Chainfire (Sword of Truth – 9)

«Indeed. I haven't had a chance to even begin to look at them all yet. I finally decided that I'd better send Tom off to find you. I wanted you to see what I've discovered. That, and there is a lot of reading to do. I've been pulling out one book at a time, checking through it, and placing it in one of the piles on these tables.»

Ann wondered how many books could still be viable, could still be usable, alter thousands of years underground. She had found books before that had been ruined by the effects of time and the elements, especially mildew and water. She peered around, inspecting the walls and ceiling, bill she saw no evidence of water leaking through.

«At first glance, none of these books look to be damaged by water. How can this place underground be so dry? It would seem that water would seep in through the joints in the stone and make everything down here wet and moldy. I can hardly believe that the books appear to be in such good condition.»

«Appear being the operative word,» Nathan said under his breath.

She turned back to scowl at him. «What do you mean?»

He waved a hand irritably. «In a moment. In a moment. The interesting thing is, the ceiling and walls are sheathed in lead to help keep out the water. The place also has a shield of magic around it for even more protection. The entrance, too, was shielded.»

«But the Bandakar people have no magic and their land was sealed off. There was no one with magic to shield against.»

«That seal to their banished land finally failed, though,» Nathan reminded her.

«Yes, that's right, it did.» Ann tapped a finger against her chin. «I wonder how that happened.»

Nathan shrugged. «How isn't so important for now, although I am concerned about it.»

He flipped a hand, as if setting aside the issue. «For the moment, that it did is what's meaningful. Whoever put these books here wanted them hidden and protected-and they went to a great deal of trouble to insure that it ley remained that way. The ungifted people here wouldn't be hindered by shields, the weight of the stone monument would be an obstacle in and of itself, but they would have no reason to want to move it in the first place unless they had a good reason to believe something was under it. What would cause them to suspect such a thing? The fact that this place has remained undisturbed for thousands of years proves that they never realized that this place was down here. I believe that the shields were placed to ward any invaders who might eventually make it into Bandakar, like Jagang's men did.»

«That makes sense, I suppose,» she murmured as she considered it. «Not really expecting that the seal to Bandakar would ever be breached, the shields were a simple act of precaution.»

«Or prophecy,» Nathan added.

Ann look up. «There is that.» It would take a wizard of Nathan's ability to breach such shields. Even Ann didn't have the ability necessary for some shields. She knew, too, that there were shields placed in ancient times that could only be passed with the aid of Subtractive Magic.

«It's also possible that these books were simply placed here as a way of safekeeping such valuable works-in case anything happened to others of their kind.»

«You really think they would go to this much trouble to do such a thing?» she asked.

«Well, all the books at the Palace of the Prophets were lost, now, weren't they? Books of prophecy are always at risk. Some have been destroyed, some have fallen into enemy hands, and some have simply disappeared. Places like this provide a backup for those other works-especially if prophecy foretells the need of such a contingency.»

«I guess you could be right. I have heard about rare finds of prophecy that had been secreted away to preserve them, or to keep innocent eyes from viewing them.» She shook her head as her gaze scanned the room. «Still, I've never heard of any find to approach the likes of this one.»

Nathan handed her a book. Its ancient red leather cover was laded nearly to brown. Even so, there was something familiar-looking about it, about the faded gilded ribs on the spine. She lifted the cover and the first blank page.

«My, my, my,» Ann softly mused as she saw the title. «The Glendhill Book of Deviation Theory. How very wonderful to hold this in my hands again.» She closed the cover and clasped the book to her breast. «It's like an old friend come back from the dead.»

The book had been one of her favorite volumes on forked prophecy. Because it was a pivotal volume that held valuable information about Richard, she had studied it and referred to it so often over the centuries as she waited for him to be born that she practically knew it by memory. She had been heartbroken that it had to be destroyed along with all the rest of the books in the vaults at the Palace of the Prophets. There was still a great deal of information in it about the possibilities of what was yet to come.

