Chase shifted his weight and folded his arms. His brow bunched. He was beginning to look seriously concerned, which on Chase meant that he looked like he thought he might need to slaughter large numbers of people.
“Maybe I’d better stay for now. We don’t have to leave tomorrow. We can wait until you find out if there is some sort of trouble at hand.”
Zedd sighed, beginning to wish that he wouldn’t have mentioned anything. This wasn’t really a problem for Chase. Zedd shouldn’t have gotten the man all worked up over something he wouldn’t understand or could do anything about. It was just that it was so blasted odd.
“That isn’t necessary. This kind of trouble isn’t likely to need to have you strangle it into submission. It’s an entirely different kind of problem. This is book trouble. I don’t want to burden you with worry. It’s my area and I’m sure I’ll figure it out sooner or later. I only wondered what you might think of such a thing. Sometimes it helps to have a fresh view.”
Chase waggled a finger over the book. “Well, what does that last part mean? That first contest him before they plot to heal him part? You said it was prophecy about Richard. That sounds like trouble—like someone is going to plot against him.”
“No, not necessarily.” Zedd wiped a hand across his mouth as he tried to think of a way to explain it. “The word plot in prophecy often means nothing more sinister than to ‘lay out a plan.’ Like plotting a course of action, you might say. In this case, the passage was talking about those who are his closest advisors, his allies, so when it talks about plotting to heal him, it most likely means that they must first convince him that he needs their help and then once they are able to convince him, these allies—that would most likely be some of us—are going to set about planning a way to heal him.”
“Heal him from what?”
“It doesn’t say.”
“So then it isn’t serious.”
Zedd gave the boundary warden a meaningful look. “I believe that may be the part that is blank.”
“Then it is serious. Richard is in trouble. He needs help. Maybe he’s hurt.”
Zedd shook his head unhappily. “In my experience prophecy is rarely so overt.”
“But that could be the case.”
Zedd appraised the man for a moment. “We’re a long way from needing to dream up things to worry about. In addition, the chronology of prophecy is always troublesome. For all I know, the part we’re discussing could have already happened. It could, for instance, be talking about a time Richard had a fever as a child and I had to find the proper herbs to heal him.”
“Then it just as well could be past history.”
Zedd turned up his palms in frustration. “It could be. Without the missing text—or knowing a lot more about prophecy than I do—it’s probably impossible to put this in the context of his life.”
Chase nodded but then stepped out of the way as the door opened and Rikka swept into the room. She reached out to take the bowls, but paused when she saw they were still full.
“What’s the matter? Why haven’t you eaten?” When Zedd waved a hand as if trying to swish the issue away, she looked over her shoulder at Chase. “Is he sick? I thought he would have scraped the bowl clean by now and licked the smell off the ceiling. Maybe we had better think of a way to make him eat.”
“See what I mean about plotting?” Zedd said to Chase. “It could be no more serious than that.”
Rikka surveyed Zedd’s face for a moment, as if checking for any overt signs of insanity, then turned her attention to Chase. “What is he jabbering about?”
“Something about books,” Chase told her.
She turned a growing glare on Zedd. “Well, after all the trouble I went to fixing you this meal, you are going to sit right down and eat it. If you don’t, then I’ll feed it to the worms in the midden heap, instead. Then, when you get hungry later and come to me complaining, you will only have yourself to blame. You’ll get no sympathy from me.”
Startled, Zedd blinked at her. “What? What did you say?”
“I’m going to feed it to the worms if you don’t—”
“Bags!” Zedd snapped his fingers. “That’s it!” He held his arms out to her. “Rikka, you’re a genius. I could hug you.”
Rikka straightened defiantly. “I prefer to accept your adoration from afar.”
Zedd wasn’t listening to her. He rubbed his hands together as he tried to remember exactly where it was that he’d seen the reference. It had been ages ago. But how long ago, exactly? And where?
