Temple of the Winds

Chapter 19

“This time,” Ann warned, “you had better let me do the talking. Understand?”

Her eyebrows drew so tight together Zedd thought they might touch. She leaned close enough that he could smell the lingering aroma of sausage on her breath. With a fingernail she tapped his collar—another warning, albeit a wordless one.

Zedd blinked innocently. “If it would please you, by all means, but my tales always have your best interest, and our purpose, at heart.”

“Oh, of course, and your clever wit is always a delight, too.” Zedd felt that her affected smile was overdoing it; the sardonic praise would have been quite enough. There were accepted customs to such things. The woman really did need to learn where the line was.

Zedd’s gaze again focused beyond her, to the problem at hand. He passed a critical eye over the inn’s dimly lit door. It was across the street and at the end of a narrow, board walk. Above the alleyway that ran between two warehouses hung a small sign: “Jester’s Inn.”

Zedd didn’t know the name of the large town they had come to in the dark, but he did know that he would have preferred to pass it by. He had seen several inns in the town; this wasn’t the one he would have chosen, had he a choice.

Jester’s Inn looked as if it had either been an afterthought meant to use available space in the back, or else its proprietors wanted to shelter it from the scrutiny of honest people and the critical eye of authority. From the customers Zedd had already seen, he was leaning in the direction of the second guess. Most of the men looked to be mercenaries or highwaymen. “I don’t like it,” he muttered to himself.

“You don’t like anything.” Ann snapped. “You’re the most disagreeable man I’ve ever met.”

Zedd’s eyebrows went up in true surprise. “Why would you say that? I’ve been told that I’m a most pleasant traveling companion. Do we have any of that sausage left?”

Ann rolled her eyes. “No. What is it you don’t like this time?”

Zedd watched a man look both ways before going to the door at the back of the dark alleyway. “Why would Nathan go in there?”

Ann looked over her shoulder, across the deserted street of rutted, frozen slush. She fingered a stray wisp of graying hair into the loose knot tied at the back of her head.

“To get a hot meal and some sleep.” She scowled back at Zedd. “That is, if he’s even in there.”

“I’ve shown you how to sense the thread of magic I used to hook the tracer cloud to him. You’ve felt it, felt him.”

“True enough,” Ann admitted. “Yet now that we finally catch him, and know that he’s in there, you suddenly don’t like it.”

“That’s right,” he said distantly. “I don’t like it.”

The scowl on Ann’s face lost its heat and turned serious. “What is it that bothers you?”

“Look at the sign. After the name.”

A pair of woman’s legs pointed up in the shape of a V. She turned back and peered at him is if he were daft.

“Zedd, the man has been locked up in the Palace of the Prophets for almost a thousand years.”

“You just said it: he’s been locked up.” Zedd tapped the collar, called a Rada’Han, around his own neck, the collar she had put on him to capture him and make him do her bidding. “Nathan is not inclined to be locked up in a collar again. It probably took him hundreds of years of planning, and the right turn of events, to get out of his collar and to escape. I dread to consider how that man may have influenced or even directly altered events through prophecy to bring to pass the turn of fate that allowed him the opportunity to get off his collar.

“Now you expect me to believe he would go in there just to be with a woman? When he has to know you’re chasing after him?”

Ann stared in stunned disbelief, “Zedd, are you saying that you think Nathan may have influenced events—prophecies—just to get his collar off?”

Zedd looked across the road and shook his head. “I’m just saying I don’t like it.”

“He probably wanted what’s in there enough that it distracted him from worrying about me. He simply wanted some female companionship, and ignored the dangers of being caught.”

“You have known Nathan for over nine centuries. I’ve only known him a short time.” He leaned down closer to her and lifted an eyebrow. “But even I know better than that. Nathan is anything but stupid. He is a wizard of remarkable talent. You make a serious mistake if you underestimate him.”

She watched his eyes a moment. “You’re right; it may be a trap. Nathan wouldn’t kill me to escape, but beyond that . . . You may be right.”

Zedd harrumphed.

“Zedd,” Ann said, after a long, uncomfortable silence, “this business with Nathan is important. He must be caught. He’s helped me in the past when we have discovered danger in the prophecies, but he is still a prophet. Prophets are dangerous. Not because they deliberately wish to cause trouble, but because of the nature of prophecy.”

