"To only look at a beautiful woman is a poor gift," she replied. To some maybe it would be enough. Not to Hild.

She tucked her hair behind her ears, considered how to answer Gannicus' question. It was not so much the lying that troubled her as taking on the mantle of prophet again, to be that instead of simply Hild. Eowyn would sometimes give her looks, rare but solemn, as if Hild had spoken some true thing. They did not trouble but tired her, and she did not wish the same from Gannicus. But his faith in gods (and perhaps prophets) seemed weak.

"I do not speak to them, nor do they speak to me," she said. "I only read what they have written, in dreams and in nature."