The haruspex was awaiting the word of the gods when a mule-drawn cart stopped with a clatter beside the merchant ship. The pretty, black-haired matron within signaled her driver to wait, her dark eyes watching the ritual. The Umbrian slave spared the seer only a brief glance. "Etruscan fakery," he muttered disgustedly in his own tongue.

Ramtha Partunu ignored his comment, her attention on the high conical hat and brightly colored cloak of the skyreader. The haruspex had stationed himself in the middle of the afterdeck, facing southward as he watched the clear blue sky. South was where the gods of nature and earth dwelled, west and north were the abodes of the gods of death and the underworld, and east the home of the celestial gods, the most powerful of the three forces. Ramtha scanned the sky, but saw no omen for the haruspex to interpret. Skyreading was time-consuming, but Arnth preferred that form of divination to reading the livers of animals.

Ramtha finally located her husband beside the lean figure of the captain and stifled a sigh. Where had he found that old tebenna? Cloaks aplenty he had with his status to maintain as master trader, but he had to wear that stained one in the presence of the seer. People would next be saying that Arnth Visnai was disdainful of the gods. She had heard rumors already of the growing belief among the traders that Arnth's recent wealth was due not to his skill as the master of four ships but the fact that he had married a witch. His witch wife adjusted the wool mantle draped over her shoulder and stepped down out of the two-wheeled cart.

She walked slowly up and down the dock, occasionally touching the rough timbers of the ship as she attempted her own form of divination. So intent was she on summoning the Partunu gift that she did not notice her husband leave the ship and steal softly up behind her.

Arnth tugged gently on a curl that had escaped from her long elaborate braid. "What brings you here, child? You of all people need no instruction from the high hats."

She glanced up at the patient haruspex, but did not smile at their private joke. "I had a foreboding feeling today."

Arnth tensed. "About what? Ramtha, did the goddess send you a warning?"

She shook her head, uneasy at his concern. "You know that I cannot see my own future."

"Your father and his father could."

"Only of the day of their deaths." She wished her own gift was so limited. Why had Cilens taken her blessing to the Partunu--that of knowing the hour of their deaths--away from Ramtha, of all her family, and given her instead the ability to see the fate of others?

Ramtha looked away from the sympathy in her husband's eyes. Why was he always pretending that he cared about her? She knew he did not. He loved That Woman, not Ramtha his wife. And to think that she had once believed he could love a girl twelve years his junior. Three years of marriage had proven her wrong.

She looked up and found him still watching her. "No vision brought me today. I merely thought your captains might begin to wonder why you always bring them to me before a voyage."

"Ah, but Vel has solved that little mystery. He has decided that you cast spells against shipwreck."

"And you did not correct him? Arnth, why?"

Arnth smiled at his young wife. "What matter what others believe? Your seercraft has brought us much good fortune, and I prefer to keep that secret, rather than have you become haruspex for all of Caere."

He glanced up at the seer still scanning the sky. "Not that that skyreader couldn't use some competition. Come, sit out of the sun and tell me what you would like if this voyage proves as successful as the last. A new pair of red shoes? A gold necklace? A bronze coffer for your cosmetics?" He took her arm to lead her back to the cart.

Ramtha started at the wave of dizziness that followed swiftly upon his touch. She felt the aura of otherness abruptly close about her as if Cilens, spinner of fates, now stood beside her.

Arnth looked closely at her, then released her arm.

"What do you see, Ramtha?" he asked patiently.

Her voice came from far away. "The ship will not sail today."

"Why?"

The piercing eyes of a goddess were turned upon him, and he recoiled a step before their gaze. "What is fated, will be. You will lead part of the crew up to the city. The captain and others of the crew will search the docks, keeping Cumaei ships under close watch. The Dorians will steal from you."

"What? What will they take?"

But the goddess had gone. Ramtha spread her hands apart. "I am sorry, Arnth. I did not see."

