“It could even be that our mistakes were not really mistakes, but rather a tool of prophecy, a part of a larger design, because all along you were the one meant to be close enough to Richard to help him. Perhaps the things we did are what allowed you to get close enough to him to play such a vital role, a role that only you would be able to play.”
“Free will is a variable in prophecy,” Ann said. “Without it, without all that happened because of the events that Richard tumbled into place, where would you be? What would you be had we never acted when we did? Where would you be had you never met Richard?”
Nicci didn’t want to consider such a possibility.
“How many more, like you, in the end might be saved because events turned out this way,” the Prelate added, “rather than if none of this had ever happened?”
“It could very well be,” Nathan said, “that, had we not done the things we did, for reasons right or wrong, prophecy would simply have found another way to accomplish the very same results. It’s likely, by the way these roots intertwine, that what is happening right now, one way or another, had to happen.”
“Like water finding a route to lower ground?” Cara asked.
“Precisely,” Nathan said, smiling proudly at her power of observation. “Prophecy is to a degree self-healing. We may think we understand the details, but in fact we may be unable to see the totality of events on a grander scale, so that when we take it upon ourselves to interfere prophecy must find other roots to nourish the tree, lest it die.
“In some ways, since prophecy can be self-healing, any attempt to influence events is ultimately futile. And yet, at the same time, prophecy is intended to be used, intended to spur action, otherwise what would be its purpose? Any intervention in events, though, is a dangerous thing to do. The trick is knowing when and where to act. It’s an imprecise discipline, even for a prophet.”
“Perhaps because we are so painfully aware of our own well-intentioned mistakes,” Ann said, “you can see why we would be so distraught that you would take it upon yourself to make such a choice for Richard—a central figure in prophecy—as to name him a player for the power of Orden. We know the magnitude of harm that can result by interfering with even relatively minor issues in prophecy. The boxes of Orden are a determinative node, just about as far from a minor element within prophecy as one can get.”
Nicci hadn’t meant it the way it had come out. She never thought of herself as free of fault—quite the opposite. Her whole life she had felt inferior, if not outright evil. Her mother, Brother Narev, and later Emperor Jagang had always told her as much, constantly driving into her how inadequate she was. It was just that it had been surprising to learn that the Prelate could be so . . . human.
Nicci’s gaze fell away. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I just never thought you made mistakes.”
“While I do not agree with your characterization of events that have spanned five centuries and countless years of toil and effort,” Ann said, “I’m afraid that we all make mistakes. One of the things that defines our character is how we handle our mistakes. If we lie about having made a mistake, then it can’t be corrected and it festers. On the other hand, if we give up just because we made a mistake, even a big mistake, none of us would get far in life.
“As to your version of our interaction with prophecy, there are many factors you’ve not taken into account, to say nothing of those elements of which you are ignorant. You are connecting events in ways that are simplistic, if not entirely inaccurate. The assumptions made on the basis of those connections take great leaps over intervening circumstances.”
When Nathan cleared his throat, Ann went on. “That is not to say, however, that we haven’t at times misjudged things. We have made mistakes. Some of our errors involve events you have just pointed out. We are trying to correct them.”
“So,” Cara asked, somewhat impatiently, “what about this prophecy of no prophecy, the Great Void? You claim that we need to insure that Lord Rahl fights the final battle because prophecy says he must, and yet at the same time part of the prophecy says that prophecy itself is blank? That makes no sense—by prophecy’s own admission, part of the prophecy in question is missing.”
Ann pursed her lips. “Now even Mord-Sith have become experts on prophecy?”
Nathan looked back over his shoulder at Cara. “It’s not so easy to understand the context of events as they relate to prophecy. Prophecy and free will, you see, exist in tension, in opposition. Yet, they interact. Prophecy is magic and all magic needs balance. The balance to prophecy, the balance that allows prophecy to exist, is free will.”
“Oh, that makes a lot of sense,” Cara sniped from the doorway. “If what you’re saying is true, that would mean that they cancel each other out.”
The prophet held up a finger. “Ah, but they don’t. They are interdependent and yet they are antithetical. Just as Additive and Subtractive Magic are opposite forces, they both exist. They each serve to balance the other. Creation and destruction, life and death. Magic must have balance to function. So must the magic of prophecy. Prophecy functions by the presence of its counter: free will. That’s one of the major difficulties we’ve had in the whole matter—understanding the interplay between prophecy and free will.”
Cara’s nose wrinkled. “You’re a prophet, and you believe in free will? Now, that makes no sense.”
“Does death invalidate life? No, it defines it, and in so doing creates its value.”
Cara didn’t look at all convinced. “I don’t see how free will can even manage to exist within prophecy.”
Nathan shrugged. “Richard is a perfect example. He ignores prophecy and balances it at the same time.”
“He ignores me, too, and when he does he always gets in trouble.”
“We have something in common,” Ann said.
Cara let out a sigh. “Well anyway, Nicci got it right. And I don’t think it was prophecy, but her free will that brought her to do the reasoned thing. That’s why Lord Rahl trusts her.”
