Chainfire: Chainfire Trilogy Part 1

Chapter 32

“What are you reading that’s so absorbing?” Rikka asked as she used a shoulder to push the thick door closed.

Zedd grunted with displeasure before glancing up from the book lying open before him. “Blank pages.”

Through the round window to his left, he could see the roofs of the city of Aydindril spread out far below. In the golden light of the setting sun the city looked beautiful, but that appearance was but an illusion. With all the people gone, fleeing for their lives before the hordes of invaders, the city was no more than an empty, lifeless husk, like the shed skin of the cicadas that had recently emerged.

Rikka leaned toward him over the magnificent, polished desk and tilted her head to see better as she peered down at the book. “It’s not all blank,” she announced. “You can’t read something that is blank. You therefore must be reading the writing, not the blank places. You should try to be more accurate in what you say, if not more honest.”

Zedd’s frown darkened as his gaze rose to meet hers. “Sometimes what isn’t said is more meaningful than what is said. Did you ever think about that?”

“Are you asking me to keep quiet?” She set down a large wooden bowl containing his dinner. The steam drifting up carried the aroma of onions, garlic, vegetables and succulent meat. It smelled distractingly delicious.

“No. Demanding it.”

Through the round window to his right, Zedd could see the dark walls of the Keep soaring high up overhead. Built into the side of the mountain that overlooked Aydindril, the Wizard’s Keep was nearly a mountain itself. Like the city, it too was empty—with the exception of Rikka, Chase, Rachel, and himself. It wouldn’t be long, though, before there would be more people in the Keep. At last the Keep would once again have a family living in it. The empty halls would again ring with laughter and love as they once had when countless people called the Keep home.

Rikka contented herself with gazing around at the shelves in the round turret room. They were tilled with jars and jugs in a variety of shapes, and delicately colored glass vessels, some filled with ingredients for spells, and, in one case, polish for the desk, the ornately carved straight-backed oak chair, the low chest beside his chair, and the bookcases. Books in a variety of languages filled most of the space on the shelves. The corner cases with glassed doors held more of the tomes.

Rikka folded her arms as she leaned close and studied some of the gilded spines. “Have you actually read all these books?”

“Of course,” Zedd muttered. “Many times.”

“It must be boring being a wizard,” she said. “You have to do too much reading and thinking. It’s easier to get answers by making people bleed.”

Zedd harrumphed. “When a person is in agony they may be eager to talk, but they tend to tell you what they think you want to hear, whether it’s true or not.”

She pulled out a volume and thumbed through it before replacing it on the shelf. “That is why we are trained to question people by using the proper methods. We show them how very much more painful it is for them when they lie to us. If they understand the profoundly terrible consequences of lying, people will tell the truth.”

Zedd wasn’t really listening to her. He was concentrating on trying to figure out what the fragment of prophecy could mean. Every single possibility he came up with only served to further ruin his appetite. The steaming bowl sat waiting. He realized that she was probably hanging around, waiting for him to comment on dinner. Maybe she was waiting for a compliment.

“So, what’s to eat?”

“Stew.”

Zedd stretched his neck a bit to glance in the wooden bowl. “Where’s the biscuits?”

“No biscuits. Stew.”

“I know, stew. I can see that it’s stew. What I mean is where are the biscuits to go with the stew?”

Rikka shrugged. “I can get you some fresh bread if you’d like.”

“It’s stew,” he exclaimed with a scowl. “Stew calls for real biscuits, not bread.”

“If I had known you wanted biscuits for dinner I could have made you biscuits rather than the stew. You should have said something earlier.”

“I don’t want biscuits instead of stew,” Zedd growled.

“You change your mind a lot when you’re grumpy, don’t you?”

Zedd squinted at her with one eye. “You really are talented at torture.”

She smiled, turned on a heel, and strode regally out of the small room. Zedd thought that Mord-Sith must strut even when they were alone.

He went back to the book, trying to come at the problem from a different angle. He had only had time to read the passage again a couple of times when the latch on the door lifted and Rachel shuffled into the room carrying something in both hands. She used her foot to push the door closed.

“Zedd, you should put your book away, now, and have some supper.”

Zedd smiled at the child. She always made him smile. She was infectious that way.

“What have you got there, Rachel?”

She reached up and set the tin bowl on the desk, then stretched her arm out as she pushed it across the desk toward him.

“Biscuits.”

Flabbergasted, Zedd rose up a little from his chair to lean over and look in the tin bowl.

“What are you doing with biscuits?”

