The Omen Machine Page 24

  She turned her back to him as she led to him into her lavish apartment, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure he was following behind. Couches upholstered in silvery material were strewn with colorful pillows. Low tables and a desk in a small sitting area to the side were veneered in matching burl walnut. Double doors at the far end of the room led to a terrace that overlooked some of the outer rim of the plateau and the now dark Azrith Plain out beyond.

  The accommodations, softly lit by candles, were fit for a queen, yet as luxurious as her quarters were, they were no better than his. He chose not to say so.

  “Come, sit, Abbot,” she said as she glided across an expanse of ornate carpeting on her way to one of the couches.

  “Please, call me Ludwig.”

  She glanced back over her shoulder again, again giving him the demure smile.

  “Ludwig, then.”

  Her auburn hair was done up on top of her head, held in place with a jeweled comb. Ringlets hung down in front of each ear. It left her flawlessly smooth, graceful neck bare.

  She sat on the front edge of the cushions. The slit up the front of her long dress came up just high enough that he could see her bare knees pressed together as she leaned forward to lift a wine decanter.

  “What was it you wished to see me about, Queen Orneta?”

  She patted the couch beside her in invitation for him to sit. “If I’m to call you Ludwig, then you must call me Orneta.”

  He sat, making sure there was a respectful space between them. “As you wish, Orneta.”

  She poured two glasses of the red wine and handed him one.

  “A queen who serves wine?”

  She returned the smile. “The servants have been dismissed and sent home for the night. I’m afraid we’re all alone.”

  She clinked her glass against his.

  “To the future, and our knowledge of it,” she said.

  He sipped when she did. He had an appreciation for quality wine and was not disappointed.

  “An interesting choice for a toast, I must say.”

  “You asked why I wished to see you. The toast is the reason. I wanted to see you about prophecy.”

  Ludwig took a longer sip of wine. “What about it?” he finally asked, trying to sound innocently puzzled.

  She gestured offhandedly. “I think prophecy is important.”

  He dipped his head. “So I gathered from the luncheon a few days back when the Mother Confessor threatened to behead us for wanting to know more about it. You were quite impressive, standing up to her the way you did. You can’t be faulted for relenting at last under such a mortal threat.”

  She smiled, but this time it showed less modesty and a little more cunning. “A ruse, I believe.”

  “Really?” Ludwig leaned in. “You think it was an act?”

  Orneta shrugged. “At the time I certainly didn’t think so. I guess I was caught up in the moment, the emotion, along with everyone else.”

  “It was a frightful moment, there’s no doubt about that.” He took another sip. “But now, you think differently?”

  The queen took her time before answering. “I’ve known the Mother Confessor a long time. Not so much personally, mind you, but I’m from the Midlands. Before the war, before the D’Haran Empire came to be, the Midlands was ruled by a Central Council, and the Central Council was ruled by the Mother Confessor, so I’ve had dealings with her in the past. I’ve never once known her to be temperamental or cruel. Tough, yes. Vindictive, no.”

  “So you believe it was out of character for her?”

  “Of course it was. We’ve been fighting the war a long time. I’ve known her to be absolutely ruthless with the enemy. Every night, she would send the head of the special forces, Captain Zimmer, out to cut the throats of the enemy as they slept. In the morning she would always ask to see the strings of ears he had collected.”

  Ludwig lifted his eyebrows, trying to act at least a little scandalized as she went on.

  “But I’ve never known her to be cruel to her own people, to innocent people, good people. I have seen her risk her life to save a child she doesn’t even know. I think cutting off the heads of everyone in the room would have been a pretty brutal way to teach a lesson to the people she rules. Such a thing simply is not in her character unless she had a powerful reason.”

  Ludwig let out a long sigh. “You know her better than I do. I will take your word for it.”

  “What I want to know is why she would go to such extremes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That was a pretty extreme performance, and quite convincing, at least until I thought it through. I think she did it because she and Lord Rahl are hiding something from us.”

  Ludwig frowned. “Hiding something? Like what?”

  “Prophecy.”

  He decided to take a drink rather than say anything in order to let her go on to reveal her theories.

  “I asked to see you because I’ve heard that you have something to do with prophecy.”

  He smiled. “Yes, I guess you could say that.”

  “Then prophecy is something that is respected in your land?”

  “Fajin Province. That’s where I come from. The bishop—”

  “The bishop?”

  “Hannis Arc. Bishop Hannis Arc is the ruler of Fajin Province.”

  “And he believes that prophecy is important?”

  Ludwig inched a little closer along the couch and leaned in, confidentially. “Of course. We all do. I collect prophecy for him so that it might guide him in ruling our land.”

  “As Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor should do.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “That is what I believe.”

  She poured him some more wine. “As do I.”

  “You are a wise ruler, Orneta.”

  This time she was the one who sighed. “Wise enough to know that prophecy is important.” She laid a hand on his forearm. “It is a great responsibility to lead a people. And prophecy can be a lonely belief, at times.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that— being lonely in your beliefs about prophecy, I mean. So, there is no king for you?”