“I don’t disagree,” Nathan said with a shrug. “As nervous as it makes me, we sometimes must let Richard do as he thinks best. Perhaps that is ultimately what Nicci has done—given him the tools to have the freedom to truly exercise his free will.”
Nicci wasn’t really listening anymore. Her mind was elsewhere. She abruptly turned to Nathan.
“I need to see Panis Rahl’s tomb. I think I know why it’s melting.”
From in the distance, a rumbling roar rolled up through the gathering gloom, drawing their attention.
Cara stretched her neck out to see. “What’s going on?”
Nicci looked out over the sea of men. “They’re cheering for a Ja’La game. Jagang uses Ja’La dh Jin as a distraction, both for the people in the Old World and for his army. The rules used in the army games are quite a bit more brutal, though. It satisfies the blood lust of his soldiers.”
Nicci remembered Jagang’s devotion to Ja’La. He was a man who understood how to control and direct the emotions of his people. He distracted them from the daily misery of their lives by continually blaming every common trouble they faced on those who refused to put their faith in the Order, the latest of those being the heathens to the north. That distraction kept the people from questioning the teachings of the Order, since all their troubles were blamed on those who questioned.
Nicci knew, because she did that very thing herself as Death’s Mistress. Any suffering was blamed on those who were selfish. Anyone who questioned was attacked as selfish.
Jagang won widespread passion for war by building hatred for an imagined oppressor that was condemned for causing every problem the people lived with daily. Personal responsibility was abandoned to the disease of assigning fault for all hardships, and every hardship was blamed on the greedy who failed to do their part. In that way, their daily problems were a constant reminder of the enemy who they believed caused those problems.
The demands for Jagang to destr
oy the heathens that the people of the Old World believed were the cause of all their troubles served Jagang’s ends. He also needed to destroy a free and prosperous people because their very existence put the lie to the Order’s beliefs and teachings. The truth would ultimately threaten his rule.
The distraction of blaming others for the people’s misery came full circle, being the means to turn attention elsewhere, and to let the people themselves demand of him that he go off to fight this battle against evil. Who could complain about the cost and sacrifice of a war they themselves demanded?
Ja’La, too, was a distraction that served his ends. In the cities the somewhat more civilized games were a focal point that funneled the emotions and energy of the populace into rather meaningless events. It helped give his people a common cause to rally around, to cheer for, promoting a mentality that steeped people in the concept of being joined in opposition to others.
In his army, Ja’La served to distract his men from the misery of service in the army. Since the audience of soldiers was made up of aggressive young men, those games were played under a more brutal set of rules. The violence of such games gave frustrated, combative, hostile men an outlet for their pent-up passions. Without Ja’La, Jagang understood that he might not be able to maintain discipline and control over such a vast and unwieldy force. Without Ja’La they might turn their idle hostility inward, among themselves.
Jagang had his own team, which served to demonstrate the indomitable supremacy of the emperor. They were an extension of his power and might, an object of awe. They reflected that awe onto the emperor. His Ja’La team connected the emperor to his men, made him like them, while at the same time stressing his superiority.
Having spent so much time with him, as his Slave Queen, Nicci knew that despite all of those calculated factors, Jagang, like his men, had actually become caught up in the game. For Jagang, combat was the ultimate game. Ja’La dh Jin was a kind of combat he could enjoy when he was not engaged in actual combat. It kept his own aggressive juices flowing. Since assembling his new team of unbeatable men, a team universally feared, he had come to feel that he, personally, was the master of Ja’La dh Jin.
It had become more than a game to Jagang. It had become an extension of his persona.
Nicci turned away from the sight of the Imperial Order forces gathered below. She could no longer endure the sight, or the thought of the bloody games she so hated. The muffled roars washed over her, a building blood lust that would eventually be turned loose on the People’s Palace.
Once back inside, Nicci waited until Nathan pushed the heavy door closed against the cold night descending on the outside world.
“I need to go down to see Panis Rahl’s tomb.”
He looked back over his shoulder as he forced the latch into place. “So you said. Let’s go, then.”
As they started away, Ann hesitated. “I know how much you hate going down in that tomb,” she said to Nathan as she caught his arm, bringing him to a halt. “Verna and Adie will be waiting. Perhaps you could see to that while I take Nicci down to the tomb.”
Nathan cast her a suspicious look. He was about to say something when—Ann gave him a look of her own. He seemed to grasp her meaning.
“Yes, that’s a good idea, my dear. Cara and I will go speak with Verna and Adie.”
The leather of Cara’s outfit creaked as she folded her arms. “I’ll stay with Nicci. In Lord Rahl’s absence it’s my job to protect her.”
“I really think that Berdine and Nyda would like to talk over some issues of palace security with you,” Ann said. When Cara didn’t look at all inclined to agree to the plan, Ann hastily added, “For when Richard gets back. They want to be certain that everything is being done to insure his security when he returns to the palace.”