Nathan plucked another volume from a stack and waggled it before her as he arched an eyebrow. «Precession and Binary Inversions.»

«No!» She snatched it from his hands. «It can't be.»

None of the accounts could ever say for sure that the elusive volume had in fact ever really existed. Ann herself had hunted for it, at Nathan's request, whenever she traveled. She'd also had trusted Sisters look for it whenever they went on a journey. There had been leads, but none of the clues ever resulted in anything but dead ends.

She looked up at the tall prophet. «Is this real? Many accounts deny that it ever really existed.»

«Missing, according to some. A mere myth, according to others. I read a little of it and by the branches of prophecy it fills in, it can only be genuine-or a brilliant fake. I'd have to study it further to tell which, but from what I've seen, so far, I tend to believe it's genuine. Besides, what purpose would there be in hiding a fake? Fakes are generally created in order to exchange them for gold.»

That was true enough. «And here it was all the time. Buried beneath the bones.»

«Along with what I suspect may be a great many other volumes that are just as valuable.»

Ann clicked her tongue as she again gazed about at all the books, her sense of awe growing by the moment. «Nathan, you've uncovered a treasure. A treasure of incalculable value.»

«Perhaps,» He said. When she shot him a puzzled frown, he lifted a hefty tome off the top of another stack. «You won't even believe what this is. Here. Open it and read the title yourself.»

Ann reluctantly set down Precession and Binary Inversions in order to take the heavy book from Nathan. She set it on the table, too, and bent close. With great care, she lifted open the cover. She blinked, then straightened.

«Selleron's Seventh Task!» She gapped at the prophet. «But I thought there was only one copy and it was destroyed.»

One side of Nathan's mouth cocked with a quirky smile. He held up another book «Twelve Words Left for Reason. I found Destiny's Twin as well.» He waggled a finger at a pile. «It's in there somewhere.»

Ann's jaw worked for a moment until the words finally came. «I thought we had lost those prophecies for all time.» The odd smile still on his lips, he only watched her. She reached out and gripped his arm. «Could we be so fortunate that there really were copies made?»

Nathan nodded, confirming her guess. The smile ghosted away.

«Ann,» he said as he handed her Twelve Words Left for Reason, «take a look through here and tell me what you think.»

Puzzled by the grim expression that had settled on his face, she placed the book in a clear spot and began carefully turning pages. The writing was a little faded, but no more so than any book its age. For as old as it was, it was still in good condition and quite legible.

Twelve Words Left for Reason was a book containing twelve core prophecies and a number of ancillary branches. Those ancillary branches, when carefully cross-referenced, connected actual events to a number of other books of prophecy that were otherwise impossible to place chronologically. The twelve core prophecies actually weren't all that important. It was the ancillary branches that served to link other trunks and branches in the tree of prophecy that made Twelve Words Left for Reason so invaluable.

Chronology was often the most trying problem facing those working with prophecy. It was often impossible to tell if a prophecy was going to unfold the next day, or the next century. Events were in a constant state of flux. The setting of prophecy in the context of time was essential, not just to know when a particular prophecy was to become viable, but because what was of overriding importance next year might be nothing more than an unimportant minor event if set in the environment of the year after. Unless they knew which year the prophecy took place, they didn't know if it foretold danger or simply a matter of note.

Most prophets, when they set down their prophecy, left it up to those who would come later to fit it into its proper place in real-world events, There was no clear consensus on whether this had been done deliberately, through carelessness, or because the prophet, in the throes of having his visions, had never realized how important, and difficult, it would later be to chronologically place his vision. She had often observed with Nathan that a prophecy was so crystal-clear to the prophet himself that he simply failed to comprehend how formidable a task it would be for others to read and fit into the puzzle of life.

«Wait,» Nathan said as she turned the pages. «Go back a page.»

Ann glanced up at him and then flipped the vellum back.

«There,» Nathan said as he tapped a finger to the page. «Look here. There are several lines missing.»

Ann peered at the small gap in the writing, but didn't see what was so meaningful about it. Books often had spaces left blank for a wide variety of reasons.