Rachel’s big eyes blinked at him as if it were the strangest question she had ever heard. “They’re for your supper. Rikka asked me to carry them for her. She had her hands full with a bowl of stew for you and one for Chase.”

“You shouldn’t help that woman,” Zedd said with a menacing scowl as he sat back down. “She’s evil.”

Rachel giggled. “You’re silly, Zedd. Rikka tells me stories about the stars. She makes pictures out of them and then tells a story about each picture.”

“Is that so. Well, sounds like a nice thing for her to do.”

With the light fading, it was getting hard to read. Zedd cast out a hand, sending a spark of his gift into the dozens of candles in the elaborate iron candelabrum. The warm light brightened the cozy little room, lighting the finely fit stone of the walls and the heavy oak beams across the ceiling.

Rachel grinned, her eyes glistening with both reflected points of candlelight and with wonder. She liked seeing him light candles. “You have the bestest magic, Zedd.”

Zedd sighed. “I wish you weren’t leaving me, little one. Rikka doesn’t appreciate my candle-lighting trick.”

“You will miss me?”

“No, not really. I just don’t want to be left alone with Rikka,” he said as he read the last bit again.

They will at first contest him before they plot to heal him. What could that mean?

“Maybe you could get Rikka to tell you some stories about the stars.” Rachel began looking sad as she came around the desk. “I’ll miss you something awful, Zedd.”

Zedd looked up from the book. Rachel held her arms out, wanting a hug. A smile overcame him as he scooped her into his arms. There were few things in life that felt as good as a hug from Rachel. She was a devotee of the hug, never putting less than her full enthusiasm into it.

“You have good hugs, Zedd. Richard has good hugs, too.”

“Yes he does.”

Zedd remembered being in that very room, so long ago, when his own daughter was about the same age as Rachel. She, too, would come to see him and want a hug. Now, all that he had left was Richard. Zedd missed him terribly.

“I will miss you, little one, but before you know it you will be back here with the rest of your family and then you will have brothers and sisters to play with instead of just an old man.” Zedd sat her on his knee. “It will be good to have all of you at the Wizard’s Keep with me. The Keep will be a joyful place, what with life in it again.”

“Rikka said that she will never have to cook again once my mother comes here.”

Zedd took a sip of lukewarm tea from a pewter mug on the chest beside him. “Did she now.”

Rachel nodded. “And she said that my mother would probably make you brush your hair.” She held out her hands, wanting to share a drink from his mug. He let her gulp tea.

Zedd cocked his head. “Brush my hair?”

Rachel nodded with a serious look. “It sticks all out. But I like it.”

“Rachel,” Chase said as he ducked in through the round-topped door way, “are you bothering Zedd, again?”

Rachel shook her head. “I brought him biscuits. Rikka said he likes biscuits with his stew and I should bring him a whole bowl full.”

Chase planted his fists on his hips. “And how is he supposed to eat his biscuits with ugly children sitting on his lap? You could scare his appetite right out of him.”

Rachel giggled as she hopped down.

Zedd glanced at the book again. “Are you all packed up?”

“Yes,” the big man said. “I want to get an early start. We’ll leave first thing in the morning, if that’s still all right with you.”

Zedd dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand as he studied the prophecy. “Yes, yes. The sooner you get your family back here, the better. We’ll all feel better having them here where we know they will be safe and you will all be together.”

Chase’s heavy brow drew lower over his intent brown eyes. “Zedd, what’s the matter? What’s wrong?”

Zedd looked up with a frown. “Wrong? Nothing. Nothing is wrong.”

“He’s just busy reading,” Rachel assured Chase as she hugged his leg and put her head against his hip.

“Zedd,” Chase said in a demanding drawl that said he didn’t believe a word of it.

“What makes you think something is wrong?”

“You haven’t eaten a thing.” Chase rested one hand on the wooden handle of a long knife at his belt and with the other caressed Rachel’s head of long, golden blond hair. The man probably had a dozen knives of various sizes strapped around his waist and to his legs. When he left in the morning he would add swords and axes to the knives. “That can only mean something is wrong.”

Zedd popped a biscuit in his mouth. “There,” he mumbled around the mouthful. “Satisfied?”

While Zedd chewed the warm biscuit, Chase leaned down and lifted the girl’s chin. “Rachel, go to your room and finish getting your things packed up. And I expect your knives to be cleaned and sharp as well.”

She nodded earnestly. “They will be, Chase.”

