The Omen Machine

CHAPTER 21

Everyone inched forward, eager to finally hear what none of them had ever heard before: real prophecy from one of the books of prophecy.

Kahlan looked back over her shoulder at the grim sorceress who had been quietly observing. All eyes went to the woman, who possessed powers most of these people had never seen unleashed and could not imagine. Nicci’s unapproachable beauty, and her icy-cold confidence, only added to the air of danger about her.

“Nicci, would you please bring the book you have with you and read the prophecy we recently discovered that speaks to the issue of our immediate future and the role that all these people here today have to play in it?”

Nicci bowed her head. “Of course, Mother Confessor.”

The woman’s smoldering, silken voice only confirmed her displeasure with what she had heard from those gathered. While everyone was excited by the gravity of what they were witnessing, and by the prospect of hearing real prophecy that was rarely uttered outside of tightly guarded rooms, they were also cautious of the menace that Nicci represented. While Cara was intimidating enough, Nicci was a forbidding presence on a whole other level. In her revealing black dress she looked every bit of her former persona of Death’s Mistress, a title everyone in the room knew even if not one of them ever mentioned it except perhaps in whispered gossip among themselves.

Their desire to hear prophecy, though, overwhelmed their concern. No one looked like they wanted to change their mind.

“Please read to these good people exactly what it says.” Kahlan shot a glare out at the crowd. “Don’t hold anything back. I’m afraid that they have made it quite clear that they want prophecy to be revealed to them just as it has been laid down, and they want it to be followed.”

“You did your best to warn them, Mother Confessor.”

Kahlan nodded. “So I did.”

Nicci picked the book up off the table. She held it in the crook of her arm as she stepped up beside Kahlan. She wasn’t smiling. There was something about her posture, her cool expression, that made most everyone watching unconsciously retreat a half step from the dais.

“What I have here,” Nicci said, briefly lifting the book for them to see, “is a core book of prophecy, written by a renowned prophet from an age when the gift of prophecy was at its height. As all of you suspected, it contains dark prophecy of the most serious nature that has direct relevance for us all in this room.”

Everyone inched closer again.

Nicci opened the book, holding it in one hand, about to read, but then looked up again. “Since this is such an ancient text, it is in High D’Haran, the language of that time. Do any of you speak High D’Haran?”

Most people shook their heads as they looked around to see if anyone else could understand the ancient, nearly forgotten language. No one could, of course. Richard had learned it, but other than him, there were only a handful of people left alive who understood High D’Haran. Nicci was one of them.

“Well,” Nicci said with a cool smile, “I am fluent in High D’Haran, so I will translate what it says here for you, rather than speak the prophecy in its original language, if that’s all right with everyone.”

“Well of course we want it translated,” Queen Orneta snapped as she folded her arms again, sounding like she was scolding a lowly servant. “Just get on with it.”

Nicci’s cold blue eyes turned to the queen in a way that made the queen lose a little color.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

Kahlan wished she had a voice as soft, as silken, as beautiful as Nicci’s. The woman’s voice fit her perfectly. It was as flawless and arresting as everything else about her. It also had that rare quality that, while it was usually painfully alluring, with the slightest change in pitch it darkened to deadly.

Nicci carefully, slowly, turned over a page, scanning the text until she found what she was looking for.

King Philippe circled an arm around his queen and drew her a little closer. Kahlan watched as Catherine stroked a hand over her belly, as if to soothe her restless child.

Kahlan forced herself to look away from the pregnant woman, and push her own thoughts and feelings aside.

Nicci tapped the page. “Here it is. Because it is so important, so central, it’s a rather long and detailed prophecy. I apologize, but I will have to go slowly and carefully in order to translate it accurately for you.”

“Yes, yes,” the queen said. “Would you please just get on with it?” Others grumbled their impatient agreement.

“Very well.” Nicci cleared her throat. “It says, ‘In the aftermath of victory, in a raging spring storm beyond anything seen for many years, as the leaders of all the lands gather, the ill winds of change bring a storm of coming events that threatens to cast the world into suffering, terror, and devastation. Dark perils lie hidden, ready to steal the night, to hunt the innocent, and to devour them.’”

People gasped. Nicci looked up from under lowered brows and waited a moment until the whispers died out. When they did, she went on.

“‘In this cusp of time, in this pivotal, stormy moment, as the leaders are all gathered, the fate of the world hangs on what is done in this moment, for this is their only chance to assure a favorable future.’”

People’s mouths hung open as they waited for Nicci to reveal what prophecy would say must be done to avoid such a sinister outcome and to insure a favorable future. Nicci checked to make sure everyone was paying attention before resuming the translation of the prophecy. She needn’t worry. Every eye was locked on her, waiting.

“‘Just as life itself must be turned over through the passing into death of some so that it can be continually renewed with new blood, so too the leadership gathered must be renewed. For the terrible fangs of fate to be vanquished, the leaders of all the lands, while they are gathered, must be purged. The future for new life, new hope, can only be assured in this way.

“‘Staying such a cleansing for fear of shedding the blood of these few would mean a dark age of agony, suffering, and death for their people. To bring forth fresh life, to insure that prosperity and safety of all the lands will follow on the spring, the blood of their leaders must here be shed.

“‘It is thus written and set down that the lives of these gathered leaders must be forfeit if the world is to be spared unspeakable suffering.’”

Nicci’s cutting gaze slowly turned up to take in the audience. Her voice made the change from silken to deadly.

“There you have it: prophecy. Prophecy that reveals a dark and terrible future if not heeded. Prophecy that, as you all have insisted, must be heeded.

“Prophecy that stipulates that all of you must die.”