Blood of the Fold

Warren didn't answer her knock, and when she peeked into his room she saw his bed didn't look slept in. Verna winced when she remembered that she had ordered him to the vaults to link up those prophecies. Poor Warren had probably been sleeping with his books, doing as she had commanded. She recalled with shame how she had spoken to him when she had been so angry after her talk with the gravedigger. Now, she was relieved and overjoyed to know that the Prelate and Nathan were alive, but at the time she had been livid and had taken it out on Warren.

Instead of causing a stir, she descended the stairs and corridors without an escort to empty the vaults for her. She thought it would be safer if she were to simply pay a short visit to the vaults on a minor inspection and tell Warren to come to her at their meeting spot by the river. This information was far too dangerous to convey even in the safety of the empty vaults.

Maybe Warren could come up with an idea of how they could unmask the Sisters of the Dark. Warren's cleverness was surprising at limes. She kissed her ring in an attempt to banish the anguish when she remembered her duty to send him away. She had to get him away at once.

With a sad smile, she thought that maybe he could get some wrinkles on his annoyingly smooth face, and catch up with her while she remained under the palace's spell.

Sister Becky, her pregnancy becoming obvious to all, was lecturing a group ol older novices on the intricacies of prophecy. She was pointing out the danger of false prophecy becruse of forks that had been taken in the past. Once an event in a prophecy had taken place, and if it carried an "either or" fork, then the prophecy had been resolved by events; one branch of the fork had proven true, and the other branch then became a false p — ophecy.

The difficulty was that yet other prophecies were linked to each branch, but when they were given it wasn't yet decided which fork would come to pass. Once resolved, any prophecy linked to the dead branch became false, too, but because it was often impossible to determine which fork many prophecies were linked to, the vaults were clogged with this dead wood.

Verna moved to the back wall and listened for time as the novices asked questions.

It was frustrating for them to learn the scope of the problems facing one trying to work with prophecy, and how many of the things they asked had no answer. Verna now knew from what Warren had told her that the Sisters had even less understanding of the prophecies than they thought.

Prophecy was really meant to be interpreted by a wizard whose gift possessed (hat aptitude. In the last thousand years, Nathan was the only wizard they had come across who had the ability to give prophecy. She now knew that he understood them in a way no Sister had ever known, except perhaps Prelate Annalina. She now knew that Warren, too, had that latent talent for prophecy.

As Sister Becky went on with an explanation of linkage through key events and chronology, Verna quietly moved off toward the back rooms where Warren usually worked, but found them all empty, and their books returned to the shelves. Verna puzzled over where to look next. It had never been difficult to find Warren, but that was because he was almost always in the vaults.

Sister Leoma met her as she was returning up the aisles between the long rows of shelves. Her advisor smiled in greeting and bowed her head of long, straight white hair, tied behind with a golden ribbon. Verna detected worry in the creases of her face.

"Good morning, Prelate. The Creator's blessing on this new day."

Verna returned the warm smile. "Thank you, Sister. A fine day it is, too. How are the novices doing?"

Leoma glanced off toward the tables with the young women sitting around it in concentration. "They will make fine Sisters. I've been observing the lessons, and there's not an inattentive one in the lot," Without returning her gaze to Vema, she asked, "Have you come to find Warren?"

Verna twisted the ring on her finger. "Yes. There were a few matters I thought to ask him check for me. Have you seen him about?"

When Leoma turned back at last, her creases had deepened into true concern. "Verna, I'm afraid Warren is not here."

"I see. Well, do you know where I could find him?"

She let out a deep breath. "What I mean, Verna, is that Warren is gone."

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

Sister Leoma's gaze drifted away to the shadows among the shelves. "I mean he has left the palace. For good."

Verna's mouth dropped opened. "Are you sure? You must be mistaken. Perhaps you…"

Leoma smoothed back a wisp of white hair. "Verna, he came to me, night before last, and told me he was leaving."

Verna wet her lips. "Why didn't he come to me? Why wouldn't he tell the Prelate that he was leaving?"