Rachel had had a hard life for one so young. For reasons that had always made Zedd suspicious, she’d been at the center of a variety of consequential situations. When Chase had taken the orphaned girl in to raise as his own daughter, Zedd himself had admonished the man to teach her to protect herself, to teach her to be like him so that she could defend herself and stay safe. Rachel adored Chase and eagerly learned all the lessons he taught her. With one of the smaller knives she carried, she could pin a fly to a fence post at ten paces.

“And I want you in bed early so that you will be rested,” Chase told her. “I’m not carrying you if you’re tired.”

Rachel gave him a puzzled look. “You carry me when I tell you I’m not tired.”

Chase cast Zedd a pained look before giving her a clearly feigned scowl. “Well, tomorrow you’re just going to have to keep up on your own.”

Rachel nodded seriously, unruffled by the man towering over her. “I will.” She looked at Zedd. “Will you come and kiss me good night?”

“Of course,” Zedd said with a smile of his own. “I’ll be in after a bit to tuck you in.”

He wondered if Rikka would stop by her room to tell her a story. It was heartwarming to think of the Mord-Sith telling a child stories about pictures made by the stars in the sky. Rachel seemed to have that effect on everyone.

Chase watched through the doorway as his daughter raced off down the broad rampart. Zedd had been gratified at the way she had taken to the Wizard’s Keep. In short order she had made it hers and was happily skipping through halls that were thousands of years old. She minded well and never strayed from the areas Zedd had warned her about. She was a child who understood danger. Out on the rampart, she looked completely at ease as she paused momentarily to gaze through a crenellation down at the city below before racing off again. It seemed to Zedd a wonder that such spindly legs could carry the child so swiftly.

After Chase was sure that she was safely on her way, he closed the heavy oak door and stepped closer to the desk. His size made the cozy room, a room that Zedd had always thought quite comfortable, seem rather cramped.

“Now, what’s the problem?”

The man wasn’t going to be satisfied until he knew more. Zed sighed and used a finger to spin the book around for the boundary warden to read.

“Take a look. You tell me.”

Chase glanced at the ancient book. He lifted a page to each side and briefly took a look before setting each page back down.

“Like I said, what’s the problem? It doesn’t look like there is much here to worry about.”

Zedd arched an eyebrow. “That’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a book of prophecy. It’s supposed to have writing in it—prophecy. You can’t have a book with no writing and have it still be a proper book, now can you? The writing is gone.”

“Gone?” Chase scratched a graying temple. “That doesn’t make any sense. How can writing be gone? It’s not like someone could steal the words right off the page.”

That was an interesting way to look at it—that someone had stolen the words right off the page. Having been a boundary warden most of his life—until the boundary came down a few years back—Chase was the kind of man who would suspect theft before anything else. Zedd hadn’t considered that possibility. His mind was already rushing down the unexplored dark alley of deliberation.

“I don’t know how the words could be gone,” he confided as he took a sip of tea.

“What is the prophecy about?” Chase asked.

“This happens to be a book of prophecy mostly about Richard.”

Chase looked completely calm, which of course meant that he was anything but. “Are you certain it used to have writing in it?” he asked. “If it’s old, maybe you just forgot that it had blank pages. After all, when you read a book you tend to recall the writing, not the blank pages.”

“True enough.” He set the pewter mug aside. “I can’t swear for certain that I remember it having writing in it, but I just don’t believe it was ever mostly blank. Now it is.”

Chase’s expression didn’t betray his feelings as he considered the mystery. “Well, I admit that it does sound strange—but is it really a problem? Richard never was one for prophecy; he wouldn’t have heeded them anyway.”

Zedd rose up and stabbed a finger at the book, tapping insistently. “Chase, this book has been here in the Keep for thousands of years. For thousands of years it’s had writing prophecy in it. I’m sure of it. Now it’s suddenly blank. Does that sound trivial to you?”

Chase shrugged as he hooked his thumbs in his back pockets. “I don’t know, Zedd. I’m no expert in such things. I think the day that you have to come to me for answers about books of prophecy is the day you’re in big trouble. You’re the wizard, you tell me.”

Zedd put his weight on his hands as he leaned toward the man.

“I can’t recall anything that used to be in this book. I can’t recall anything about the blank places in all the other books of prophecy that have missing text.”

Chase’s expression turned grim. “There are others with blank places?”

Zedd nodded as he smoothed back his hair. He gazed in the darkening window, trying to see himself reflected, but he couldn’t, yet—it was still too light outside.

“Does my hair need to be brushed?” He looked back at Chase. “Does it stick out too much?”

