The Prophecy of the Gems (8 page)

“Of course.”

Jean Losserand led the unexpected visitors to an adjoining room, where he invited them to sit down in some very worn, red velvet armchairs. He fussed around them, offering them biscuits, preparing mint tea for them, all the while studying them intently. Their clothes seemed quite ordinary, of good quality but not luxurious. In all other respects, however, the three girls were most unlike one another. When he looked into Amber’s face, he seemed troubled, and his left hand began to shake the way it always did when he was overcome with emotion. Amber noticed that he had trouble setting the teapot down on a low table, and she served the mint tea for him, pouring it into chipped china cups.

“Thank you,” he murmured gratefully. “And now, tell me what I can do for you.”

“It’s a long story,” replied Jade.

Then she quietly and carefully inspected their surroundings. Taking a sip of steaming hot tea, she spilt some on her trousers. Her sumptuous attire had been attracting unwelcome stares of amazement from the citizens of Nathyrnn, and Amber had finally convinced her to agree, albeit reluctantly, to sell her dress and some of her precious jewellery. Jade had used some of the money to buy more suitable clothing, and Amber had used a few small copper coins from her black velvet purse to purchase a simple outfit, because even her peasant clothes had been attracting attention. She had also washed her face at a public fountain to get rid of the smudges of dirt, straw, and tears. She felt better, refreshed, even though she was exhausted; their communication with the Stones had sapped all her energy. She nibbled a biscuit unenthusiastically. She was relieved to have arrived at last at Jean Losserand’s shop, which had been hard to find in the dark and narrow street. Amber had regretfully concluded that she did not like Nathyrnn: the people appeared surly and uncommunicative and the streets were too quiet, without many shops. Everything was shabby and
deserted. She felt reassured to be in the bookshop, with this man who seemed friendly and attentive. She had observed him closely, as was her habit. He was impressively tall, but his shoulders drooped a little, as if he carried a heavy burden. Amber guessed that he was between thirty and forty years old. His face was stamped with wisdom and kindness, yet his eyes expressed a kind of resigned despair and regret.

“Explain how I can help you,” he repeated. “Who are you? What are you doing in Nathyrnn?”

He seemed to be speaking to Amber, but it was Jade who replied.

“We come from the area around the palace of Divulyon, and we are here to see you. We were able to enter Nathyrnn thanks to a brilliant lie Opal told.”

Jade jerked her chin at Opal with a hint of disdain, and Opal returned the favour with an icy look.

“We know you are on our side,” continued Jade, “and we have enemies in common.” In a low voice, she added, “It seems the Council of Twelve are meeting to talk about us. And what they have to say is not good…”

“If you are enemies of the Council of Twelve, then welcome to Nathyrnn. This city is really a prison
where those who have visited Fairytale are held captive,” explained Jean Losserand.

“We don’t have any idea why the Council is concerned with us,” confided Amber, “and we have enemies whose identity we don’t even know. Just today Opal received a terrifyingly powerful telepathic message that was full of evil. Do you know who could have done this?”

“Only members of the Council of Twelve know how to practise telepathy. In Fairytale, of course, many magicians can perform it as well, but they could never have sent a message from such a great distance.”

“Then the Council of Twelve really is against us,” observed Jade. “I can’t believe it. I’ve never heard anything bad about the Council of Twelve. My own father was chosen to govern a territory and was made a duke by the council. He obeys the laws and the orders of those twelve old men.”

Seeing Jean Losserand’s puzzled expression, Jade explained herself.

“I am Jade of Divulyon. I shouldn’t really tell you this, but I trust you. I found out just recently that I’m not the duke’s daughter after all, and I’ve been driven from the palace.”

The bookseller was beginning to understand. So, the rumours already circulating in Fairytale ten years before had been well-founded. All his doubts about Amber suddenly became certainties. He had recognised her — she was indeed who he thought she was. He had studied every feature of her face, and everything confirmed his suspicions. Jean Losserand was filled with joy:
she
was alive! The sun rose in his heart, as hope and an infinite love of life flooded back into his soul, and he told himself once more:
She is alive!
He was burning to shout out those wondrous words, but he knew that he must not, and managed to hold his tongue.

Meanwhile, Jade was looking in her bag for the paper on which she had drawn the symbol. When she finally found it, she gave it to Jean Losserand, who examined it with interest.

“What is it?” asked Jade breathlessly. “Can you understand it?”

