Doom of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [174]
Joram, now very pale, placed his hand upon his bare chest. Dulchase saw the white scars there and closed his eyes, remembering.
“Through the intervention of the Emperor, the Empress was finally convinced to release her child into the custody of Bishop Vanya, who was to take the baby back to the Font and perform the Death Watch. Word came to the Palace some days later that the child’s physical body had died. Everyone mourned, except myself, of course. Nothing personal.” He nodded to Joram, who — with a look of grim amusement — nodded back.
“I like you, Nephew,” Prince Xavier said approvingly. “A pity. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Vanya’s mistake.”
The Bishop made a hissing sound, much like overheated air escaping a magical bubble.
Ignoring him, Xavier continued. “His Holiness took the baby to the Font. The Head of the Palace Guard accompanied him, so that there would be a witness. Vanya carried the child to the Chamber of the Dead and laid the baby upon a stone slab. That was before the time when more and more Dead were born among the families of Merilon. The Prince was the only baby present in the Chamber. It was then Vanya did a foolish thing, Nephew. He left the child there without placing a guard. Why? That will be explained in a moment. Patience. All things come to he who waits,’ as the old saying goes.”
With a gesture, Prince Xavier brought forth a globe of water from the air and sipped at it as it hovered obligingly near his mouth. The silence lay so heavily over the room that every swallow could be plainly heard. “A drink, my sovereign?”
Joram shook his head, never taking his eyes from the warlock’s face. The DKarn-Duuk did not offer the water to the catalysts, but sent the globe back into the air with a word of command. “The baby was left alone, unguarded. Oh, certainly it was understandable. There had never been a guard upon those Chambers, so deep within the confines of the sacred mountain. And what was there to guard, after all? A child left to die? Ah, no!” Prince Xavier’s cool voice changed subtly, growing warm and sinister, sending a thrill through his hearers.
“A child left to live!”
11
The Truth Shall Make You Free
A strangled sound came from Merlyn’s Thumb.
“Yes, Vanya,” Prince Xavier continued, “I know about the Prophecy. The Duuk-tsarith are loyal — loyal to the state. When it became clear to the Head of their Order that I was now the state, the witch revealed everything to me. Yes, you are confused, Nephew. Up until now, all was easily understood. Listen carefully, for I will speak the Prophecy known previously only to Bishop Vanya and the Duuk-tsarith.”
In a soft voice, The DKarn-Duuk spoke the words that would whisper in Dulchase’s ear every night from that moment on.
“There will be born to the Royal House one who is dead yet will live, who will die again and live again. And when he returns, he will hold in his hand the destruction of the world —”
Prince Xavier fell silent, his gaze intent upon Joram. The young man was pale, the full lips bloodless. But the expression on the dark face did not change, he did not speak.
“That is why I betrayed you, my son!”
The pent-up words burst from Saryon’s throat as blood spurting from a torn heart. “I had no choice! His Holiness made me see! The fate of the world was in my hands!” Wringing those hands, Saryon gazed pleadingly at Joram.
What does Saryon hope for, Dulchase thought pityingly. Forgiveness? Understanding? Dulchase looked into Joram’s stern face. No, the old Deacon said to himself, he won’t find it in those dark depths.
But, for a moment, it seemed he might. Joram’s eyelids flickered, the tight lips trembled; he turned