The pillars of creation

He watched as she sorted through her little pile of stones. She inspected several carefully before she found the one she wanted. She set the others to the side, apparently in some order she understood, though he thought they all looked the same.

She turned back to him and lifted the single stone up before his eyes. "You," she said.

"Me? What do you mean?"

"This stone represents you."

"Why?"

"It chose to."

"You mean that you decided it would represent me."

"No. I mean that the stone decided to represent you-or, rather, that which controls the stones decided."

"What controls the stones?"

He was surprised to see a smile spread on Althea's face. It grew to a dangerous grin. Not even Lathea had ever managed a look as chillingly malevolent.

"Magic decides," she hissed.

Oba had to remind himself that he was invincible. He gestured, trying to look unconcerned.

"What about the others? Who are they, then?"

"I thought you wanted to learn about yourself, not others." She leaned toward him with a countenance of supreme self-confidence. "Other people don't really matter to you, now do they?"

Oba glared at her private smile. "I guess not."

She rattled the single stone in her loose fist. Without looking away from his eyes, she cast the stone down at the board. Lightning flickered. The stone tumbled across the board, rolling to a stop out beyond the outer gilded circle. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"So," he asked, "what does it mean?"

Rather than answer, and without looking down, she scooped up the stone. Her gaze didn't move off his face as she rattled his stone again. Again, and without a word, she cast it at the board. Lightning flashed. Amazingly, the stone came to rest in the same place as it had the first time-not just close to the same place, but in the exact same place. Rain drummed against the roof as a stutter of thunder crackled through the swamp.

Althea quickly swept up the stone and cast it a third time, again accompanied by a flash of lightning, only this time the lightning was closer. Oba licked his lips as he waited for the fall of the stone that represented him.

Goose bumps ran up his arms as he saw the dark little stone roll to a stop in the same place on the board as it had the two previous times. The instant it had halted, thunder boomed.

Oba put his hands on his knees and leaned back. "Some trick."

"Not a trick," she said. "Magic."

"I thought you couldn't do magic."

"I can't."

"Then how are you doing that?"

"I told you, I'm not doing it. The stones are doing it themselves."

"Well, then, what's it supposed to mean about me when it stops, there, in that place?"

He realized that somewhere during the stone-rolling, her smile had gone away. One graceful finger, lit by the firelight, pointed down to where his stone lay.

"That place represents the underworld," she said in a grim voice. "The world of the dead."

Oba tried to look only mildly interested. "What does that have to do with me?"

Her big dark eyes wouldn't stop boring into his soul. "That's where the voice comes from, Oba."

Goose bumps flitted up his arms. "How do you know my name?"

She cocked her head, casting half her face in deep shadow. "I made a mistake, once, long ago."

"What mistake?"

"I helped save your life. Helped your mother get you away from the palace before Darken Rahl could find out that you existed and kill you.»

"Liar!" Oba snatched up the stone from the board. "I'm his son! Why would he want to kill me!"

She hadn't taken her penetrating gaze from him. "Maybe because he knew you would listen to the voices, Oba."

Oba wanted to cut out her terrible eyes. He would cut them out. He thought it best, though, if he found out more, first, if he gathered his courage, first.

"You were a friend of my mother?"

"No. I didn't really know her. Lathea knew her better. Your mother was but one young woman among several who were in trouble and a great deal of danger. I helped them, that's all. For that, Darken Rahl crippled me. If you choose not to believe the truth about his intentions toward you, then I leave it to you to please yourself with a different answer of your own devising."

Oba considered her words, checking them for any connection they might have to anything on his lists. He didn't find any links right off.

"You and Lathea helped the children of Darken Rahl?"

"My sister Lathea and I were at one time very close. We were both committed, each in our own way, to helping those in need. But she came to resent those like you, offspring of Lord Rahl, because of the agony it caused me to have tried to help. She could not bring herself to witness my punishment and pain. She left.

"It was a weakness on her part, but I knew she could not help having such feelings. I loved her, so I would not beg her to visit me, here, like this, despite how terribly I missed her. I never saw her again. It was the only kindness I could do her-let her run away. I would imagine she did not look kindly upon you. She had her reasons, even if they were misdirected."