Chainfire (Sword of Truth – 9)

While there were volumes that were by and large completely harmless, there were others that were, for anyone but the untrained, unsafe from the first words to the last. This particular library held some of the most dangerous books of prophecy Verna knew of, books that at the Palace of the Prophets were considered so volatile that they were not kept in the main vault, but in smaller, heavily shielded vaults restricted to all but a handful of people at the palace. The presence of those books was probably the reason why this particular library was a very private retreat for Master Rahl alone; Verna seriously doubted that the guards would have allowed her in had a Mord-Sith not been escorting her.

Verna could happily spend a great deal of time in such a cozy place, exploring countless books she had never seen before. Unfortunately, she didn't have the luxury of time. She idly wondered if Richard had ever even seen what was now his as the Lord Rahl.

Berdine tapped a finger to the blank page in The Glendhill Book of Deviation Theory. «I'm telling you, Prelate, I studied this book with Lord Rahl at the Wizard's Keep in Aydindril.»

«So you said.»

Verna found it interesting, to say the least, that Richard knew of The Glendhill Book of Deviation Theory. She found it even more curious, considering his distaste for prophecy and the fact that this book of prophecies was mostly about him, that he'd studied it.

There seemed no end to the curious little things that from time to time Verna discovered about Richard. Part of his dislike for prophecy, she knew, was his aversion to riddles: He hated them. She also knew, though, that in large measure his animus toward prophecy was due to his belief in free will, his belief that he himself, and not the hand of destiny, made his own life what it was.

While enormously complex and with layers of meaning beyond most people's comprehension, prophecy certainly did revolve around core elements of the preordained in its nature, and yet Richard had more than once fulfilled prophecy while at the same time proving it wrong.

Verna sourly suspected that, in a perverse way, prophecy had foretold of Richard's birth just so that he could come into the world to prove the concept of prophecy invalid.

Richard's actions had never been easy to predict, even, or perhaps especially, for prophecy. In the beginning Verna had been baffled by the things he would do and was perpetually unable to predict how he would react to situations or what he might do next. She had come to learn, though, that what she had thought was his confounding switching in a blink from one matter to something completely unrelated was, simply, at its core, his singular consistency.

Most people were not able to remain riveted to a goal with such dedicated determination. They tended to become distracted by a variety of other urgent matters requiring their attention. Richard, as if in a sword fight with a number of opponents at once, prioritized those ancillary events, holding them in abeyance or dispatching them as need be, while always keeping his goal firmly fixed in his mind. It sometimes gave people the false impression that he was skipping from one unrelated thing to another, when in reality he was, to him, innocently dancing across rocks in the river of events around him as he worked his way steadily toward the opposite bank.

At times he was the most wonderful man Verna had ever met. At other times, the most exasperating. She'd long ago lost track of how often she had wanted to strangle him. Besides being the man born to lead them in the final battle, he had by force of his own will become their leader, the Lord Rahl, the linchpin of everything she had struggled for as a Sister of the Light.

Just as prophecy foretold.

But not at all in the manner it had so carefully laid out.

Perhaps more than anything else he meant to them all, Verna valued Richard as a friend. She ached for him to be happy, the way she had once been happy with Warren. Her time with Warren after they were married and before he had been killed had been the most alive she had ever felt. Since then, she felt like the living dead, alive but not part of life.

Verna hoped that some day, maybe when they finally won the struggle against the Order, that Richard could find someone to love. He loved life so much; he needed someone to share that with.

She smiled inwardly. From the first day she had met him and put the collar around his neck to take him back to the Palace of the Prophets to be trained to use his gift, her life had felt as if it had been caught up in the whirlpool that was Richard. She vividly remembered that snowy day, back at the mud people's village, when she had taken him away. It had been profoundly sad, because it had been against his will, and at the same time it had been a momentous relief after having searched for him for twenty years.

To be sure, he had not gone willingly into such benevolent captivity. In fact, two of the Sisters with Verna had died in the effort to make Richard put on that collar he so hated.

