“Not much,” she said, looking back over her shoulder. “Except that Magda Searus, the woman who became the first Confessor, had once been married to him.”
Richard could only stare at her. “How
does
she know these things?” he muttered to himself.
“What?” Berdine asked.
“Nothing,” he said, dismissing it with a wave before flicking the hand at the door. “So what is it that you found in here?”
“Something that connected with what Kolo said.”
“You mean about this book that wasn’t supposed to be copied.”
Berdine merely gave Richard a sly smile as she tucked the key down into a pocket inside the top of her outfit, then pushed open the black door.
Inside, three tall windows that made up most of the far wall lit the room with the gloomy late-afternoon light. Rain pattered against the glass and ran down in snaking rivulets. The walls of the small room were lined with bookshelves made of golden oak. There was only enough space in the center of the room for one simple oak table that was in turn only large enough for the four wooden chairs, one on each side. In the center of the table sat an unusual four-lobed lamp, offering each empty chair its own light from a silvered reflector.
With a sweep of her arm, Nicci sent a spark of her gift into the four wicks. The flames swelled, lending golden warmth to the small room. Richard noticed that, despite the way the palace spell diminished the power of any but a Rahl, she seemed to have had no trouble lighting the lamps.
Berdine went to the shelves to the right of the door. “Near the part of Kolo’s journal where he mentioned the book that wasn’t supposed to be copied, I think he might have been implying that the men who didn’t trust Baraccus were the ones who made the copies. I think that’s who he meant, anyway, but I’m not sure; he refers to them as ‘the half-wits from
Yanklee’s Yarns
.’”
Nicci spun around to Berdine. “
Yanklee’s Yarns
!”
Richard looked from Nicci’s astounded expression to Berdine’s. “What’s
Yanklee’s Yarns
?” he asked.
“A book,” Berdine said.
Richard turned a questioning look on Nicci.
Nicci huffed in exasperation. “It’s more than just a book, Richard.
Yanklee’s Yarns
is a book of prophecy. A very, very peculiar book of prophecy. It predates the great war by seven centuries. The vaults at the Palace of the Prophets had an early copy of it. It was a curiosity that every Sister studied in the course of her education about prophecy.”
Richard peered around at the books lining the shelves. “What was so peculiar about it?”
“It’s a book of prophecy that is nothing but gossip and hearsay.”
Richard turned back to her. “I don’t get it.”
“Well,” Nicci said, pausing to find the right words, “it wasn’t believed to be prophecy about future events…exactly. It’s, it’s, well, it’s actually believed to be prophecy about future gossip, so to speak.”
Richard rubbed his tired eyes as he sighed. He looked up at Nicci again. “You mean to say that this Yanklee fellow wrote predictions about gossip?” When Nicci nodded, all he could do was ask, “Why?”
Nicci leaned in a little. “That’s the very question to which everyone wanted an answer.”
Richard shook his head, as if to clear the cobwebs.
“You see, there are many things that are secret”—Nicci gestured toward Berdine—“like this business with the book that wasn’t supposed to be copied. Those kinds of secrets often remain secret because people go to their graves without ever revealing them. That’s why when we study historical records we sometimes are not able to solve mysteries—there just isn’t any information to be had.
“But, sometimes, there are little tidbits of information floating around, things people saw or overheard, and the people who saw or overheard them start to gossip about those tasty tidbits. There were Sisters at the Palace of the Prophets who believed that hidden within this prophetic book of gossip there would be hints of what those future secrets would turn out to be.”
Richard arched an eyebrow. “You mean these Sisters were, in essence, listening to gossip in order to overhear something?”
Nicci nodded. “Something like that.
“You see, there were a few Sisters who considered this simple book of seeming nonsense to be one of the most important books of prophecy in existence. It was kept under tight security. It was never allowed to leave the vaults for study, as some other volumes of prophecy were.
“There were Sisters who devoted a lot of their spare time to studying this seemingly silly book. Because people don’t generally go to the trouble to record gossip,
Yanklee’s Yarns
is thought to be the only book of its kind—the only written account of gossip, even if it hadn’t happened yet. These Sisters believed that there were events that couldn’t be discovered or studied in any other way except through this book, which predated such events. In essence, they believed that they were eavesdropping on whispered gossip about things that would happen in the future, gossip about
secret things. They believed that
Yanklee’s Yarns
held invaluable clues to secrets unknown to anyone else or in any other way.”