Chase cocked his head. “What?”

“Never mind,” Zedd muttered with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The point is, I’ve discovered blank places in a number of books of prophecy and I’m baffled by it.”

Chase shifted his weight and folded his arms. His brow bunched. He was beginning to look seriously concerned, which on Chase meant that he looked like he thought he might need to slaughter large numbers of people.

“Maybe I’d better stay for now. We don’t have to leave tomorrow. We can wait until you find out if there is some sort of trouble at hand.”

Zedd sighed, beginning to wish that he wouldn’t have mentioned any thing. This wasn’t really a problem for Chase. Zedd shouldn’t have gotten the man all worked up over something he wouldn’t understand or could do anything about. It was just that it was so blasted odd.

“That isn’t necessary. This kind of trouble isn’t likely to need to have you strangle it into submission. It’s an entirely different kind of problem. This is book trouble. I don’t want to burden you with worry. It’s my area and I’m sure I’ll figure it out sooner or later. I only wondered what you might think of such a thing. Sometimes it helps to have a fresh view.”

Chase waggled a finger over the book. “Well, what does that last part mean? That first contest him before they plot to heal him part? You said it was prophecy about Richard. That sounds like trouble—like someone is going to plot against him.”

“No, not necessarily.” Zedd wiped a hand across his mouth as he tried to think of a way to explain it. “The word plot in prophecy often means nothing more sinister than to ‘lay out a plan.’ Like plotting a course of action, you might say. In this case, the passage was talking about those who are his closest advisors, his allies, so when it talks about plotting to heal him, it most likely means that they must first convince him that he needs their help and then once they are able to convince him, these allies—that would most likely be some of us—are going to set about planning a way to heal him.”

“Heal him from what?”

“It doesn’t say.”

“So then it isn’t serious.”

Zedd gave the boundary warden a meaningful look. “I believe that may be the part that is blank.”

“Then it is serious. Richard is in trouble. He needs help. Maybe he’s hurt.”

Zedd shook his head unhappily. “In my experience prophecy is rarely so overt.”

“But that could be the case.”

Zedd appraised the man for a moment. “We’re a long way from needing to dream up things to worry about. In addition, the chronology of prophecy is always troublesome. For all I know, the part we’re discussing could have already happened. It could, for instance, be talking about a time Richard had a fever as a child and I had to find the proper herbs to heal him.”

“Then it just as well could be past history.”

Zedd turned up his palms in frustration. “It could be. Without the missing text—or knowing a lot more about prophecy than I do—it’s probably impossible to put this in the context of his life.”

Chase nodded but then stepped out of the way as the door opened and Rikka swept into the room. She reached out to take the bowls, but paused when she saw they were still full.

“What’s the matter? Why haven’t you eaten?” When Zedd waved a hand as if trying to swish the issue away, she looked over her shoulder at Chase. “Is he sick? I thought he would have scraped the bowl clean by now and licked the smell off the ceiling. Maybe we had better think of a way to make him eat.”

“See what I mean about plotting?” Zedd said to Chase. “It could be no more serious than that.”

Rikka surveyed Zedd’s face for a moment, as if checking for any overt signs of insanity, then turned her attention to Chase. “What is he jabbering about?”

“Something about books,” Chase told her.

She turned a growing glare on Zedd. “Well, after all the trouble I went to fixing you this meal, you are going to sit right down and eat it. If you don’t, then I’ll feed it to the worms in the midden heap, instead. Then, when you get hungry later and come to me complaining, you will only have yourself to blame. You’ll get no sympathy from me.”

Startled, Zedd blinked at her. “What? What did you say?”

“I’m going to feed it to the worms if you don’t . . .”

“Bags!” Zedd snapped his fingers. “That’s it!” He held his arms out to her. “Rikka, you’re a genius. I could hug you.”

Rikka straightened defiantly. “I prefer to accept your adoration from afar.”

Zedd wasn’t listening to her. He rubbed his hands together as he tried to remember exactly where it was that he’d seen the reference. It had been ages ago. But how long ago, exactly? And where?

“What is it?” Chase asked. “Have you solved the puzzle?”

Zedd’s mouth twisted with the effort of thought. “I recall reading a reference to such an event. I remember seeing some kind of exegesis.”

“A what?”

“An explanation. An analysis of this issue.”

“So then it is some—book thing.”

Zedd nodded. “Yes, exactly. I just need to remember where it was that I saw the passage. It was about worms.”