Arnth frowned. "Dorians stealing from a ship while it is in harbor? That is not like them. They are pirates upon the sea, but honeyed-tongued on land. Now, the Carthaginians--"

"I saw one of the thieves, one whom you will find. He is a hook-nosed Dorian, and he wears the tunic of a freeman, although his feet are bare."

"The tunic of a freeman, but the bare feet of a slave," her husband repeated. "I will remember that."

He studied the distant masts of Dorian ships in the harbor. The Dorians, like his own people, owed allegiance to no single king. Each city-state was independent of the other, and Cumae was said to be the oldest of the Dorian city-states. Arnth disbelieved that tale, having in his younger years sailed to the distant islands of the Dorians' origin and seen older and far more beautiful cities there. The Dorians were a clever people, talented with stone as well as with words. They were also contenders for the mastery of the sea, a title claimed by the Carthaginians as well as Arnth's own people, the Rasena.

Arnth frowned and steered his wife toward her cart. "Much as I would rather have you stay, Ramtha, if the Dorians plan to attack the ship, you had best return to Caere."

"Go quickly, Septem," he told the slave as Ramtha settled herself within the cart. The Umbrian obeyed, the cart rolling away so swiftly that Ramtha had time only for a wave back at her husband before Septem had skillfully maneuvered the cart through the traffic of the dockfront and out onto the plain.

She looked back to where Arnth stood on the dock and in her memory saw once again the vision Cilens had sent her during her wedding rites. A young woman--beautiful, Ramtha knew, although the woman's face was turned away from her--was held tightly in Arnth's arms. Her blue mantle had been flung back to her elbows, revealing a short-sleeved cheton of rich green. her long black hair was falling out of its ribbon binding, forming a second mantle down her back.

Despite the woman's unkempt appearance, Arnth was looking at her with so much love in his eyes that the then 14-year-old Ramtha had known that her new husband would be forever lost to her once those two met. As they were fated to.

Arnth was still watching her from the dock. She waved, ignoring the tears stinging her eyes. No one could change what was to be, not even the gods. But Ramtha, oracle of Cilens, dared to desire the unthinkable. If only there was some way to thwart the goddess of fate!

She turned around and sat stiffly upright, biting her lip to keep from sobbing.

She did not see the flock of sparrows dip down out of the sky and wheel as one over her. Arnth did, however, and took it as a good omen. Everyone knew that sparrows were the favorite birds of Uni, goddess of marriage. Perhaps Ramtha's odd moments of sadness over the death of her father would lessen, he mused. Perhaps Uni meant that they would have a child.

He smiled at the thought. He had been richly blessed by the gods. He had a clever and beautiful wife whom he dearly loved and a thriving business with her help. And the goddess', he quickly added.

Smiling fondly, Arnth watched until the cart was out of sight.

The captain cleared his throat respectfully beside him. "Sir, the haruspex has made his prediction."

"At last! What does he say about your voyage, Vel?"

Vel hesitated. "I think you had best hear for yourself. I don't think you're going to like it."

The haruspex waited majestically for them to approach. Arnth eyed the little skyreader, a faint amusement at this pompous fellow tingeing his normal respect for seers. "What say the gods, holy one?"

The haruspex looked up at the sky and spread his arms wide in supplication to the gods. He lowered his gaze and looked sorrowfully at Arnth. "A treasure of your home will be taken from you."

Arnth frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Did you not see that flight of sparrows? They came from the east, from Uni's, goddess of the hearth, sector, then turned and flew into the northwest, into the realm of the underworld. I say again, a treasure of your house shall be taken from you."

The pieces of the mosaic abruptly fell into place. Arnth turned and looked across the plain toward the red tufa cliffs below Caere. The birds had turned above Ramtha's cart, he recalled with a sudden stab of fear, before flying into the northwest. Into Cilens' sector!