Verna frowned — put on the collar.

That was odd. She tried to recall exactly how it was that she had managed to get him to put the collar around his neck, as it had to be done. Richard hated collars-especially after having once been a captive of a Mord-Sith-and yet he had put it on of his own free will. For some peculiar reason, though, she couldn't seem to recall just how she had managed to get him to-

«Verna, this is really strange.» The brown leather of Berdine's outfit creaked as she leaned in a little more, peering intently at the last of the text in the ancient volume laid open on the table before her. She carefully turned a page, checking, and then turned it back. She looked up. «I know this book had writing in it before. That writing is now missing.»

As Verna watched the candlelight dance in Berdine's blue eyes, she set aside memories from long ago and returned her full attention to the important matters at hand.

«But it wasn't this book, now, was it?» When Berdine frowned, Verna went on to explain. «It may have been the same title, but it wasn't this very book. You were at the Keep; it was a different copy of this book. Yes?»

«Well, sure, I guess you're right that it wasn't this actual book.» Berdine straightened and scratched her head of wavy brown hair. «But if it's the same title, then why do you think that the copy at the Wizard's Keep has all the writing in it while this one has big sections of the writing missing?»

«I didn't say that the copy there still has all the writing in it. I'm only saying that the copy at the Keep, not this one, was the one you studied with Richard. That you recall reading it and not seeing any blank pages doesn't prove anything because it wasn't this very same book. But even more importantly, this book might in fact be identical in that it contains all the same text, but the scribe who made this duplicate might have simply left blank pages among that text for any number of reasons.»

Berdine looked skeptical. «What reasons?»

Verna shrugged. «Sometimes books with incomplete prophecy, such as these here, have blank places left in them to provide room for future prophets to finish the prophecy.»

Berdine planted her fists on her hips. «Fine, but answer me one question. When I look through this book I recall the things I'm reading. I may not understand most of it, but I remember it in a general sense, remember reading these passages. So why is it that I can't remember a single thing about the sections that are missing from the book?»

«The simple explanation is that you don't recall anything of the blank sections because they are simply that, blank places, as I said, that were left in the book by the person who made the copy.»

«No, that's not what I mean. I mean, I recall the general nature of the prophecies-the length of them. As a gifted person you would be more attuned to what you're reading. I wouldn't. Since I never really understood these prophecies, I instead remember more of the way they looked. I remember how long they were. These are no longer complete. I didn't understand them, and I remember how long they seemed and how hard it was to make sense of such long prophecies.»

«When something is hard to understand it always seems longer than it really is.»

«No.» Berdine screwed up her face with conviction. «That's not it.» She turned to the last prophecy and tapped the page. «This one here is only a page long followed by a number of blank pages. I can't say that I remember the others so well, but for some reason I paid more attention to the last one. I'm telling you, I remember that this one for sure was a lot longer. I can't swear to how long the others were, or how long this one is supposed to be, but I do know for certain that this last one, at least, was more than a page. It wasn't incomplete, as this one here is, now. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to remember how long it was, or what it said, but I know that it was more than a single page.»

That was the confirmation Verna had been waiting for.

«While most of it makes little sense to me,» Berdine went on, «I do remember this part, this beginning having to do with all the talk about a forked source and the confusing business about going back to a mantic root, and then the 'splitting the horde that vaunts the Creator's cause' —that part at least sounds like the Imperial Order-but I can't recall the rest of it that's blank after 'a leader's lost trust.'

«I'm not imagining it, Verna, I'm not. I can't say why I'm so sure that the rest of it is missing, but I am. And therein lies what has me so bothered-why is the part that's missing from the book missing from my memory?»

Verna leaned close and lifted an eyebrow. «Now, that, my dear, is the question that I find troubling.»

Berdine looked startled. «You mean, you know what I'm talking about? You believe me?»

Verna nodded. «I'm afraid so. I didn't want to plant the seed of suggestion in your mind. I wanted you to confirm my own suspicions.»