  She shook her head. “No. Duty has been my companion since I ascended to the throne in my late twenties after long years of grooming for the position. That makes it hard to, well, hard to find the time for myself, for the companionship of one who shares beliefs with me.”

  “That’s a shame. I think the Creator gave us the capacity for passion for a reason, just as He gave us prophecy for a reason.”

  Her brow twitched. “Yes, I’ve heard some talk of what you’ve mentioned to others, talk about your beliefs that prophecy has a connection to the Creator, yet you do not worship the Creator. That seems a curious contradiction.”

  Ludwig took a drink to give himself time to gather his thoughts.

  “Well, have you ever spoken with the Creator?”

  She let out a laugh, putting fingertips to her chest. “Me? No, He has never deemed it worth His time to speak to me.”

  “Exactly.”

  The laughter evaporated. “Exactly?”

  “Yes. The Creator created everything. All the mountains, the seas, the stars in the sky. He creates life itself. He creates all living things.”

  She turned more serious and leaned in a little. “Go on.”

  “Can you imagine a being that could do such things? I mean, really, can you imagine a being such as the Creator? A being that created everything, and continues to create new life in uncountable numbers every day? Every new blade of grass, every new fish in the sea, every new soul born into the world. How could we, mere men, even imagine such a being? None of us can, really. We have no point of reference for creation out of nothing on such a cosmic scale. That’s why I say the Creator has to be beyond what you or I could ever begin to imagine.”

  “I suppose you have a point.”

  He tapped his temple for emphasis. “So if our small human minds are incapable of even imagining such
a being, then how can we know Him? Or presume to think that He notices us individually? If we cannot possibly know Him, then how could we have the temerity to worship Him? How can we presume to think we know that He would even desire such worship? Why would He? Do you long for the worship of ants?”

  “I never looked at it that way, but I see what you mean.”

  “That’s why He hasn’t spoken to you— to any of us. The Creator is everything. We are nothing. We are specks of dust that He brings to life, and then when we die our worldly bodies return to specks of dust. Why would He talk to us? Would you stoop to talk to a speck of dust?”

  “So you don’t think that the Creator cares about us? We are just specks of nothing to him?”

  “We believe, where I come from, that the Creator does care about us, but in a general sense— we are His creation, after all— and so He does speak to us, but not directly.”

  She was caught up in the story, and returned the hand to his forearm as she inched closer to him.

  “So you think He really does care about us? And so He somehow speaks to us?”

  “Yes, through prophecy.”

  Dead silence hung in the room.

  “Prophecy is the Creator speaking to us?”

  “In a way.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips. He leaned toward her. “The Creator created all things. He created life itself. Don’t you suppose that He would have an interest in what He has created?”

  “Yes, but you said He doesn’t speak to us.”

  “Not directly, not individually, but He does speak to us in a sense. He created life, and He also gave some the gift— magic—as a way for mankind to hear him. He knows all things— everything that has happened and everything that will happen. Through the gift of magic that He gave mankind, He gives us prophecy so as to help guide us.”

  She went back to drinking her wine as she thought it over. After a moment, her gaze turned to him again.

  “Then why would Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor not want us to know the prophecies that the Creator Himself has given us to help guide us? After all, they are both gifted.”

  Ludwig arched an eyebrow at her. “Why indeed?”

  Her frown grew. “What are you saying?”

  He studied her face a moment. She really was an attractive woman. A bit thin, but very appealing, actually.

  “Orneta, who would have an interest in us not knowing the words of guidance the Creator has given mankind so as to help us avoid dangers to our lives? Guidance so that we might live?”

  She stared off a moment, thinking it over. Realization bloomed on her face. She looked back, her eyes wide.

  “The Keeper of the underworld…” she breathed.

  CHAPTER 43

  Orneta straightened a little, pushing back with a hand braced on her knee as she thought better of the suggestion. “You’re saying that the Keeper of the underworld is, is what … bewitching Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor? That they are possessed?”

  He put a hand over hers, hoping to show her the seriousness of what he was telling her. “Death struggles ceaselessly to take life from the living. The Nameless One, as he is called where I come from, exists only to harvest the living, to pull them from the world of life into the eternal darkness of the underworld. He sometimes casts his seductive whispers over the living in order to use them to do his bidding.”

  She pulled her hand away and seemed to gather herself up. “That’s preposterous. Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor are not devoted to the Keeper of the underworld. I have never known two people who are more devoted to life.”

  Ludwig didn’t let her withdraw. He leaned toward her again. “Do you suppose that those who are possessed by the Nameless One are always aware of it? If they were, they could not be an effective servant of his covert, dark intent, now could they?”

  He had her interest again. “You mean, you think that they are being unknowingly swayed by the Keeper of the underworld? That they are unwittingly doing the Keeper’s bidding? That they are possessed but unaware of it?”

  He tilted his head toward her. “Don’t you suppose that if the Keeper wanted to use someone, wanted to possess someone to do his bidding, that he would pick the last people anyone would suspect? Pick someone trusted, admired, followed?”

