I heard the strength of his muffled sigh. I knew he skated past painful memories as he added, ‘And many events then happened that were not my direct intent. Things that triggered me into a role I thought long finished. My dreams came back to me. That was her doing. Her fault that I awoke to those tasks.’ Again, a short silence. ‘That is what I want to tell you now. I have glimpsed in some dreams what you might do, so I caution you. Choose carefully, little Bee. Clerres Castle has stood for time beyond memory. Since the Servants have claimed domain over it, it has become a repository of history. The scrolls stored here track not just what may be, if events tumble a certain way. A great deal of history has been recorded here. Wisdom has been gained and preserved in the scrolls and books. The Servants have documented the changes they engineered, and before that, the works of the original White Prophets.
‘And then there are the folk who live here, in the castle, and the city beyond that depend on the trade the castle and the Servants generate. Beyond them, there are the rolling hills where flocks graze and farmers till the fields. The fisherfolk, and beyond the inlets and waters where they work, the islands of the archipelago. It is like a child’s tower of blocks. If you pull out the bottom block, all tumbles down. Thousands of lives changed.’
I thought for a long time. ‘Always in a bad way?’
He paused before answering. ‘No. Some benefit.’
‘Did you change thousands of lives? Did you know that dragons now raid the flocks and herds of Chalced and the Six Duchies? Did you know that dragons brought down the cruel Duke of Chalced? And that there is peace now between the Six Duchies and the OutIslands?’
His silence was longer this time. ‘Some of that I knew. I knew your prince would wed a narcheska of the OutIslands. The rest … they give me no news here. I know little beyond what I dream. Capra says that keeps my dreams pure, uninfluenced by the outside world. And I do dream, and I record those dreams. I am like the bird that sings in its cage, with no knowledge of season or mates or offspring. The dreams I write, they take them from me. For good or evil, I cannot say. To dream and record the dreams is my Path. It is what I must do.’
‘And you dreamed about me?’ I felt a little shiver of importance.
‘For many years. At first, you were unlikely. Then … I would guess it was nearly ten years ago. It is hard for me to know. Time passes so differently when one is confined.’
‘About the time I was born,’ I guessed.
‘Truly? You are so young to be working such great changes. So small.’
‘I wish I could just have stayed at home. I did not want this.’ My throat closed and I felt a stirring of anger. ‘You caution me about all the people whose lives I will affect. But Dwalia and the Servants cared nothing for that. They killed so many of my people. So many children will go on alone, so many children will never be born. None of that stayed her hand!’
His strong black fingers closed around my scarred white ones. His grip was warm but I felt how thin and fine the bones in my hands were. He could have crushed my hand. Instead he held it warmly and said, ‘But you are not her. You are the true White Prophet for this time. You must look for what leads to the greatest good for all. You cannot be heartless or selfish, as your Catalyst was.’
I did not think of what I would do. I was adept at that now. Vindeliar’s magic might be weakened but he still had some. And if the Servants had more serpent spit and gave it to him … I felt a sudden surge of urgency. I must not be stopped. I think Prilkop felt my resolve in how I drew my hand away from his clasp.
‘When people do not know the past, they make the same mistakes their forebears made,’ he warned me.
I drew a great breath and wondered if that were true. Then I lay back on my bed and stared at the stone lacework of the wall. I thought of all he had said. ‘If I just stay here in my cell, they will kill me, I think.’
‘So I have dreamed. A harsh breath, a candle goes out.’
I let the tiny edge of my plan creep into my mind. How much had his dreams told him of me? Did he know my intentions? ‘You think I should stay in my cell?’
He heaved a great sigh. ‘I only say to you that it is a possibility you may not have considered. Perhaps you should try to see where that decision might lead.’ In a very quiet voice he added, ‘For us, it is not always about our own survival. It is about the path we believe is best for the world.’
‘Vindeliar told me he could feel when he was on the true Path. Well, I feel mine now. It feels right, Prilkop.’
‘So many things do when they are the things we want to do.’
‘What did you dream me doing?’
There was a smile in his voice. ‘I dreamed many different paths for you. Some more likely than others.’ He whispered the words to me again, that peculiarly familiar rhyme:
‘A piebald bird, a silver ship, oh what are you awaking?
‘One shall be two and two be one before the future’s breaking.’
It still made no sense to me. ‘I told you before, I have no piebald bird, nor a ship. Prilkop, just tell me. Do I break the future?’
‘Oh, child. We all do. That is both the danger and the hope of life. That each of us changes the world, every day.’ His smile was sad. ‘Some of us more than others.’
‘What’s that?’ There had been a sound, or rather a flurry of sounds. A thud, a muffled yelp, a louder thud. I held my breath, listening. Prilkop drew back his hand, and I imagined that he fled back to his desk and paper.
Down the corridor, a door opened. I slipped back to sit on the edge of my mattress. The footsteps that came now were soft. I waited. Then, a whisper softer than the wind. ‘Prilkop? You live? You live!’
‘Who is there?’ Prilkop asked, his voice deep with suspicion.
‘A friend!’ A laugh soft as the first patter of rain. ‘One who goes cloaked in a gift from you. I have the guard’s keys. I will have you out of there!’ A soft scraping of metal on metal.
‘Beloved? You are here?’ Prilkop’s voice lilted with incredulous joy.
‘Yes. And finding you fills me with delight, but there is another I seek. A child, a little girl named Bee.’
Beloved? My father’s friend, the beggar from the market? The Fool? I darted to the bars of my cell, seized them and looked out. No one was there. I could see nothing, but I heard the soft jingle of keys. Inside me, Wolf Father hackled to alertness. We stared.
Prilkop spoke in a whisper, his voice shaking with excitement. ‘Wrong keys, old friend. They’ll open the other cells, but not this one, or Bee’s. But she is here, and she has—’
Both doors suddenly clashed open at each end of the corridor. I heard Capra’s voice raised in a shout. ‘Advance shoulder to shoulder! Swing your batons solidly. Go! Do not stop until you stand chest to chest with your fellows. The intruder is here!’
‘But—’ someone objected, and ‘Go!’ she shrieked. ‘Go now, at a run! Strike high, strike low! I know he is there! Trust your batons, not your eyes. Go!’