Stone of Tears

On a bright, sunny day, after Warren had become comfortable out-of-doors, Richard decided to try taking him out into the hills. Warren was a bit giddy at first, but as they sat on a rock high in the hills, overlooking the countryside and the city, Warren said that he felt as if he had mastered his fear. He said that he still felt uncomfortable, but he felt the fear was under control.

He grinned at the vast landscape spread out below, enjoying the sight that for so long his fears denied him. Richard told him that he was happy that he was the one to have been able to guide him out of his mole hole. Warren laughed.

Warren said he needed adventure in his life, and this felt like the beginning.

As far as Warren’s search for information was going, he had been able to find out precious little. He had so far found only a few references in old books that talked about the Valley of the Lost, and the Baka Ban Mana, but what he found was intriguing. The information made reference to the power the wizards had given the Baka Ban Mana in return for taking their land, so that they could someday have their land restored. It said that when the completing link was joined with this power invested in their spirit woman, the towers would fall.

Richard thought about Du Chaillu saying that he was the Caharin, and that they were now husband and wife. That was a linking of sorts. He wondered if over the intervening time the meaning of this joining could have been taken to mean marriage, instead of its original intent.

As they sat watching the vast landscape, Warren said, “The Prelate has been reading prophecies and histories that talk about “the pebble in the pond.’”

Richard’s ears perked up. He remembered Kahlan singing him a song about screelings that mentioned “the pebble in the pond.” Warren hadn’t studied those prophecies before, and hadn’t been able to piece together their importance as of yet.

“Do you know what the Wizard’s Second Rule is?” Richard asked.

“Second Rule? Wizards have rules? What’s the first?”

Richard looked over. “do you remember that night Jedidiah broke his leg, and I told you that you had carpet ash on you? And you tried to brush it off? I was using the Wizard’s First Rule.” Warren frowned. “You think on it, Warren, and let me know what you figure out. In the meantime, it’s important that you speed up the search for the information I asked you about.”

“Well, it will be a little easier, now that Sister Becky is sick every morning, and won’t be looking over my shoulder. She’s pregnant,” he said in answer to Richard’s questioning frown.

“Do many of the Sisters have children?”

“Sure,” Warren said. “What with all the young wizards around who can no longer go to the city. The Sisters help out with their needs, so they can study.”

Richard gave Warren a suspicious look. “Is Sister Becky’s child yours?”

Warren blushed furiously. “No.” He kept his eyes to the city. “I’m waiting for the one I love.”

“Pasha,” Richard said.

Warren nodded. Richard looked down at the Palace of the Prophets, and the city that surrounded it. Needs.

“Warren, do all the children of men with the gift inherit it?”

“Oh no. It’s said that many thousands of years ago, before the Old and New World were separated, many had the gift. But over time those in power methodically killed off young ones with the gift, so they would have no one to threaten their rule. They also withheld the required teaching. It used to be that fathers taught their sons, but as fewer were born with the gift, and it skipped more and more generations, those who knew the way jealously guarded their knowledge. That’s the reason the Palace of the Prophets was created—to help those with the gift, who had no teacher.

“As time went on, the gift was bred out of the race of man, the way you breed a trait out of an animal. This gave the wizards who held power less and less opposition all the time.

“Now that the trait is so bred out, one born with the gift is exceedingly rare. Maybe only one child in a thousand fathered by a wizard is born with the gift. We’re a dying breed.”

Richard looked to the city again, then to the palace.

His eyes locked on the palace, Richard slowly rose to his feet. “They’re not seeing to our “needs,’” he whispered, “they’re using us as breeding stock.”

Warren stood. His brow wrinkled. “What?”

“They’re using the palace, the young men at the palace, to breed wizards.”

Warren’s brow furrowed deeper. “Why?”

Richard’s jaw muscles flexed. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

“Good,” Warren said with a grin. “I need an adventure.”

Richard gave him a cold look. “do you know what adventure is, Warren?”

Warren nodded, the smile still on his face. An exciting experience.”

Adventure is being scared to death, and not knowing if you will live or die, or if the ones you love will live or die. Adventure is being in trouble you don’t know how to get out of.”

Warren fumbled with the braiding on his sleeve. “I never thought about it like that.”