  She looked away again, thinking. “I suppose. In theory, anyway.”

  “In our experience, the possessed may be entirely unaware what has happened to them as they still work for the good, at least to outward appearances. But whenever the Nameless One wants, he pulls the invisible strings he has hooked fast to them. In that way they are the perfect host, seeming to all the world to be good people, people who can be trusted, all the while primed and ready to do the Keeper’s bidding.”

  She fussed with the jeweled necklace that disappeared down between her breasts. “It does seem to makes sense that the Keeper would pick someone who would not be suspected of secretly working to accomplish his purpose. But still…”

  “Where I come from we are always suspicious of those who turn away from prophecy. Among those of us charged with protecting our people from the dark forces of the Nameless One, we know that when someone professes a disbelief in prophecy, it is often a key sign of possession. Prophecy, after all, is the Creator’s words, coming to us through the gift of magic, guiding us toward life. Why would anyone turn away from it … unless they listen instead to dark forces?”

  Orneta stared off into her thoughts for a time before finally speaking, and even then it was half to herself.

  “He does always have that woman, Nicci, close at hand. People say she is also known as Death’s Mistress….”

  “And Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor do both seem to be opposed to prophecy against all good sense. You yourself tried to reason with them to no avail.”

  She looked back at him, an intensity in her eyes. “Do you really mean to say, I mean really, that you believe Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor are agents of the Keeper?”

  With a thumb, Ludwig brushed a bit of fuzz from his rimless hat. “We believe in prophecy, and so we study it exhaustively, both from people who give forth omens, and from books of prophecy. We have many ancient texts that we study for clues as to how to protect people from the Nameless One taking them before their time of life is justly over.

  “In the study of those ancient texts, we have come across references to Lord Rahl.”

  “You have?” She frowned, interested again. “And what did they say about him.”

  “In those ancient volumes, he is named fuer grissa ost drauka.”

  The frown was still firmly fixed on her face. “That sounds like High D’Haran. Do you know what it means?”

  “Yes, it is High D’Haran. It means ‘the bringer of death.’”

  She looked away, close to tears, or panic, he didn’t know which.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve spoken out of place.” He started to stand. “I can see that I’m upsetting you. I should never have—”

  She seized his arm and pulled him back down beside her. “Don’t say such a thing, Ludwig. Not many men would be brave enough to face such a terrible truth, much less share it with a stranger, an ally of the D’Haran Empire, who holds a position of power.”

  “I pray it isn’t so, honestly I do, but I can think of no other explanation as to why they so strongly, so obstinately, reject prophecy. If you are not of a mind to throw me out, then I would tell you more.”

  Her hand tightened on his forearm. “Yes, please, don’t hold anything back. I must hear it all if I am to come to a true conclusion.”

  “From our experience in this, I’m afraid that I must tell you that agents of the Keeper serve his evil schemes by trying to hide prophecy because prophecy reveals future acts of evil, the Keeper’s evil intended to take life, acts the Creator knows about and is revealing to us through prophecy as a warning.”

  “But still,” she whispered, “it’s hard to believe—”

  “Did you know that Lord Rahl has discover
ed an ancient machine hidden within the palace?”

  She set her glass down and turned to face him more directly. “A machine?” She frowned. “What sort of machine?”

  “A machine that is said to give forth omens about the future.”

  She stared intently. “Are you sure of this?”

  He set his glass down beside hers on the tray. “I have not seen it with my own eyes, but I have heard, among other things, the whispers of workers who have been in the Garden of Life.”

  “Does anyone else know of this omen machine?”

  He hesitated. “It is not my place to talk out of turn, Orneta. Others have spoken to me in confidence.”

  “Ludwig, this is important. If what you say is true, this is the most grave of matters.”

  “Well, there are others among the leaders here who, behind closed doors, have spoken of these things.”

  “Are you certain of this, or is it just palace rumors?”

  He licked his lips again, and again he hesitated before going on.

  “King Philippe asked to speak with me about these matters, much as you did. He has heard the whispers about this machine— I didn’t ask the source— and further, he has heard that it has awakened from a long darkness and begun issuing omens again, as it once did in ancient times. Lord Rahl is keeping these omens a secret, just as he is keeping the existence of the machine a secret.

  “King Philippe believes as I do that there can be only one reason to conceal prophecy, and a machine that can issue it, a machine perhaps built by ancients at the direction of the Creator Himself so that He might help mankind.”

  She clasped her hands in her lap, her queenly calculation seeming to return to her expression.

  “Philippe is no fool.”

  Ludwig shrugged a little to show her that he was uncomfortable, but also letting her know that he wanted to tell her more. “King Philippe, along with some of the others, thinks that we would be better served having a leader of the D’Haran Empire who studies and uses prophecy to lead us. He thinks it is our only salvation into the future through the hints of dark foreboding we have all heard from those in our homelands with at least a little ability at divination. He thinks we need a leader of the D’Haran Empire who respects prophecy for what it is: the Creator’s warnings to us that must be heeded.”