“You don’t need to convince me of that. I know well the dangers of prophecy.”

“We have always kept prophets confined at the Palace of the Prophets because of the potential for catastrophe should they roam free. A prophet who wanted mischief could have it. Even a prophet who doesn’t wish mischief is dangerous, not only to others but to himself; people usually extract vengeance on the bringer of truth, as if knowing the truth is its cause. Prophecy is not meant to be heard by untrained minds, those having no understanding of magic, much less prophecy.

“One time, as we sometimes did at his request, we let a woman visit Nathan.”

Zedd frowned at her. “You took prostitutes to him?”

Ann shrugged self-consciously. “We knew the loneliness of his confinement. It wasn’t the most desirable solution, but yes, we brought him companionship from lime to time. We weren’t heartless.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

Ann glanced away from his eyes. “We did what we had to, by locking him in the palace, but we felt sorrow for him. It wasn’t his choice to be born with the gift of prophecy.

“We always warned him not to tell the women any prophecy, but one time he did. The woman ran screaming from the palace. We never knew how she escaped before we could stop her.

“She spread word of the prophecy before we could find her. It started a civil war. Thousands died. Women and children died.

“Nathan sometimes seems crazy, out of his senses. Sometimes he seems to me to be the most dangerously unbalanced person I’ve ever known. Nathan views the world not only by what he sees around him, but through the filter of prophecy that visits his mind.

“When I confronted him, he professed not to remember the prophecy, or having told the young woman anything. I only found out much later, when I was able to link several prophecies, that one of the children who died was a boy named in prophecy as one who would go on to rule through torture and murder. Untold tens of thousands would have died had that boy lived and grown into a man, but Nathan had choked off that dangerous fork in prophecy. I have no idea how much that man knows but won’t disclose.

“A prophet has the potential to just as easily cause great harm. A prophet who wished power would have a fair chance of ruling the world.”

Zedd was still watching the door. “So you lock them away.”

“Yes.”

Zedd picked at a thread on his maroon robes. He looked down at her squat form in the dim light. “Ann, I am First Wizard. If I didn’t understand, I wouldn’t be helping you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Zedd considered their options. There weren’t many. “What you are saying, if I understand you, is that you don’t know if Nathan is sane, but even if he is, he has the potential to be dangerous.”

“I guess so. But Nathan has often helped me to spare people suffering. Hundreds of years ago, he warned me about Darken Rahl, and told me of a prophecy that a war wizard would be born—that Richard would be born. We worked together to see to it that Richard would be safe from interference as he grew, so that you would have the time to help raise your grandson into the kind of man who would use his ability to help people.”

“For that, you have my gratitude,” Zedd offered. “But you put this collar around my neck, and I don’t like that one bit.”

“I understand. It’s not something I liked doing, nor am I proud of what I did. Sometimes, desperate need calls for desperate acts. The good spirits will have the final say on my actions.

“The sooner we get Nathan, the sooner I will take the Rada’Han from your neck. I don’t enjoy holding you prisoner by that collar and making you help me, but in view of the dire consequences should I fail to get Nathan. I do as I feel I must.”

Zedd aimed a thumb over his shoulder. “I also don’t like that.”

Ann didn’t look; she knew what he was pointing at. “What does a red moon have to do with Nathan? It’s most peculiar, but what does one have to do with the other?”

“I’m not saying it has anything to do with Nathan. I just don’t like it.”

With the thick clouds of the last few days, they had been slowed at night, both by the darkness and also by the difficulty of seeing the tracer cloud he had hooked to Nathan. Fortunately, they had been close enough to sense the link of magic without having to see the tracer cloud; the tracer cloud was only used to get its tracker close enough to sense the link.

Zedd knew they were very near to Nathan—within a few hundred feet. This close to the object of the trace, the link’s magic distorted Zedd’s senses, his ability to judge with the aid of his magic, his capacity to access his familiar ability with his gift. This close, his magic was like a bloodhound on scent, so concentrated on the object of its search that it disregarded anything else but the trail. It was an uncomfortable form of blindness, and another reason for his unease.

