Revealed (35 page)

“Who’s hungry?” Sylvan asked. He had gone to stand beside the small table and was looking down at the food which had been provided.

“I am,” Nadiah said, and was surprised to find it was true. “I feel like I haven’t eaten in a month.”

“You look like you haven’t either.” Rast frowned and ran a finger along her collarbone. “That damn fever—burning you up from the inside out.”

“I feel better now.” She tried to speak brightly. After all, it was
almost
the truth.

“You’re not, though.” Rast looked worried. “Not yet. But you will be—I swear you will be no matter what I have to do to make it happen, sweetheart.”

“I think we’ll learn more about that in the temple,” Sylvan said mildly. “In the mean time, we’d better get something while we can. I know all of us were too worried to eat earlier.”

Nadiah was touched. “You shouldn’t have put off eating just for me. Come on, Rast.” She tugged at his arm. “I really
am
hungry.”

He sighed. “All right. As long as it’s not steamed brains or worm guts.”

“I thought you
liked
my steamed
vorteg
brains,” Nadiah protested. “You said they were the best you’d ever eaten.”

“They
were,”
Rast assured her. “But to tell you the truth, sweetheart, I don’t usually eat brains.”

Sophia smothered a laugh. “I get the feeling Rast isn’t much into
haute cuisine
.”

“You got that right,” he growled.

“Very funny, Rast.” Nadiah decided to let it drop although she promised herself to grill him later on what he
really
liked to eat. If there
was
a later. In the mean time, they gathered around the table which was laid with a simple white cloth and rough wooden bowls filled with what looked like tiny loaves of bread.

“Not much for variety, are they?” Rast murmured, looking at the nearly identical loaves. “Oh well, we didn’t come here for the dinner service anyway.”

“I think they look good. Better than
fleeta
pudding, anyway—no offence, guys,” Sophia added to Nadiah and Sylvan. “Well, here goes nothing.” She picked up a small loaf and took a bite. A strange look passed over her face. “Mmm! Tastes like…like tomato soup. And…and a grilled cheese sandwich.” She took another bite. “And
now
it tastes like lime Jello.” She frowned.
 
“That’s so weird—that was my favorite meal when I was a little kid.”

“Really?” Rast picked up a loaf of bread no longer than his palm and bit off the end. “Cheeseburger,” he said, frowning. “With extra ketchup. And fries…and a chocolate shake.” His eyes widened. “My sister used to take me out on Thursday nights when our parents were working late that that was what I
always
got.” He looked at the bread with wonder. “How does it do that?”

“It’s like some kind of Willy Wonka mind-reading bread or something.” Sophia took another bite and handed a tiny loaf to Nadiah. “Try it!”

Nadiah took a bite and her mouth was suddenly flooded with the tastes of her childhood. “
Malabar
pudding,” she said. “And roast rump of
vranna
and
tsitle
berry juice.”

Sylvan nodded, “I got the same except for
malabar
pudding—I always hated that.”

They were so engrossed in the strange bread, which tasted different to each to them, that none of them noticed that the young priestess, Lissa, had returned until she cleared her throat.

“Oh, hello,” Sophia exclaimed, turning to see her. “We didn’t even see you there. This bread is amazing. How do you make it?”

“I am glad you enjoy it.” Lissa nodded gracefully. “However, we have no time to tell you the secrets of our baking now. It is time—you are summoned to the temple.”

“Oh.” For some reason, Nadiah’s mouth was suddenly dry. She swallowed hard and the last bite of bread went down her throat in a tasteless lump.

Rast didn’t look happy about it either. “Come on,” he said roughly. “Let’s go. Might as well get it over with.”

As they followed the young priestess out of the oasis of light and back into a tunnel filled with darkness, Nadiah felt a growing sense of unease. Somehow she knew something was going to happen once they reached the temple of the Empty Throne. And not necessarily something good.

The temple of the Empty Throne was located inside the mountain, in a vast cavern that made the huge grotto Rast had seen on Tranq Prime look small. But it wasn’t dark or gloomy. Someone had drilled deep holes in the side of the mountain to let in the sunlight. Pale green shafts of light pierced the cavern, making mystical patterns on the sandy floor that led to the graceful white marble structure of the temple.

Tall, slender white pillars supported the roof of the temple and hundreds of white stone steps led upwards to a high, flat platform. Far back on the platform was another, smaller one—a dais with additional steps leading up to it. Sitting on the dais was a solid white marble chair with gold and silver lines running through it. The Empty Throne.

Even seeing it from a distance, the weird stone throne sent a shiver down Rast’s back. It had an aura of power around it that seemed to radiate outwards and fill the entire huge space with a soft humming sound that was almost too low to hear.
Like a generator,
Rast thought. Only he had an idea that this particular generator could be dangerous—very damn dangerous indeed to the wrong person.

The throne’s hum had a strange effect on him. His shoulder blades started itching again and every muscle in his body tensed, as though he was getting ready for a confrontation. But then the high priestess appeared again at the top of the stairs and everything else was driven out of his mind.

“You have come.” Her voice tolled like a bell in the huge, echoing space and Rast thought she had a look of smug self satisfaction as she looked down, surveying them from the top step. Behind her, a group of younger priestesses stood silently, all dressed in white with green sashes tied around their slender waists.

“You didn’t give us much choice,” he snapped, frowning. “So
 
here we are. Now tell us what this is all about. What was so important that you had to make Nadiah sick and force me to come here?”

The high priestess frowned. “A little respect, if you please, Adam Rast. You may be the one the prophecy speaks of but you are still addressing one chosen of the Goddess.” She made a grand sweeping gesture with both hands. “Come up. You may all approach the throne but do not touch it on peril of your lives—even the one we seek if he is not ready to be found.”

