Prophecy's Promise (Prophecy of the Edges Book 1) (17 page)

Bahlym returned the audible to his pocket. “I should be getting a call from the general himself within a few minutes. The appropriate Protocol has been initiated.”

“Cadets, captains, commanders, generals… Is everyone here a Warrior or only the ones I’ve met so far?” I asked, tearing myself away from the books. I sat on the sofa he had indicated when we had entered the room.

“Warriors?” he said, slightly surprised by the word. “No, that would imply wars to fight. We’ve not had one in eight generations. But all the leaders of the government are also technically in the military. A captain is eligible to run towns, a general the Empire.” He sat down on a second sofa, that faced mine, separated by a single table adorned only by a bowl of fruit.

“You run multiple towns then, since you are between a captain and a general.”

“Oh, no.” He chuckled. “I could, but I run somewhat more. My father owns one of the largest Mist Channels in the Empire, but I run it in addition to my duties as a cleric. That’s why I am a commander. My father is a general, although to a much lesser degree one than
the
general, of course. What about you? What does your husband do?”

“I’m not married.”

Bahlym turned red. “Oh, I assumed.” He motioned to my belly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said more caustically than I meant. “It’s not exactly ideal, but I’ll be okay.”

“I mean no offense. It’s—how was your womb open for fertilization? Why would your family allow such a thing?”

“I don’t think it was ever closed…”

“Here… well, there will be talk and confusion,” he stammered.

“You may not be a warrior, Commander, despite your Warrior-sounding title, but I am. Also, I’m a Scholar, if not officially according my country’s customs, but I have a standing job offer to create a university in a country that has none. I’ll make my own way.”

“You’ll make your own way?” Bahlym’s eyebrows rose.

His pocket made a sound like a very large bell. I jumped.

“Ah, that would be General Zirban. Excuse me.”

With all the newness that surrounded me, I’d not started to process the fact that I was going to be a mother. Assuming Bahlym was correct and could indeed feel the child’s Mist, he or she would be a Weaver. I suppose that I should feel scared or upset, but I only felt excited. I’d never thought about being a parent.

“Seven o’clock tomorrow, at the moment the day becomes dusk.” Bahlym’s pronouncement severed me from my thoughts. “It will be broadcasted. We need to find you clothing a little more appropriate for the event, but the girls at the desk can handle that, I’m sure. We will be traveling to the capital city via a flight carriage. We are to meet the carriage at ten in the morning.”

“This isn’t your capital? But it’s so big!”

“It’s our fourth largest city. A million people live here, but we number twelve in the capital. Enough talk about cities, which I am sure must be a terrible bore. I imagine you want to see your quarters and get freshened up.”

“No. You promised me answers. I don’t care about the Protocol you keep talking about, but I need your help. I’ve got no idea what’s going on.”

“Very well.” Bahlym sighed.

“How do we make The Edge stop eating away our world?” I asked.

“This Edge is not eating it. It is melting the rocks that make up our world. If it continues, the entire world will be destroyed. The Prophecy promised to send someone to put the land together and quench the rocks.”

His words reminded me of my first Mist Apparition. It spoke of a land scorching and smoldering that needed someone to quench the rocks and put the land back together. I shivered.

“That person was to pass through at the very point you did. That’s why the children and I were there. It’s a pilgrimage of sorts.”

“Over the years, how many people have passed through?” I asked.

“Only you. The Guardians made a Promise and you are who we got.” He sighed and then continued. “Many years ago, there was a war among the gods. One faction, in an attempt to overthrow the other, created a powerful creature named Azabin, but the gods did not understand what they were creating. Azabin rebelled, believing that he deserved to rule the universe. The destruction he inflicted was unimaginable.”

“An evil god?” I asked. “But the gods were neither good nor bad.”

“Azabin is not a god, but a creature created by the gods as a weapon. A weapon that took on its own life and was no longer controllable. You seriously know nothing of this?”

“No.”

Bahlym whispered under his breath, but then continued. “The gods locked Azabin into the center of our world, condemning our entire planet. But the Guardians, unwilling to allow humankind to suffer for the gods’ folly wove a tapestry bound by prophecy. A young man was chosen and blessed. From his bloodline would come a descendant who could destroy Azabin.”

“What does that have to do with The Edge?”

“The
Edges
” Bahlym emphasized the plural, “are Azabin’s prison.” He walked over to a bowl and pulled out an orange. “The world is round. We trapped Azabin inside and spilt the world into six pieces.” He peeled the orange rind into six equal pieces. I had the feeling this was a tool they used to explain the mythology to children. It was effective. “We call the pieces ‘Slices.’”

I took one of the pieces and put it in my hand. I had been taught that the world has a curvature to it, of course. Nothing in nature is truly flat. I had seen the formulas proving the degree to which it curved. I’d been taught that the world was like a leaf, hanging off a limb of the universe.  There was a curvature, but like a leaf, our world had boundaries.  We believed that we were just one creation and there were hundreds—maybe millions—of others far away on other planets.  I’d never thought that another creation was just on the other side of The Edge or that there could be more than one Edge. So if the curvature did not end and continued on with the same pattern, the world could be round. Was there an Edge in the Ocean, beyond which lay another Slice? “Are you saying that, besides our two Slices, there are four others? What proof do you have?” This was too confusing.  Too much to absorb.

“Everyone knows that there are six Slices. And I know that Azabin has been recovering. He is melting that which binds him. He can never escape. He will melt the whole world if he is allowed to continue. And only the person who will cross our Edge at the exact point at which we saw you this morning is the person who can kill Azabin and put the land back together.”

“Are those the red eyes that I have seen in The Edge?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.  Azabin was those red eyes.

“You’ve seen it?”

“I have.”

Bahlym shook his head slightly in disbelief.