«Then this is what Ann was concerned about, what she wanted us to check?»

«It is.» Verna shuffled through the disorderly jumble of books on the sturdy table, finally pulling out the one she wanted. «Look here at this book. This is the one that is perhaps the most troubling to me. Collected Origins is an exceedingly rare prophecy in that it was written entirely in story form. I studied this book before I left the Palace of the Prophets to search for Richard. I practically knew the story by heart.» Verna fanned through the pages. «The book is now entirely blank and I can't remember a single thing about it except that it had something to do with Richard —exactly what, I have no idea.»

Berdine studied Verna's eyes the way only a Mord-Sith could study someone's eyes. «So this is some kind of trouble, and that trouble is a threat to Lord Rahl.»

Verna let out a deep breath. The flames of several of the closer candles fluttered as she did so.

«I'd be lying if I said otherwise, Berdine. While the missing text doesn't all have to do with Richard, it all pertains to a time after his birth. I don't have a clue as to the nature of the problem, but I admit that it has me greatly concerned.»

Berdine's demeanor changed. Usually the woman was the most good-natured of any of the Mord-Sith that Verna knew. Berdine had a kind of simple, childlike glee about the world around her. At times she could be heartwarmingly curious. Despite hardships that had others complaining, Berdine usually wore an unaffected smile.

But at the impression of some kind of threat to Richard, she changed in a flash to all business. And now she had turned as suspicious and coldly menacing as any Mord-Sith ever was.

«What could be the cause of this?» Berdine demanded. «What does it mean?»

Verna closed the book full of blank pages. «I don't know, Berdine, I really don't. Ann and Nathan are as puzzled as we are-and Nathan is a prophet.»

«What does that part about people losing trust in their leader mean?»

For an ungifted person, Berdine had managed to single out the most crucial part of a very oblique prophecy.

«Well,» Verna said, cautiously framing her answer, «it could mean a number of things. It's hard to tell.»

«Maybe hard for me, but not hard for you.»

Verna cleared her throat. «I'm not an expert in prophecy, you understand, but I think it has something to do with Richard.»

«I know that much. Why would this prophecy talk about people losing trust in him?»

«Berdine, prophecy is rarely as straightforward as it seems.» Verna wished the woman would stop staring at her. «What it seems to say usually has nothing at all to do with the actual event involved in the body of the prophecy.»

«Prelate, this prophecy seems to me to suggest that questions of soundness of mind are going to be the cause of 'a leader's lost trust.' Since this prophecy names the leader as the one opposed to the horde that vaunts the Creator's cause-that would be the Imperial Order-that means it has to be talking about Lord Rahl. It then follows that Lord Rahl is the leader in whom people will lose trust. It comes after the part about the splitting of the horde, which the Order has now done. That makes the threat imminent.»

Verna felt sorry for anyone who ever made the unfortunate mistake of underestimating Berdine.

«It is my experience that prophecy sometimes tends to fret over Richard like a doting grandparent.»

«This sounds to me like a specific threat.»

Verna folded her hands before herself. «Berdine, you are a very smart woman, so I hope you can understand why it would be a grave mistake for me to argue or even discuss this prophecy with you. Prophecy is beyond the mind of the ungifted. It has little to do with how smart a person is. Prophecy is a creation of the gifted and meant only for those who are gifted in the same way. They are not even intended for other types of wizards.

«Even us Sisters, talented sorceresses though we may be, had to train for years before we were allowed to even look at prophecy, much less work with it. It is exceedingly dangerous for the untrained to hazard guesses at the meaning of prophecy. You may recognize the words, but you do not recognize the meaning of those words.»

«That's silly. Words are words. They have meaning. That is how we can understand the world around us. Why would prophecy take words that mean something and use them for some other unknown meaning?»