“What is it?” Chase asked. “Have you solved the puzzle?”
Zedd’s mouth twisted with the effort of thought. “I recall reading a reference to such an event. I remember seeing some kind of exegesis.”
“A what?”
“An explanation. An analysis of this issue.”
“So then it is some…book thing.”
Zedd nodded. “Yes, exactly. I just need to remember where it was that I saw the passage. It was about worms.”
Chase cast a sidelong glance at Rikka before he scratched his head of thick, graying brown hair. “Worms?”
Zedd dry-washed his hands as vague recollections ghosted through his mind. Those shadowy memories were real, he was sure of it, but despite his frantic effort to grasp them and pull them into the light of consciousness, they remained just out of reach.
“Zedd, what are you talking about?” Rikka asked. “What did you say? Worms?”
“What? Oh, yes, that’s right. Worms. Prophetic worms. It was some kind of evaluation, I think, examining if such a thing might be able to erode prophecy.”
Chase and Rikka stared at him as if he were crazy but said nothing.
Zedd paced from the table to the corner bookcase and back. He pushed the heavy oak chair aside with a foot as he walked back and forth, thinking. He ran through a list of places that might have a book that would contain such a reference. There were libraries all over the Keep. There were thousands of books in those libraries—maybe tens of thousands. If he had even seen the reference at the Wizard’s Keep. He had visited any number of libraries in other places. There were a number of archives in the Confessors’ Palace, down in Aydindril. There were palaces on Kings Row, also in Aydindril, that contained extensive collections of books. There were any number of cities that Zedd had visited with repositories and archives. There were so many books, how was he to remember one he hadn’t seen for ages—perhaps since he was young?
“What, exactly, are you talking about?” Rikka asked when she tired of watching him pace. “What explanation are you talking about?”
“I’m not sure, yet. It was a long time ago. Had to be. Had to be when I was young. I will remember, I’m sure of it. I just have to give it some thought. Even if it takes all night, I will remember where I saw the passage. I wish I had my reason chair,” he muttered as he turned away.
Rikka frowned at Chase as she kept an eye on Zedd as he paced. “His what?”
“Back in Westland,” Chase said in a low voice, “he had a chair on his porch where he would sit and think—where he would reason out problems. That was back when everything started, when Darken Rahl came and tried to capture him and Richard. They fled just in time. They came to me and I led them through a gap to the boundary.”
“Seems to me that there are chairs enough around here. He’s practically tripping over that one, there.” Rikka’s mouth twisted with exasperation. “Besides, a person doesn’t need a chair to make their brain work. At least, if they do, they have bigger problems.”
“I suppose.” Together with Rikka, Chase watched Zedd pace for a while. Finally, not being one to stand around, he caught the sleeve of Zedd’s robes. “I guess I’d better go see to Rachel while you work out your solution. I want to make sure she gets her things together and gets to bed.”
Zedd swished a hand, urging the man on his way. “Yes, you’re right. Go ahead. Tell her I will come to kiss her good night after a while. I just need to think on th
is a bit.”
Once he was gone, Rikka leaned a leather-covered hip against the heavy desk and folded her arms under her breasts. “Are you saying that the words of prophecy vanishing was caused by some kind of worm, like a bookworm that eats the paste or the paper?”
“No, it eats the words, not the paper.”
“Then it’s…what? Some kind of tiny little worm that eats ink?”
Annoyed at the interruption, Zedd halted his pacing to stare at her. “Eats…? No, no, not in that way. This is something of magic. A tricky little twist of something clever. If I recall correctly it was referred to as a prophetic worm because it could eat away at the branches of prophecy, much like wood bore worms eat away at a tree. It starts with related prophecy, either in subject or in chronology, like wood bores might infest a particular branch. Once established this kind of worm begins eating away the tree of prophecy. In this case, the branch is the one having to do with the time since Richard was born.”
