The False Princess

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“What?” The word came out a squawk. Beside me, Kiernan tensed. “You know who I am?”
She nodded. “I saw you, three days ago. You were riding over hills, with a broken crown on your head. Do not worry. I will not tell.” She smiled, but strangely, like a slightly mind-touched child.
“Do you know why we’ve come?” I asked.
She shook her head. “The God sends what he sends, and no more. I can ask, sometimes, for certain visions, but they are not always sent. I saw you coming, but he has not told me why.” She cocked her head at me. “I see the crown, still. You have not put it aside. But you no longer wear it. It sits in your hands, as if you are keeping it for someone else.”
It should have been unnerving, for her to see me, my motivations, so clearly. It wasn’t, though; it was like looking into a very clear mirror for the first time. “That’s why I’ve come. I wanted …” I swallowed. “I wanted to know about the prophecy, the one made about the princess when she was born. But you didn’t make it, and Brother Seldin won’t let us see the records of the oracle who did. The royal family …” My voice, already low, dropped to a whisper. My earlier fears had fallen away; somehow, I knew it was safe to tell her. “They’ve been betrayed. I feel like the prophecy has something to do with it, but I need to read it, learn whatever I can about it.”
The oracle tilted her head, then shook it sorrowfully. “I cannot ask the abbot to change the rules that have governed this place for centuries.”
“But please, you don’t understand—”
She raised a finger, then let her hand go to her neck. From beneath her dress, she pulled a long silver chain, a silver key hanging from its end. At my incredulous look, she smiled. “I cannot ask them to change. I am only one oracle—there were others before me and there will be others after me. But I saw myself giving you this key, before you even arrived.” She smiled again, and something a little more human sparked in her eyes. “If you wait until night, the library will be empty. They do not lock the outer doors. You can leave the key in the room, and I will say I left it by mistake.”
With trembling fingers, I reached forward and let her lay the key in my hand. “If you’re helping me, then you must know—” I breathed—“what happened. You can tell us who did this, who betrayed the king and queen.”
Again she shook her head. “I am not given to see the past.”
I frowned, confused. “Then why are you doing this, giving me the key?”
That serene smile. “Because I saw myself giving it to you.”
“Then,” I asked breathlessly, “then the Nameless God … wants me to succeed?”
A crease formed between her pale eyes, and she blinked sorrowfully. “No. Or rather, the God cares naught for such earthly things as thrones, and who sits upon them. The visions he sends me are not visions of his will. They are merely glimpses of what may come, but even they are rarely certain. I give you the key because I saw myself doing so, but I cannot say it is the God’s will.”
I swallowed my disappointment. “Can you see what will happen? What I should do?”
The oracle gazed at me for a long time before saying, softly, “When I look at you, the path of the future is crooked. There are too many branchings, too many chances. Too many choices. Even the God cannot see it.”
It made me feel small and scared, more alone than I have ever been before. Even the Nameless God, in all his infinite knowledge, could not see my path. Which meant that I had no chance of seeing it.
Something warm touched my hand, curling under my fingers and then clasping them firmly. With a start, I looked down and saw Kiernan’s hand holding mine. He grinned at me, as clearly as if he had heard my thoughts. No. I would not be alone.
It seemed there was nothing else to ask. “Thank you,” I said, and the oracle inclined her head.
“May you be guided by your knowledge,” she said, and I sensed that it was the phrase of closing.
It had all happened so quickly. I stood, feeling foolish as my skirt caught on my foot and I stumbled, brushing the oracle’s knee with my hand as I caught myself. My face flushed, but when I glanced at the oracle in embarrassment, I saw her staring at me. Her body, so languid before, had gone oddly rigid, and her pupils had expanded so far that I could barely make out the ring of blue around them.
“Are you—Is everything all right?” I asked.
As if my words had actually struck her, she startled, then slumped fractionally, her head hanging. Then she raised her head to look at me. “It seems a key is not all I am to give you,” she said, then paused, eyes flicking down.
