The Passion of Dolssa by Julie Berry Read Free Book Online Page A

There was the time with the donkey, and the matter of the de Grava baby.”
    Plazensa wiped the sailor’s mug with her apron. “It is not your fault if you tell a farmer to buy a donkey and it drops dead on the way home from market. It was probably the work of demons, and anyone knows the work of demons can’t be predicted.” She frowned at the mug, spit on it, and wiped it some more. “As for the baby, you said the de Grava wife would birth un filh . Probably the farmer wished so hard for a son, it confused you. So they had una filha , so what? She’s growing as big and strong as a son. You’re young, s rre . Give yourself patience.”
    “My turn, Sazia.” I scraped the plate with bread. “I haven’t had my fortune told in ages.”
    Sazia pushed her thick hair out of her eyes and made a face. “That’s because nothing ever happens in our boring lives, pah.”
    “Maybe,” I said, “your fortune can tell me how to find a husband for Sapdalina.”
    Sazia stuck out her tongue at me. “I don’t tell you how to do your job. You don’t tell me how to do mine.”
    “Poor Sapdalina.” I sighed. “I can’t find a man to take her for love or money. Flat, blotchy, dull, and weepy. And she never stops sniffling.”
    “She’s not so dull,” Sazia said. “I read her fortune once. She had me laughing for ages.”
    “That’s a sight I’d pay to see,” Plazensa said. “Cheer up, Botille. Some wife will die, leaving an old widower desperate. If you’re lucky, he’ll be half blind. Voilà, Sapdalina.”
    Sazia snapped her fingers at me. “Give me your hand, or no fortune for you.”
    I sat down, offered the hand, and then settled back into the soothing motions of her strong fingers rubbing and rolling my hands. Sazia didn’t read palms. She found the future embedded deep in the flesh and bones. Too bad she couldn’t find a fortune in my back.
    “Ah,” she said. “Maybe you’re not so boring for once. You are to take a trip.”
    Na Pieret di Fabri’s nephews! I smiled. Who couldn’t help being proud of such a sister? My little s rre . I could remember when she was no bigger than one of Paul Crestian’s baby goats.
    Mimi slid off her shoulder and slipped onto my lap. She clawed my legs and flopped down. Outside, gulls cried over the lagoon, which grew darker blue as the sun sank behind Bajas.
    Now Sazia scowled at her own hand. “It appears I am to come with you.”
    “Oh no, you don’t,” Plazensa howled. “You’re not going away and leaving me to run this dump all by myself! Leave me listening to Jobau’s rants alone?”
    “Will I be successful in my errand?” I asked.
    “Yes, yes.” Sazia’s face was troubled. “But you will meet someone . . .”
    “Ooh,” Plazensa teased. “Finally the matchmaker meets her own match!”
    Sazia set my hand down on her low table and began drumming her fingers. “That’s all.”
    I knew when she was lying. “No, it isn’t,” I said. “What’s this about meeting someone?”
    “Yes, Sazia, tell us,” said Plazensa. “Will he be rich or handsome? Too much luck it would be for Botille to find both.” She handed our sister a cup of ale.
    “It’s nothing,” Sazia insisted.
    “Wrong,” I said. “Tell me what you see.”
    Sazia took a sip of ale, then looked straight at me. “You will meet someone,” she said. “You have to take the trip.” She rubbed her temples as though they ached.
    “Tell more,” Plazensa demanded.
    Sazia reached for my hand. Instead of rubbing it, she placed it against her cheek and cupped it there, enclosed by her own. Late summer sweat beaded on her skin. We waited.
    The door to the tavern swung open, and a thirsty-looking farmer appeared, but Plazensa halted him with an imperious thrust of her arm. Her jangling bracelets told him to leave—now. He wasn’t a fool.
    Sazia let my hand fall. She downed the rest of her ale. “I see only sorrow.”
    Plazensa pursed her lips. “It is a tozẹt ,” she declared. “It