The prophet stared at the bird bones. They were a bit more charred than usual. He blinked. Crossed his eyes. Blinked again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The visions used to come unbidden, sometimes unwelcome, but lately they hadn’t been coming at all. He rubbed his right thumb knuckles with his left hand. Behind him, the elders inhaled sharply, then whispered among themselves. He quickly clasped his hands behind his back. He hadn\u2019t meant to signal anything; his joints just ached. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He tried squinting at the small blackened heap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One of the assembled men cleared his throat. “What do you see, wise one?” he inquired.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The prophet glanced up at the chief, then back down at the black pile at their feet.\u00a0 All he saw were burned bones.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He briefly considered asking for two more pigeons. Maybe three. \u201cBest of five,\u201d he could say. It might buy more time. He squatted, poking gingerly at a scorched drumstick with a twig. He closed his left eye, stared with the right. Switched. Nothing. He stood again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He could sense the men shifting, growing restless. They expected an answer\u2014soon. What good was a seer who couldn\u2019t see? He had no other useful skills. And he was too old to go into battle, though the chief, only a few months older, would be expected to lead the charge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“There is a man…” he began, hesitantly, “…born of woman,” <\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Aren’t all<\/em> men born of woman?” It was the chief’s son, a young man even worse tempered than his father. The elder man reached out, placing a hand on his son’s chest, never taking his eyes off the prophet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The prophet’s gaze jerked up, then back to the bones on the ground. He coughed, then continued. “Where the mountain kneels to the sea,” he continued. Was that vague enough?<\/p>\n\n\n\n “But, our whole land is mountainous,” pointed out one of the elders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “And surrounded by the sea,” added another.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The prophet swallowed. “There, what has been attempted will be accomplished,” he continued, nearly stammering. “And what has been concealed will be made known.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n He risked a peek back to the chief’s face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The chief’s eyes, still fixed on him, narrowed. The prophet involuntarily hunched his shoulders, instinctively making himself smaller. But the chief wasn\u2019t looking at him\u2014he was looking past him. The prophet turned, but behind him was only the heap of charred bones. He looked back at the chief.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I know the place,” proclaimed the chief. “I know the exact place.” He nodded, still staring into the middle distance. “Where the mountain kneels to the sea.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n The prophet opened his mouth to say more, then thought better of it, and closed his mouth again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Come!” ordered the chief. “Tell the men to gather their arms. We leave at once to accomplish what has been attempted and to make known what has been concealed!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n The prophet watched the horde march off. He clinked two pieces of gold in his hand. The sound was satisfying, but the motion made his joints ache even more. Then he turned and kicked the charred bird bones, scattering them into the dust, and walked away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The prophet stared at the bird bones. They were a bit more charred than usual. He blinked. Crossed his eyes. Blinked again. The visions used to come unbidden, sometimes unwelcome, but lately they hadn’t been coming at all. He rubbed his right thumb knuckles with his left hand. Behind him, the elders inhaled sharply, then whispered among…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5174","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-nonclassified-nonsense"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nachzen.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5174","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nachzen.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nachzen.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nachzen.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/5"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nachzen.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5174"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/nachzen.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5174\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5176,"href":"https:\/\/nachzen.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5174\/revisions\/5176"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nachzen.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5174"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nachzen.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5174"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nachzen.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5174"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}