“What did you see?” I asked.
“I saw a triangle,” she said finally, “set in a storm. One of its sides crumbled and fell away, leaving only two.”
A triangle. I frowned and then gasped as I realized what she must mean.
“Is that all you saw?” Kiernan demanded.
The oracle nodded. “I do not command the visions,” she said sadly. “They command me. I cannot tell you what it means.”
A triangle. Three girls, all bound together. One side falling away, crumbling.
Dying?
“Don’t worry,” I mumbled. “I think I know.”
The oracle bowed her head, the light from the hole in the dome above brushing her long limbs, and did not answer.
“You aren’t going to die,” Kiernan whispered through the darkness.
We sat in one of the bedchambers for pilgrims, me on the cot and Kiernan on the floor. He was sitting with his knees bent, elbows resting on them. If I looked at him, I knew I would see his eyes flash even in the dark. So I leaned my head back against the stone wall and said nothing.
“She might not have meant you,” he continued. “It could be Orianne, or even the real Nalia.”
That did make me look at him. “Great,” I said sarcastically. “So we find the real Nalia and then somehow get her killed. That would certainly be doing the kingdom a favor.”
Kiernan huffed in irritation, then took a breath. “I didn’t mean it that way. And besides, not all of those visions come true. The one that started this whole mess didn’t.”
I didn’t answer. I felt numb, had felt that way since stumbling out of the temple. Even the key hidden inside my fist hadn’t been enough to bring me back to myself. I had allowed Kiernan to lead me to the pilgrims’ quarters, overheard him tell Brother Paxson that I was too weary with study to leave that night. I had eaten the food brought to us, nodding mechanically in thanks, then sat down on the cot and let my mind wander.
A triangle. One side crumbled away, leaving only two. Try as I might, I could think of nothing else it could mean. Only that if I found the real princess, one of us—Nalia, Orianne, or me—would die.
“And even if it was a true prophecy, we can fight it. We know about it now, so we can be … alert, careful. We can keep them safe. We’ll keep you safe—I’ll keep you safe.” Kiernan pushed himself up off the bed and came to sit next to me. “Come on,” he said, reaching out a tentative arm and putting it around my shoulders. “I just got you back. I’m not going to let you die.”
Closing my eyes, I let myself lean against him. He smelled nice, even after days of travel on horseback. And he was warm and solid, and my friend.
We stayed like that long enough that I felt a little of the numbness leave, melted away by Kiernan’s warmth. “Sorry,” I said finally. My voice sounded a little choked, which made me pull away from him in embarrassment. “It’s a strange thing to hear, that’s all.”
Kiernan had let his arm drop from my shoulders, but his fingers now brushed my arm nearest to him. “I’m sure it is,” he said. He was gazing into my eyes as he said it, though more deeply than seemed necessary.
My heart was suddenly hammering in my ears, and I was overly aware of how close we were. “It must be near midnight,” I stuttered. “We should … We should probably try the, uh, library.”
Kiernan blinked, then pushed himself up, one corner of his mouth pulled in. “Of course,” he said. Then a mischievous grin broke across his face. “Now, this should be fun.”
It only took sneaking across the moon-shadowed courtyard for me to decide that my definition of fun differed drastically from Kiernan’s. I nearly jumped out of my skin when some sort of animal—a night bird or a bat—landed in a nearby tree with a loud rustling of leaves. At least, though, the heart-thumping terror that came with the idea of being caught pushed all thoughts of the oracle’s latest prophecy from my head. Luckily, we made it to the library without seeing anyone. Kiernan gave the door a gentle push, and, true to the oracle’s word, it swung slowly open.
The library was quiet, so our footfalls seemed like thunder in my ears. No lamps remained lit in the hallway, and we had to feel our way one step at a time. There was one tense moment when I managed to trip over my own skirt and collide with a closed door, but no one came to investigate. Finally, we made it to the door painted with the oracle’s sign, went through, and hurriedly closed it behind us.
