Shades In A Silver Bowl

     Full Moon. Again, some strange power compelled to do something he didn't understand. Robban didn't know much about scrying. His compulsion to do this served as additional evidence he may be losing his mind. 

     The genesis took the form of a melody playing in his mind, over and over. One of those sticking, unidentifiable refrains which demands a name. Soon words followed the notes so the refrain became a chant. Anytime Robban sat alone the chant comprised of unfamiliar and meaningless words soon took over his thoughts. After a couple weeks Robban's life began to change. His boss gave him a promotion. A new friend entered his life who soon grew into a significant other. The couple moved together into a new, larger home. As Robban's connections grew, he became more content with his life. 

     Now he planned to look into silver bowl filled with fresh water by the light of the Full Moon and a single candle. His lover went out of town on business, so Robban wouldn't be interrupted. He sighed with the hope the activity would be self explanatory. 

When the Moon rose high in the sky, Robban lit the candle and placed it on a table behind where he would sit. The silver bowl filled with spring water rested on the floor in front of him. He sat cross-legged on a cushion and rested his wrists palms up on his thighs. Eyes closed, his breathing began to slow. After a few minutes his body relaxed. He opened his eyes and looked into the silver bowl. 

     'A silver bowl with some water. Now what?' 

   There was movement in the water. He glanced around the room, but nothing outside the bowl moved. He returned his attention to the bowl. A white cloud formed in the water like milk spilling in. In an instant, the cloud dissipated. 

     A curtain drew back and Robban looked into a room. A chamber with stone walls. Someone laid on a bed and people stood at the foot and on both sides. The man on the bed appeared to be asleep. The people lining the bed held candles. Robban inhaled the aroma of herbs burning, a blend of sage and cedar. Something else, too, Robban couldn't name. The identity of the person on the bed mattered to him more than the fragrance of some burning herb. 

     'Come back to us, Majesty.Your people need you. I need you.' The young man standing next to the bed who spoke looked crestfallen and tired. The same moment in which the man held the hand of the unconscious man on the bed, Robban sensed pressure of a grip on his own hand. The startling realization caused him to almost kick over the silver bowl. An old woman standing behind the others came to Robban's attention now. She said nothing, but seemed to smile at him in recognition. The corners of her mouth turned up with such subtlety he didn't trust his eyes. She turned her attention to the young man in the bed and back at Robban. He understood. 

     Numbness traveled up Robban's legs. The body on the bed stirred. Robban leapt up to stomp his feet to prevent leg cramp. As he did, the bowl overturned and the candle flame guttered.