He could break the link, but that was risky before they actually had Nathan; once broken, it couldn’t be reestablished without physical contact.

The snow flurries of the last few days had slowed them and made the going cold and miserable. Earlier in the day the clouds had at last cleared away, even if they had left behind the bitter wind to vex them. They had been looking forward to the moonrise, and the light it would provide as they closed in on Nathan.

They had both watched in stunned silence when the moon had risen: It had risen red.

At first, they thought that it might be a lingering haze that was causing it, but with the moon well overhead, Zedd knew it was not being caused by some innocent atmospheric event. Worse, with the recent cloud cover, he didn’t know how long it had been since the moon had turned rid.

“Zedd,” Ann finally asked into the breeding silence, “do you know what it means?”

Zedd looked away, pretending to scan the shadows. “Do you? You’ve lived a lot longer than I. You must know something about such a sign.”

He could hear her fussing with her wool cloak. “You are a Wizard of the First Order. I would defer to your expertise in such matters.”

“You all of a sudden think my judgment worthwhile?”

“Zedd, let’s not joust with words about this. I know that such a sign is without precedent in my experience, but I do recall a reference to a red moon in an ancient text, a text from the great war. The book didn’t say what it meant, only that it brought great alarm.”

Zedd squatted in the shadow of the corner of the building they hid behind. He leaned his back against the clapboards and held a hand out in invitation. Ann sat beside him, deeper in the shadow.

“In the Wizard’s Keep there are dozens of libraries, huge libraries, most at least as large as the vault of books at the Palace of the Prophets, many a great deal larger. There are also many books of prophecy there.”

There were books of prophecy at the Keep that were considered so dangerous that they were kept locked behind the powerful shields protecting the First Wizard’s private enclave. Not even the old wizards who had lived at the Keep when Zedd was young were allowed to read those prophecies. Even though he had access to them after he became First Wizard, Zedd had not read nearly all of them; the ones he had read left him in sleepless sweats.

“Dear spirits,” he went on. “there are so many books at the Keep that I’ve not even read all the titles. There used to be staffs of curators for each library. Each knew the books in his section of the stacks. Long ago, well before my time, these curators were gathered when an answer was sought. Each knew his own books and could speak up if his particular books held information on the subject in question. In this way it was a relatively simple task to locate the reference volumes or prophecies that might help with the problem at hand.

“When I was very young, there were only two wizards left acting as curators. Two men could not begin to tap the knowledge held there. A plethora of information is held in those books, but finding a specific bit of it is a formidable challenge. The guidance of the gift is needed to even begin to narrow the search.

“Needing information from the libraries is like being adrift in the ocean and needing a drink of water. Information is in overabundance, yet you can die of thirst for it before you can locate it. When I was young, I was guided as to what were the more important books of history, magic, and prophecy. I mostly confined my studies to those books.”

“What about the red moon?” Ann asked. “What did the books you read say of it?”

“I only recall once reading about a red moon. What I read wasn’t very explicit, mentioning it only obliquely. I wish I had thought to inquire into the subject further, but I didn’t. There were other matters in the books that were of greater importance at the time and demanded my attention—matters that were real, and not hypothetical.”

“What did this book say?”

“If I recall correctly, and I’m not saying that I do, it said something about a breach between worlds. It said that in the event of such a breach, the warning would be three nights of a red moon.”

“Three nights. For all we know, with the clouds we’ve had, we could already have had our three nights. What if there were clouds all the time? The warning would be missed.”

Zedd squinted in concentration as he tried to recall what he had read. “No . . . no, it said that the one to whom the warning was directed would see all three nights of the warning—all three nights of the red moon.”

“What exactly is meant by such a warning? What kind of breach could there be between worlds?

“I wish I knew.” Zedd thumped his head of wavy white hair back against the wall. “When the boxes of Orden were opened by Darken Rahl, and the Stone of Tears came into this world from another, and the Keeper of the underworld was near to coming into our world through the breach, there was never a red moon.”

“Then, maybe the red moon doesn’t mean that there is a breach. Perhaps you recall it wrongly.”

“Perhaps. What I recall most vividly are my thoughts at the time. I remember picturing a red moon in my mind, and telling myself to remember such an image, and that if I ever saw it for real, I must remember that it was grave trouble, and I must at once search out the meaning of the sign.”

