Excerpt: Necessary Evil

Tara sat before her mirror and carefully lined her three eyes with kohl. They were her best feature, big and bright and green as the sea. They were also the only reason that she was accompanying her Master to dinner tonight, and she wanted to make sure they were shown at their best. She looked at herself, fluttering her eyes so that the glitter on the lids glinted in the candlelight. She had tied her hair up, though a few black curls hung down to frame her pale face. She pursed her lips and blew a kiss at the mirror. There was no way she could survive tonight if she didn't feel confident, but with all the care she had taken on her appearance, she might even enjoy it. Perhaps her Master would go so far as to enjoy her.
There was a knock on the door. She stood in a rustle of silk skirts.
“Enter,” she called, lifting her chin as she spoke.
The door opened but it was only one of the Thralls sent to fetch her. She followed them without speaking, her nose wrinkling at the salty scent of the creature's sweat. She pulled a vial from her bag and splashed more rose oil over her neck and wrists, determined not to let her mood slip. She was going to be charming, flirtatious and mysterious. No true Oracle would outshine her.
Her Master was waiting for her in the lobby, pacing on the marble floor. He stopped when he saw her, and while the echoes of his footsteps faded her appraised her.
“Gold suits you,” he said at last, and offered her his arm.
“Thank you, Master,” she said, peering at him from under her heavy black lashes. She smiled, trying to hold his attention, but his eyes flicked impatiently towards the door. She took his arm and he led her outside.
A Thrall appeared at once with an umbrella and held it over them as they moved to the waiting car. Though the sky was dark and there was no danger from the sun, a light rain was falling that would irritate her delicate skin, if not her Master's. She climbed into the back of the limousine and arranged her skirts.
“Are you nervous?” her Master asked as he slid smoothly into the seat next to her.
“Not at all, I'm looking forward to it.”
“You can be honest with me, Tara. Any Oracle would be nervous their first time in society.”
“I'm not.”
Her Master grinned, his eyes glinting, looking like a child though his hair was grey and thinning.
“The Prophet will be there,” he said.
Tara's smile, that she had hoped was alluring, froze on her face. She would see the Prophet in the flesh. She had never been in his presence before, though she had seen him on the television. And in her visions. In her dreams.
Her Master laughed. He slapped her on the thigh before putting his arm around her. She feared that the gesture was more paternal than possessive.
“You're a good girl, Tara, and you'll do me proud. Just remember not to talk about the things you've seen, those naughty visions of yours, and you'll be fine.”
“Of course,” she said.
“It won't be as easy as you think. It's all the other Oracles will talk about, their visions. Especially any concerning the Prophet. But I don't think he'd take kindly to you joining in.”
“He knows about me?” Her voice turned shrill and unattractive, but she could not help herself. “The Prophet knows that I'm not a real Oracle?”
“Stop it,” her Master said gruffly, withdrawing his arm and folding it with the other across his chest. “You are an Oracle, it's clear on your face. There's nothing false about you.”
“Except my prophesies. They're useless to you. Why do you even keep me?”
Her mood was lost, she was a mess, as usual. Her Master was looking sternly at her, waiting for her to pull herself together. She could feel her cheeks flushing under their powder, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
“You think the other Masters listen to their Oracles? It's all for show. They may have visions, but most of the Oracles are too clueless about the world to understand what they see. Or they'll only have visions of things that have already happened. Or of things that don't matter. You're no more useless than the rest of them.”
He turned his head to gaze out of the window, letting her know that the conversation was over. So Tara did the same, and watched lights flicker past the other side of the tinted glass. They had had the same conversation, or similar, many a time. It always ended with her feeling ashamed, feeling like a fraud. Oracles were usually born of Psychics, but she was an anomaly. She was the child of Dreamers. So her 'visions' were nothing more than dreams.
Well, if she was only for show then she was going to look her best and do that right at least. She drew the gilt mirror from her bag and checked her face. She was still a little flushed but that would go now that she was calm, and nothing was smeared.
She curled a little in her seat and tried to convey through body language that she was ready to be a good girl again. She watched her Master's reflection in the window and waited for him to meet her eyes. When he did, he could not help but smile.