Stone of Tears

At last, they went through a pair of thick walnut doors that opened into a vast chamber. They had to pass under a low ceiling and between white columns with gold capitals, before entering under a huge, vaulted dome painted with immense scenes of people in robes surrounding a glowing figure. Two levels of balconies with, ornate stone railings ringed the circular room. Stained-glass windows lit the top balcony from behind. The floor of the room was made up of small, light and dark wood squares laid out in a zigzag pattern. The hum of well over a hundred voices echoed around the chamber.

Women stood in bunches around the floor and more lined the balconies. Scattered among the women on the second level were some men and boys. The women, all Sisters of the Light, he presumed, were dressed in finery. There seemed to be no pattern; their dresses were of every color, with designs ranging from conservative to revealing. The boys and men were dressed in everything from plain robes to coats as elaborate as Richard imagined any lord or prince would wear.

The buzz of talking died out as everyone began turning to the new arrivals. As the room fell to silence, applause started, swelling into a roar.

Sister Phoebe took a few steps toward the center of the room, raising her hand, calling for silence. The applause died out in spurts.

“Sisters,” Sister Phoebe said, her voice trembling with excitement, “please welcome Sister Verna home.” The applause roared again and, after a few moments, the hand brought it to silence once more. “And may I present our newest student, our newest child of the Creator, our newest charge.” She turned, holding her hand out, wiggling her fingers, indicating she wanted Richard to step forward. He took three strides to her, Sister Verna going with him.

Sister Phoebe leaned close and whispered. “Richard… ? Do you have any more to your name?”

Richard hesitated a moment. “Cypher.”

She turned back to the crowd. “Please welcome Richard Cypher to the Palace of the Prophets.”

The clapping started again. Richard glowered as every face watched him. Women near pressed closer, to get a better look at him. There were women of all ages and descriptions in the crowd, ranging from some who looked old enough to be kindly grandmothers to some hardly old enough to be called women, with those of every age in between. They ranged from plump to skinny, with hair as different as their dress, with every color from blonde to black. Their eyes, too, were of every color.

He noticed one woman who stood near him. She had a warm smile on her reed-thin lips, and strange, pale blue eyes with violet flecks through them. She was looking at him as if he were an old, dear friend, whom she loved, and hadn’t seen in years. She was applauding enthusiastically, and elbowing a haughty woman next to her to join in the clapping, until the other finally did.

Richard stood with his arms at his sides as he studied the layout of the room, noting exits, passageways, and placement of guards. As the applause died out, a young woman in a dress the same shade of blue as Kahlan’s wedding dress worked her way through the crowd. The blue dress had a round neck, decorated with white lace that ran down to the narrow waist and matched that on the cuffs.

She approached, coming to a halt right in front of him. Perhaps five years younger than he, and a head shorter, she had full, soft brown hair that reached to her shoulders, and big, brown eyes.

She gaped at him. With each slow breath, her bosom swelled at the lace. Her hand floated up. Her delicate fingers brushed his cheek, and stroked down his beard. She seemed transfixed as she stared up at him, stroking his beard.

The Creator has indeed heard my prayers,” she whispered to herself.

She seemed to suddenly remember where she was and snatched her hand back. Her face flushed red.

“I’m… I’m,” she stammered. She regained her composure, her face recovering its smooth complexion. She clasped her hands before herself and turned, as if nothing had happened, to address Sister Verna. “I am Pasha Maes, novice, third rank. I am next in line to be named. I have been placed in charge of Richard.”

Sister Verna gave her a small, tight smile. “I think I remember you, Pasha. I’m pleased to see you have studied hard and done well. Richard is passed out of my hands, now, and into yours. May the Creator gently hold you both in His hands.”

Pasha smiled proudly and then turned to Richard. She cast a glance down the length of him. She looked up, batted her eyelashes at him, and gave him a warm smile.

“I’m pleased to meet you, young man. My name is Pasha. You are assigned to me. I’m to help teach you, help with whatever else you may need in your studies. I’m a guide of sorts. Any problems or questions you have are to be brought to me, and I will do my best to help you. You look like a bright boy; I’m sure we are going to get along just fine.”