Nicci thought that there were few people as wary as a Mord-Sith. They seemed to be constantly suspicious and to assume the worst. Nicci could tell that Ann simply wanted to speak with her alone. She didn’t know why—he didn’t just tell Cara that. She guessed that Ann probably wasn’t convinced that such an approach would work.
Nicci placed a hand on the small of Cara’s back and leaned toward her. “It’s all right, Cara. Go on with Nathan and I’ll join you shortly.”
Cara looked from Nicci’s eyes to Ann’s. “Where?”
“You know the dining room between the Mord-Sith quarters and the devotion square beside the small grouping of trees?”
“Of course.”
“That is where Verna and Adie are to meet us. We’ll catch up with you there after Nicci has had her look at the tomb.”
Only when Nicci gave Cara a nod did she finally agree.
Chapter 18
As they started away, Nicci just caught a parting look that Ann gave Nathan. It was an intimate gaze warmed by a childlike smile, a look of shared understanding and affection. Nicci almost felt embarrassed to be witness to such a private moment. At the same time, it revealed a quality of both Ann and Nathan that she found captivating. It was the kind of simple thing that almost anyone who saw it would understand and appreciate.
The brief glimpse into their feelings gave Nicci a sense of comfort and peace. This was not just the prelate she had feared for so much of her life, but a woman who shared the same feelings, longings, and values as most anyone.
As they made their way back along the hallway while Nathan and Cara vanished down a stairwell, Nicci glanced over at Ann.
“You love him, don’t you?”
Ann smiled. “Yes.”
Nicci stared, unable to think of what to say.
“Surprised that I would admit it?” Ann asked.
“Yes,” Nicci confessed.
Ann chuckled. “Well, I guess there would have been a time when I would have been surprised as well.”
Nicci loosely intertwined her fingers. “When did all this happen?”
Ann stared off into memories. “Probably centuries ago. I was just too foolish, too caught up in being the Prelate, to recognize what was right there before me. Maybe I thought I had a duty which came first. But I think that’s just an excuse for being a fool.”
Nicci was struck dumb by such a frank admission from this woman.
A look of amusement overcame Ann when she saw the look on Nicci’s face. “Shocked to find me human?”
Nicci smiled. “That’s not a very flattering way to put it, but I guess that must be the heart of it.”
They turned down a long flight of stairs with evenly spaced landings in the square stairwell descending through the palace. The railing all the way down was vinelike wrought iron, held in place by masterfully worked iron made to mimic leafy branches.
“Well,” Ann sighed, “I guess that I, too, was shocked to find out that I was human. At the same time, at first anyway, it made me quite sad.”
“Sad?” Nicci frowned. “Why?”
“Because I had to admit to myself that I had thrown away most of my life. I’ve been blessed by the Creator with a very long life, but I realized only as I approach the end of it that I had lived very little of that life.” She looked up at Nicci as they reached a landing. “Doesn’t it make you feel remorse to realize how much of your life you wasted without ever realizing what was really important about that life?”
Nicci swallowed back a pang of regret of her own as they reached the edge of a landing and started down the next flight of stairs. “We have that in common.”
Together they listened in silence to the whisper of their footsteps as they made their way down the rest of the stairs. When they finally reached the bottom they took a broad hallway leading straight ahead rather than one of the passageways branching off to sides. The hallway carried the spiced scent from the evenly spaced oil lamps.
Cherrywood squares paneled the walls to each side, each panel separated by straw-colored draperies spaced at uniform intervals. Each set of draperies was swagged with a golden rope terminated with gold and black tassels. The reflector lamps hung in every other opening
between the drapes lent the hall a warm glow.
In every other warmly paneled square hung a painting. Most were ornately framed, as if the works of art were beloved. Each painting had a panel to itself.
While the subject matter varied greatly, from a late-day mountain scene beside a lake, to a barnyard scene, to a towering waterfall, the thing that all the paintings had in common was an achingly beautiful use of light. The mountain lake sat between soaring mountains with light from beyond hazy mountains breaking through billowing, golden clouds. A shaft of that glorious light spilled across the shoreline. The forest all around fell back into a cozy darkness, while in the center, the distant couple standing on a rocky prominence were bathed in the warmth of the shaft of light.
In the barnyard scene the chickens scratched on stone pavers littered with straw and lit by an unseen source of muted light that, without the harsh touch of direct sunlight, made the whole painting all the more vibrant. Nicci had never before thought of a barnyard as beautiful, but this artist had seen the beauty in it, and brought it forth.
In the foreground of the painting with the towering waterfall spilling over a distant, lofty ridgeline, the arch of a natural stone bridge emerged from dark woods to either side. A couple faced each other across that bridge, backlit by the setting sun, which had turned the majestic mountains a deep purple. Standing in that light the two people had a nobility about them that was transfixing.
Nicci found it interesting to note that so much about the People’s Palace was devoted to beauty. From the design of the interior, to the variety of stones used for the floors, stairs, and pillars, to the statues and artwork, the place seemed to be filled with a celebration of the beauty of life. Everything from the structure of the palace itself to its contents seemed intent on displaying the highest accomplishments of man. It was almost a setting dedicated to virtuosity meant to inspire.
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