With his dirty fingers he clawed at the wall as if he could slowly work his way through the rock and be free of his wretched existence. “My horses are gone!” Fatalis roared. “What happened to them? Tell me now or I promise a fate much worse than death.” The oracle shook his head and kept his eyes focused on his task. In a weak voice he replied, “I…I don’t know what you…are talking about. I…I have told you everything you asked.” Fatalis leaned closer, his face now within inches of his captive. He could smell his blood, even through the stench of the old man’s filthy hair. His grip on the torch tightened. Inside a hunger tempted him, yearning to be released. “Don’t try my patience you foul hen,” Fatalis threatened. “Your value is dwindling with each day that passes.” He then stood up and demanded once more, “Tell me what happened to my horses.” “I…I cannot see the past.”
