In a minute, Aminta would sit up and wake Melo to ask where I was.

  In the kitchen, a serving girl would scratch her arm. The kitchen air would be tangy with the scent of sardines. In his bedroom, Father would splash water on his face from the basin by his bed. He would straighten, his expression serious while beads of water coursed along his cheeks. He’d probably be planning the tasks of the day and what would be best for Troy.

  Apollo hadn’t cursed Helenus’s gift, and Helenus loved our parents too. Together, we’d save them and the city. I was still lucky to be able to see the future.

  The god said that the dread ship of fate is almost impossible to turn. Almost meant it could be done.

  I left the sacred grove, remembering my yesterday self, who hoped to see the future to save someone from biting into a spoiled scone.

  Troy loomed ahead, its white limestone wall tinted pink by the dawn. Though I’d seen it dozens of times from the outside and even more times from within the city, I saw it fresh now.

  How bright it was! Above the shining limestones, the wall’s height was doubled by a second wall, this one made of mud bricks and wooden beams, striped horizontally with green, purple, and coral paint. Father declared our wall stronger, better made, and handsomer than the wall of any city he’d ever visited.

  What army could breach such a wall? Would Zeus himself destroy us?

  The east gate arched over me. Inside, Maera wagged her whole rear half at me.

  I crouched. “Did you spend the night here, Little Faithful? Whatever your future, I’ll save you.” I stroked her back, then straightened. “Come!” I started off along the inside of the wall, rather than entering the Way of the Immortals.

  Maera ran ahead of me and kept looking back, her mouth agape in a doggy smile.

  The god had said that I couldn’t see the near future of myself or another prophet, which seemed to be true. I couldn’t foretell where my twin would be in a few minutes, but I already knew that he rode out of Troy every morning to exercise his horse.

  We turned right into narrow streets, winding along gaily painted but shabby houses. A knot of seven men turned out of a lane, arguing and laughing. A gang of girls and boys raced by, chasing a piglet. Ordinary Troy, but precious too.

  Without foreseeing, I imagined what might come: this street aflame; these children, wailing; the air choking them, hot dust swirling around their ankles.

  I stopped. Maera sat.

  Hadn’t the god of prophecy known I would push him away? He must have checked ahead to see.

  My mouth fell open. When he looked, there had to have been a different future! In that one, I didn’t refuse him. I might have chosen to be his oracle, or he might have loved me while I was still half-asleep, without me meaning to.

  I had already changed the future, effortlessly. Now I’d put my whole self into it and hope that would be enough. “We can do it, Maera!” I set off again.

  She barked once, an enthusiastic Yes!

  Helenus slouched outside the stable yard’s wooden gate. He was taller and stockier than I was and looked as old as his rival, Deiphobus, who was four years older at eighteen.

  I rushed to him with Maera frolicking at my side. When I reached him, my olive eyes gazed into his olive eyes. His were red-rimmed, as I supposed mine were too.

  Maera nuzzled his legs.

  He gripped my hands. “You can see too?”

  I nodded.

  “I wondered.” He gestured at a wooden bench under a spindly oak tree. Not a dog lover (or even liker), he ignored Maera.

  We sat facing the stable yard gate. Maera lay at my feet.

  Helenus was in all my earliest memories. We fell sick together from the same childhood ailments. We used to argue over the importance of the two-minute difference in our age. I was older, which he didn’t like. When we fought, he was stronger but ticklish, as I was not. He hated the helplessness of being made to laugh.

  He said, “I was walking back from the festival with our brothers—not including Deiphobus—when light seemed to pour into me. I groaned. Everyone looked at me. I stammered something and waved them on.” He broke off. “You understand.”

  I nodded. “For me, it felt like dust motes.”

  “At home, I went to my room. I lay on my bed, where understanding came. Most of it was dreadful.”

  What I’d seen so far was, but most of the rest was dreadful too?

  “Do you know why we have this power? It’s from Apollo, isn’t it?”