«So?»

Rather than answer, he rolled his hand, motioning for her to go on. She started flipping over the pages. Nathan thrust his hand in to stop her and tapped another blank spot so she would note it. He then urged her to continue.

Ann noticed that the blank places became more frequent. Finally, she came to entire pages that were blank. Even that, though, was not unheard of. There were any number of books that simply ended in the middle. It was thought that the prophet who had been working on such books had most likely died and those coming after didn't want to interfere with what a predecessor had done, or perhaps they wanted to work on branches of prophecy which were more interesting or relevant to them.

«Twelve Words Left for Reason is one of the few books of prophecy that is chronological,» he reminded her in a soft voice.

She knew that, of course. That was what made the book such a valuable tool. She couldn't imagine, though, why he had felt it important lo point it out.

«Well,» Ann said with a sigh as she reached the end, «it is odd, I suppose. What do you make of the blank places?»

Rather than answer her directly, he handed her another book. «Subdivision of Burkett's Root. Take a look.»

Ann turned the pages of yet another priceless find, looking for something out of the ordinary. She came across three blank pages followed by more prophecy.

She was growing impatient with Nathan's game. «What am I supposed to see?»

Nathan was a moment in answering. When he finally did, his voice had that quality about it that tended to run shivers up her spine.

«Ann, we had that book down in the vaults.»

She was still not following what was obviously of critical importance In him. «Yes, we did. I remember it quite well.»

«The copy we had didn't have those blank pages.»

She frowned and then turned back to the book. She leafed through the pages again until she found the empty spot.

«Well,» she said as she studied the place where the prophecy ended and then where an entirely new branch of prophecy resumed after the empty pages, «maybe whoever made this copy, for some reason, decided not to include some of it. Perhaps they had sound reason to believe that the particular branch had been a dead end and, rather than include dead wood in the tree of prophecy, they simply left it out. Such pruning is not uncommon. Then, because they didn't want to make it appear they were trying to deceive anyone, they went ahead and left the appropriate space blank to denote the deletion.»

She looked up. The prophet's azure eyes were fixed on her. Ann felt sweat trickle down between her shoulder blades.

«Take a look at The Glendhill Book of Deviation Theory,» he said in a quiet voice without taking his penetrating gaze from her.

Ann broke contact with that gaze and pulled the copy of The Glendhill Book of Deviation Theory close. She flipped through the pages as she had done with the previous book, if a little faster.

There were blank pages, only more of them.

She shrugged. «Not a very accurate copy, I'd say.»

Nathan impatiently reached in with a long arm and turned the stack of pages back to the front.

There, on a page at the beginning, all alone, was the author's mark.

«Dear Creator,» Ann whispered when she saw the little symbol. It still glimmered with the magic the author had invested in his mark. She fell goose bumps tingle up from her toes. «This is isn't a copy. It's the original.'^ «That's right. If you recall, the one we had in the vaults was a copy.»

«Yes, I remember that ours was a copy.»

She had assumed this one as well had been one of a number of copies. Many of the books of prophecy were copies, but that didn't diminish their value. They were checked and marked by respected scholars who then left their own mark to vouch for the copy's accuracy. A book of prophecy was valued for the precision and veracity of its content, not because it was the original. It was the prophecy itself that was valuable, not the hand that had set it down.

Still, to see the original of a book she loved as much as she love this particular volume was a memorable experience. This was the actual book, written in the hand of the prophet who had given these precious prophecies.

«Nathan — what can I say. This is a personal delight for me. You know how much this book means to me.»

Nathan look a patient breath. «And the blank pages?»

Ann shrugged with one shoulder. «I don't know. I'm not really prepared to venture a guess. What are you getting at?»

«Look at the place where the blanks fit into the text.»

Ann turned her attention back to the book. She read a little of the text before one of the blank areas, then read some of what followed. It was a prophecy about Richard. She randomly picked another blank place, reading before the blank area and after. It was another section about Richard.

«It would seem,» she said as she studied a third place, «that the blanks appear in places where it talks about Richard.»

