"Alisarrian came here? he gasped.

"I don't know, Safar said. But I think some of those who knew him used this place."

He motioned Iraj forward and they followed the path through the several chambers that made up the cavern. One room had a stone shelf with ancient jars still sitting on it. Although some of the magical symbols identifying them were still plain, the contents of the jars had dried up long ago. Another room featured a small pile of weapons and armor so rusted they'd bonded together. Iraj examined them with much interest, commenting with authority on their purpose and former quality.

The final room was empty, save for brackets mounted on either side of the far wall. Safar lit two more torches and placed them in the brackets.

"This is what I brought you to see, he said, pointing to the broad space between the two torches.

Iraj peered where he pointed but at first saw nothing remarkable.

"Look closer, Safar said. It takes a minute to see the first time you try. After that it's easy because you know what you're looking for."

Iraj's eyes narrowed with effort and he turned his head this way and that, trying to make out what Safar was pointing at. Then the young potter smiled when he saw the stare turn into a look of wonder as the image between the mounted torch brackets leaped out.

A large painting had somehow been created just beneath the translucent surface of the stone. It was barely visible until the torches were litand only then if it were looked at a certain way.

The picture was of a tall, handsome warrior dressed in the archaic armor of a prince. He was fair skinned and had long light hair and fierce eyes as blue as the waters of Kyrania's holy lake. The warrior carried a helmet under his right arm and about his brow was a simple gold band of kingly authority. He had a sword in his left hand, held high as if greeting or challenging another warrior. Safar had never decided which.

Above the warrior king was the symbol of the Demon Moon and ascending comet.

"Alisarrian, Iraj hissed.

"None other, Safar said.

Iraj laughed in loud delight and clapped the young potter on the back, thanking him profusely.

"A secret for a secret, he said. Although I got the better bargain, my friend."

At that moment Safar realized that sometime between the moment they'd set out on the journey and their arrival, they had become friends. The knowledge made him feel somehow more adult. He'd never had a real friend before.

Iraj gazed at the portrait again. I've studied everything about Alisarrian, he said, but I've never seen such a likeness before. He looks every inch a conqueror. A man fated by the gods to rule a great empire."

He drew his sword, flourished it, then struck a pose like that in the paintingsword held high, head lifted and eyes far-seeing.

With a jolt, Safar noticed something for the first time. You're left-handed, he said, just like Alisarrian."

Iraj nodded, face sober. And tall and fair as well, he said. But my eyes are dark. His eyes are blue… like yours."

Safar blushed. One of the many reasons he treasured this secret place was that here was another blue-eyed person like himself. It made him feel not only less strange, but superiorif only for a little while.

Iraj turned, holding his pose. Tell me, Safar, he said quite seriously. Do I look like a king?"

Safar studied him carefully. No vision followed, no great bolt from the skies, but realization boiled up from within. And he just suddenly… knew.

His mouth was dry and his voice came in a croak. You will be king, Iraj, he said.

"What? Iraj said, startled. I was only he broke off. Then his voice became fierce, harsh.

"What are you telling me?"

"You will be as great a king as Alisarrian, Safar answered. I see it… he tapped his chest…here."

Iraj's sword hand fell, the blade scraping against the stone. Don't mock me, he warned.

"I'm not."

"You're speaking of my greatest dream, he said. To create a kingdom as grand as Alisarrian's."

"I know this, Safar said.

"You don't think I'm crazy?"

"Perhaps. The young potter shrugged. You'll probably have to be."

"You've seen this in one of your visions? Iraj asked.

"Just before you came, Safar said. I saw you… wearing a crown."

"Was I sitting on a white elephant? Iraj asked, chin jutting forward in surprise.

"Yes, Safar said. You were leading a great army. In my vision you beckoned me."

Iraj came closer, as if drawn by a magnet. And I told you to sit beside me, he said. And that youSafarwere responsible for what I'd won."

"It seems we had the same vision, Safar said, numb.

"I'd believed it was just a dream, Iraj said. I only thought it might be more than that when I met you and heard your name."

"Somehow, Safar said, we got into each other's minds."

Iraj shook his head. It was your vision, he said. Such things never happen to me."

"Well they do to me, Safar sighed.

"You act like it's a curse."

"You don't know how much of one, Safar answered.

"But… if what you say is true"

"It is, Safar broke in. I'm not often wrong."

Iraj put his arm around Safar's shoulders, pulling him closer. Then, when I am king, he said, you will be my most trusted advisor. You will be Lord Timura from the moment I take my rightful place on the throne."

Then he withdrew his arm and stepped away, raising his sword with much ceremony. He gently tapped Safar on the head with the blade, saying, I, King Iraj Protarus, do so decree."

His face shone with youthful zeal. Emotion made his voice waver and crack and his eyes welled with tears. There was a smear of dirt on one cheek and standing there in his rough boyish clothes attempting to strike an heroic figure, he might have even looked a bit ridiculous.

But Safar didn't laugh.

After the impromptu ceremony Iraj investigated the chamber further, taking special note of all the magical symbols and jars.

"What do you suppose was the purpose of the cave? he asked.

"My guess, Safar replied, is that it was used by a Dreamcatcher to cast Alisarrian's future."

Iraj grinned hugely, saying, How fitting for me to have my own future told in this place. And by my own Dreamcatcher as well."

"I'm no Dreamcatcher, Safar protested. I'm just an apprentice potter."

"A potter who has visions, Iraj laughed.

Oddly, Safar was stung by his comment. Being a potter may not be as great as becoming a king, he said. But it is an honorable craft. Some even say it's an artan art blessed by gods."

"I'm sorry if I said anything to upset you, Iraj said. The only craftsmen I've ever known were sword and armor makers. But as you say, it's well known that potters are blessed because they work with the same stuff the gods made us from. Did you ever think that could be why you have visions? Maybe you got a double portion of blessings when you were born."

"It could be, Safar said. Although my father has never had anything like that happen to him."

"How do you know? Iraj asked.

"From the way he acted when Safar stopped.

"What happened? Iraj pressed. What did he do?"

Safar shook my head, refusing to answer. I'd rather not say."

"We shouldn't have secrets between us, Iraj said. Especially after what's happened."

He's right, Safar thought. But instead of confessing all, he became angry. Nothing's happened! he snapped. Just one stupid boy told another stupid boy a silly tale. That's all."

Safar stormed away, ducking between the watery curtain at the cave's mouth and clambering over the rocks until he reached the meadow where the goats were grazing.

Wisely, Iraj took his time in following. Safar raged about the meadow, kicking innocent rocks, tearing up offending plants by the roots and slapping at the llama when he approached and nuzzled him to see what was wrong. When he struck out at the animal it sprang back in shock. Safar had always treated him gently. It stared at him with accusing eyes, then turned and ambled off in that overly casual way llamas have when they don't want to show they've been offended.