Chase cast a sidelong glance at Rikka before he scratched his head of thick, graying brown hair. “Worms?”

Zedd dry-washed his hands as vague recollections ghosted through his mind. Those shadowy memories were real, he was sure of it, but despite his frantic effort to grasp them and pull them into the light of consciousness, they remained just out of reach.

“Zedd, what are you talking about?” Rikka asked. “What did you say? Worms?”

“What? Oh, yes, that’s right. Worms. Prophetic worms. It was some kind of evaluation, I think, examining if such a thing might be able to erode prophecy.”

Chase and Rikka stared at him as if he were crazy but said nothing.

Zedd paced from the table to the corner bookcase and back. He pushed the heavy oak chair aside with a foot as he walked back and forth, thinking. He ran through a list of places that might have a book that would contain such a reference. There were libraries all over the Keep. There were thousands of books in those libraries—maybe tens of thousands. If he had even seen the reference at the Wizard’s Keep. He had visited any number of libraries in other places. There were a number of archives in the Confessors’ Palace, down in Aydindril. There were palaces on Kings Row, also in Aydindril, that contained extensive collections of books. There were any number of cities that Zedd had visited with repositories and archives. There were so many books, how was he to remember one he hadn’t seen for ages—perhaps since he was young?

“What, exactly, are you talking about?” Rikka asked when she tired of watching him pace. “What explanation are you talking about?”

“I’m not sure, yet. It was a long time ago. Had to be. Had to be when I was young. I will remember, I’m sure of it. I just have to give it some thought. Even if it takes all night, I will remember where I saw the passage. I wish I had my reason chair,” he muttered as he turned away.

Rikka frowned at Chase as she kept an eye on Zedd as he paced. “His what?”

“Back in Westland,” Chase said in a low voice, “he had a chair on his porch where he would sit and think—where he would reason out problems. That was back when everything started, when Darken Rahl came and tried to capture him and Richard. They fled just in time. They came to me and I led them through a gap to the boundary.”

“Seems to me that there are chairs enough around here. He’s practically tripping over that one, there.” Rikka’s mouth twisted with exasperation. “Besides, a person doesn’t need a chair to make their brain work. At least, if they do, they have bigger problems.”

“I suppose.” Together with Rikka, Chase watched Zedd pace for a while. Finally, not being one to stand around, he caught the sleeve of Zedd’s robes. “I guess I’d better go see to Rachel while you work out your solution. I want to make sure she gets her things together and gets to bed.”

Zedd swished a hand, urging the man on his way. “Yes, you’re right. Go ahead. Tell her I will come to kiss her good night after a while. I just need to think on this a bit.”

Once he was gone, Rikka leaned a leather-covered hip against the heavy desk and folded her arms under her breasts. “Are you saying that the words of prophecy vanishing was caused by some kind of worm, like a bookworm that eats the paste or the paper?”

“No, it eats the words, not the paper.”

“Then it’s—what? Some kind of tiny little worm that eats ink?”

Annoyed at the interruption, Zedd halted his pacing to stare at her. “Eats—? No, no, not in that way. This is something of magic. A tricky little twist of something clever. If I recall correctly it was referred to as a prophetic worm because it could eat away at the branches of prophecy, much like wood bore worms eat away at a tree. It starts with related prophecy, either in subject or in chronology, like wood bores might infest a particular branch. Once established this kind of worm begins eating away the tree of prophecy. In this case, the branch is the one having to do with the time since Richard was born.”

Rikka looked genuinely fascinated and at the same time distraught. She straightened and tilted her head toward him. “Really? Magic can do such a thing?”

Zedd, holding his elbow in one hand and his chin in the fingertips of the other, made a low sound deep in his throat. “I think so. Maybe. I’m not sure.” He heaved an impatient, irritable sigh. “I’m trying to remember. I only saw the reference once. I can’t recall if it was a theory I read or if it was the spell itself, or if it was only a suggestion in a book of records, or if it—Wait . . .”

He stared up at the beamed ceiling as he squinted with the effort of recollection. “It was before Richard was born, I’m sure of that much. I remember that I was a young man. That would mean that it had to be when I was here. That much makes sense. And if I was here . . .”

Zedd’s head came back down. “Dear spirits.”

Rikka leaned in. “What? Dear spirits what?”

“I remember,” Zedd whispered, his eyes going wide. “I remember where I saw it.”

“Where?”

Shoving his sleeves higher up his bony arms, Zedd headed for the door. “Never mind. I will see to it. You just go about your patrolling, or some thing. I’ll be back later.”