Verna felt as if she were stepping gingerly through a field of bear traps. «That isn't exactly what I meant by what I said. Words can be used to make people understand, to explain, to veil, and to interpret the world, but they can also be used to explain things that are only speculation. If I foretell that dark times will come into your life, those words may be true, but it could mean that you will suffer a loss that will sadden you, or it could mean that you will be murdered. Though the words might be true, their exact meaning is not yet known. It would be a grave injustice to use those words as a reason to start killing everyone around you because the words made you fear you would be murdered.

«Wars have started over such misunderstandings about prophecy. People have died as the result of the untrained hearing what they think are the simple words of prophecy. That is why the books of prophecy were kept in secure vaults below the Palace of the Prophets.»

«These books of prophecy are not kept in vaults.»

Verna's brow drew down as she leaned toward the Mord-Sith. «Perhaps they should be.»

«Are you saying that I'm wrong in what I believe this prophecy says?»

Verna heaved another sigh. «Right or wrong is impossible to discern in this instance. We can't even begin to intelligently dissect this prophecy because it's incomplete. We have here only the beginning of it and then a number of blank pages.»

«So?»

«So, it could be just as you say, that it's about Richard and people will question his judgment and lose faith in him, but maybe the missing text says that the issue will be resolved the next day by some other event of consequence and they will think more of him than they ever had before. Not only can prophecy be forked, meaning that it may be an either-or kind of statement, but the same prophecy could mean opposite things.»

«I don't see how it can mean opposite things. And how could something happen in the missing text of this prophecy to change people's minds?»

Verna shrugged as she gazed around the vast, dimly lit library, trying to think of an example. «Well, say that they thought his battle plan was crazy. Maybe the army officers think it ill advised. That could be something that would result in this prophecy, in people losing faith in him. Then, say that, despite the advice of officers, Richard insists and so, despite their doubts and lack of faith, the soldiers follow his plan as ordered and achieve a victory that they never thought they could win. Their faith in Richard as their leader would be restored and they would probably have even more respect for his judgment than they ever did before.

«But if the prophecy were to be acted upon without understanding its true meaning, those actions very well could countermand the rest of the event as it would have taken place naturally and give the illusion that the prophecy had been fulfilled, but in fact the real and truly prophesied events had been bypassed by foolishly invoking a misinterpretation of the actual prophecy.»

Berdine, watching Verna the whole time, drew her single brown braid through a loose fist. «I guess that could make sense.»

«You see, Berdine, why prophecy is so confusing, even for those of us trained in it? But to make matters worse, without the whole prophecy we dare not even begin to try understand them or to assign any significance to them. The complete text is indispensable if one is to even begin to try to understand prophecy. Without all the text it's as if prophecy has gone blind. That's one reason why this is so disturbing.»

«One reason?» Berdine looked up again, still running her braid through her fist. «What is the other reason?»

«It's bad enough to be without the text that was previously there, but the cause behind such an unprecedented event-the text of prophecy vanishing-is troubling in the extreme.»

«I thought you just said that we shouldn't jump to conclusions when it comes to prophecy.»

Verna cleared her throat, feeling as if one of those bear traps just snapped closed on her leg. «Well, that's true, but it's obvious that something is going on.»

Berdine folded her arms as she pondered the problem. «What do you think could be happening?»

Verna shook her head. «I can't begin to imagine. Such a thing, to my knowledge, has never happened before. I have no idea why it's happening now.»

«But you think it's trouble that involves Lord Rahl.»

Verna gave Berdine a sidelong look. «The simple fact that so much of prophecy involves him makes that conclusion impossible to avoid. Richard is born to trouble. He is at the center of it.»

Berdine didn't appear to like that one bit. «That is why he needs us.»

«I've never argued that he didn't.»

Berdine relaxed, if only a notch, and flicked her braid back over her shoulder. «No, you have not.»

«Ann is searching for him. Let's hope she can find him, and soon. We need him to lead us in the coming battle.»

As Verna spoke, Berdine idly pulled a book from one of the glass cases and began leafing through it. «Lord Rahl is supposed to be magic against magic, not the steel against steel.»

«That is a D'Haran proverb. Prophecy says that he must lead us in the final battle.»