Nathan was getting more edgy looking by the moment. «That's only because most of The Glendhill Book of Deviation Theory is about Richard. That pattern of blank pages associated with him doesn't hold true when you start looking at the other books.»

Ann lifted her arms and let them fall to her sides. «Then I give up. I don't see what you see.»

«It's what we're not seeing. It's the blank places that are the problem.»

«What makes you say that?»

«Because,» he said with a little more force in his voice, «there is something quite odd about those blank sections.»

Ann pushed a stray wisp of gray hair back into the bun she always wore at the back of her head. She was becoming frazzled.

«Like what?»

«You tell me,» he said. «I would bet that you could practically quote The Glendhill Book of Deviation Theory»

Ann shrugged. «Perhaps.»

«Well, I can quote it. The copy we had back in the vaults, anyway. I went through this book, testing it against my memory.» For some reason, Ann's stomach was churning with anxiety. She began lo dread that the copy they had back in the vaults at the palace might have had fraudulent prophecy filling in what the original author had left blank. That was almost too overwhelming a deception to contemplate.

«And what did you discover?» she asked.

«That I can quote this original exactly. No more, no less.»

Ann sighed in relief. «Nathan, that's wonderful. That means that our copy wasn't filled with fabricated prophecy. Why would you be troubled because you can't remember blank places? They are blank, there is nothing there. There is nothing to remember.»

«The copy we had back at the palace didn't have any blank places.»

Ann blinked as she thought back. «No, it didn't. I remember it well.» She offered the prophet a warm smile. «But don't you see? If you can quote this one, no more or no less, and you learned it from our copy, then that means that whoever made the copy simply pulled the text together rather than include the meaningless blank places left by the original prophet. The prophet probably left blank places as a provision in case he had any further visions about the prophecies and he needed to add to what he had already written. Apparently, he never had that need, so the blanks remain.»

«I know that there were more pages in our copy.»

'I'm not following you, then.»

This time it was Nathan who threw up his hands. «Ann, don't you see? Here, look at the book.» He turned it toward her. «Look at this next-lo-last branch of prophecy. It's one page and then six blank pages. Do you remember any branch of prophecy in our copy of The Glendhill book of Deviation Theory that was only one page? No. None were this short. They were too complex. You know that there is more to this prophecy, I know there is more to the prophecy, but my mind is as blank as these pages. What was there is not only missing from the book, but it's missing from my mind as well. Unless you can quote me the rest of the prophecy that you know should be there, then it's missing from your mind as well.»

«Nathan, that's just not-I mean, I don't see how.» Ann sputtered in confusion.

«Here,» he said as he snatched a book from behind him. «Collected Origins. You must remember this.»

Ann reverently lifted the book from his hands. «Oh, Nathan, of course I remember it. How could one forget such a short but beautiful book.»

Collected Origins was an exceedingly rare prophecy in that it was written entirely in story form. Ann loved the story. She had a soft spot for romance, although she never admitted it to anyone. Since this tale of romance was actually a prophecy, that made it an official requirement that she be familiar with it.

She smiled as she lifted open the cover of the small book.

The pages were blank.

All of them.

«Tell me,» Nathan said in that quietly commanding, deep Rahl voice, «what is Collected Origins about?»

Ann opened her mouth, but no words would come forth.

«Tell me, then,» Nathan went on in that quietly powerful voice of his that seemed as if it could crack stone, «a single line of this beloved volume. Tell me who it is about. Tell me how it started, how it ended, or anything in the middle.»

Her mind was stark naked blank.

As she stared up into Nathan's cutting gaze, he leaned a little closer. «Tell me one single thing you remember from this book.»

«Nathan,» she finally managed to whisper, her own eyes wide, «you often used to keep this book in your rooms. You know it better than I do. What do you remember about Collected Origins?»

«Not — one — thing.»

CHAPTER 12

Ann swallowed. «Nathan, how can we both not remember a book we love as much as we do this one? And why is it that the specific parts we both don't remember correspond to the blank spots?»

