Stone of Tears

“When you have your collar off, and leave the palace, you may wear what you wish. Of course, most come to respect the robes of their profession, and wear them the rest of their lives.”

Richard changed the subject. “I want to go see Warren. Tell me how to get down there.”

“Now? Tonight? Richard, it’s been a long day, and I must give you your first lesson yet tonight.”

“Just tell me how to get down there. Will Warren be down there this late?”

“I don’t know that he is ever seen anywhere else. I think he must sleep on the books. I was surprised to see him up in the palace today. That in itself will be gossip for weeks.”

“I don’t want him to think I forgot him. Just tell me how to get down there.”

“Well,” she sighed, “if you insist on going, we will go together. I’m supposed to escort you wherever you go in the Palace of the Prophets. For now, anyway.”

Chapter 54

In the core of the Palace of the Prophets, they began their descent down into the vaults. The stairways on the upper levels were elegant. Lower down, the stairs became utilitarian stone, with their leading edges worn round and smooth. The maidservants he had seen on the upper levels were nowhere to be seen.

Paneled walls gave way to stone. In some places he had to duck under huge beams. Lamps were no longer stationed on the walls, but, instead, widely spaced torches lit the way. Sounds of palace life were left far behind, to be replaced by dead silence. Some of the hallways were wet with leaking water.

“What’s in these vaults?” Richard asked.

“The books of prophecy. Books of history, and records of the palace are also kept there.”

“Why are they way down here?”

“For protection. Prophecies are dangerous to the untrained mind. All novices study books of prophecy, but only certain Sisters are permitted to read them all, and work with them. Young wizards who show that their gift gives them an aptitude for prophecy are taught by these Sisters.

“There are a few young men who work and study in the vaults, but Warren is to the vaults what Jedidiah is to other forms of magic. Every wizard has a specialty. We will work with you to discover what your innate ability is. Until we can learn this, it will be hard to take your training very far.”

“Sister Verna told me something about that. So, what do you think my talent is?”

“Usually, we can tell by the personality of the boy. Some like to work with their hands, and end up making things of magic. Some like to help the sick or injured, and become healers. Things like that. We can usually tell.”

“So what about me?”

She glanced briefly in his direction. “None of us has ever seen anyone like you before. We have no idea, yet.” Pasha’s face brightened. “But we will.”

A huge, round stone door, as thick as Richard was tall, stood open in the gloom. Beyond it were rooms carved from the bedrock that the palace sat atop. Lamps did little to brighten the place. There were a number of long, timeworn tables with books and papers scattered about on them, and shelves in rows that extended into the distance to each side. Two women sat at the tables, taking notes as they read by the light of candles set close.

One of them peered up and addressed Pasha. “What are you doing down here, child?”

Pasha curtsied. “We came to see Warren, Sister.”

“Warren? Why?”

Just then, Warren came scurrying out of the darkness. “It’s all right, Sister Becky. I asked them to come.”

“Well, the next time, please let someone know in advance.”

“Yes, Sister, I will.”

Warren burrowed between the two of them and took their arms, leading them into the shelves. When he realized he was touching Pasha he jerked his hand away and turned red.

“You look… dazzling, Pasha.”

“Why, thank you, Mole.” She flushed red herself. She put a hand to his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Warren… I didn’t mean anything by that. I meant to call you Warren.”

He smiled. “It’s all right, Pasha. I know people call me the Mole. They think it a pejorative, but I take it as a compliment. You see, a mole can find its way in the dark, where others are blind. That is much like what I do; I find the way where others see nothing.”

Pasha sighed in relief. “I’m glad, Warren. Mole, did you hear that Jedidiah fell down a flight of stairs and broke his leg?”

“Really?” He searched her eyes. “Maybe the Creator was trying to teach him that when you hold your nose so high in the air, you can’t see where you are going.”

“I don’t think Jedidiah paid any heed to the Creator’s lessons,” Pasha said. “I heard tell that he was so angry he burned a prized carpet to ash.”

Warren still held her eyes. “You are the one who should be angry, not Jedidiah. He said cruel things to you. No one should say cruel things to you.”

“He is usually kind to me, but I admit, I did look a mess.”

“Some of these books look a mess to people, but it is what’s inside that matters, not the dust on their covers.”

Pasha blushed. “Why, thank you, Mole… I think.”