Terry Goodkind - The Third Kingdom

“So?”

“Well, you see, we—by we, I mean I, of course—I have learned through long experimentation and effort how to alter that experience so that those about to pass through the veil and into the world of the dead are able to do something useful for those of us remaining behind in the world of life.”

Kahlan frowned, now sincerely curious.

“Useful? What could you possibly get from people right before they die that is useful to you?”

His smile returned, but this time there was no amusement in it, no gloating. It was as malevolent a look as she had ever seen.

“Prophecy.”

CHAPTER

64

Kahlan was stunned. “Prophecy?”

“Yes. We get prophecy.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, you see,” he said as he leaned back, “when altered through my abilities near the end of life, that life remaining within a person, the life that is draining away, is altered so that in that last, singular instant when they are crossing over through the veil, for that brief flicker of time when they are still holding on to life and at the same time touching death, rather than seeing their life’s experiences, or feeling some sense of loss, or even feelings of love, they instead, because of the changes I’ve made within them, as they touch the timeless world of the dead they are able to tap into that same flow of time that prophets experience.

“In that extraordinary moment, connected to the convergence of life and death, they are able to see the sweep of time, stand in its flow, and thus give forth prophecy, the same as a genuine prophet.”

Kahlan was horrified. “You think that you can somehow use occult powers to get prophecy out of people as they are dying?”

He shot her a condescending look. “It is a process I created and developed, thoroughly understand, and control. There is no speculation involved.”

“And you’ve done this before? You intend to do it again?”

“That is the purpose of the abbey. There I use this process to collect prophecies and then deliver them to Lord Arc. Lord Arc uses prophecy, you see, to guide him.”

Kahlan stared in disbelief. “Are you saying that you take people to the abbey and murder them so that they will cry out prophecy to you as they’re dying? You murder people in the hope that with their last dying breath they will give you a prophecy?”

“Murder? No, not exactly. We are harvesting prophecy from the great abyss of eternity. We are reaping what is there for those who know how to obtain it.”

“Through murder.”

He dismissed the charge with a gesture. “The people chosen to help us in this great work are not murder victims. To the contrary. It is an honor for them that they have been chosen to give their lives to such a noble cause. They may not be able to realize that right then, of course, but they are heroic people sacrificing their lives for the benefit of others.”

“That’s madness,” Kahlan whispered.

“Madness? No, not at all,” he said, prickling at the suggestion. “The sacrifice of these few is all done for the greater good of the many. It is brilliant both in its conception and in its execution.”

“‘Execution’ is the right word,” Kahlan said. “Execution plain and simple for your twisted cause.”

He gave her a testy look. “You do the same thing.”

“We do no such thing and you know it.”

“You who use prophecy. Those at the People’s Palace use it—those like your husband who collect and hoard the life’s work of prophets who have tapped that great flow of time from beyond, as I am doing, only to keep that precious prophecy in secret libraries so as to use it to control the lives of others rather than benefit those lives. Those who give prophecy—prophets—are also giving their lives into such prophecy, no less than those at the abbey, and you suck dry that effort for selfish reasons, not for the common good as it is intended by the Creator.”

Kahlan knew better than to say anything.

He leaned forward and pointed a finger at her. “You and Lord Rahl keep prophecy to yourselves in order use it as a weapon to enslave people.

“We, on the other hand, use the prophecy we gather from those who make such a final sacrifice in order to help guide the lives of our people. We use such prophecy to guide the people of Fajin Province, we don’t hide it from them as you and Lord Rahl do for selfish gain. Prophecy rightly belongs to everyone, not just the few.

“And now others in other lands have asked to join with us and benefit from the insights we gain from prophecy.”

Kahlan didn’t bother to try to argue with such madness. She was sick to death of trying to make people understand how prophecy worked, and how it did not work. She was disheartened with the lands that had left the D’Haran Empire to follow Hannis Arc for promises of prophecy freely given to them.

In the end, people believed what they wanted to believe. The truth had very little to do with it.

“You have been chosen to contribute to this great work,” he said at last as he finally leaned back in his seat. “You will in the end be one of those who gives prophecy to those who need it. Because of your renown, prominence, and birthright as a Confessor, we expect remarkable prophecy from you.”

Kahlan glanced at the Mord-Sith and then back at the abbot. “So you’re going to kill me. Big surprise. Evil men have been killing innocent people since the dawn of time.

“You are going to chop off my head, expecting me to babble prophecy first? Fine, just don’t try to convince yourself that I lay my head on the block willingly. It will be a simple act of murder, nothing more, and certainly not noble.”

He dismissed her words with a wave and a sour expression.

“It’s not that simple,” the Mord-Sith said with a knowing smile.

“Not that simple,” Kahlan repeated. “And why not? You said that you kill people so that they will give prophecy right as they’re dying. That may be lunacy, but it is simple lunacy.”

“No, you misunderstand,” she said. “I meant that the process is not that simple.”

“They must be prepared, first,” Abbot Dreier put in with a kind of twisted zeal.

“Prepared? How do you prepare them to be murdered?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Torture.”

Kahlan stared back. “You torture people at the abbey.”

“That is the function of the facility—to process people on their path to giving their gift of prophecy. It is through torture that people are properly brought to that cusp of life and death and held there at the boundary between worlds until they are finally ready to accept into themselves what we offer them.”

Kahlan was incredulous. “What you offer? What could you possibly offer them as you torture them?”

“Release,” the Mord-Sith said.

“Release?” Kahlan asked, still staring at them both in disbelief.

“Release,” Abbot Dreier confirmed. “Only when they willingly embrace the greater good and allow themselves to be the conduit for this gift to mankind, do we release them and allow them the privilege of crossing over into death.”

Kahlan felt sick. She now understood all too well the part that the Mord-Sith played in this scheme.

Erika smiled when she saw that Kahlan finally understood.

“There is transcendent glory in profound agony,” the Mord-Sith said with quiet conviction, as if to justify what they were doing.

“Glory,” Kahlan said, sarcastically, repulsed by the evil of it all.

“Yes, indeed, glory.” The Mord-Sith’s wicked satisfaction in her work surfaced. “We intend to bring you such glory as you cannot yet imagine.”

Ludwig Dreier was staring at Kahlan. “And then you, too, like all the others who have come before you, will willingly give forth prophecy in order to be allowed to cross over into death.”