The Pillars of Creation (23 page)

Thinking out loud, Jennsen asked, “Could it be that we’re like this as a form of protection? There are animals that have special traits when they’re born that help them survive. Fawns, for example, have spots to hide them, to make them invisible to predators—make them holes in the world.”

Althea smiled at the notion. “I suppose that could be as good an explanation as any. Knowing magic, though, I would expect the reason to be more complex. Everything seeks balance. The deer and the wolves strike a balance—the fawns’ spots help them survive, but that threatens the existence of wolves who need food. Such things go back and forth. If the wolves ate all the fawns, then the deer would die out and the wolves, if they had no other source of food, would also die out because they had altered the balance between them and the deer. They coexist in a balance that allows both species to survive, but at the cost of some individuals.

“With magic, balance is critical. What on the surface may seem simple often turns out to have much more complex causes. I suspect that, with those like you, an elaborate form of balance is being struck, and that being a hole in the world is merely an ancillary indication.”

“And maybe some of the balance is that, like some fawns are caught despite their spots, some with the gift are able to see me? Your sister said you could see the holes in the world.”

“No, I can’t really. I simply learned a few tricks with the gift, in much the same way Adie did.” Jennsen frowned, feeling bewildered again, so Althea asked, “Can you see a bird on a moonless night?”

“No. If there’s not even a moon, it’s impossible.”

“Impossible? No, not entirely.” Althea pointed skyward, moving her hand as if suggesting something passing overhead. “You will see the stars go dark where the bird passes. If you watch the holes in the sky, you will in a way be seeing the birds.”

“Just a different way of seeing.” Jennsen smiled at such a clever notion. “So, that’s how you see those like me?”

“That comparison is the easiest way I can explain it to you. Both, though, have limitations. It only works to see the bird at night if they’re flying against a background of stars, if there are no clouds, and so on. With those like you, it’s much the same. I simply learned a trick to help me see those like you, but it’s very limited.”

“When you went to the Palace of the Prophets, did you learn about your ability for prophecy? Maybe that could somehow help with what I need to do?”

“Nothing in relation to prophecy would be of any use to you.”

“But why not?”

Althea tilted her head forward, as if to question whether or not Jennsen had been paying attention. “Where does prophecy come from?”

“Prophets.”

“And prophets are strongly gifted with that ability. Prophecy is one form of magic. But the gifted cannot see you with their gift, remember? To them, you are a hole in the world. Therefore, prophecy, since it comes through prophets, cannot see you, either.

“I have a wisp of ability for prophecy, but I am no prophet. When I was with the Sisters of the Light, since such things were one of my fields of interest, I spent decades in their vaults studying prophecy. They had been written down by great prophets throughout the ages. I can tell you both from personal experience, and from all that I read, that the prophecies are as blind to you as would be Adie. As far as the prophecies are concerned, your kind never existed, do not exist now, and never will exist.”

Jennsen sat back on her heels. “Hole in the world, indeed.”

“At the Palace of the Prophets, I met a prophet, Nathan, and, while I learned nothing about those like you, I learned some about my talent. Mostly, I only learned how limited it is. Eventually, the things I learned there came to haunt me.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Palace of the Prophets was created many thousands of years ago and is like no other place that I know of. A unique spell surrounds the entire palace and grounds. It distorts the way in which those under the spell age.”

“It changed you, then, in some way?”

“Oh, yes. It changes everyone. Aging is slowed for those living under the spell of the Palace of the Prophets. While those outside the palace went about their lives and aged roughly ten to fifteen years, those of us in the palace aged only one year.”

Jennsen made a skeptical face. “How could such a thing be?”

“Nothing ever stays the same. The world is always changing. The world back in the great war three thousand years ago was much different. The world has changed since then. When the great barrier to the south of D’Hara was put up, wizards were different. They had vast power, back then.”

“Darken Rahl had vast power.”

“No. Darken Rahl, as powerful as he was, was nothing compared to the wizards of that time. They could control powers Darken Rahl only dreamed of.”

