Kassandra tried to reckon up the years; in Troy they did not keep track of a woman's age once she had arrived at puberty.
"I think I shall be nineteen or twenty this summer," she said. "Mother told me I was born near to midsummer."
"A year older than my Andromache," Imandra said, "and you told me that Andromache's oldest son, is old enough for his first bronze helmet and lessons in swordplay. I do not think I know any woman of your years who is not married. Sometimes I think you should have been my daughter, since you cleave to the old ways in Colchis, and Andromache seems happy in Troy, even as an obedient wife to Hector." Her lip curled a little, almost in scorn. "But you are Priam's daughter, and a Trojan. Is it your will to remain unmarried all your days, my dear?"
"I had thought of nothing else," Kassandra said. "I am sworn to Apollo Sunlord."
"But you are missing all that makes life worth the living," Imandra said, and sighed.
Imandra frowned and lay motionless for a time, then said, "Will you look into the scrying-bowl and let this old woman once set eyes upon my daughter's child?"
Kassandra demurred. "Perhaps just now you should think first of this child. You must save all your strength and energy until she is safely here among us, kinswoman."
"Spoken like a priestess - and they are all full of nonsense," said Imandra crustily. "I am not a maiden of fifteen in my first childbed; I am a grown woman and a Queen, and no less a priestess than you yourself, Kassandra of Troy."
"I had no thought of suggesting—" Kassandra began defensively.
"Oh, yes you did; don't deny it," Imandra said. "Do as I ask you, Kassandra; if you will not there are others who will, though not many who see so far or so well."
Everything Imandra said was true, and Kassandra knew it.
"Oh, very well," she agreed, mentally adding you stubborn old creature. "Call your women," she said, "and let them prepare you for the birth. Hold me harmless of it if what I say gives you pain or sorrow; I am but the messenger, the wings of the bird on which such greetings fly." She knelt down, making the preparations for kindling the witchfire for the spell of sight.
Imandra's women came and went in the room, making all ready for the birthing. Among them were Kassandra's two waiting-women, who came to greet her and ask quietly out of earshot of the Queen, "Are we to stay in this foreign city forever, Princess? When shall we return to Troy?"
"That shall be as Queen Imandra wills," Kassandra said. "I shall not leave her while she has need of me here."
"How can she have more need of you than your own mother, Lady? Do you truly think Queen Hecuba does not long and grieve for you?"
Kassandra said indifferently, "You have my leave to return to Troy whenever you will; this very night if it should please you. But I have made a promise to Imandra and I will not break it." She rose and strode to the high bed where the women had placed the Queen to rest till it should be time for the birth-chair. The room was slowly filling with the women in the palace, come to witness the royal event.
"I wonder," Imandra mused fretfully, "if it ever happens that the Earth Mother sends the babe to the wrong womb? From what I know of her, Hecuba would have thought Andromache her perfect daughter, and you were always misplaced in Troy." She clung hard to Kassandra's hand, "No, don't leave me, the Gods will wait on the Sight till our eyes are ready to see…'
"I do not know what the purposes of the Goddess may be, that sent me to the womb of Hecuba of Troy instead of Imandra of Colchis," Kassandra said, laying her cheek against the older woman's, "but whatever it may have been, kinswoman, I love and revere you as if you were my mother in truth."
"I believe you do, child," said Imandra, turning her face to kiss Kassandra. "Should the Goddess take me today, as we all come under her wing at such times as this, promise me to stay in Colchis and rear my daughter in the old ways."
"Oh, come, you mustn't talk about dying; you will live many, many years and see this daughter with her own sons and daughters at her knees," Kassandra said. One of the serving-women handed her a cup of wine and a plate of honey cakes; she sipped at the wine absently, and put the cakes aside.
"Let me look for you into the bowl," she said, and knelt again on the stones by the kindled witchlight, casting her mind to the day when Andromache's son had been born; Hector's face pale and excited, looking at the little creature…
Shadows moved in the water, flowing and congealing into Hector's face… the crimson plumes draggled, slimed with a wet darker crimson… Kassandra gasped as a sudden pain pierced her heart. Hector! Was he dead, or did she but see what was to come? When a city was at war it was more likely than not that the leader of the army who always was first among his troops in battle, should fall at the hands… the bloody hands of Akhilles… that sneering face, pale and beautiful, beautiful and evil. Snow drifted across the face of the water, and Kassandra knew she saw what was to come in a future year; but which year? This one, or some year in the future… Kassandra had no way of knowing.
Imandra, her eyes fixed on Kassandra's face as if desperately trying to share the vision, asked, "What did you see?"
"Hector's death," Kassandra whispered, "but for a warrior there is no other end, and we have long known already that this was to come; but'tis not yet, perhaps not for many years…'
"But the child—" Imandra whispered,"tell me of the child—"
"When last I saw he was healthy and well-grown, and had already a wooden sword and a toy helmet—" Kassandra said, reluctant to look again and see disaster, and for some reason she never doubted that this was what would come. "The omens this night are evil for the sight, Imandra; I beg you excuse me from looking again—"
"As you will," said Imandra, but her face twisted with disappointment. "I could die content if only I could see my daughter's son, even by your sight rather than my own
"Now, then," said young Agon, holding Imandra's hand tight, "I will not let you think of dying, content or otherwise; you must stay with me to teach our daughter to be Queen of Colchis."
Flickers of colour flowed across the surface of the water; firelight, flame across the gates of Troy; and she remembered Hector's teasing voice:
You have but one song, Kassandra, fire and doom for Troy, and you sing it in season and out, like a minstrel who knows but one tune…
Yes, I know Troy is to perish, but not yet… I beseech you, let me see something else…
The flames died; there was a flare of light, the bright sunlight reflecting on the white walls of Troy… melting into the angry sombre face of Khryse, distorted into the familiar lines of mourning.
Apollo Sunlord: if I see all this in your light, why must you show me nothing but what I already know?
Then glare, as if she was staring directly into the face of the sun; it seemed Khryse grew taller, and now Kassandra saw the blazing light of the God, and knew who now strode the walls and ramparts of Troy, terrible in his wrath; his shining bow drawn, the golden arrows shooting… shooting at random among Akhaians and Trojans alike, the terrible arrows of Apollo, striking…
Kassandra screamed, covering her face with her hands; the vision blurred and ran like water, was gone.
"Not upon us," she moaned, "not upon thine own people, Sunlord, not the wrath, not the arrows of Apollo…'