«Now, that is a very good question.»

An idea suddenly hit her. She gasped in a breath. «A spell. It has to be that these books were spelled.»

Nathan made a face. «What?»

«Many books are spelled to protect the information. I've not encountered it with a book of prophecy but it's common enough in books of instruction on magic. This place was designed with the intent of concealment. Perhaps that's what is happening with the information protected here.»

Such a spell would be activated when anyone but the right person with the required power opened it. Spells of that nature were sometimes even keyed to specific individuals. The usual method of protection if the wrong person saw the book was to erase from their memory everything they'd seen in it. They would see it and at the same time forget it. The effect in one's mind was to blank out the text.

Nathan didn't answer, but his scowl softened as he considered her idea. She could tell by his expression that he doubted her theory was the answer hut he apparently didn't want to argue the point just then, probably because he had something more important that he wanted to go on to.

Sure enough, he tapped a finger on top of a small stack of books standing all by themselves. «These books,» he said with a weighty undertone, «are predominantly about Richard. I've never seen most of them before. I find that alarming, that such books would be hidden away in a place like this. Most have extensive stretches of blank pages.»

For that many books of prophecy, especially about Richard, not to have been in the Palace of the Prophets was indeed alarming. For five centuries she had scoured the world for copies of any book she could find that contained anything at all about Richard.

Ann scratched an eyebrow as she considered the implications. «Were you able to learn anything?»

Nathan picked up the volume on the top and flipped the book open. «Well, for one thing, this symbol, here, troubles me greatly. It's an exceedingly rare form of prophecy, undertaken while the prophet was under siege by a storm of revelation. Such graphic prophecies are drawn in the heat of a powerful vision, when writing would take too long and interrupt the rush of what is rampaging through his mind.»

Ann was only vaguely aware of such representational prophecy. She recalled a few from the vaults at the palace. Nathan had never before mentioned to her what they had been, and no one else had known. Yet another of Nathan's little thousand year old secrets.

She bent close and studied the intricate drawing that took for itself most of a page. There were no straight lines in it at all, only curved swirls and arcs that eddied all around in a circular design that somehow seemed almost alive. Here and there the pen had dug violently into the surface of the vellum, ploughing up parallel rows of fibers where the two halves of the pen's point had spread under the pressure. Ann lifted the book closer to a candle and carefully examined a curious place that was particularly rough. She saw in the ancient dried bed of an inky pool a fine, pointed sliver of metal: one side of the pen's point had broken off where it had been stabbed into the page. It was still embedded there. Right after, the cleaner marks of a fresh pen began anew, although they were no less forceful.

Nothing in the ink drawing represented any identifiable subject-it appeared to be completely nonobjective-and yet it was for some reason so gravely disturbing that it made her hackles lift. It seemed as if the drawing was almost recognizable but its meaning was just outside of her conscious awareness.

«What is it?» She laid the book on the table, open to the drawing. «What does it mean?»

Nathan stroked a finger along his strong jaw. «It's rather hard to explain. There are no precise words to describe what comes as a picture in my mind when I view it.»

«Do you think,» Ann asked with exaggerated patience as she clasped her hands, «that you could make an effort to describe to me as best you can the picture in your mind?»

Nathan viewed her askance. «The only words I can think of that fit are 'The beast comes.'»

«The beast?»

«Yes. I don't know what the impression means. The prophecy is partially cloaked, either deliberately or perhaps because it's meant to represent something I've never encountered before, or maybe even because it's linked to the blank pages and without their associated text the drawing won't fully come to life for me.»

«What is it that this beast is coming to do?»

Nathan flipped the cover closed so that she could see the title: A Pebble in the Pond.

Cold sweat broke out across her brow.

«The symbol is a graphic warning,» he said.

Prophecy often referred to Richard as the «pebble in the pond.» The text of such a volume would probably be of incalculable value. If only it weren't missing.

«You mean, it's a warning for Richard that some kind of beast is coming?»