  “I went to his altar after the games.” I was too embarrassed to tell him about the god starting to kiss me. “I angered him somehow. He cursed my power so that no one will believe me, but he said they’ll believe you.”

  “Oh. Ah.”

  After that, we were silent. In the stable, a horse neighed.

  “I saw my death.” I swallowed more tears. “And Hector’s body lay in the dust. I know Troy burned. Then I stopped looking. How much did you see?” If his voice told me, rather than my eyes seeing it, the news might be easier to take in. “Did you see yourself die?”

  “Yes. I’ll survive the war and will live to be old.”

  I hugged him around the shoulders. “Oh, I’m glad you’ll be old!” I laughed—I was eager to laugh. “Ancient, I hope! Others survived too?” I watched his face.

  “Mother, but she’ll be enslaved.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He stared at the sturdy oak gate. “The survivors will be slaves.”

  Ai! I must have been a slave on that ship. “You’ll be a slave?”

  “No.” He didn’t explain.

  I asked again, “How much did you see?”

  “Everything. From now until your death and mine much later.”

  “Apollo told me that the ship of fate is hard to turn, but he didn’t say it was impossible. We’ll make a plan. You can warn Father and Mother.”

  He let my hands go and stood. “The war will be about a Greek woman named Helen. She’ll come here, but the Greeks will want her back. They’ll fight for her.”

  We had to stop her from coming!

  He beamed despite his bloodshot eyes. “Cassandra, you’ve never seen anyone so lovely. Her lips! Her eyes, as big as . . .” He struggled. “Er . . . as big as eggs—but they don’t look like eggs! They look like beautiful eyes.”

  I grinned at his awkwardness, but why was he telling me about her?

  “It isn’t just her beauty. It’s the way she looks at people.” His voice cracked. “She needs me. Only I can make her happy.”

  I swallowed a smile. How could he make her happy? He was my age, and wasn’t she grown up? “How old is she?”

  He waved the question away. “My important moment won’t come for years. But now, just seeing her in the future, I love her.”

  I stopped breathing. He was going to tell me he wouldn’t try to save Troy because of this woman.

  He said it. “I won’t do anything that could keep her away—or even make her leave quickly.”

  I reached down and petted Maera’s head. “You were just pretending to be sad.”

  He fell back a step. “I wasn’t!”

  I stood too and so did Maera. “You can go to this Helen instead of waiting here for her. I’ll help you.” How would I help him? “We’ll know where she’s going to be. You can join her there.”

  He tossed back his head. “She’s far away in Sparta. I could die going there. If we don’t meddle, her arrival is certain. Cassandra . . .” He came close and took my hand again. “Our gift can’t answer the question, What if? I’ve tried. You can imagine helping me reach Helen, but we can’t tell what will happen.”

  “I marched with a stone cutting my foot because I didn’t want anything bad to befall Troy. Even without prophecy, we can create the future we want.” I squeezed his hand, hating my next words: “Meanwhile, I’ll help you against Deiphobus.” I smiled the smile that always succeeded with Father.

  He swung my hand away. “Keep your help. I want to bring my brother low myself. In the future, he’s supposed to marry Helen. That’s the part I hope to change. She should marry me.”

  He didn’t care about altering the future to save my parents—or me.

  “Cassandra, I believe that fate is stronger than prophecy, and chance is powerful too. You may live. I may die.” He unlatched the stable yard gate.

  I shouted, “The gods hate heartless people! You’ll be punished.” But I wasn’t sure.

  He entered the stable. I heard him speaking to his horse. I shouldn’t have told him that no one would believe my prophecies.

  Since changing Troy’s future would be entirely up to me, I had to know all of it. I sat and clutched the edge of the bench at my sides.

  I saw again the young man in the copper cavern and noticed a boy with him, his son, judging by the boy’s features. The two sat on separate couches. I watched, listened, smelled. The man, called Paris, as I discovered, promised someone I couldn’t see not to be tempted. His son—named Corythus—lowered himself sideways to recline on his couch. But his head didn’t go all the way down. He seemed to be resting on an invisible pillow or lap.

