Blood of the Fold

He turned around one that caught his eye so he could look at the title, and suddenly realized that though he couldn't read it, he had seen the language before, and he recognized two of the words. The first, filer, and the third, ost, were words he knew only too well. The title was in High D'Haran.

A prophecy that Warren had shown him in the vaults at the Palace of the Prophets had referred to Richard, calling him fuer grissa ost drauka: the bringer of death. The first word in this title, fuer, meant "the," and the third, ost, meant "of."

"Fuer Ulbrecken ost Brennika Dieser." Richard let out a frustrated sign. "I wish I knew what it meant."

"The Adventures of Bonnie Day. I think."

Richard turned to see Berdine looking past his shoulder at the table. She stepped back, her blue eyes glancing away as if she thought she had done something wrong. "What did you say," he whispered. Berdine pointed at the book on the table. "Fuer Ulbrecken ost Brennika Dieser.

You said you wished to know what it meant. It think it means The Adventures of Bonnie Day. It's an old dialect."

The Adventures of Bonnie Day was a book Richard had owned since his early youth. It had been his favorite book, and he had read it so often he practically knew it by heart.

Only after going to the Palace of the Prophets in the Old World had he discovered that the book had been written by Nathan Rahl, a prophet and Richard's ancestor. Nathan had written the book as a primer on prophecy, he said, and had given it to boys who had potential. Nathan had told Richard that with the exception of Richard, all who had possessed the book had met with fatal accidents.

When Richard was born, the Prelate and Nathan had come to the New World and stolen the Book of Counted Shadows from the Keep in order to prevent it from falling into Darken Rahl's hands. They gave it to Richard's stepfather, George Cypher, and extracted his promise to make Richard memorize the entire book, word for word, and then destroy it. The Book of Counted Shadows was needed in order to open the Boxes of Orden, back in D'Hara. Richard still knew that book by heart — every word.

Richard remembered fondly the happy times of his youth, living at home with is father and brother. He had loved his older brother, and looked up to him, Who knew then the treacherous turns life would take? There was no going back to those innocent times.

Nathan had also left behind a copy of The Adventures of Bonnie Day for him. He must have also left these copies, in other languages, here at the Keep when he had been here right after Richard had been born.

"How do you know what it says?" Richard asked.

Berdine swallowed. "It's in High D'Haran, but an old dialect of the tongue."

Richard realized, by the way her eyes had gone wide, that he must have a frightening look on his face. He put in an effort to smooth his features.

"You meant to say that you understand High D'Haran?" She nodded. "I was told that it's a dead language. A scholar I know who could understand High D'Haran told me that almost no one anymore knows it. How do you?

"From my father," she said. The emotion left her voice. "It was one of the reasons Darken Rahl chose me to be Mord-Sith." Her face had gone emotionless, too. "Few people still understood High D'Haran. My father was one of them. Darken Rahl used High D'Haran to work some of his magic, and he didn't like that there were others who knew the old tongue."

Richard didn't have to ask what had happened to her father.

"I'm sorry, Berdine."

He knew that in their training, those forced into the bondage of becoming Mord-Sith were compelled to torture their fathers to death. It was called the third breaking, their final test.

She showed no reaction. She had retreated behind the iron mask of her training. “Darken Rahl knew that my father had taught me some of the old tongue, but being Mord-Sith, I was no threat to him. He consulted with me, on occasion, to hear my interpretation of various words. High D'Haran is a difficult language to translate. Many words, especially in the older dialects, have shades of meaning that can only be understood by their context. I am no expert, by any means, but I understand some. Darken Rahl was a master at High D'Haran."

"And do you know the meaning of fuer grissa ost drauka?"

"A very ancient dialect. I'm not terribly well versed in versions that old." She thought a moment. "I think the literal translation is 'the bringer of death. Where did you hear this?"

He didn't want to think of the complications of the other meanings at the moment. "An old prophecy. It gives me this name."

Berdine clasped her hands behind her back. "Unfairly, Lord Rahl. Unless it is in reference to your skill at handling your enemies, not your friends."

Richard smiled. "Thank you, Berdine."

Her smile returned, like the sun from behind fading storm clouds.

"Let's go see what else we can find of interest in here," he said, heading for the arched opening at the far end of the chamber.