Richard pressed his fingertips to his forehead as he tried to take it all in. “You said that there were Sisters devoted to studying this book. Do you happen to know who any of these Sisters were?”
Nicci nodded slowly. “Sister Ulicia.”
“Oh, great,” Richard muttered.
Berdine opened a glassed door to one of the bookshelves and pulled a volume off the shelf. She turned back and showed the book’s cover to Richard and Nicci.
The title was
Yanklee’s Yarns
.
“When I read in Kolo’s journal about ‘the half-wits from
Yanklee’s Yarns
,’ that name was so odd that it kind of stuck in the back of my mind. You know what I mean? Then, one day, I was in here doing research and this book’s title jumped out at me. I didn’t realize it was a book of prophecy, like you said, Nicci.”
Nicci shrugged with one shoulder. “Some books of prophecy are hard to recognize as prophecy—especially for someone not trained in such things. Such important volumes can appear to be simply boring records or, in the case of
Yanklee’s Yarns
, nothing more than trivial nonsense.”
Berdine indicated the bookshelves lining the small room. “Except there would hardly be anything trivial in this room.”
“Good point,” Richard said.
Berdine smiled, pleased that he recognized the value of her reasoning. She set the book down on the table that occupied the center of the small library and carefully opened the cover. She leafed through the fragile pages until she found the place she wanted. She looked up at each of them in turn.
“Since Kolo had mentioned this book, I thought I ought to read it. It was really boring. Nearly put me to sleep. It didn’t appear of any importance at all”—she tapped a page—“until I spotted this, here. This really woke me up.”
Richard twisted his head to read the words above her finger. He had to work at it a moment to figure out the meaning of the passage written in High D’Haran. He scratched his temple as he translated aloud.
“‘So nervous will be the meddling half-wits to copy the key that should never be copied, that they will tremble in fear at what they have done and
cast the shadow of the key among the bones, never to reveal that only one key was cut true.’”
The hair at the back of Richard’s neck stood on end.
Cara folded her arms across her breasts. “So you mean to say that you think that when it came right down to the deed itself and they made the copies, they turned chicken and made all but one copy a fake?”
Berdine drew her hand down her long braid of glossy brown hair. “It would appear so.”
Richard was still lost in the words. “Cast the shadow of the key among the bones…” He looked up at Berdine. “Hid them in the central sites. Buried them with the bones.”
Berdine smiled. “It’s so good to have you back, Lord Rahl. You and I think just alike. I’ve missed you so much. There have been so many things like this I’ve wanted to go over with you.”
Richard laid an arm gently around her shoulders, revealing a similar sentiment without using the words.
Berdine turned over more pages in the book, finally stopping at a place that was blank. “A number of the books seem to have text missing, like this place, here.”
“Prophecy,” Nicci said. “It’s part of the Chainfire spell that the Sisters of the Dark used on Richard’s wife. The spell also eliminated prophecy related to her existence.”
Berdine considered Nicci’s words. “That certainly is going to make it all more difficult. It takes away a lot of information that might be useful. Verna had mentioned that there was copy missing from the books of prophecy, but she didn’t know the reason.”
Nicci glanced around at the shelves. “Show me all the books you know of with text missing.”
Richard wondered why Nicci looked so suspicious.
Berdine opened several of the glass doors and pulled out volumes, handing them each in turn to Nicci. Nicci scanned them briefly, then dismissively set them on the table. “Prophecy,” she pronounced yet again as she tossed the last one Berdine handed her on the pile.
“What are you getting at?” Richard asked.
Instead of answering him, she looked at Berdine. “Any more with missing text?”
Berdine nodded. “There is one more.”
She glanced briefly at Richard, then pushed a row of books out of her way. At the back of a shelf she drew a panel aside. A small section of the wall opened to reveal a gilded niche with a small book sitting on a dark green velvet pillow with a golden fringe. The leather cover looked to once have been red, but was now so faded and worn that the bits of faint color only hinted at its past glory. It was a delicately beautiful book, intriguing partly because of its small size, and partly because of the ornate decorative leatherwork.
“I used to help Lord Rahl—I mean Darken Rahl—work on translations of books in High D’Haran,” Berdine explained. “This room was one of the places he would study his private books—that’s how I knew where to find the key and about this secret compartment in the back of the bookcase. I really thought it might be something useful.”
