There Comes A Prophet (11 page)

"There's nothing on it," she said. "Is this one of your jokes? Are you trying to distract me from never speaking to you again?"

With a sinking feeling, he realized this last piece of proof was itself unproven. He took a deep breath and prayed the old prisoner had not been deluded.

"The first keeper told me it appears blank so the wrong people won't discover its contents. It must be held over a fire, he said, that it will not burn, but the heat from the flame will reveal the words."

Orah stared at the blank scroll, running her fingertips over its surface as if touching the words would make them appear. Then she popped up and began to rush off.

"Where are you going?" Nathaniel called after her.

"To make a fire."

He laughed. "Well you might want to bring some wood with you."

She stopped, embarrassed, and returned the scroll to Nathaniel. Then the two gathered kindling and hurried back to the clearing.

***

By the time the fire was lit, it was twilight. The next task was to build a frame to hold the scroll. Nathaniel found four straight branches, each as long as his arm. While he whittled off their twigs, he sent Orah to fetch twine from his pack.

"What happened to your pack?" she said. "It looks like new."

He glanced up to find her stroking the leather.

"They cleaned it for my journey."

"And why would they do that?"

"The benefit of being a future vicar."

An edge came into her voice. "But you're never going to be a vicar."

"They don't know that, do they? Come on, now, I'm ready."

While he pressed two sticks together, Orah bound them with twine. They did the same with the second pair. Then, as he held them parallel, Orah slipped the scroll in between. He tested the frame to be sure it held fast. Finally, he and Orah squatted by the fire.

Until this moment, everything was just a story. If the parchment burned or no words appeared, he was lost. He looked at Orah and hesitated. She touched him on the arm and nodded.

Gripping the ends of the frame, he eased the parchment toward the fire.

They waited. The parchment did not burn, did not even blacken. But its surface was changing. Nathaniel watched spellbound until Orah noticed the wood beginning to smolder. He withdrew it and laid it on the ground within the glow of the fire.

At once, they were children again. There was no coming of age, no teachings, no Temple. On the surface of the parchment, words and a picture had appeared.

Nathaniel whispered as in a place of worship.

"The city, the symbol, the pass phrase and the rhyme."

Orah turned to him, her voice softened by the same awe. "What did you say?"

"The city, the symbol, the pass phrase and the rhyme. That's what the first keeper said would be on the scroll. Look." He pointed to the first word. "Adamsville. That's where the next keeper can be found."

Orah brightened. "Adamsville. I've heard of it. The man who owns the yarn store in Great Pond is married to a woman from there."

"Do you know where it is?"

"Not yet, but I can figure it out. What's next?"

"The symbol, which tells us how to find the keeper within the city."

Below the name of the city was a drawing of three identical objects, two side by side and a third behind and slightly above. Each was circular at the bottom but tapered toward the top, which ended in a dome.

"What is it?" Nathaniel said. "It looks like mountains, but mountains aren't that rounded. And what would mountains be doing in the middle of a city?"

He began to panic. He'd worried he might lack the courage to be a seeker, but he never thought he'd be stumped by a clue.

Orah laughed. "I know what it is."

He whirled toward her. "What is it? Tell me."

"Not now."

"Tell me now. Do you really know?"

"I'll tell when the time is right."

"Don't do this, Orah."

Sparks glimmered in her eyes, reflecting the firelight.

"And who was it had me believing all day that he was going to be a vicar?"

Nathaniel lowered his head. "I'm sorry. I thought it was for the best."

She reached out a finger and lifted his chin. "And much as it pains me to admit it, you may have been right. What comes next?"

"The pass phrase."

This part was obvious. It read: The first born says to tell you he is doing well, blessed be the true light. May the true light shine brightly upon him and disperse the darkness.

"When we find the second keeper, we greet him with the first phrase and he responds with the second. In that way, we'll know to trust each other."