“It’s a sign written in one of the ancient languages of Fairytale,” he said immediately.

“Really!” exclaimed Amber. “And what does it mean?”

“It’s rather complicated — it concerns wisdom and the power to read what is hidden deep within the heart, but at the same time, the symbol can be read as a name: Oonagh.”

“Oonagh?” repeated Amber, instantly enchanted by the lilting sound of the name.

“Oonagh is someone who lives in Fairytale,” continued the bookseller, “someone whose people have been largely decimated by the Council of Twelve. Oonagh is a magic creature renowned for her wisdom, and she can read the secrets of the heart. She is spoken of with the greatest respect.”

“Oonagh lives in Fairytale!” breathed Amber, her imagination catching fire.

“Yes, in a crystal grotto.”

“I think we’ll have to go and visit this Oonagh,” observed Jade. “But tell us a little about Fairytale. I thought it was a legend.”

“Not at all,” Jean Losserand assured them. “I really did go there.”

“Well, so — what’s it like, this place?” asked Jade.

“I’ll tell you everything I know. But, most importantly, to be able to cross the magnetic field
surrounding Fairytale, you must believe wholeheartedly in the impossible. You girls are no longer naïve children trusting in fantasy, so this may be difficult for you.”

“I’ll manage it,” said Jade haughtily, because she couldn’t conceive of anything in the world that she would not be able to do.

“Who lives in Fairytale?” asked Amber. “Damsels in distress, knights in shining armour, wizards?”

“Among others. A long, long time ago, when the Council of Twelve did not yet have the power it wields now, hundreds of people with magic powers lived freely in the world. Human beings were merely one of many advanced species, and everyone respected their mutual differences. Yet despite the many advances humankind had made — technological progress, huge towering cities, travel to the stars — the Council of Twelve was fearful of the immense power these kindly magical creatures held. The council gained power by sowing hatred in men’s hearts against the other races. Gradually, by abusing the trust of those peoples who were so different from us, the council succeeded in destroying them. It was a lawless time, and a shameful one, too.”

A shadow of fear passed over Amber’s gentle face.

“What happened next?” she asked haltingly. “Why didn’t anyone rise up and try to save them?”

“No one really understood what was going on. People trusted their neighbours and were used to living in harmony. It all happened in confusion and secrecy. Finally, the magic creatures, who were peaceful beings, decided to avoid further bloodshed. Their survivors withdrew into a distant land, rich and fertile but far from civilisation. There they combined their powers and created magnetic fields to protect themselves. Thus was born Fairytale, which has now become a prosperous country of entrancing beauty, where humans and creatures endowed with supernatural powers live side by side with the same tolerance as before. Unfortunately, evil does rage there as well. Wherever there is life, there cannot be only goodness. But at least the Council of Twelve is unable to impose its law there. It is a free place.”

“That story is so beautiful,” murmured Amber, deeply moved.

“Yes,” said Jade matter-of-factly. “Is Fairytale far from here?”

“No, it’s actually very nearby,” replied Jean Losserand. “Nathyrnn marks the limit of the dukedom of Divulyon. The border is less than fifteen minutes away, but heavily guarded. Few succeed in crossing it. And just beyond lie the magnetic fields surrounding Fairytale.”

“That close?” cried Jade. “Then it will be quite easy to get there.”

“No, it won’t. To begin with, you need an exit pass to leave Nathyrnn. Then comes the hardest part: crossing the border.”

“Getting out of Nathyrnn shouldn’t be a problem: Opal thought up a very plausible lie,” remarked Jade acidly. She was still disgruntled at failing to win over the Knight of the Order herself.

“Yes,” agreed Amber enthusiastically — “Tell him, Opal!”

Reluctantly, Opal did.

“Some instinct led me to say that I was working for the Council of Twelve,” she related in an indifferent voice. “I was suddenly convinced that the telepathic message had come from them. I knew, I sensed, that we were their enemies.”

At these words, Jean Losserand shivered.

“It is true that for a message to be sent telepathically, the mind of the person sending the message is linked to the mind of the person receiving it. However, that does not mean that they can read each other’s thoughts,” he said. “Unless — unless the purpose of the message is to instil fear or inflict pain.”

There was an uneasy silence.

“The voice also spoke of a prophecy,” said Amber faintly. “And an enormous book covered with blood. Do you know what that’s all about?”