Somehow he knew that he was right. Ramtha had never been able to see her own future. And Uni was the goddess of marriage as well as the home. "No, holy one, not just a mere treasure," he groaned aloud, "but my wife!"

Ramtha shivered suddenly and wrapped her wool mantle over her linen tunic. The sunlight seemed oddly cold. She clutched at the side of the cart, feeling a familiar whirling sickness as the vision struck.

Charun, Bringer of Death, laughed as he strode toward the oncoming cart. Sharp teeth shining whitely within his black beard, the giant nodded to her and raised his hammer.

"No!" Ramtha protested. The Umbrian, unhearing, continued to drive the cart straight at the god.

Laughing, the giant pointed his hammer towards Septem, and the slave cried out, doubling over. Blood flowed from his death wound, and Ramtha saw a sword gleaming faintly.

"Are you all right, Lady?"

Ramtha stared wildly at Septem. He was alive, turning towards her from the front of the cart, the reins held tightly in his hands. "Yes," she gasped. "No! We must be inside the city before the storm breaks!"

The slave glanced at the faint line of clouds on the eastern horizon and back again at her white face. He shrugged and started the mules moving again. These Etruscans and their gods! He would never become accustomed to the Lady's strange fits.

Ramtha stared at the solid back before her and shuddered with fear. He was going to die! Before they would reach the safety of the city, he would die!

She tried to still her trembling. She had seen Charun and his hammer many times, but never before had he struck so near to her. She took a deep breath. What was fated, would be. But who would wish to kill Septem? Why?

Her visions of the morning returned, and she fumbled under her mantle for her belt knife. Her eyes studied the orchards set back from the road, and she held her knife ready, hidden under folds of cloth.

Dark clouds rolled swiftly across the sky. The fading sunlight turned greenish. Shivering anew at these ominous signs, Ramtha tried frantically to picture the road to Caere, a road she had traveled all her life. They would be attacked while on the road. Where?

Caere, like all the old Rasena cities, was set on a hilltop overlooking the harbor and thus easily defended from the pirate raids common in its early years. The small stretch of plain between the harbor and the hill was clearly visible to the guards posted on Caere's outside walls, as were the two neighboring hills, Caere's cemeteries. The best place for an attack, then, would be on the hill road, where the roadway often wound out of sight of the city guards.

Ramtha glanced at the distant city walls and slipped her knife back within her belt. They still had some distance to go before she need fear attack; the mules had only now trotted past the turnoff for the road to the hill Abaton and its tombs.

The thought of warning Septem was dismissed as quickly as it appeared. He had not been expecting any danger in her vision, therefore she could not warn him. Any interference in Charun's comings caused the god to change a swift passage to the underworld into a slow and painful dying. She was helpless to alter what was to be. She could do nothing but place herself in the hands of her goddess. Her fingertips brushed the hilt of her knife.

The cart rolled briskly along under the darkening sky. Thunder muttered irritably in the east.

The road widened, branching off yet again towards green- topped Banditac and its tombs. Ramtha tensed as they neared the gentle slope of the hill road to Caere.

A rider on a mule came down the road, waving his sword slowly over his head as he neared them. "Danger! Rockslide ahead!" he warned.

Muttering under his breath, Septem pulled the mules to a halt. The rider stopped beside the cart. "Is the road completely blocked?" Ramtha asked, glancing up the slope.

The man pointed his sword back at the cliff. "My companions will soon have a pathway clear. By Hermes! Are you not the wife of the master trader Visnai?"

Ramtha froze at the Dorian word. She glanced quickly towards the rider, looking past the sandaled feet to a face from her vision.

The hook-nosed Dorian lost his false smile. He cast his left hand up as if to shield himself from her gaze. "The witch knows!" he shouted and ran Septem through with his sword.

The slave cried out, doubling over, and Ramtha lunged forward to snatch the reins from the Umbrian's dying grasp. She found herself instead fighting to disentangle herself from the folds of a cloak cast over her head from behind. She struggled to fling aside the cloak and rise, but was pushed to the floor of the cart again, the cloak held firmly over her head.