Orah turned back to the parchment and read the next words aloud.

To the North, behind the rock face

To the East, towering o'er the lake

To the North, through forest of stone

To the East, the entrance shall be

She gaped at him.

"The rhyme," he said, "which will lead us to the keep."

"But it makes no sense. It's not even a proper rhyme."

As they concentrated, hoping to wring more meaning from the scroll, the words began to fade. In another moment, the parchment was blank.

Nathaniel kept staring, willing the words to return. Then he remembered the advice of the first keeper.

"Each scroll contains one verse of the rhyme. The keeper said: 'Don't try to make sense of the rhyme until you've received the final scroll. The rhyme must be whole to be understood.'"

When he glanced up, he saw twilight had faded and night was ascendant. The time for storytelling had ended.

In the darkness, under the stars, the burden of the seeker's reality came tumbling down upon him. He was a seeker, newly emerged after so many generations-a dream come true. And the mystery of the keep rested on his shoulders. Why then, in the darkness and under the stars, did he feel so small?

Pact of the Ponds

On the morning of the third day, Nathaniel awoke to a low-lying fog that soon burned off with the sun. They were on the road quickly, taking no pause for breakfast. As they entered more familiar terrain, his heart lightened. He'd been farther than ever from Little Pond and relished the return home.

He lifted his face to the sun and proclaimed his feelings aloud. "How good to be back. How wonderful to see our families again."

How reckless he'd been to rush off the week before. And how lucky it had ended so well. But when he glanced at Orah, her face had turned grim.

"We must learn," she said, "to never think that way again."

He stopped and faced her. "Why won't you let me enjoy our good fortune?"

"And what good fortune would that be?"

"We've challenged the vicars and returned unharmed."

He resumed walking with a hint of a swagger, but Orah cut him off.

"Unharmed, but not unburdened."

He sighed, heaving his shoulders up and down more dramatically than necessary.

"I know. But can't I have a few days to enjoy my homecoming before taking off to light knows where?"

"No, you can't. You promised the vicars you'd return in a week. The farther you get in that time, the better, because once they discover you've misled them, they'll come looking. And if they find you, you'll pray all you get is a teaching."

She was right; he knew she was right, but he tried to cling to the good feeling.

"But a few days won't-"

"Generations of keepers have died to preserve the secret. And you'd sleep late for a few days?"

"What would you have me do?"

"Leave tomorrow at first light."

First light tomorrow
. The thought devastated him.

"But I can't be ready by then."

She smiled at him. "While you've been daydreaming, I've been planning."

Nathaniel stayed quiet. When Orah was planning, there was no interrupting.

"We'll need provisions. Adamsville is just the first stop. We have no idea how far the next town is or how many towns there'll be thereafter. We'll need water skins for dry stretches, food for at least ten days. I have some coins, gifts from my grandfather. And warm clothing, a sharp knife, a hatchet. We can start as soon as we're home. Thomas will help. We'll gather supplies in small bunches, then store them in the Not Tree."

He considered it. Though it pained him to leave so soon, it was possible. Then another problem occurred to him.

"What about my father?"

"I've thought of that too. We'll make up a story."

"You mean lie?"

"A necessary story. No one in Little Pond has ever done what you did, go to the vicars and volunteer for a teaching. We'll tell everyone you so impressed the clerics that they decided to send you on a mission. But you don't know how long you'll be gone and were forbidden to say more."

"And they'll believe this?"

"We've been to Temple City, but neither of us has been taught. The time's been too short and we don't have the look of a teaching. They'll believe us or else how did we come to be back in Little Pond?"

Nathaniel nodded. He'd never lied to his father, but it would work. His father would let him go on a mission for the light and not worry-at least for the first week. As he stood there open-mouthed, Orah spun around and resumed her march.

"Come along," she called back. "We can make Little Pond by noon if we hurry."

