“That sign means a friend in need.” He smiled at her. “A good sign, one of the best. It can also mean an old friend will appear soon, or that I will make a new one, one whom I can trust. There’s another symbol quite like it, this Open Hand.” He showed it to her. “That one showed up when Gorm appeared first. But the Clasped Hands are a little different.” They meant a friend for life, among other things, but he somehow did not mention that fact.
“Could it mean me?” she asked. “I mean, I have so few friends of my own, and I wondered… P”
“It almost certainly does mean you. I doubt if we’re going to see many other people very soon, and those we do are most unlikely to prove friends. Let’s assume we each have a new friend.” They both smiled this time, the copper face and the dark brown one displaying twin sets of perfect white teeth.
“Let’s see,” Hiero went on, “what else have we? Two more? Well, first the Lightning. That has three meanings, of which two are very uncommon. First, I could be hit, that is, actually struck by lightning. I take leave to doubt that. Next, I could grow very, very angry. It sometimes means beware of anger. Possible, but I never felt less angry.” He laughed and turned the little thing over on his palm. “No, I think the usual thing, the commonest of all its meanings, is meant again. Just plain, very bad weather; in fact, a big storm. We’d better keep our eyes open for it.” He placed the Lightning with the other three.
“Last, what have we? The Boots, or Shoes, as some call them. A long journey, and one which hardly needed an appearance, since I knew that before I set out. I guess it means that as long as I thought it would be, it will end up being even longer still.” He stared at the tiny, fringed boots in his hand and then gathered up all five symbols and replaced them in the bag with the other thirty-five.
“Can you really make more sense out of it?” the girl asked. “It seems, well, a bit vague. Most of the stuff could almost be guessed, if you think about where we are, who we are, and what we’re doing.”
“First,” the priest said as he finished unrobing and packing, “you’re absolutely right. It is a bit vague. But I’m not a good talent at this particular form of foreseeing. I know men, friends of mine, who could get a lot more out of it, maybe draw ten symbols or even fifteen at one time, and make an extraordinary and detailed prediction. I’ve never got more than six myself, and I feel I’ve done well if I get even a modest clue as to what’s coming.”