"Don't look at her eyes!" she heard Hook Nose shout. "The witch will enchant you if you look into her eyes!"

"You've made a mistake!" Ramtha protested, ceasing her ineffectual struggles. "I am not a witch!"

She felt the restraining bite of rope as it was wrapped about the cloak, fastening it securely over her head and binding her arms to her sides. Yet her hands remained free.

"Our master says your are a witch," a cold voice commented next to her ear. "But, as he is paying us to either deliver you to him or kill you, what you are makes no difference to me. Now, you will either stay quietly where you are or I will kill you. Understand?"

The cart rocked, and Ramtha heard him land on the road. "Help me with the body, Grypos," he ordered. The cart rocked again and Ramtha felt her throat tighten at the memory of the disrespectful, grumbling slave and his patience with her strangeness. "Swift passage, Septem," she whispered softly. "May Charun soon lead you to the halls of music and feasts."

She waited, listening intently in order to locate each of her captors. She quickly discovered that although she had only heard two voices, there was one other, silent so far. She could hear the sound of something being dragged off to her left, the quick step of sandaled feet on the road behind the cart, and harsh breathing towards the front of the cart.

She tested her bonds, growing accustomed to the strong smell of mule that clung to the cloak. Its rough fibers scraped her skin as she cautiously tried easing one hand to her belt.

The cart rolled forward. "No, Leanderes," came a cold reminder far behind the cart. "Hold the mules' heads."

The Dorians spoke their own language among themselves; but Ramtha, wife and daughter of traders, knew that tongue well. She wondered where they would take her. Who was their master?

"Hurry, Grypos, before anyone comes."

Ramtha's fingers brushed the hilt of her knife. She heard footsteps nearing her and froze.

"The body is hidden, Theronos," Hook Nose's voice came.

"Good, Grypos." Ramtha blinked, and a slow grin spread over her face as she realized that that Dorian name translated as "Hook Nose". The cart rocked as someone climbed into the driver's seat. The cart began to move backward.

"Grypos," came the cold voice of Theronos before her, "ride your mule and take mine up to Caere. Find Physkonos--he should still be watching the Visnai home--and have him ride to the ship. He's to tell the captain that we have the witch and that he should be ready to sail tonight."

Ramtha's mind reeled. A ship! Merciful Uni, how was she to escape from a ship?

". . . don't see why I can't ride to the ship myself," Grypos was saying when Ramtha could hear again.

"Because I want you to wait and watch for Visnai. The moment he arrives at his home, you come and tell us. We can't travel with her until dark and I don't wish to run into him on the road. You remember where our camp is, don't you?"

"Yes," Grypos said sullenly.

"Wait, Grypos." The voice was dangerously mild. "Take off your sandals."

"What?"

"I said, take off your sandals. If the Tyrrhenoi see you with that one blood-soaked sandal, they might forbid you to even enter their city. They see bad omens in everything; no sense for you to provide them with one. Take off your sandals."

There was a pause. "Grypos," said a hoarse, raspy voice, "Theronos told you to do something."

"Now, now, Leanderes," Theronos chided. "Grypos is no fool."

Ramtha reached carefully for her knife as the silence seemed to lengthen. Her movements hidden under the cloak, she slowly drew her knife from her belt and tried to work it under both the cloak and her bonds.

"Good, Grypos," Theronos said finally. "Try not to forget your instructions. Come along, Leanderes. We have wasted enough time." The cart turned on the wide stretch of road and headed back the way Ramtha had come. She could hear a single mule following the cart.

The Dorians rode along in silence for a time. Then Ramtha felt the cart turn to the right and realized that they were on the road to the neighboring hill of Banditac. They traveled swiftly through the small valley separating the two hills. Ramtha's muscles were growing cramped in her crouched position and she longed to straighten. Cutting through both the cloak and the rope was taking longer than she had expected.

