“But why not?”
“You are not meant to see them. Only to read them.”
“But that can’t be . . .”
“It is meant to be; otherwise, your gift would work to unlock them. You are not meant to see them, just as you often tell me others with common minds are not meant to hear them.”
“But they could help us.”
“They would help you no more than the one I told that girl helped her, or the thousands who died. Just as you keep me a prisoner here, so others may not hear what they are not meant to hear, so I must keep all but another prophet a prisoner of their ignorance. It is the will of He who has given the gift, and all else. Had He meant you to, He would have given you the key with your gift, but He has not.”
“Nathan, there are others who would hurt you until you revealed it to them.”
“I will not reveal it to them, no matter how much they hurt me. They will kill me before I do so.” He tilted his head toward her. “And they won’t try, unless you tell them.”
She stared at him, seeing him differently than she had ever seen him before. None before had ever been as devious as he. He was the only one they had never been able to trust. All the others had told the truth about their gift and its capabilities, but they knew Nathan lied, knew he was not telling them all he was able to do. She wondered what he knew, what he was capable of.
“I will go to my grave with what you have shown me, Nathan.”
He closed his eyes and nodded. “Thank you, child.”
There were other Sisters who would have hurt him for addressing a Sister so. She was not one of them. She stood and straightened her dress.
“In the morning, I will tell those in the vaults of the prophecy that has forked, and of the ones on the false and on the true branches. They will have to decipher them as best they can, with what the Creator has given them.”
“That is the way it is meant to be.”
She returned the ink, pen, and sand shaker to the desk drawer. “Nathan, why did you want the Prelate to come? I don’t recall you ever asking for her before.”
When she looked up, he was studying her with cool detachment.
“That, too, Sister Margaret, is not for you to know. Do you wish to bring me pain, to attempt to make me tell you?”
She picked up the book of prophecy off the desk. “No, Nathan, I will not do that.”
“Then, will you deliver a message to the Prelate for me?”
She nodded, sniffling back the tears that still burned at her eyes. “What would you have me tell her?”
“Will you take this, too, to your grave, and tell no other but the Prelate?”
“If you wish it, although I don’t see why. You can trust the Sisters.”
“No. Margaret, I want you to listen to me. When it is the Keeper you battle, you must not trust anyone. I am taking a dangerous chance in trusting you, and the Prelate. Trust no one.” His bunched eyebrows gave him a frightening look. “Only those you trust can betray you.”
“All right, Nathan. What is the message?”
He peered intently at her. At last his words came in a whisper. “Tell her that the pebble is in the pond.”
Margaret blinked at him. “What does that mean?”
“You have been frightened enough, child. Don’t tempt your endurance again.”
“Sister Margaret, Nathan,” she said softly. “I am not ‘child,’ but Sister Margaret. Please treat me with the respect I am accorded.”
He smiled. “Forgive me, Sister Margaret.” Sometimes his eyes ran shivers up her spine. “One more thing, Sister Margaret.”
“What is it?”
He reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek. “I don’t really know of your death.” She sighed inwardly with relief. “But I do know something else of importance pertaining to you. Of importance in the battle with the Keeper.”
“If it will help me to bring the Creator’s light upon the world, then tell me.”
He seemed to draw himself inward, looking out at her as if from a great distance. “A time will come, soon, when you stumble upon something, and you will have need to know the answer to a question. I don’t know the question, but when you have the need to find the answer, come to me, and that, I will know. This, too, you must tell no other.”
“Thank you, Nathan.” She reached out and touched his hand. “The Creator’s blessing on His child.”
“No thank you, Sister. I do not wish anything more from the Creator.”
She stared at him in surprise. “Because we keep you locked inhere?”
His small smile returned. “There are many different kinds of prisons, Sister. As far as I am concerned, His blessings are tainted. The only thing worse than being touched by the Creator is being touched by the Keeper. And of that, I am not even resolved.”