Without even asking, Rast knew Nadiah couldn’t manage the steps—there were just too many of them and she was much too weak. Though she was trying to put a brave face on things and acting like she was feeling better, he could see the truth. The bruised looking circles under her dark blue eyes and the drawn look on her face let him know that she wasn’t well. And she wouldn’t
be
well unless he could somehow force the obtuse, entitled priestess who thought she was above all of them to cure her. Although how he was going to do that, he had no idea.
Well, I can start by climbing the damn steps and getting in her face.,
he thought angrily.

There didn’t seem to be anything else to do. Leaning down, he scooped Nadiah into his arms and started to climb.

“Rast,” she protested softly as Sylvan and Sophia followed them up the steps. “You don’t have to do this. I can manage.”

“No you can’t.” He looked straight ahead, keeping the high priestess in his sights. “But you’ll be able to soon. I promise you that, sweetheart.”

Nadiah stopped protesting and laid her head on his shoulder. It reminded Rast of the way she’d relaxed against him after Y’dex had been yanking on their blood bond, during the trip to Tranq Prime. It made his heart clench to see that look of quiet submission on her face, that look which said she had been hurt before and knew she would be hurt again. He kissed her shining hair and made a silent vow to himself to make her better, no matter what.

The steps seemed to go on forever but at last they found themselves at the top. Rast set Nadiah gently on her feet, keeping an arm around her to make sure she didn’t lose her balance.

“Phew!” Sophia exclaimed, panting as she reached the top step. “Like climbing up the side of a pyramid or something.”

“Silence!” The high priestess’s voice rang out harshly and Sophia’s eyes went wide.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know the ceremony or whatever it is had already started.”

Rast saw Sylvan squeeze her hand comfortingly. “Forgive us, your Holiness. We are here at your command. Would it please you to tell us why we were summoned?”

His respectful tone of voice seemed to please the priestess greatly. “Indeed, Warrior, I will tell you. But first I must share with you a story—a legend from our past…and, if we are not careful, a warning for our very near future. Turn from me now and look to the ceiling of the holy cavern. Watch as I relate.”

All of them turned and Rast saw that the shafts of sunlight which dotted the cavern floor with golden green light had somehow been quenched. Now there was only darkness in the high, vaulted reaches of the holy cavern. But as he watched, the darkness was replaced with a picture. A picture of a man sitting on the Empty Throne.

Like the biggest IMAX in the whole damn universe,
Rast thought, bemused. And on the heels of that,
Hey, that guy looks a lot like—

“You. He looks just like you, Rast!” Nadiah breathed softly. “If you had black hair instead of light brown. Who is he?”

“The male you see here is Counselor
 
Kall—the last Counselor
 
to ever sit upon the Empty Throne,” the priestess said, answering her question. “But then it was called the Seat of Wisdom. And he bore in his hand, the Eye of Foreknowledge.” As if on cue, the male who looked almost exactly like Rast lifted a heavy silver scepter that looked to be taller than he was. At the top, the scepter was carved into a setting, almost like a ring holding a precious stone. But instead of a stone, the four fingers of silver held in place a…

“A soap bubble?” Rast frowned. “Why is he holding a bubble? And why doesn’t it pop?”

“It is no mere bubble. The Eye of Foreknowledge is the third eye of a
K’lil,”
the priestess intoned.

Sylvan frowned. “
K’lil?
I thought they were mythical. Do you mean the huge creatures that used to live on the fifth moon of Gilx? The ones no one could trap because they could always see the hunters coming?”

“The same.” The priestess nodded. “The
K’lil
are extinct now. The Eye of Foreknowledge is a rare and precious gift, given by the Goddess herself that the First Kindred might know their enemies’ minds and movements and thus defend against them. Only the Counselor
 
himself can wield it.”

As if on cue, the man who looked like Rast with black hair brought the bubble end of the scepter close to his face and looked into its shimmering, rainbow depths. Rast couldn’t see what he saw there, but a look of fear and dismay spread over his face and he shook his head before looking up to call someone over.

A beautiful woman with long, golden brown hair came to join the man. Rast couldn’t help noticing that except for the brilliant green streaks at her temples, her hair was the exact same color as his. She wore a long, loose fitting white gown but under it, her belly bulged prominently—she was pregnant.

“That is Zali, the chosen mate and
Lyzel
of Counselor
 
Kall. Together as
Challa
and
Lyzel
, they interpreted the visions of the Eye and kept
First World
safe,” the priestess said. “It was
she
he called to see the doom approaching them, although he did not wish to give her grief. Only
she
was worthy to help decide their fate.”

The priestess looked at Nadiah as she spoke, making Rast wonder if there was some significance in the scene meant just for her.
Is she saying Nadiah’s not good enough for me? But why the hell not? And what gives her the right to decide?

“Of these matters we will speak later,” the priestess said, giving him a dark look. Obviously she had caught part of his thought. “For now, simply watch.”

Rast looked back at the scene and saw it was still unfolding.

The man and woman spoke earnestly and though Rast couldn’t hear what they were saying, he could tell it was very serious. The woman put a hand to her cheek and a look of horror crossed her lovely face. The man offered her the scepter and, though it was clear she didn’t want to, she looked into the soap bubble—or the Eye of Foreknowledge as Rast supposed he ought to call it—as well.

What she saw made her weep, tears running down her cheeks as she clutched protectively at her belly. She shook her head and Rast could almost hear her saying,
“No, no it can’t be true! My baby—not my baby!”

But the man simply nodded. She dissolved into tears and he held her while she cried.

Though he didn’t know what it was about, Rast felt a lump in his throat. “What happened?” he asked. “Why are they so upset? What did they see?”