Rikka looked genuinely fascinated and at the same time distraught. She straightened and tilted her head toward him. “Really? Magic can do such a thing?”
Zedd, holding his elbow in one hand and his chin in the fingertips of the other, made a low sound deep in his throat. “I think so. Maybe. I’m not sure.” He heaved an impatient, irritable sigh. “I’m trying to remember. I only saw the reference once. I can’t recall if it was a theory I read or if it was the spell itself, or if it was only a suggestion in a book of records, or if it…Wait—”
He stared up at the beamed ceiling as he squinted with the effort of recollection. “It was before Richard was born, I’m sure of that much. I remember that I was a young man. That would mean that it had to be when I was here. That much makes sense. And if I was here…”
Zedd’s head came back down. “Dear spirits.”
Rikka leaned in. “What? Dear spirits what?”
“I remember,” Zedd whispered, his eyes going wide. “I remember where I saw it.”
“Where?”
Shoving his sleeves higher up his bony arms, Zedd headed for the door. “Never mind. I will see to it. You just go about your patrolling, or something. I’ll be back later.”
Chapter 33
With the sun going down, the air was beginning to cool as Zedd raced down the broad rampart. The huge stones of the crenellated wall radiated heat they had stored from the hot sun beating down on them all day. The city far below the mountainside was melting into a sea of gloom, while pink rays of the departing sun caressed the tops of some of the tallest towers of the Keep high overhead. The dying light of dusk had brought a still quiet touched only by the distant whisper of the cicadas.
At an intersection of ramparts, Zedd ran around the corner to the right. Unlike the rampart at the edge of the Keep, which overlooked a drop-off of thousands of feet down the sheer face of the mountain, the narrower interior bastion wall had precipitous drop-offs to both sides, yet within the massive complex that gave a clear view of nearly windowless walls descending down into the darkness. Courtyards far below provided the refreshment of open air directly off some of the lower floors within the Keep. Zedd imagined that people who in the past had worked in the lower reaches of the Keep must have appreciated being able to step outside from time to time.
As he ran down the narrow bastion path, bridges to various towers crossed overhead. Soaring up before him at the end of the pathway was an immense, imposing wall with vertical rows of projecting keystones for interior floors. There was a grand, double entrance door at the base of that looming wall with designs above reliefs of columns carved in the wall beneath the arched stone lintel, but Zedd instead took to an opening in the side rail to take the steps down. The seemingly eternal flight of stairs descended down a long, sloping lip built into the side of the clifflike bastion wall.
He needed to go down into the lower reaches of the Keep, deep within the mountain, to places where no one ever went.
To places no one but he even knew existed.
The stone banister on the open, exposed side of the stairs wasn’t very high and as a consequence the descent down the straight run of hundreds of feet of stairs, with no landings, was a harrowing experience. To his left rose the carefully fit stone blocks of the imposing bastion wall, to his right was a drop-off that would make any self-respecting cliff proud. Going down that monumental run of stairs always made Zedd feel tiny. He could see little more at the bottom than the jagged formation of dark rock at the base of one of the round towers rising up from the small courtyard.
Partway down, Zedd realized that he heard footsteps racing to catch him. He stopped and turned. It was Rikka.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He called up to her.
The wind rising up the narrow canyon formed by the stone walls all around lifted his hair and his robes. It almost felt as if his bony frame might lift right off the stairs and be carried away like a dried leaf on an updraft.
Rikka came to a panting halt a few steps above him. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re not doing what I told you to do.”
“Let’s go,” she said, swishing her hand to urge him on. “I’m coming with you.”
“I told you that I would see to this. I told you to go patrol or something.”
“This is trouble that concerns Lord Rahl.”
“It’s just some information in old books that I need to check into.”
“Chase and Rachel are leaving early in the morning. You would be in with Rachel, telling her a story and tucking her in, unless there was something going on that has you really worried. This is about Lord Rahl. If it has you worried, then it has me worried. I’m going with you.”