She took her hand back. “I will still pray for you, Nathan.”
“If you care so much for me, then free me.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
“You mean, you won’t do that.”
“Look at it how you will, but you must remain here.”
At last he turned away from her. She started for the door.
“Sister? Would you send a woman to visit me? To spend a night or two with me?”
The pain in his voice almost made her weep. “I thought you would be beyond that age.”
He slowly turned to her. “You have a lover, Sister Margaret.”
She reeled at this. How could he know? He didn’t know; he was guessing. She was young, and thought attractive by some. Of course she would be interested in men. He was only guessing. But then, none of the Sisters knew what he was able to do.
He was the only wizard they couldn’t trust to be truthful about his powers.
“You listen to gossip, Nathan?”
He smiled. “Tell me, Sister Margaret, do you have the day planned out in advance, when you will be too old for love, even if it is only for a time as fleeting as a night? Exactly how old, Sister, is it, when we lose the need for love?”
She stood silent, ashamed, for a time. “I will go myself, Nathan, into the city, and bring back a woman to visit you for a time. Even if I must pay her price myself. I can’t pledge she will be beautiful to your eyes, as I don’t know what your eyes fancy, but I can vow she will not be empty between the ears, as I think you value this more than you will admit.”
She saw a single tear fall from the corner of his eye. “Thank you, Sister Margaret.”
“But Nathan, you must promise me you will tell her no prophecy.”
He bowed his head slightly. “Of course, Sister. I swear it on my word as a wizard.”
“I mean it, Nathan. I do not wish to have a part in being responsible for people dying. Not only men died in those battles, but women, too. I could not bear having a part in it.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Not even, Sister Margaret, if one of those women would bear, had she lived, a boy child who would grow into a brutal tyrant who would go on to torture and slaughter tens of thousands upon tens of thousands of innocent people, women and children among them? Not even, Sister, if you had a chance to choke off this fork of a terrible prophecy?”
She stood stunned, frozen. At last she made herself blink. “Nathan,” she whispered, “are you saying . . .”
“Good night, Sister Margaret.” He turned and strode off to the solitude of his small garden, pulling up his black hood as he went.
Chapter 6
The wind ripped at her, tugging at her clothes and snapping the loose ends. After yesterday’s tangled mess, Kahlan was at least glad she had thought to tie back her hair. She clung to Richard for dear life, pressing the side of her face against his back as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
It was happening again—the thick feeling of growing heavy that made the knot in the pit of her stomach sink lower of its own accord. She thought she might be sick. She was afraid to open her eyes; she knew what always happened when she felt heavy like this.
Richard called back for her to look.
She opened her eyes just a little, peeking through narrow, squinting slits. As she suspected, the world was tilted at a crazy angle. Her head spun sickeningly. Why did the dragon have to tip over whenever it made a turn? She could feel herself being pressed against the red scales. She couldn’t understand why she wasn’t falling off.
Richard had told her he had figured out that it was just like when you swung a bucket of water around over your head and the water didn’t fall out. She had never swung a bucket of water over her head and wasn’t entirely sure he was telling the truth about the water not falling out. She looked longingly at the ground and saw what Richard was pointing at—the Mud People’s village.
Siddin squealed with glee from his place in Richard’s lap as Scarlet’s huge, leathery wings caught the air and pulled them into a tight spiral. As the red dragon plummeted earthward, the knot of Kahlan’s stomach felt as if it were coming up in her throat. She didn’t understand how they could like doing this. They enjoyed it. They actually enjoyed it! Arms stuck up in the air, they were both laughing with delight, acting like little boys. Well, one was a little boy, and she guessed he had a right.
She suddenly smiled and then laughed herself. Not at flying on a dragon, but at seeing how happy Richard was. She would fly on a dragon every day just to see him laughing and happy. She stretched up and kissed the back of his neck. He brought his hands down and rubbed one on each of her legs. She clasped them tighter around him and forgot a little about feeling sick.
