Stone of Tears

“You must tell me how you do that,” the man said in a deep, powerful voice. “I would be most interested in learning the trick.”

“Do what?” Richard asked.

“Walk through shields as if they weren’t there. Burns the flesh right off me if I try.”

“If I ever figure it out myself, I’ll let you know. My name is Richard. If you’re not busy, I would like to speak with you.”

“Busy!” The man’s shoulders shook with his hearty laugh. When he stood, Richard was a little surprised at how big he was. His long white hair had made Richard think he might be old and shriveled. Old, he was, shriveled he was not. He looked strong and full of vitality. His smile was welcoming and threatening at the same time. He wore a Rada’Han, the same as Richard.

“My name is Nathan, Richard. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I didn’t expect you would find your way in alone.”

“I wanted to come alone so we could talk freely.”

“And do you know that I am a prophet?”

“I didn’t come here to learn to bake bread.”

Nathan’s smile widened, but he didn’t laugh. His brows pulled together like a hawk’s. His voice took on a hiss. “Would you like me to tell you of your death, Richard? How you are to die?”

Richard flopped down on the couch and plunked his feet up on a table. He returned the hawklike glare and threatening smile in kind. “sure. I’d love to hear all about it. And then when you’re done, I will tell you how you are to die.”

Nathan lifted an eyebrow. “And are you a prophet?”

“Enough of one to tell you how you are to die.”

The frown turned curious. “really. Tell me then.”

Richard took a pear from a bowl on the table, polished it on his pant leg, and took a bite. He spoke as he chewed. “You are going to die right here, in these rooms, of old age, without ever seeing the outside world again.”

The creases in Nathan’s face deepened as his expression sagged. “seems you are a prophet, my boy.”

“Unless you help me. Maybe if you help me, I’ll be able to come back here and help you get out, too.”

“And what is it you want?”

“I want this collar off.”

A sly grin spread on Nathan’s face. “seems we share a common interest, Richard.”

“But the Sisters say I will die without it.”

The sly grin widened. They demand truthfulness from others, but rarely inconvenience themselves with it. The Sisters have their own agenda, Richard. There is more than one path through the woods.”

“The Sisters say I must learn to use my Han, in order to get it off. They don’t seem to be helping much in that.”

“It would be easier to teach a stump to sing than for a mere Sister to teach you to use your Han. You have Subtractive Magic. They can’t help you.”

“Can you help me, Nathan?”

“Perhaps.” Nathan sat down in his chair, leaning forward intently. “Tell me, Richard, have you ever read The Adventures of Bonnie Day?”

“Read it? It’s my favorite book. I read it until my eyes nearly wore the words off the pages. I’d love to meet the person who wrote it, and tell him how much I liked the book.”

A broad, childlike grin stole onto Nathan’s face. “You just have, my boy. You just have.”

Richard came forward from the back of the couch. “You! You wrote The Adventures of Bonnie Day?”

Nathan quoted a few passages, to prove his intimate knowledge. “I gave the book to your father, to give to you when you were old enough to read. You were just born, at the time.”

“You were there with the Prelate? She didn’t tell me that.”

“I doubt the truth occurred to her. You see, Ann doesn’t have the power to get into the Wizard’s Keep in Aydindril. I helped George get in, so he could get the Book of Counted Shadows. They have some very interesting books of prophecy there.”

Richard stared in astonishment. “seems we are old acquaintances, then.”

“More than acquaintances, Richard Rahl.” Nathan gave him a meaningful look. “My name is Nathan Rahl.”

Richard’s mouth dropped open. “You are my… great-great-something-or-other?”

Too many “greats” to count. I am nearly a thousand years old, my boy.” He waggled a finger in the air. “I have had an interest in you for a long time. You are in the prophecies.

“I wrote The Adventures of Bonnie Day for some of those who had potential. It is a book of prophecy, of sorts. A primer of prophecy, one you would be able to understand, so it would help you. It did help you, didn’t it?”

“More than once,” Richard said, still having trouble keeping his jaw up.

“Good. I’m pleased then. We gave the book to a few, special boys. You are the only one still alive. The rest died in “inexplicable” accidents.”

Richard finished the pear while he thought. He definitely didn’t like the part about Subtractive Magic. “so can you help me with using my power?”

Think, Richard. The Sisters have not given you pain with the collar, have they.”

“No. But they will.”