Terry Goodkind - Stone of Tears

“It is,” he said softly. “Almost every prophecy down this true branch is a fork. If the world of the living is to be saved from the Keeper of the underworld, then every event must take the correct branch. In this prophecy, the people must rejoice at seeing the Mother Confessor die, for down the other fork lies the eternal darkness of the underworld. I don’t know why it is so.”

Margaret sobbed into his robes as his strong arms held her tight against him. “Oh dear Creator,” she cried, “take mercy on your poor child. Give her strength.”

“There is no mercy when fighting the Keeper.”

“Ah, Nathan, I have read prophecies of people dying, but it was only words. To see it as real has wounded my soul.”

He patted her back as he held her. “I know. How well I know.”

Margaret pushed herself up, wiping tears from her face. “This is the true prophecy that lies beyond the one that forked today?”

“It is.”

“And this is the way they are meant to be seen?”

“It is so. This is the way they come to me. I have shown you the way I see them. The words, too, come with the prophecy, and those are what are to be written down, so those not meant to see the prophecies will not see them as they truly are, but those who are meant to will see them when they read the words. I have never before shown anyone a prophecy.”

“Then, why have you shown me?”

His sad eyes regarded her a moment. “Margaret, we are in a battle with the Keeper. You are meant to know the danger we are in.”

“We are always in a battle with the Keeper.”

“I think, perhaps, this is different.”

“I must tell the others. I must tell them what you can show them. We must have your help to understand the prophecies.”

“No. I will show no other what I have shown you. No matter the pain they would think to inflict upon me, I will not cooperate. I will never again do this for you, or another Sister.”

“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?”