The old seeress had been busy. The oil floated gracefully on the water in the old bowl. But it always showed the same thing no matter where she placed the bowl. She clucked and shook her head sadly and watched the incense slowly drift toward the darkened rafters. Her bent and arthritic fingers stretched painfully as she emptied the bowl.

No sense casting lots, the signs were plain. The gods have spoken.

Hours later, as she led her donkey away from the city, she allowed herself one look back.

The day of reckoning had come and past on the once great city.

The gods had turned their backs.

The message was plain, even the birds were flying away from the city.

Reap what you have sown.

With a sigh, she turned toward her new destination.

The Kingdom of Crete.

Hopefully there she will find a welcome.