Jean Losserand weighed his words carefully, afraid of revealing what it was vital to conceal. Before he replied, he considered Amber for a moment, with her sweet face and kind eyes.

“The Prophecy
was written centuries ago by a philosopher named Néophileus, who was a member of a strong and unconquerable fairy race called the Clohryuns. Néophileus had the gift of seeing into the future, and he had a premonition that many of his kind would be destroyed, a few hundred years later, by the Council of Twelve. Unfortunately, no one believed him, because everyone thought that they had learnt to live in peace for ever.”

The three girls were transfixed by his words: Jade’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, Amber’s reflected interest and understanding, while Opal’s remained inscrutable.

“Néophileus also felt that a day would come when times would change and the world would be transformed. He foretold that there would be a deep disturbance of some kind but, for the first time in his life, his powers failed him, and he was unable to make out any details.”

“I don’t understand,” said Amber.

“In other words, at a certain place on the curve of time, the future was unclear to Néophileus. He saw that instead of following a single, distinct line, the future divided at that particular point into several paths. Only one path would be taken, and all of humanity would follow a course that would change the world as we know it. And so, Néophileus wrote
The Prophecy.
”

Jean Losserand stopped. He had said enough.

“We absolutely must go to Fairytale to consult Oonagh,” said Amber. “How can we cross the border of Divulyon?”

“I don’t know what to advise you,” confessed the bookseller. “When I went to Fairytale, the border
existed only in theory. Now, it’s quite a different matter.”

“We’ll get across,” said Jade confidently.

“How?” insisted Amber.

“I cannot help you,” replied Jean Losserand, “but go and see a young man called Adrien of Rivebel. He is only sixteen, but he has already spent three years in Nathyrnn’s dungeons. And he has just been set free.”

“But why was he locked up?” cried Amber.

“This young man lived in Fairytale, where he was born the son of a noble family of knights. When he was thirteen, Adrien wanted to explore the outside world, so he left his homeland. The Knights of the Order seized him at the border of Divulyon and threw him in prison.”

“That’s not fair!” exclaimed Amber.

“Of course not,” agreed Jean Losserand. “But rumour has it that he isn’t like the other prisoners. Locking him away hasn’t broken his spirit at all. In fact, people say that he’s indomitable and that the bars of his cell, far from destroying him, have toughened him instead. He has been condemned to spend his life here, in this grim and hopeless city, yet everyone is saying that he’s trying to incite a rebellion to liberate the citizens of Nathyrnn.”

“I love rebellions!” crowed Jade. “What a good idea.”

“Unfortunately, it’s impossible,” sighed the bookseller.

“No,” said Amber. “Nothing is impossible.”

Jean Losserand smiled sadly. He no longer had the heart to even dream of the impossible.

“Go and see Adrien of Rivebel,” he repeated. “Perhaps he can help you.”

Jade tossed back a stray black lock of hair and said, “We don’t need any help, but we’ll go and see this Adrien of Rivebel. Nathyrnn must be liberated.”

“I’m telling you, it’s impossible,” groaned the bookseller.

“Your mother is waiting for you, Mr Losserand,” replied Jade, “and I promised to send her news of you. The best thing would be if you took it to her yourself, don’t you think?” And she added defiantly, “Nothing is impossible!”

AMBER HAD EXPECTED
to see a charming prince straight out of a fairy tale, gallant and poetic, but Adrien looked more like a young knight with hard, chiselled features. He seemed thoughtful and self-possessed, and only his dark eyes revealed the courage and fire that burnt inside him. His tousled chestnut hair added to the aura of brooding mystery which surrounded him. Adrien knew how to feign indifference and disguise his deepest feelings: that was what had enabled him to withstand those three years of prison. He had not committed any crime, but rather than allowing himself to be overcome by fury, he had survived by holding on
to the knowledge that his conscience was clear. Realising that anger was useless, he had ignored it, even though in his heart he cried out for justice. Now that he was free again, he had let his true nature reassert itself. He had planned the revolt of Nathyrnn down to the last detail, and now he was seeking allies to join his cause. He was sure that his plan would succeed, but he had yet to find anyone who could help him carry it out. Almost all the inhabitants of Nathyrnn had been “broken”, either by prison, or simply by habit and submission. There were not many left who held on to their hopes and dreams. Only a few approved of Adrien’s revolt, but even they did not dare to join him. They were not won over — yet.