Richard called forward for Scarlet to land in the open field in the center of the village. The sun was almost down, making the tan, plastered, mud-bricked buildings in the circle of the village stand out brightly in the slanting light. Kahlan could smell the sweet smoke from the cooking fires. The long shadows trailed the people running for cover. Women ran from the cooking shelters and men from their weapons making, all shouting and calling out.
She hoped they wouldn’t be too frightened. The last time Scarlet had come here she had carried Darken Rahl, and when he didn’t find Richard he had killed people. These people didn’t know Rahl had forced Scarlet to fly him around after he had stolen her egg. Of course, even without Darken Rahl riding her, no one ever thought of a red dragon as anything but a deadly threat. She herself would have run for her life at seeing a red dragon. The red were the most fearsome of all the dragons, and no one would ever imagine doing anything with a red dragon except trying to kill it, or running for his life.
No one but Richard, that is. Who else but Richard would think to befriend one? He had risked his life to get her egg free from Rahl’s control so she would help him, and in the process had made a friend for life, although Scarlet still professed her intent to eat him someday. Kahlan suspected it was some private joke between the two, as Richard laughed whenever she said it. At least Kahlan hoped it was only a joke—she wasn’t entirely sure. Kahlan looked down at the village and hoped the hunters didn’t start shooting poison arrows before they saw who was riding the red dragon.
Siddin suddenly recognized his home. He pointed excitedly, and jabbered to Richard in the Mud People’s language. Richard couldn’t understand a word of it but smiled and nodded and ruffled Siddin’s hair. They both gripped the spikes on Scarlet’s back as she pulled out of the steep descent. Dust swept up around them, lifted by the fluttering of Scarlet’s huge wings as she settled on the ground.
Richard grabbed hold of Siddin and sat the little boy up on his broad shoulders, then stood up on Scarlet’s back. The stiff, cold breeze carried the dust away to reveal a ragged ring of hunters, their bows drawn, poison arrows pointing up at the three of them. Kahlan held her breath.
Grinning, Siddin waved both hands over his head, as Richard had told him to. Scarlet held her head down so the Mud People could get a clear view of who was riding her. The hunters, astonished, cautiously lowered their bows. Kahlan exhaled when she saw the tension come off the bowstrings.
A figure in buckskin pants and tunic stepped through the ring of hunters. Long silver hair hung down, spreading over his shoulders. It was the Bird Man, his sun-browned face a picture of shock.
“It’s me, Richard! I have returned! With your help, we have defeated Darken Rahl. And, we have brought Savidlin and Weselan’s son back.”
The Bird Man looked to Kahlan as she translated. A beaming grin spread on his face. “We welcome you both back to your people with open arms.”
Women and children were gathering among the ring of hunters, their dark, mud-slicked hair framing amazed faces. Scarlet lowered her bulky body to the ground and Richard slid off her shoulder, landing on his boots with a thump. He held Siddin in one arm as he reached up with the other and helped Kahlan down. She was quietly joyful to have her feet on the earth again.
Weselan pushed through the throng, running to them, Savidlin right at her heels. She wailed her son’s name. Siddin held his arms out gleefully and practically leapt into her arms. Weselan alternated between crying and laughing as she tried to hug her son and Richard and Kahlan all at once. Savidlin rubbed his boy’s back and looked to her and Richard with wet eyes.
“He was brave as any hunter,” Kahlan told him.
He gave a single, firm, pride-filled nod. He appraised her for a moment and then stepped closer, giving her a gentle slap. “Strength to Confessor Kahlan.”
Kahlan returned the slap and greeting, and then he threw his arms around her and squeezed nearly all the breath out of her. When finished with hugging her, he straightened his elder’s coyote hide on his shoulders and looked up at Richard. He shook his head in wonderment. And then he gave Richard a powerfully hard whack across the jaw, a demonstration of his heartfelt respect for Richard’s strength.
