharmony?”
He waited. Pretty soon a single tear formed and ran down her left cheek. Anselm removed his fingers from her hand but she did not pull her hand back. Instead she looked him directly in the eye.
“I need to let him be who he is and stop trying to make him be something he is not, don't I.”
“Indeed,” said Anselm with conviction. He gathered up the bones and put them back in their pouch, which he returned to a small pocket on the inside of his long black cloak.
She paid him his fee and said, “Thank you.” Then she rose and turned and walked slowly away into the crowds that now filled the marketplace.
Anselm followed her with his gaze and thought to himself, I think I can expect a surge of business this afternoon. And indeed he did. |
by Anselm on February 11th, 2012, 10:11 pm 