  Paris spoke to the boy and to a being I couldn’t see, named Oenone, who could be a deity, since Apollo said my gift wouldn’t extend to them. Or she could be a seer, like I was, since he’d also told me I wouldn’t be able to see myself or any other seers in the near future, which this was, just two days from today.

  The scene continued and moved on to other scenes with other invisible beings. Paris pronounced the names of three goddesses—Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite—and seemed to be addressing them.

  Gradually, understanding came, though still with gaps.

  I bit my cheeks and tasted blood. I foresaw it all, except my death. Why watch that twice?

  My mouth felt dry. I opened my eyes and breathed slowly, taking in the earthy smell of horses. My sandaled feet were gray from the dusty road. Maera whined. What would happen to her?

  I hadn’t looked at that.

  I hugged her, and she licked my face. Then I gazed ahead. Hurrah! She was going to live to a great age for a dog. In nine years, a band of Amazons would come to Troy and the youngest of them would save her from being bitten by a snake. Not much later, before the fall of the city, I would entrust Maera to a shepherdess whose hut would be outside the city wall, who would keep her safe and be her last mistress. Giving up my dog would make me almost as sad as everything else.

  But this vision, at least, augured well for someone—Maera.

  I thought about the rest of what I’d seen and refused to cry again.

  How rickety was the ladder that ascended to Troy’s ruin! So many rungs seemed unlikely. If I took out just one of them, the climb would be broken. We’d be saved.

  I had an idea.

  5

  In a few minutes, Father’s columned palace gulped in Maera and me. On the top step to the women’s quarters, I stopped and Maera sat. Our quarters wrapped around the courtyard below, which was open to the sky. Though the quarters had a roof, the sun gave us light.

  My idea was to overcome Apollo’s curse gradually. If I predicted little events correctly, people would have to begin to believe me. Then when I warned them of danger, they’d listen. Common sense would demand it.

  Closest to the courtyard, along the balcony rail, where the light was best, were our looms, carding combs, and spindles—everything we needed to make cloth. Beyond them, separated by chest-high screens instead of walls, were the sleeping nooks of the palace women, including Mother, me, my sisters, my aunts, their children, and the women who waited on us. The nooks became darker the farther they were from the courtyard, some so inky that oil lamps were needed even at noon.

  Most of the women were at their work. Their young sons and daughters played nearby. Dogs chased each other in the aisle between the looms and the nooks. Maera raced off to join her many friends.

  How peaceful the scene was.

  As I’d hoped before the festival, my loom had been moved next to Mother’s. My cousins were on my other side, Aminta closest to me.

  Mother’s loom was empty. In future-sight, I saw her in the kitchen a moment from now, supervising the cooks, who were preparing lunch, which would be served in an hour.

  Kynthia rushed to me. “Inconsiderate princess! To make us wait so long to hear what happened!”

  Melo, Aminta, and I followed her to our sleeping cranny, where she sat me on my bed. She took one side of me and Melo the other.

  If only we were friends! Then I’d tell them everything and how afraid I was.

  Aminta sat on her own bed. “Did Apollo visit you?”

  “He gave me the gift of prophecy.” I’d try my idea out on them.

  “No!” Melo bounced on the bed.

  “Why to you?” Kynthia sounded indignant. “Did you give him something in return?”

  I tossed my head back. “No. Apollo isn’t a trader at the market.” But he was.

  “Everyone’s future, or just your own?” Melo asked.

  “Everyone’s. I’ll show you.” My idea called for a prediction that would come true quickly. “In a minute, Dirce will announce that she finished her tapestry.” Dirce was my older brother Pammon’s wife.

  “Apollo toyed with you,” Kynthia said. “Last time I looked, she had a yard of bare warp left.”

  “Your sister-in-law is almost as slow as you are.” Aminta touched my arm. “Sorry! Your weaving is beautiful.”

  “Done!” Dirce cried. “At last.”

  Kynthia shrugged. “Predict something important.”

  “Nothing important is about to happen,” I said, “but Mother will come in with Myrtes in a moment.”