"Dorian," she tried, raising her voice over the rattle and squeak of the cart. "Your master is wasting your time. I am not a witch."

"Not a witch, Lady Visnai?" Theronos mocked. "How, then, do you explain the fact that your husband has managed to avert or lessen disasters that would have broken another man? No, Lady, you are a witch."

Ramtha scowled, the familiar frustration at being misunderstood rising within her. How could she explain that her 'witchcraft' was possible to any Rasen who consulted the gods? If a haruspex said that a particular ship would be wrecked in a storm, then one chose a less valuable cargo to load. When the gods warned of a pirate attack, one sent more men to defend the ship and take the pirates' own. How to explain that to a Dorian? Their own oracle at Delphi was only consulted on matters of grave importance, not on everyday occurrences as were the haruspices.

"I am not a witch," she insisted. "Dorian, my husband is rich, as you say. He will pay more for my safe return than your master will for my capture."

"Visnai is more liable to kill me once you are safe with him. I know you Tyrrenhoi."

"You know little of us, then," Ramtha said angrily. Thunder rumbled, echoing her mood. "Uni will punish you for this deed."

Theronos laughed. "Hera has attempted to punish me before. Always I have thwarted her. She may be a goddess, but she is only a woman."

Thunder growled again above them, and Ramtha heard Charun's laughter. She fell silent, too shocked at the Dorian's disrespect to attempt to reason with him any further. The thunder seemed to be drawing closer, and with it the feeling of otherness that she had always associated with the gods. "In which direction is the lightning?" she asked.

"You Tyrrenhoi and lightning." Theronos chuckled. "But I will humor you, witch. Whose sector of the sky is due east?"

"Uni," she said, and dazzling white light suddenly exploded before her eyes.

The cart seemed to be tossed aside by a giant hand. Her ears ringing, Ramtha found herself on the grass, the rope and cloak falling away as she struggled to rise. Somehow her knife was still clenched tightly in her hand, and she shakily returned it to her belt.

The cart was tumbled wreckage not far from her. The still harnessed mules galloped off across the plain, dragging the broken cart pole between them. She climbed unsteadily to her feet, looking for the Dorians. Near the wreckage of the cart was a blackened, smoking hole in the ground.

"Thank the gods the bolt struck no closer," came the hoarse, raspy voice of Leanderes. Ramtha turned and saw the Dorians not far beyond the ruined cart. A big man, heavily muscled, supported the slight frame of the other, who held a hand to his head.

"Never mind the gods," the slighter one said, shrugging off the big man's support. "Find the witch, or all our efforts will have been for naught."

Ramtha squared her shoulders. There was no place for her to hide. They believed her to be a witch; very well, she would play the part. "All your efforts were for naught, Theronos, she announced.

The Dorians turned in surprise.

"She knows your name, Theoronos," the big man said slowly. "And how did she get free?"

"You toy with powers you do not understand, Dorians." Ramtha flung her hands skyward in the manner of a haruspex. Thunder answered.

"Take her, Leanderes!"

Leanderes hesitated. "Grypos said she would enchant me."

"Leanderes! Take her!"

"Do you so fear me, Theronos, that you must send others to do your work?" Ramtha asked mockingly.

"I fear no woman, be she witch or goddess," Theronos answered.

She raised her knife as the slight man approached. "Touch me at your peril, fool." Thunder rumbled menacingly and she heard the cold tones of the goddess in her voice. "You are dead men. You," the point of her knife flicked toward Leanderes, "will die at the feet of your master. You the goddess will spare for now to carry the news of her anger to him."

"You, however," her knife returned to Theronos, forcing him to back away, "have only moments to live. Uni is very displeased with you."

"Only Zeus controls the thunderbolts, witch," Theronos snarled. "Not Hera."