***

Nathaniel was halfway down the path, when his father rushed out to embrace him. After they separated, his father held him at arm's length and looked deeply into his eyes.

"It's you, Nathaniel, my son and unchanged."

"There've been no teachings, not for myself and not for Orah."

Astonishment spread across his father's face.

"But how is this possible? When I got your note, I was sure all was lost, that the Temple would consume the both of you."

Nathaniel swallowed hard and chose his words carefully.

"When I arrived in Temple City, I realized I had no plan. It's the biggest place I'd ever seen. The people were all afraid, and there were deacons everywhere."

"It was a reckless thing to do. I'd have stopped you, if I could."

"That's why I didn't give you the chance."

"But how did you free Orah?"

"I went to the vicars and offered myself in her place. Well, they'd never seen such a thing. They were so impressed they thought I might serve the Temple in better ways than being taught. So they decided to send me on a mission for the light."

His father's eyes narrowed. He was a loyal child of light but did not trust the vicars. Nathaniel pressed on.

"I'm to go far away, seeking something of enormous significance to the Temple." That part at least was true. "I'll be gone for a long time, but don't know how long. I can't say more than that. We were forbidden to reveal details."

The light drained from his father's eyes. "Then I'm to lose you again. And maybe forever."

Nathaniel never considered the possibility. In seeking the keep, he'd thought only of the adventure and not the risk. For his father's sake, he stifled the thought.

"Of course not. It may take time, but I'll come back. And when I do, I'll be changed but only in ways that will make you proud."

His father watched him, digesting the words. Finally, his expression softened.

"I'm already proud of you Nathaniel, and that will never change."

***

Nathaniel arrived with a satchel of supplies-food, two water skins and a hatchet, enough to fill a third of a pack. He was eager to start the journey, but the talk with his father weighed on him. What if he was right? What if this
was
their last time together? Now he waited for Orah to ease his concern.

She arrived in a whirlwind, bearing a bag as big as his but fuller.

"I've brought most of what we need. I found Thomas and he agreed to fetch some twine, a pocketknife and two blankets. A bit more food and we'll be done."

Nathaniel sized up the bag on the ground next to his.

"I'm strong, but this might be too much for one person to carry."

Orah flashed a smile. "But not for two."

It took him a second to appreciate the implication.

"Orah of Little Pond!" He never addressed her that way, and it grabbed her attention. "There's no way you're coming with me, not a chance. I forbid it."

"Since when are we in the habit of forbidding each other?"

"You forbade me to become a vicar."

"That was different. You were about to make an awful choice to protect me."

"And I'm trying to protect you now."

"But I can't let you go without helping. I'm in your debt for rescuing me."

Nathaniel looked away, embarrassed. But he recalled his father's concern and was unwilling to place her at such risk.

"It's too dangerous. What do you suppose will happen if they catch us?"

"And if I stay, what do you suppose will happen when they find you've run off? They'll come back and have me for a teaching or worse. I've had a taste of their darkness and don't long for more. Besides, you can't get there without me."

"Why not?"

"Because only I know how to find the next keeper. I've figured out the way to Adamsville and know what the symbol means. I can get us there and you cannot. So it's settled."

Then to show her strength, she hoisted the satchels, one in each hand, and tossed them into the shelter.

***

Scarcely first light the next morning. Nathaniel watched Orah organizing her pack, noting how rapidly the puffs of white emerged from her lips. Why had she insisted on coming? Why had she abandoned her orderly world? To search for the elusive keep? Or to be with him? For years, she'd listened to his dreams, never believing they'd come to pass. And now they were about to leave Little Pond, maybe forever.

He was glad she'd come.

She'd exchanged her black skirt for pants tucked into lambskin boots. Both wore the woolen jackets common to the Ponds, which they'd need till midmorning for warmth. Soon lighter clothing would suffice, but they had to be prepared for the worst. How long would they be gone? If they needed these jackets when winter returned, they'd be gone a long time indeed.