The wind whipped up sand and swayed his clothes as Wazir dismounted and looked at the temple before him. He knew he would return here. He always returned, desperate to know his future and ask for advice. If he fell into this man's good graces, he would be lucky, but if something went wrong...

Wazir hated this feeling. The feeling of not having control over the situation, but he had nowhere to go. Things seemed too bad on the front lines, too burdensome were the dreams that prophesied defeat. He collected his thoughts and entered the hall.

"Wise One! I have come again for a prophecy." — Wazir said solemnly and so unlike his usual rude and harsh tone, in which he communicates outside the walls of the seer.