“Strength to Richard With The Temper.”
Kahlan wished he hadn’t done that. She could tell by Richard’s eyes that he had a headache. He had had it since yesterday, and she had hoped it would be better after a good sleep the night before in Scarlet’s cave. Siddin had played with the little red dragon until he was dead tired, and then had cuddled between them and gone to sleep.
Having not slept for days, she thought she would have no trouble sleeping, but she found she didn’t want to stop looking at Richard. She had finally put her head on his shoulder, held his hand in both of hers, and fallen asleep smiling. They had all needed the rest. Bad dreams had caused Richard to jerk awake several times in a cold sweat, and even though he had said nothing, she could see in his eyes that he still had the headache. Richard didn’t let it bother him, though, and returned Savidlin’s slap in kind.
“Strength to Savidlin. My friend.”
Properly greeted, souls protected, Savidlin let his grins and backslaps fly. After they had exchanged greetings with the Bird Man, Richard addressed the crowd.
“This brave and noble dragon, Scarlet,” he called out in a voice for all to hear, even though they couldn’t understand the words, “has helped me kill Darken Rahl and avenge our murdered people. She has brought us here so Siddin could be returned before his parents could fear for him another night. She is my friend, a friend to the Mud People.”
Everyone was dumbfounded as Kahlan translated. The hunters, at least, puffed up at hearing that an enemy of the Mud People had been killed by one of their own—even if he was one of their own by proclamation and not by birth. The Mud People honored strength, and to them killing one who harmed their people meant strength.
Scarlet’s head swung down, her ears twitching. One yellow eye frowned at Richard. “Friend! Red dragons are friends to no people! We are feared by all!”
“You’re my friend.” Richard smiled. “I’m a person.”
Scarlet snorted a puff of smoke at him. “Paah. I will eat you yet.”
Richard’s grin widened. He pointed at the Bird Man. “You see this man? He gave me the whistle that I used to save your egg. If not for that whistle, the gars might have eaten your little one.” He stroked a hand on the bright red snout. “An
d a wonderful little one it is.”
Scarlet tilted her head, blinking a big yellow eye at the Bird Man. “I guess he would make a meager snack.” She peered back at Richard, a chuckle rumbling in her throat. “The whole of the village wouldn’t make a decent meal. More trouble than it would be worth.” She brought her head closer to him. “If they are your friends, Richard Cypher, they are my friends, too.”
“And Scarlet, this one is called the Bird Man because he loves creatures that fly.”
Scarlet’s scaly eyebrows lifted. “Really?” She swung her head close to the Bird Man, inspecting him anew. The proximity of Scarlet’s big head caused a few close to him to back away a step or two. The Bird Man held his ground. “Thank you, Bird Man, for helping Richard. He has saved my young one. The Mud People have nothing to fear from me. On my dragon’s honor.”
The Bird Man looked to Kahlan as she translated, smiled to Scarlet, and then turned to his people. “As Richard With The Temper says, this noble dragon, Scarlet, is a friend to the Mud People. She may hunt our land, and we will bring no harm to her, nor her to us.”
Cheering erupted from the crowd. For a people to have a dragon as a friend was taken as an honor to their strength. Everyone seemed to be shouting with excitement. They waved their arms in the air and stamped around in little dances. Scarlet joined in the merriment by throwing her head back and sending a roaring column of flame skyward. The people cheered louder.
Kahlan noticed Richard glancing off to the side. She followed the direction of his gaze to a small band of hunters standing together. None of them were cheering. She recognized their leader. He was the one who had blamed Richard for bringing trouble to their village—blamed Richard for the deaths of Mud People at the hands of Darken Rahl.
As the hooting and hollering went on, Richard motioned Scarlet toward him. When she lowered her head, he put his face right in her ear. She listened to whatever he was saying and then pulled her head back, regarding him with a big yellow eye. She nodded.
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