“So, if there are other Slices, are there other edges?”

“Of course.  Six slices, five edges.  That’s what makes up our globe.”

“I thought there was only one Edge and that was bad enough.  Now you are telling me that there are a total of five?”

“Your slice has two Edges,” Bahlym pointed out.

“So you say.  There’s an ocean on the other side of the continent.  I guess there could be an edge in it.”

“There is,” Bahlym said.

“And do those red eyes live in each Edge?”

“Not exactly.  Think of the Edges as parts of the same prison.  Azabin is in the center of the world
and
in the Edges.  It’s all connected.”

“So if I could be inside an Edge, I could walk from it down to the center of the world and then back up a different Edge?”

Bahlym nodded.

“And you think I can fix this?  I can remove all these Edges?” I asked.

“You or your child.”

My hand fluttered to my belly. “If I cannot fix it, then my baby can?”

“Yes, but you will be the one to oppose him.”

“How do you know?”

He didn’t answer me, but walked over to a bookcase and pulled down a manuscript and read from it. “As our parents, the gods lock away the Being, we retort. We imprison this power in the Earth with a promise that a younger brother will come, countered by his own kin.” Bahlym closed the book. “Of course, the words are gender neutral.”

“I don’t have a brother or a sister.”

“You can’t remember your childhood. Maybe your sibling blocked your memories as part of the Counter.”

“It doesn’t say I’m a mother.”

“That was a different prophecy. Not part of the Promise.”

“Erasing my childhood is a ridiculous way to ‘counter’ me. What could I have known or done by twelve?”

“A singularly special destiny paired with no childhood memories is a terribly uncanny coincidence.”

“So what about the book?” I asked as I pulled it out. “A teacher of mine died to give this to me, claiming a group called the White Knights would try to take it from me.” I remembered Kael’s statement when I had been in the dungeon. Nazarie had killed the wrong girl. Did he know about the Promise? Did he save me from the Knights? “My teacher, and others,” I continued, not elaborating on what others, “must have known about the Prophecy, even though I’ve never learned of it.” I set the book down on the table. Bahlym opened it to a random page in the middle. I looked down at the funny characters.

“It’s blank!”

“That’s what I was telling you earlier. I’m the only one who can see the letters, but I don’t recognize them.”

He ran over and grabbed some papers and a writing utensil. “Show me.”

I traced out a shape as closely as I could.

“No, nothing.” He was quiet for a moment. I could feel him Weaving against the book. “It’s blocked in the same pattern as your memories. A blocked book
and
blocked memories; that's too much to be a coincidence.”

Unfortunately, I had to agree with him. “What now?” I asked.

“We go before the Council tomorrow. They will decide what the next move will be.”

“The next move is to find a library so that I can teach myself how to read this book. The Council is of little concern to me.”

“I think that it’s going to be more difficult than that. Very few people will be interested in doing anything to help you.”

“Why are you helping me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“You are the Promise,” he said, simply.

“But you said that few would be interested in helping.”

“I am a cleric. It is my duty to help the Promise.” He held my gaze. “I don’t think there is any way for you, a woman Warrior and Scholar, to understand a woman’s Protocol. Women are not to ask any questions or even directly address a man they are not related to.”

“Is that what you think?” I demanded.

“I’m speaking to you now.”

“It’s an awful lot of trouble to do ‘the right thing.’ What’s in it for you?”

“I am a cleric. You have questions, but we don’t have time to discuss that now. We need to order some clothes for you before the shops close...”

“These clothes are fine. I need them washed. Besides, I doubt my currency holds any value in your land.”

“There is a trust for the Promise. Regardless, a few frocks billed to my account will be no matter,” he said, his words sounding arrogant, but none of it reflected in his features. Altis had the exact same air about him. I pushed back the thoughts of Altis.

“I thank you for your kindness and the time you took with me today.”

“Of course, Promise.” He gave instructions to the servant. She’d been so quiet that I’d forgotten that she was there. Silently, she nodded to him and then motioned for me to follow her.

“I will post a few of my personal guards outside your door,” Bahlym said as I followed the servant down the corridor, past other identical private parlors, arriving at golden doors. She pressed a button with a little up arrow that lit up. After a few moments, the doors opened revealing a small box she stepped into. She turned to face me, apparently wanting me to follow. The tiny space reminded me of the wagon I’d been held in and of Kael’s dungeon. “I’m not stepping inside that,” I told the servant, who obviously had no idea what I was saying. I shook my head emphatically and backed away from the box. The doors began to close. She put her foot in the way of the doors, and they popped back open. Her eyes widened in frustration.

Bahlym appeared behind me. “It’s fine,” he said. “She’s not going to hurt you, and the elevator is perfectly safe. Go on. I’ll take the next one.”

I went inside the little box, the “elevator.” After the doors slid shut, my breathing quickened. The space was too small. The box moved upward and, after a few moments, stopped and opened. The servant stepped out of the little box and started down the corridor. I followed her into a suite of rooms, which must be the apartment that Bahlym mentioned.

The apartment’s rooms were large and grand and full of so many unusual objects. They looked like they were made for a princess. I could hardly believe that they had these rooms prepared for me.

The servant took my measurements and showed me how to start the bath.

The bath water came from a spigot in the wall and was warm in only a few moments, and then the bath itself kept the water warm, blowing warm bubbles against my back. I sat in the bath for a long time trying to digest everything that I had learned. At least I knew what was causing this. I could fight this, find the solution, or I could hide and let my child fight it. Against me. But still, the Prophecy was that someone would have the power to heal it, not that I would heal it. This choice, oddly, made me feel more in control, more settled. I could save Gryshelm from The Edge.  Not just The Edge that I’d always known about, but five Edges that plagued our world.