“I meant to tell you,” he said. “I heard a prophecy of you. I had it from an old seeress who had left her temple and was wandering the fields giving fortunes.” I was used to the swift movements of his mind, and now I was grateful for them. “And you just happened to be passing when she was speaking of me?” “Of course not. I gave her an embossed gold cup to tell me all she knew of Circe, daughter of Helios, witch of Aiaia.” “Well?” “She said that a man named Odysseus, born from my blood, will come one day to your island.” “And?” “That’s it,” he said. “That’s the worst prophecy I’ve ever heard,”
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