“We’re going to have to light at least one lamp,” Kiernan whispered. I nodded, hoping he could see me. Luckily, with no windows in the room, only the bit of light escaping under the door could give us away. Feeling slightly blasphemous, I whispered a prayer for forgiveness to the Nameless God and approached the black cabinet. The oracle’s silver key slid silently into the lock, and the door popped open as I twisted.
Six journals stood in the cabinet—at least one of the oracles must have been a heavy writer. I reached for the last, then brought it over to the single light Kiernan had lit. Carefully, trying not crack the spine or bend a page, I opened it.
Twenty-third day of autumn, year 1145, reign of King Antaine II. Today the rites were finished. It seems strange somehow, to think that I am now the oracle. I only wish that my family had been able to attend, though I know that it is a sacred rite, and can be viewed only by my religious brothers and sisters, and not my kin …
“This is it,” I said, forgetting to keep my voice down in my excitement. Kiernan clapped a hand on my shoulder, his eyebrows raised meaningfully. “Sorry,” I said in a lower voice. “But this is the right one. It starts in 1145.…” I flipped through the pages, finally stopping over halfway through. “She wasn’t oracle for very long,” I murmured as I scanned the pages for the date I wanted. “Just seven years. Here!”
I slowed as the dates neared my birthday, finally stopping as my eyes found the words I wanted.
The king and queen came today, seeking the prophecy for their coming child. The queen seemed to have made the journey well enough, given her condition. They came to the temple, but when I asked the God to send the prophecy, I was struck down by visions of horror. A high room with thrones at the end, and lying before them in a pool of blood, a girl, pale with death. A golden crown lay near her, the blood spreading out toward it. Behind her, fifteen lamps winked out. They asked for more, but the God would not answer. I can only think that it was the unborn princess, and that she may die in the palace before her sixteenth birthday, a victim of murder.
I turned the page, but there was no more about the princess. Instead, it went on to an account of a merchant’s wife and her petition. I sat back, letting the book fall closed, my hand between the pages.
“But we knew all that,” Kiernan said angrily from over my shoulder. “Couldn’t she have written a little more? Something helpful? Nameless God, it was about the princess!”
“The God doesn’t care who sits on the throne. That’s what the oracle said, remember? I guess it wasn’t any more important to her than any other prophecy.” I realized that I was fighting back tears. I had been right. Coming here hadn’t helped at all.
“Let me see that,” Kiernan demanded, and I handed the book over to him without a word. I could see his eyes moving as he read, but then he sighed, laying it facedown on the table with a shrug. “Someone needs to teach them to be a bit more thorough.”
I picked at the back cover, letting it fall open and then closed again, not caring in my disappointment if I caused any damage. I had to work to keep a sob out of my voice, so I ended up sounding like I had a bad cold. “I just thought that surely there would be something here, that it would help …” Just then, however, something caught my eye. I stared at the last page of the book. The writing, unlike the clear hand from the beginning, had gone choppy and hard to read, as if the oracle had been weak and shaking when she wrote it.
The illness has progressed quickly. I am unlikely to live much longer, not with this fever clutching at me so tightly. The prophecies have gone anyway, for days now, and I cannot see my own end. It is fitting, perhaps, the God’s justice.
Of that which I have not written, I will write now—I fear the God’s wrath if I do not, though I fear it already for what I have done. I have commanded the record to be buried with me, sealed in a container. The monks will not question it, for it is my will. And perhaps, if I acknowledge it somewhere, the God will take pity on his servant when I meet him.
I frowned, then read the lines again. They didn’t make any sense. “There was something she hadn’t done, or said,” I murmured, trying to work it out. “Whatever it was, it scared her. I think she wrote it down when she was dying and had it buried with her.”
“You think it has something to do with the princess?” Kiernan asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. But whatever it was, she felt guilty about it. She was frightened. We should try to find out what it was—we don’t have anything else to try.”