“And was it?” Richard asked.
“I thought it would be, but I’m afraid not. It, too, is missing text. Except, unlike those other books, this one isn’t just missing some of the text here and there, or missing whole sections. Instead, this book is missing every single word. It’s completely empty.”
“It’s missing every word?” Nicci asked suspiciously. “Let me see it.”
Berdine handed the little book over to Nicci. “It’s completely blank, I’m telling you. See for yourself. It’s useless.”
Nicci opened the ancient, worn leather cover and scanned the first page. Her finger followed along as if she were reading. She flipped the page and studied the next, then did the same thing yet again.
“Dear spirits,” she whispered as she appeared to read.
“What is it?” Richard asked.
Berdine stretched up on her tiptoes and peeked over the top of the book. “It can’t be anything. See—it’s blank.”
“No, it’s not,” Nicci murmured as she read. “This is a book of magic.” She looked up. “It only appears blank to those without the gift. And, in the case of this particular work, even they must possess the gift in sufficient strength to be able to read this. This is a profoundly important volume.”
Berdine wrinkled her nose. “What?”
“Books of magic are dangerous, some exceedingly dangerous. Some, such as this one, are beyond even that.” Nicci waggled the book at the Mord-Sith. “This one is far more than profoundly dangerous.
“As a form of protection such books are usually shielded in some way. If they are considered dangerous enough, then they are protected with spells that make the text vanish from a person’s mind so quickly that they don’t recall seeing it. It makes them think the pages are blank. A person without the gift simply can’t hold the words of a book of magic in their mind. You actually do see the words in this book, but you forget seeing them so fast that you aren’t cognizant that there was anything on the pages—the words vanish from your mind before you actually perceive them.
“That particular spell is, in part, the basis for the concept of the Chainfire spell. The wizards in ancient times—who often used such spells to protect dangerous books they wrote—began to wonder if such a thing could be done with a person, in effect making them vanish, just as the words in some books of magic can seem to vanish.”
Nicci gestured vaguely as her attention drifted back to the book. “Of course, when a soul is involved it complicates the whole matter beyond words.”
Richard had long ago learned that he had been able to memorize
The Book of Counted Shadows
only because he was gifted. Zedd had told him that if he hadn’t had the gift, he wouldn’t have been able to hold the words in his mind long enough to have remembered a single one.
“So, what is this book about?” he asked.
Nicci finally pulled her gaze away from the pages and looked up. “This is a book of magic instruction.”
“I know, you said that already,” he said, patiently. “Instruction for what?”
Nicci checked the page again, and swallowed as she again gazed into his eyes. “I think this is the original instruction book for putting the boxes of Orden in play.”
Richard felt goose bumps, yet again, tingle up his arms and legs.
He gently lifted the book from Nicci’s hands. Sure enough, it was not blank at all. Every page was packed with small written words, diagrams, charts, and formulas.
“This is in High D’Haran.” He looked up at Nicci. “You mean to say you can read High D’Haran?”
“Of course.”
Richard shared a look with Berdine.
He could see immediately that the book was profoundly complex. He had learned High D’Haran, but this book was something only on the brink of his understanding.
“This is far more technical than the High D’Haran I’m used to reading,” he said as he scanned the pages.
Nicci leaned close and pointed to a place on the page he was staring at. “This here is all reference material to formulas needed in incantations. You have to know the formulas and spells to really understand it.”
Richard looked up into her blue eyes. “And do you?”
She twisted her mouth as she frowned at the page. “I don’t know. I’d have to study it at length to know if I can be of any help in translating it.”
Berdine again stretched up on her tiptoes and peered into the book, as if checking to see if maybe the words might now appear to her. “Why can’t you tell right away? I mean, either you can read and understand it, or you can’t.”
Nicci raked the fingers of one hand back through her blond hair as she took a deep breath. “It’s not that simple with books of magic. It’s kind of like doing complex mathematical equations. You may know the numbers and at first think you know what it’s about, that you can work the equation, but if you then discover unknown symbols buried in the equation—symbols that refer to things unfamiliar to you—then the entire equation is pretty much unworkable. Just knowing some of the numbers isn’t enough. You have to know what every element means, or at least how to find the value or quantity it represents.