“So, wizards like that, with that kind of vast power, all died out? There have been no wizards like them born since?”

Althea stared off as she answered in a grave tone. “Not since that great war has there been one like that born. Even wizards themselves have come to be born less and less often. But for the first time in three thousand years, one has again been born. Your half brother, Richard, is such a man.”

It turned out her pursuer was far more fearsome than Jennsen had given him credit for, even in her all too vivid imagination. Small wonder that her mother had been murdered and Lord Rahl’s men were so close on Jennsen’s heels. This Lord Rahl was altogether more powerful and dangerous than had been their father.

“Because this was such an epochal event, some of those at the Palace of the Prophets knew of Richard long before he was born. There was much anticipation over this one, this war wizard.”

“War wizard?” Jennsen didn’t like the sound of that.

“Yes. There was much controversy as to the meaning of the prophecy of his birth—even to the meaning of the term ‘war wizard.’ While at the palace, I had a chance on two brief occasions to meet the prophet I mentioned, Nathan. Nathan Rahl.”

Jennsen’s mouth fell open. “Nathan Rahl? You mean, a real Rahl?”

Althea smiled not only at the memory, but at Jennsen’s surprise. “Oh yes, a real Rahl. Commanding, powerful, clever, charming, and inconceivably dangerous. They kept him locked away behind impenetrable shields of magic, where he could cause no harm, yet he sometimes managed it. Yes, a real Rahl. Over nine hundred years old, he was, too.”

“That’s impossible,” Jennsen insisted before she had time to think better of it.

Friedrich, standing over her, harrumphed. He handed a steaming cup of tea to his wife and then passed one down to Jennsen. With the question in her eyes, Jennsen looked back at Althea.

“I am close to two hundred years old,” Althea said.

Jennsen just stared. Althea looked old, but not that old.

“In part, this business with my age and how the spell slowed my aging is how I came to have dealings with you and your mother when you were young.” Althea sighed heavily and took a sip of tea. “Which brings me back to the story at hand, to what you wanted to know—why I cannot help you with magic.”

Jennsen sipped, then glanced up at Friedrich, who looked about as old as Althea. “Are you that age, too?”

“No,” he gibed, “Althea robbed the cradle for me.”

Jennsen saw the looks that passed between them, the kind of intimate glances between two people who were close. Jennsen could see in the eyes of these two that they could read each other’s slightest expression. She and her mother had been like that, able to see thoughts in the slightest movement of the eyes of the other. It was the kind of communication she thought was facilitated not only through familiarity, but through love and respect.

“I met Friedrich when I returned from the Old World. I had aged only about the same as Friedrich. I had lived a much longer time, of course, but my body had not aged to show it because I had been under the spell of the Palace of the Prophets.

“When I came back, I became involved in a number of things, and one of them was how I might help those such as you.”

Jennsen hung on every word. “That’s when you met my mother?”

“Yes. You see, the spell at the palace, the spell that altered time, sparked an idea of how I might help those like you. I knew that regular means of casting webs—magic—around your kind never seemed to work out. Others had tried but failed; the offspring were killed. I struck on the idea, instead, to cast the web, not on you, but on those who came into contact with you and your mother.”

Jennsen leaned forward expectantly, feeling sure that she was finally getting to the core of what might prove to be the help she sought. “What did you do? What sort of magic?”

“I used magic to alter people’s perception of time itself.”

“I don’t understand. What did that do?”

“Well, the only way Darken Rahl could search for you was as I’ve explained—by using regular means. I tinkered with those regular means. I made it so that those who knew of you perceive time differently.”

“I still don’t understand. How—what—did you make them perceive? Time is time.”

Althea leaned forward with a cunning smile. “I made them think you were just born.”

“When?”

“All the time. Whenever they found out some thread of news about you, as a child fathered by Darken Rahl, they perceived you, and reported you, as newborn. When you were two months, ten months, four years, five years, six years old, they were all still looking for a newborn, despite how long they had known of you. The spell slowed their perception of time, in relation to you alone, so that they were always looking for a newborn baby, rather than a girl growing up.

