Signy was only dimly aware of the murmurs, the volunteering and the protesting.  Her senses were caught up with other things, with the wrongness in the air, the feeling of hanging on a precipice, about to take a wrong step.  Unconsciously, her hand worried at the bag holding her runes, tugging fretfully at the drawstring that held it tightly closed.  For once, she didn't want to cast the stones, didn't want to heed their call; but she knew she would give in.  She had to.<br/><br/>Heedless of the crowd, which thankfully seemed to have no attention to spare for one odd young woman in any case, she found a quiet spot to the side, kneeling as she fumbled open the bag and closing her eyes as she pulled out the stones and spread them on the floor in front of her.<br/><br/>The sign was as clear as she knew it would be, and she bit her lip.  She was tempted to try again, and again, but the answer would never improve.  Her nerves were making her foolish, she scolded herself, the uneasiness of the horses' appearance making everything seem far more important than it really was.<br/><br/>But perhaps this was that important, the most weighty and terrible knowledge that would ever be thrust upon her.<br/><br/>She stood and spoke before she could think -- she had to, or her courage would have failed her.  "It must be the right warriors," she said, her voice shaky but still clear enough to carry from her corner.  "The right people must go, only a few.  It is not strength of numbers that is needed, but --" She faltered an instant, suddenly realizing how many eyes were turned upon her.  "Four people.  Only four.  One an outsider, two warriors of the Holdt, one a soothsayer.  Those four may succeed where no others could."<br/><br/>She bit her lip, her usually pale face pink with embarrassment.  "The runes have told me," she finished, simply, and knelt once more to retrieve her stones, rubbing the polished surface of the bone to soothe her nerves and looking at no one.