He shook his head in disgust, then slid the journal back into the cabinet. “If she had it buried with her, it’s no use to us, unless you plan to go digging up some moldering body, and even then …” He grimaced in disgust.
I frowned and licked my lips, an image forming in my mind. “I don’t think we’ll have to,” I said slowly.
“I’d feel a lot better about this if that spell had worked,” Kiernan hissed.
“Don’t tell me that I’m going to have to drag you along,” I whispered back. “This is a real adventure, Kiernan. Just think, if we manage to get out of all this without being killed or imprisoned, you’ll have such stories to tell the ladies at court.”
“Are you sure that this isn’t blasphemy? We’re going to desecrate the grave of the Nameless God’s chosen ones.”
“We aren’t going to desecrate it,” I insisted. “We’re just going to look around it. And besides, since when have you worried about blasphemy?”
He snorted, but softly. “Let’s go, then.”
I nodded, hoping he could see me in the darkness. The barest sliver of moon hung in the sky, casting little light, and while I was grateful for the cover, it also made it hard to see. And I, too, wished that I had managed to cast a weak version of a sight shield on us—a sort of “don’t see me” spell. But I hadn’t, so we would have to make our way across the grounds of Isidros the old-fashioned way.
We went slowly, creeping from shadow to shadow, praying that no one would decide to sneak to the kitchens for a late-night snack or to fight sleeplessness by taking a midnight stroll. My heart hammered in my chest so that I felt a little faint. This was more than sneaking into the library. We would have been in trouble for that, I felt sure, but I also knew it would be nothing compared to what would happen if we were caught disturbing the remains of the oracles themselves.
The gate on the iron fence surrounding the temple’s graveyard creaked as we inched it open, just wide enough to let us slip inside. I peeked hastily behind us, sure someone would have heard it, but no one came. It didn’t make me feel better, though, but worse, as if fate were only waiting until we were completely committed to this course before clamping down on us. Sweat trickled down my back by the time we reached the mausoleum I had seen that morning, its pale stone walls rearing up above us. We crouched on the far side of it, around the corner from the door, and then Kiernan darted around to test it.
“It’s locked,” he breathed when he returned. “Really locked. We’d make enough noise to wake Vivaskari if we tried to force it. Are you sure she’ll be in there?”
“It said something about all the oracles being entombed there in one of the journals I read today.” I sat back on my heels and bit my lip. “I’ll have to try a spell then.”
Which, I thought as I hunched my shoulders in front of the door to the mausoleum a moment later, could be as loud as trying to knock the door open with a battering ram. Kiernan shifted from one foot to the other, keeping a watch for any approaching monks or sisters. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the shivery feeling brought on by standing in a graveyard in the dead of night, forcing myself to think about what Philantha would do. Except that Philantha would know a real spell to open the door, and she would be able to make it work. When I looked inward, all I felt was power roiling inside me without control.
Well, fine, I thought. If that’s how it’s going to be …
Raising my hands, I placed them on top of the huge lock set into the thick wooden door. Then I let go, releasing the inner walls that held my magic at bay. Energy pulsed through my hands and threw me backward to collide with Kiernan. We tumbled to the ground in a tangle as a terrific pop and sizzle sounded from inside the lock.
Kiernan had landed on top of me, his elbow digging into my ribs. But neither of us rose; instead we listened to see if anyone else had heard us. When no one came, I shifted to make his elbow move.
“Sorry,” Kiernan said, smiling. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” I said, but it came out smaller than I had meant it to. I could feel heat flushing my neck, and I scooted out from under him before he could see my face. Scrambling over to the door, I wondered what was the matter with me.
Kiernan was right behind me, and he pushed the door open with a grunt. “The lock’s … Well, they’ll know someone’s been here. It’s well and truly broken. We’ll have to leave before they notice it.”
He glanced at me with that small smile on his face, and my stomach flipped for no reason. “Ladies first,” he added with a grimace.
I took up a torch from one of the two brackets beside the door while Kiernan took the other one. Then, swallowing, I managed the spell to light them and stepped into the tomb.