Nathan nodded. «That's about as much as I can get from this-that and a vague impression of the ghastly aura around the thing.»

«Around the beast.»

«Yes. The supporting text preceding the drawing would have been critical to understanding it better, to being able to comprehend the nature of this beast, but that text is missing. The branches after are blank as well so there is no way to place the warning contextually or chronologically. For all I know, it could be something he has already faced and defeated, or something that in his old age might defeat him. Without at least some of the supporting prophecy or a context there simply isn't any way to tell.»

Chronology was vital to understanding prophecy, but just from the dread that she felt when viewing the drawing, Ann didn't believe it was anything Richard had yet faced.

«Perhaps it's meant as a metaphor. Jagang's army behaves like a beast and they could certainly be described as ghastly. They slaughter everything in their path. For free people, and for Richard especially, the Imperial Order is a beast coming to destroy them and everything they hold dear.»

Nathan shrugged. «That very well could he the explanation. I just don't know.»

He paused a moment before he went on. «There is one more disturbing bit of oblique counsel to be found not only in this book but in several of the other books»-he cast a meaningful look her way."books that I've never seen before.»

For a whole variety of reasons, Ann, too, found it disturbing to learn that there were all these books hidden in such a strange, underground, graveyard room.

Nathan gestured again to the books stacked all over the four large tables. «While there certainly are copies of a number of books we've seen, and I've showed those to you, most of these books are new to me. For any library to deviate to this degree from the classic masterworks is unprecedented. Each library has its own unique volumes, to be sure, but this place is like another world altogether. Nearly every volume in here is an astonishing discovery.»

Ann's caution awakened. She had the uncanny feeling that Nathan had at last arrived at the core of the labyrinth through which his mind traveled. One thing he had just said loomed in the back of her mind.

«Counsel?» She frowned suspiciously. «What sort of counsel?»

«It advises the reader that if their interest is not of a general nature but they instead have cause to seek more extensive and specific knowledge on the subjects therein, then they should consult the pertinent volumes kept with the bones.»

Ann's brow drew even tighter. «Kept with the bones?»

«Yes. It referred to these caches as 'central sites.' « Nathan leaned close again, like a washwoman with a load of dirty gossip. «The 'central sites' are mentioned in a number of places, but I've so far only been able to find where one of these sites was named: the catacombs beneath the vaults at the Palace of the Prophets.»

Ann's jaw fell open. «Catacombs — That's preposterous. There was no such place beneath the Palace of the Prophets.»

«None we knew of,» Nathan said in a grave tone. «That doesn't mean it didn't exist.»

«But, but,» Ann stammered, «that's just not possible. It's just not. Such a thing could not have gone unnoticed. In all that time Sisters lived there we would have known.»

Nathan shrugged. «In all this time no one knew of this place, here, beneath the bones.»

«But no one lived right above here.»

«What if the presence of catacombs beneath the palace was not common knowledge? After all, we know little of the wizards of that time, and not a great deal about the specific people involved in the construction of the Palace of the Prophets. It could be that they had reason to conceal such a place, just as this place was concealed.»

Nathan arched an eyebrow. «What if part of the purpose of the palace-the training of young wizards-was part of an elaborate ruse to hide the existence of such a secret site?»

Ann could feel her face going red. «Are you suggesting that our calling was meaningless? How dare you even suggest that all our lives have been devoted to nothing more than a deception, and that the lives of those with the gift would not have been spared had we not.»

«I'm not suggesting anything of the kind. I'm not saying the Sisters were being duped or that what they did didn't spare the lives of boys with the gift and help preserve it. I'm only saying that these books suggest that there may have been more to it. What if there was not only the intent to have a place for the Sisters to practice their useful calling, but there was in part a grander purpose behind the place where they practiced that calling? After all, think of the graveyard above us; it has a valid reason to exist, but it also conveniently provides a shroud to hide this place.

«Perhaps such catacombs were deliberately covered over thousands of years ago with the intent of hiding them? If so, then by design we would never be aware of their existence. If it was a secret cache there wouldn't have been any records of it.