«I suppose,» Berdine mumbled without looking up as she slowly turned pages.

«With part of Jagang's forces headed south around the mountains, we can only hope that Ann will find him in time and bring him to us.»

Berdine was puzzling at the book. «What is it that is buried with the bones?»

«What?»

Berdine was still frowning as she tried to work out something in the book. «This book caught my attention before because it says Fuer Grissa Ost Drauka on the cover. That's High D'Haran. It means.»

«The bringer of death.»

Berdine glanced up. «Yes. How did you know?»

«There was a widely known prophecy that the Sisters back at the Palace of the Prophets used to debate. It had, actually, been hotly debated for centuries. The first day I brought Richard to the palace he declared himself to be the bringer of death and thus named himself to be the one in the prophecy. It caused quite a stir among the Sisters, I can tell you. One day, down in the vaults, Warren showed Richard the prophecy and Richard himself solved the riddle of it, although to Richard it wasn't a riddle. He understood it because he had lived portions of the prophecy.»

«This book has a lot of blank pages in it.»

«No doubt. It sounds like it's about Richard. There are probably a great number of books here that are about him.»

Berdine was reading again. «This is in High D'Haran. Like I said, I know High D'Haran. I would have to work at it to be able to translate it more completely, and it would help if there wasn't so much missing text, but this place is apparently talking about Lord Rahl. It says something like, 'what he seeks is buried with the bones,' or maybe even 'what he seeks is buried bones'-something like that.»

Berdine looked up at Verna. «Any idea what that's about? What it could mean?»

«What he seeks is buried bones?» Verna shook her head with regret. «I have no idea. There are probably countless volumes here that have interesting, or puzzling, or frightening things to say about Richard. As I told you, though, with copy missing, what is there is next to useless.»

«I suppose,» Berdine said in disappointment. «What about 'central sites'?»

«Central sites?»

«Yes. This books mentions places called 'central sites.' « Berdine stared off as she considered something to herself. «Central sites. Kolo mentioned something about central sites.»

«Kolo?»

Berdine nodded. «It's a journal written ages ago-during the great war. Lord Rahl found the book at the Wizard's Keep, in the room with the sliph. The man who kept the journal is named Koloblicin. In High D'Haran the name means 'strong advisor.' Lord Rahl and I call him Kolo, for short.»

«What did this Kolo have to say about these places, these central sites? What are they?»

Berdine turned through the pages of the book she held. «I don't recall. It was nothing I understood at the time so I didn't devote a lot of effort to it. I'd have to go study it again to refresh my memory.» She squinted in recollection. «It seemed like there was something buried at the places called central sites. I can't remember if it said what was buried.»

The Mord-Sith stood frozen in her same pose as she studied the little book. «I was hoping this might give me a clue.»

Verna let out a heavy sigh as she glanced around at the library.

«Berdine, I would love to stay and spend time researching all these books. I would truly like to know what this library and the others here at the palace contain, but there are more pressing matters at hand. We need to get back to the army and my Sisters.»

Verna took a last look around. «Before I go, however, there is one thing here at the People's Palace that I would like to check on. Maybe you can help me.»

Berdine reluctantly closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. She carefully closed the glass door.

«All right, Prelate. What is it you want to see?»

CHAPTER 30

Verna paused at hearing the single, long peal of a bell.

«What was that?»

«Devotion,» Berdine said, stopping to look back at Verna as the deep toll reverberated through the vast marble and granite halls of the People's Palace.

People, no matter where they seemed to be headed, turned and instead moved toward the broad passageway from where the deep, resonant sound of the bell had come. No one looked to be in a hurry, but they all very deliberately walked toward the slowly dying sound of the bell.

Verna puzzled at Berdine. «What?»

«Devotion. You know what a devotion is.»

«You mean a devotion to the Lord Rahl? That devotion?»

Berdine nodded. «The bell announces that it is time for the devotion.» Pensively, she gazed off in the direction of the hall where people were headed.