  I expected them to tell me this was hardly a prediction, because Myrtes always played his flute for us at this time, and Mother never missed a performance.

  Melo said, “Not today.”

  Kynthia stretched. “This is the one day he won’t play.”

  Had someone said he wouldn’t?

  Had Apollo tricked Helenus and me and showed us a false future? I hoped that future was false!

  “I believe he has a stomachache,” Aminta said. “I should get back to my loom.”

  The others followed her, so I joined them. Myrtes would bring understanding by coming or not coming. I’d barely begun spinning when Mother arrived with the musician, who started playing his usual stately songs.

  I took in how lovely Mother still was. By the time Troy fell, narrow lines would run down her cheeks as if her tears had formed channels.

  My eyes moistened.

  Myrtes finished playing, bowed, and left.

  I swallowed hard and whispered, “I told you he’d play!”

  “He wasn’t going to,” Melo said. “I imagine his belly just felt better.”

  “Or your mother told him he had to play, no matter how sick he felt.” Kynthia put down her spindle and yawned. “Maybe your prophesying doesn’t include stomachs or mothers.”

  This was maddening!

  Three crows flapped down from the sky above the courtyard and perched on the balcony railing. They cawed:

  “Moles tunnel between Hades

  and the roots of trees.

  Trojans stumble from guess to error,

  seeing only what they believe.”

  My cousins and the other women concentrated on their cloth making and didn’t look up.

  I whispered to Aminta, the safest cousin, “Look at the crows.”

  “Where?”

  I pointed.

  “No crows, Cassandra.” She frowned. “You must be tired from yesterday.” Her brow smoothed. “You should rest.”

  I put down my shuttle. Mother had begun weaving, arms and fingers flying.

  “It’s perfect!” I touched the finished cloth rolled at the top of her loom.

  Her weaving slowed but didn’t stop. “I’m making a longer peplos for Laodice. She’s too old for her knees to be showing.” Laodice was one of my younger sisters.

  “She’ll love it,” I said.

  “The music was especially fine today. I breathe deeper when Myrtes plays.”

  “Was he sick with a stomachache earlier this morning?”

  “No. I asked after his health.” She pulled her shuttle through her warp.

  I stood at my loom and didn’t move. If Melo had made either of my predictions, no one would have disagreed. Seemingly, my cousins had to disbelieve me, regardless of the likelihood that I’d be right. My fingers trembled as I picked up my spindle.

  Kynthia noticed. “Apollo didn’t make your fingers nimbler. Perhaps he wished someone else was kanephoros. Maybe he saw me in the procession!”

  I didn’t care about her teasing. She seemed to have shrunk since yesterday.

  “Cassandra just has to get used to not being kanephoros anymore.” Melo smiled at me. “I would have to.”

  Maybe I had to continue to predict and be right and eventually people would remember and realize I was a seer.

  The monotony of weaving freed my mind to recall that the future could be changed, and that there would be many chances to change it before the Greeks came. The next opportunity would be in the cavern on Mount Ida, which was a mere twenty miles from Troy, but lions prowled between here and there, and I’d never been farther from the city than the sacred grove, the sea, and the Scamander River all no more than two miles away.

  What else might I do? Could I persuade another god to lift my curse? Or convince Apollo to forgive me and lift it?

  I went back to Mother and asked her if I could go to the sacred grove again.

  “You may always go to the sacred grove.” She hugged me.

  I hunched around her belly and felt better.

  “My pious daughter.” She let me go. “Did Apollo send you a dream?”

  Ah. I nodded, planning my words. “In my dream, I saw a man and a woman enter Troy, bringing trouble. You and Father knew the man. You were happy to see him, so you let both of them stay. Then the dream changed.” I squeezed Mother’s arm, stopping her shuttle. “Troy was in flames.” My voice broke. “If these people arrive, please send them away!”

  She hugged me again and whispered in my ear, “Fire in a dream is cleansing. Visitors bring prosperity. The dream was a gift from the god, who loves you.”