"Behold the cart," Ramtha countered. "Or was that merely accident?"

"Give me the knife, witch," Theronos commanded. His sword rasped from its sheath. "Do not force me to kill you."

Ramtha eyed him mockingly. What would a witch do? She laughed and tossed her knife up into the sky.

He raised his sword to shield himself from the knife as it fell back to earth, ignoring her for the moment. The knife clattered against his blade.

Lightning streaked down out of the sky, bathing him in its cold fire. His dying shriek was drowned out by Charun's laughter, rumbling in Ramtha's ears like thunder.

Lifeless, he slumped to the ground. Ramtha faced Leanderes over the body. The big man looked down at his companion. His eyes were full of fear when he raised his head.

"Behold Uni's wrath," Ramtha intoned. "Do not tempt her anger further. Go now, and inform your master of her curse."

Leanderes backed a step.

"Go!" Ramtha gestured, and the thunder answered.

Leanderes turned and dashed toward his mule. He scrambled onto its back and, without a backwards glance, rose away as if the Furies pursued him.

Ramtha leaned against the wreckage of the cart, feeling limp and giddy with relief. A faint laugh escaped her. After all her protests to Arnth not to make her out to be a witch, she had just proved all the rumors true!

She felt the warmth of sunlight upon her and looked up to see the dark clouds rolling away, following the Dorian towards the harbor. "My thanks, Uni," she said gratefully.

Her eyes still on the clouds, she had a sudden vision of Leanderes arriving at the dock to find that his ship had departed without him. She had no fear that he would not find another ship out of Caere. The harbor seemed abuzz with activity, all centered about the Dorian ships. As she watched, three ships lifted anchor, scurrying out of the harbor as if their captains feared attack from the approaching storm clouds.

A breeze tugged at her hair as she looked across the plain. Adjusting her mantle about her, she started walking, following the road towards Caere.

She had not gone far when she saw a lone horseman in the distance, riding swiftly towards her. "Ramtha!" came his shout.

"Arnth!"

The horse thundered up to her, and her husband swiftly dismounted. "Beloved!"

He caught her in his arms, holding her tightly. Ramtha relaxed into his grasp, feeling too safe and secure to wish to recall That Woman. Suddenly the goddess put a vision into her mind, the same one that Ramtha had seen on her wedding day. But now the face of That Woman was turned toward her. It was the same face that looked out of her mirror each morning. She had been jealous of herself!

Stunned at the revelation, Ramtha glanced downward and saw that she was indeed wearing the green cheton and blue mantle of her "rival". And her hair was a wild mess. A giggle escaped her.

After a few moments, Arnth looked down to see his wife laughing and crying into his cloak. "Now what is wrong?"

"Oh, Arnth, you do love me!" came the muffled reply.

Arnth raised his eyes skyward, then lowered his gaze and began stroking her hair. "That, wife," he said gruffly, "is a comment worthy of a high hat, not my talented witch."

He tensed at the sound of approaching hoofbeats and swung her behind him as the horse and rider came into view. "Vel," he said, relaxing as he recognized the rider.

"What have you to report, Vel?" Arnth called as the captain neared.

Vel dismounted. "Thank the gods you are safe, Lady." The captain looked a trifle sheepish as he turned to his master. "I fear the thieves' ship has escaped us, sir. That fool haruspex babbled his prediction up and down the docks, and one Dorian ship left the harbor not long after you left in search of the Lady. Later my men came across a Dorian with a message for that ship's captain."

"Was his name Physkonos?" Ramtha asked.

Vel looked warily at her. "Yes, Lady. Once I heard what he had to say, I came at once to warn you, sir. I am sorry the ship eluded us."

Ramtha felt Arnth take a deep angry breath and hurried to forestall his outburst. "When you come upon that ship tomorrow, Captain, the scrolls you will find in the captain's chest will be apology enough."

"My ship will capture that one? With that ship's lead?" Vel interrupted.