Many of the gathering crowd were dressed in robes of a variety of muted colors. Verna assumed that white robes with gold or silver banding on them were the mark of officials of one sort or another who lived and worked at the palace. They certainly had the manner and bearing of officials. Everyone from those administrators to messengers in tunics trimmed in green and carrying leather satchels with an ornate letter «R» on them, standing for the House of Rahl, continued their casual conversations even as they made their way to the convergence of wide halls. Other people who worked at any of the countless variety of shops were dressed more appropriately for their profession, whether it was working at leather, silver, pottery, cobbling, or tailoring, providing the many foods and services, or doing any of the various palace work from maintenance to cleaning.

There were a number of people dressed in the simple clothes of farmers, tradesmen, and merchants, many with their wives and some with children. Like those Verna had seen in the lower levels within the great plateau atop which sat the People's Palace or at the markets set up outside, they appeared to be visitors come to trade or make purchases. Others, though, were dressed in finery for their sojourn to the palace. From what Verna had learned from Berdine, there were rooms that guests could rent if they wished to stay for an extended period. There were, as well, quarters for the many people who lived and worked at the palace.

Most of the people in robes walked calmy, as if this were just another part of their day. Those dressed in finery tried to look just as calm and not stare at the exquisite architecture of the palace, but Verna saw their wide eyes wandering. The simply dressed visitors, as they fell in with the flow of all the people making their way toward the fork that would take them to the passageway with the bell, openly peered about at everything, at the towering statues of men and women in proud poses carved from variegated stone, at polished two-story fluted columns soaring past balconies, at the spectacular black granite and honey-onyx floors.

Verna knew that such intricate and precise patterns in the stone floors, set with such tight grout joints, could have been created only by the most talented master craftsmen in all of the New World. Serving as Prelate at the Palace of the Prophets for a time, she had had to deal with the matter of the replacement of a section of beautifully patterned floor that had in the dim past been damaged by young wizards in training. The precise events leading to the damage and who, exactly, had been the guilty party remained shrouded in oaths not to tattle, but the result was that the bit of mischievous magic had in an instant torn up a long section of exquisitely laid marble floor. While the debris and loose tiles had long since been removed, the floor sat damaged for decades, filled in with serviceable but unsightly limestone, while life at the Palace of the Prophets moved on. The palace attitude toward the boys had been one of indulgence, in part out of a sense of regret for having to hold such young men against their will.

Verna had always been vexed that the damage had never been fixed-in part because by not fixing it represented to her an attitude that had indulged such bad behavior. It had always seemed like she was the only one-except maybe until Richard came along-who was bothered by seeing such beauty marred. Richard expected the boys there to take responsibility for their actions. Even though he was held against his will, he never tolerated such senseless destructive behavior.

Warren saw matters the same way as Richard. Perhaps that was part of the reason they had become such fast friends. Warren had always been serious and dedicated about everything. After Richard had left the palace, Warren had reminded Verna that as the new prelate she no longer needed to complain about either the behavior or the floor; he encouraged her to act on her convictions. So, as Prelate, she both set new rules and set about seeing to the completion of the repairs to the floor.

That was when she had come to learn a thing or two about such floors and that while there were any number of men who boldly professed to be master craftsmen, very few actually were. Those who were let their work make clear the distinction. The former made the task a nightmare, the latter a joy.

She remembered how proud Warren had been of her for seeing the task through and for not accepting anything less than the best. She missed him so much.

Verna gazed around at the spectacular palace, at the intricate stone work, and yet such beauty now failed to move her. Since Warren had died everything seemed bland, uninteresting, and unimportant to her. Since Warren had died, life itself seemed drudgery.

Everywhere throughout the palace, wary soldiers patrolled, probably not ever realizing, or even considering, the staggering amount of human imagination, skill, and effort that had gone into the creation of such a place as the People's Palace. Now, they were a part of it, a part of what kept it viable, like thousands of men just like them who for centuries had walked these same halls and kept them safe.