Doom of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [175]
“I will go on,” said the warlock with a touch of impatience, “if there are no more interruptions. You understand now why the Prince could not be allowed to die. He had to live — or the Prophecy would be fulfilled. Yet everyone must think him dead, it being inconceivable that a Dead Emperor one day occupy the throne of Merilon.
“You see Vanya’s quandary, Nephew?” Prince Xavier spread his hands, his sarcasm soft and lethal. “I don’t know what he intended to do with you, Joram. What did you plan, Bishop? Will you tell us?”
There was no answer, other than the Bishops labored breathing.
The DKarn-Duuk shrugged. “It is not important. Probably, he had plans for keeping you locked in some secret cell within the Font where you would have lived a prisoner until he could hit upon a solution. Ah, I see that I am not far wrong in my guessing.”
Dulchase, glancing at Vanya, saw a nerve begin to twitch in the man’s jaw.
“His plan, whatever it was, went awry. He had purposefully left no guard, intending to slip back down into the Chamber that night and remove the Prince to a safer area. Imagine his horror, Nephew, when he returned to the Chamber and found the baby gone!”
Dulchase could imagine. The skin of his bald head crawled, his feet were icy.
“Our Bishop — ever thinking — did not panic. He was able, after quiet investigation, to gain some clue as to what had occurred. A woman named Anja had given birth to a stillborn child. When the Theldara told the mother this and showed her the dead child, Anja went mad. She refused to give up the body. The Theldara sent for the Duuk-tsarith to take the baby away from her. Through their magical arts, they did so, and left Anja supposedly sedated. But she fooled them. I have heard, Nephew, that you are skilled in the art of sleight of hand and illusion and that these were taught you by this woman you knew as your mother. That does not surprise me. She was skilled in that art, as we know from her having fooled the Duuk-tsarith, people not easily deceived.
“Bishop Vanya could discover nothing for certain, of course, but he deduced — and I agree with him — that the woman fled her room and wandered about the Font, searching for the way out. She happened upon the Chamber of the Dead. Here she found a baby, a living baby! Snatching up the child, Anja escaped the Font in the night. By the time Vanya discovered what had happened, the skilled wizardess had covered her tracks well.
“Thus, Nephew, for years Bishop Vanya has lived with the knowledge that somewhere in this world, you, the Prince, were alive. Yet, try as he might, he could not find you. The only ones allowed in on this secret were the highest ranking of the Duuk-tsarith, who, of course, assisted in the search. Any reports of living Dead were checked out carefully, they tell me. The first to come close to matching was you, Joram, who revealed yourself to them when you killed the overseer. The description of your mother fit Anja; you were the right age.
“But Vanya couldn’t be certain. Fortunately, you made matters easy for the Bishop by fleeing into the Outland. A warlock — one of the Duuk-tsarith’s best, known as Blachloch — was there already, performing a covert operation with the Sorcerers. This man was alerted to watch for you. His men found you easily and he kept you under his surveillance.
“Once more, however, the Bishop was in a quandary. He did not now dare try to keep you in the Font, where, so the saying goes, ‘the walls have ears and tongues.’ He had too many enemies who were prepared to step into his place. Vanya decided that it would be just as safe, keeping you in the Outlands under the watchful eyes of not only the warlock but a catalyst as well.” The DKarn-Duuk gestured at the huddled figure of