Zedd didn’t want to stand out on the open steps arguing with her, so he didn’t. He turned and raced downward, holding up his robes in both fists so that he wouldn’t trip and fall. Besides going on seemingly forever, the steps were frighteningly steep. A fall so high up on the steps could easily be fatal.
Finally reaching the bottom, Zedd stopped on the first stepping stone and turned back. “Stay on the stones.”
Rikka glanced around at the expanse of viny groundcover. Beyond were walls on two sides that rose up for hundreds of feet without interruption. Behind was the stairs and bastion wall. To the right was a jutting mass of bedrock from which the tower rose.
“Why?” She asked as she followed Zedd across the stepping stones.
“Because I said so.”
He didn’t feel like spending time explaining traps of magic. Were she to step off the stones, the shields would not just warn her, but prevent her from going where she shouldn’t be. Still, for those not possessing the proper power, it was always best to stay completely away from shields whenever possible.
If the shields failed to stop intruders from crossing this secluded courtyard, the vines would snare them. While the victim struggled to escape, these particular vines would tangle around the ankles. Stimulated by struggling, the vines rapidly sprouted wicked thorns that penetrated into bone where they then anchored themselves. Freeing anyone trapped in the vines was a painful, bloody affair and, more often than not, fatal. Defenses at the Wizard’s Keep were not hesitant in their purpose.
“Those vines are moving.” Rikka snatched his sleeve. “Those vines are moving like a nest of snakes.”
Zedd scowled back over his shoulder. “Why do you think I told you to stay on the stepping stones?”
He lifted a lever and pulled open the second round-topped door he came to and ducked inside. He could feel Rikka practically breathing down his neck. Reaching blindly in the darkness his bony fingers found a smooth sphere in the bracket to the right. As he passed his hand over the glossy surface it began to glow with a greenish light. The entry room was small, made of simple, undecorated stone block walls. Overhead was a beam and plank ceiling. Against the wall to the right was a single, short slab of slate built in to provide a bench in case the stairs had left any visitor in need of a brief rest
. In both of the other two walls were two dark passageways going off in separate directions.
Along the wall above the slab bench were dozens of brackets, over half of them holding spheres that glowed faintly with the same color of greenish light as the one he had first touched. Zedd lifted one of the spheres from a bracket. It was heavy, made from solid glass, but there were other elements fused into this glass and those elements responded to the stimulus of the gift. In his hand the greenish cast changed to a warmer yellow glow. He let a spark of his gift lift through the sphere and it brightened, throwing harsh shadows down the two halls ahead of them.
With a sharp jab of a bony finger, he sat Rikka on the bench. “This is as far as you go.”
Grim determination was etched on her face as her blue eyes watched him. “Something strange is happening with the books of prophecy. You’ve been fretting over those books for days, now. You haven’t eaten or slept. But worse by far is that the prophecies that are vanishing are about Lord Rahl.”
It was an observation, not a question. He’d thought that his turmoil had been all internal. She had been quietly paying more attention than he’d given her credit for. Or maybe he had just been too distracted to notice her paying attention. In either case, it was not a good sign that he had been so preoccupied that he hadn’t even been aware of her marking how absorbed and unsettled he’d been.
“Near as I can tell, you are right in that a great many of those vanished prophecies are about Richard, but I don’t think they all are. From what I have been able to determine, however, they all have to do with prophecy pertaining to a time after he was born. That doesn’t mean that they are all about him, though. The blank places in the books are extensive. Since I can’t remember what those blank places said, there obviously is no way to tell what they were about, making it impossible to know the subject individual of the missing prophecies.”
“But from what you can piece together they mostly have something to do with Lord Rahl.”
This, too, had not been a question, but a statement of observation, or, at least, reasoned speculation. This was a Mord-Sith asking questions that revolved around the issue of the safety of her Lord Rahl. Zedd could see that she was in no mood for any evasive explanations.
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