Ann touched his arm, an act of compassion she had never done before. “Zedd, we almost have Nathan. We’ll have him tonight. When we do, I’ll take the Rada’Han from your neck so that you can hurry to Aydindril and see to this matter. In fact, as soon as we have Nathan, we will all go. Nathan will understand the seriousness of this, and will help. We’ll go to Aydindril with you and help.”

Although Zedd didn’t like that this woman had insisted he come with her to capture Nathan, he had come to understand how afraid she was of what could happen with Nathan free, and that she needed his help. At times he had difficulty maintaining his indignation. He knew how desperate she was to keep the prophecies from being loosed along with Nathan.

Zedd knew how dangerous it could he if people were exposed to raw prophecy. He had been lectured since he was a boy on the dangers of prophecy, even for a wizard.

“Sounds like a worthwhile bargain to me; I help you get Nathan back, and you two help me find the meaning of the red moon.”

“A bargain, then—we work together willingly. I must admit, it will be a pleasant change of affairs.”

“Is that so?” Zedd asked. “Then why don’t you take this collar off me?”

“I will. Just as soon as we have Nathan.”

“Nathan means more to you than you have admitted.”

She was silent a moment. “He does. We have worked together for centuries. He can be trouble on two legs, but somewhere in all that bluster, Nathan has a noble heart.” Her voice lowered as she turned her head away. Zedd thought she wiped a hand at her eyes. “I care greatly for that incorrigible, wonderful man.”

Zedd peeked around the corner at the inn’s silent door.

“I still don’t like it,” he whispered. “Something about this is wrong. I wish I knew what it was.”

“So,” she finally asked, “what are we going to do about Nathan?”

“I thought you wanted to do the talking.”

“Well, I guess you have convinced me that we should be careful. What do you think we should do?”

“I’ll go in there alone and ask for a room. You wait outside. If I find him before he leaves, I’ll surprise him and put him down. If he comes out before I find him, or if something . . . goes wrong, you seize him.”

“Zedd, Nathan is a wizard; I’m only a sorceress. If he had his Rada’Han around his neck I could easily control him, but he is without it.”

Zedd mulled it over for a moment. They couldn’t take a chance on his getting away. Beyond that, Ann could be hurt. They would have a difficult time of finding Nathan again; once he knew they were onto him, he might figure out the tracer cloud and possibly unhook it. That was not likely, though.

“You’re right,” he said at last. “I’ll cast a web outside the door, so that if he comes out it will hobble him, and then you can snap that infernal collar around his neck.”

“That sounds a good idea. What sort of web will you use?”

“As you’ve said yourself, we can’t fail.” He studied her eyes in the dim light. “Bags! I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered. “Give me the collar for a moment.”

Ann searched under her cloak for the pouch at her waist. When her hand came out, the light of the red moon glinted dully off the Rada’Han.

“This is the same one he wore?” Zedd asked.

“For almost a thousand years.”

Zedd grunted. He took the collar in his hands and let his magic flow into the cold object of subjugation, let it mingle with the magic of the collar. He could feel he warm hum of the Additive Magic the collar possessed, and he could feel the icy tingle of its Subtractive Magic.

He handed back the collar. “I’ve keyed the spell to his Rada’Han.”

“What spell are you going to weave?” she asked in a suspicious tone.

He considered the resolve in her eyes. “A light spell. If he comes out without me . . . You will have twenty of his heartbeats to get that around his neck, or the light web will ignite.”

If she didn’t get the collar around his neck in time to extinguish the spell, Nathan would be consumed by it. Without the collar, there would be no escape for Nathan from such a spell. With it, he would escape the spell but then there would be no escape from her. A double bind. At that moment, Zedd didn’t much like himself.

Ann took a deep breath. “Someone else coming out won’t trigger it, will they?”

Zedd shook his head. “I will link it to the tracer cloud. The spell will recognize him and only him by that and that alone.”

His voice lowered in warning. “If you don’t get it around him in time, and it ignites, then others beside Nathan will be hurt or killed if they’re close enough. If you can’t get that around his neck for any reason, then you make sure you get away in time. He may prefer death over having that around his neck again.”