“In this way, until you were six, I hid you right under their noses. That threw everyone’s calculations off by six years. To this day, anyone who suspected your existence would believe you to be around fourteen or so, when you are actually more than twenty, because they thought you were newborn when the spell ended, when you were six. That’s when they began to mark your age.”

Jennsen rose up onto her knees. “But that could work. You must only do it again. If you were to cast a spell like that for me now, like you did when I was little, it would work the same, wouldn’t it? Then they wouldn’t know I was grown up. They wouldn’t be hunting me. They would be looking for a newborn. Please, Althea, just do that again. Do what you did once before.”

From the corner of her eye, Jennsen saw Friedrich, now sitting at his bench in a back room, turn away. By the look on Althea’s face, Jennsen knew that she had somehow said the wrong thing, and precisely what the sorceress had planned on her saying.

Jennsen realized that this had been a trap of sorts, and she had just talked herself right into it.

“I was young and masterful in my skill with magic,” Althea said. In her dark eyes glimmered the spark of recollection of that grand time in her life. “In thousands of years, few had been through the great barrier and back. I had. I had studied with the Sisters of the Light, had audiences with their Prelate, and with the great prophet. I had accomplished such things as few others had. I was well over a hundred years old and still young, with a handsome and charming new husband who believed I could walk to the moon and back if the fancy struck me.

“I was well over a hundred years of age, yet still youthful, with a full life ahead of me; wise with age, yet still young. I was clever, oh so clever, and powerful in my gift. I was experienced, knowledgeable, and attractive, with many friends and a circle of people who hung on my every worldly pronouncement.”

With long graceful fingers, Althea pulled up the hem of her skirt, uncovering her legs.

Jennsen drew back at the sight.

She saw, then, why Althea had not stood before; her legs were withered, deformed, shriveled bones covered with a dry veneer of pallid flesh, as if they had died years ago, but never been buried because the rest of her was still living. Jennsen didn’t know how the woman could keep from screaming in constant anguish.

“You were six,” the sorceress said in a terribly calm and quiet voice, “when Darken Rahl finally discovered what I had done. He was a very ingenious man. Much more shrewd, as it turned out, than a young sorceress of a hundred-odd years in age.

“I only had time to tell my sister to warn your mother, before he caught me.”

Jennsen remembered running. When she was little, she and her mother had fled the palace. It had been night. It had been shortly after a visitor had come to their door. In the dark hall, there had been whispering. And then they had fled.

“But, he…he didn’t kill you?” Jennsen swallowed. “He showed you mercy—he spared your life.”

Althea chuckled without humor. It was an empty laugh at encountering a profoundly naive notion.

“Darken Rahl did not always believe in simply killing those who displeased him. He preferred, instead, that they should live a good long time; death would have been a release, you see. If they were dead, how could they regret, how could they suffer, how could they serve as an example to others?

“You cannot imagine, and I could not begin to tell you, the terror of such a capture, of the long walk to be taken before him, of what it was like being in the grip of that man, of what it was like to look up into his calm face, his cold blue eyes, and know you were at the mercy of a man who had none. You cannot imagine what it was like to know in that single terrible instant, that everything you were, everything you had, everything you had hoped for in life, was about to forever change.

“The pain was what you might expect, I suppose. Perhaps my legs can partly attest to it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jennsen whispered through her tears, hands pressed over her heartache.

“But the pain was not the worst of it. Not the worst by far. He stripped me of everything I had, but took for granted. He did to my power, to my gift, worse than he did to my legs. You just cannot see it—you are blind to it. Every day, I see it. That hurt, I assure you, you cannot begin to imagine.

“Even all that, though, was not enough for Darken Rahl. His displeasure at what I had done to hide you had only begun. He banished me here, to this sunken, foul place of hot springs and sickening vapors. He imprisoned me here, filling in about me a swamp with monstrosities created by the very power he had stripped from me. He wanted me close, you see. Several times he visited, just to behold me in my prison.