The Omen Machine (Sword of Truth 12)

Nicci carefully, slowly, turned over a page, scanning the text until she found what she was looking for.

King Philippe circled an arm around his queen and drew her a little closer. Kahlan watched as Catherine stroked a hand over her belly, as if to soothe her restless child.

Kahlan forced herself to look away from the pregnant woman, and push her own thoughts and feelings aside.

Nicci tapped the page. “Here it is. Because it is so important, so central, it’s a rather long and detailed prophecy. I apologize, but I will have to go slowly and carefully in order to translate it accurately for you.”

“Yes, yes,” the queen said. “Would you please just get on with it?” Others grumbled their impatient agreement.

“Very well.” Nicci cleared her throat. “It says, ‘In the aftermath of victory, in a raging spring storm beyond anything seen for many years, as the leaders of all the lands gather, the ill winds of change bring a storm of coming events that threatens to cast the world into suffering, terror, and devastation. Dark perils lie hidden, ready to steal the night, to hunt the innocent, and to devour them.’”

People gasped. Nicci looked up from under lowered brows and waited a moment until the whispers died out. When they did, she went on.

“‘In this cusp of time, in this pivotal, stormy moment, as the leaders are all gathered, the fate of the world hangs on what is done in this moment, for this is their only chance to assure a favorable future.’”

People’s mouths hung open as they waited for Nicci to reveal what prophecy would say must be done to avoid such a sinister outcome and to insure a favorable future. Nicci checked to make sure everyone was paying attention before resuming the translation of the prophecy. She needn’t worry. Every eye was locked on her, waiting.

“‘Just as life itself must be turned over through the passing into death of some so that it can be continually renewed with new blood, so too the leadership gathered must be renewed. For the terrible fangs of fate to be vanquished, the leaders of all the lands, while they are gathered, must be purged. The future for new life, new hope, can only be assured in this way.

“‘Staying such a cleansing for fear of shedding the blood of these few would mean a dark age of agony, suffering, and death for their people. To bring forth fresh life, to insure that prosperity and safety of all the lands will follow on the spring, the blood of their leaders must here be shed.

“‘It is thus written and set down that the lives of these gathered leaders must be forfeit if the world is to be spared unspeakable suffering.’”

Nicci’s cutting gaze slowly turned up to take in the audience. Her voice made the change from silken to deadly.

“There you have it: prophecy. Prophecy that reveals a dark and terrible future if not heeded. Prophecy that, as you all have insisted, must be heeded.

“Prophecy that stipulates that all of you must die.”

CHAPTER 22

The room had fallen dead silent. No one dared blink. No one dared move. Everyone was afraid to so much as exhale.

“But … but…” Queen Orneta finally stammered.

“But nothing,” Kahlan said in a voice as deadly as Nicci’s had been. “Prophecy is not always truly revealed by the words. Prophecy can have occulted meaning— I’ve told you all that. Nathan told you. Lord Rahl told you.

“Nathan and others with extensive experience in the arcane subject of the veiled meaning hidden within the words of prophecy have been urgently helping Lord Rahl with this one, trying to learn if there is a chance that in this case it has another meaning other than what it sounds like it means. That is the calling of prophets— deciphering the true meaning of prophecy. As Richard and I have repeatedly tried to tell you, prophecy is not intended for the uninitiated and it should be left to the experts.”

A chancellor from a southern D’Haran province, dressed in a floor-length dark blue robe cinched at his ample waist with an ornate gold belt, lifted a finger. “Yes, of course you’re right, Mother Confessor. We can see that, now. Perhaps we had best—”

“However,” Kahlan said in a clear, cutting voice that silenced him, “sometimes prophecy means precisely what it says.”

“But could it be that this one has a hidden meaning?” King Philippe asked.

Kahlan regarded the king with the blank expression that she had mastered, as did all Confessors, at a young age. It was a countenance that became an immutable part of her the first time she unleashed her power on a condemned man and commanded him to confess the truth of his horrific crimes.

“You demanded to hear prophecy so that, as you said, you could make sure that Lord Rahl and I bow to what it says must be done. As Queen Orneta so succinctly put it, prophecy must be served. It must be revealed so that the stipulated action can be taken.”

Queen Catherine, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks, put an arm protectively over her unborn child as she looked to her husband. He could not look her in the eye.

Queen Orneta turned from worried to indignant. “You can’t be serious. We simply don’t believe—”

“General,” Kahlan called out.

At the side of the room General Meiffert stepped away from the wall and saluted with a clap of his fist to his armored heart. “Mother Confessor?”

“Do you have the execution teams in place and ready?”

The word “execution” rippled in worried whispers through the room.

“Yes, Mother Confessor. We’re ready. The beheadings can begin at once.”

The crowd went wild.

“Beheadings?” the chancellor cried out. “Are you crazy? You can’t be serious…. You wouldn’t!”

Kahlan regarded him with the blank expression of a Confessor viewing the condemned. “The prophecy calls for the blood of those of you gathered here. It is quite specific.” Kahlan turned to Nicci. “Am I correct?”

“Yes, Mother Confessor. There can be no doubt of my translation.” Nicci consulted the book again. “It says, quite clearly, ‘To bring forth fresh life, to insure that prosperity and safety of all the lands will follow on the spring, the blood of their leaders must here be shed.’”

Kahlan looked back at the chancellor. “I assure you, beheadings are quite bloody. Prophecy will be served.”

“What about you?” Queen Orneta shouted. “You’re a leader, too. If it includes us then it should include you, too!”

“I choose to believe that the prophecy does not mean to include me.” Kahlan lifted a hand, signaling over their heads, as she went on. “But it clearly includes all of you.”

All around the room, the men of the First File, smartly dressed in leather armor and chain mail with weapons belts hung with gleaming swords, axes, knives, and maces, stepped away from around the sides and back of the room where no one had noticed them gathering. The soldiers moved in among the people to begin seizing them by their arms, insuring that there could be no escape.

“We’re not going to stand for any such thing!” the queen protested.

“Actually,” Kahlan said in a calm voice, “you don’t have to stand for it.”

“That’s better,” Queen Orneta huffed as men came up on either side of her.

“Standing would be too troublesome for this kind of execution.” Kahlan’s voice was ice. “You will each be made to kneel so that your heads can be placed on heavy wooden blocks. An axeman will then do the deed swiftly and efficiently. We have a number of teams assembled, so I can assure you the beheadings will all be over quickly. Prophecy will be served. Through your sacrifice your lands and your people will be safe. So says prophecy.”

Queen Catherine stepped forward, lifting one arm while cradling the other around her belly. “But my child has not had a chance to live, yet.” Tears coursed down her cheeks. “You can’t condemn my unborn child to death!”

“Catherine, I have not condemned your child. You said, and please correct me if I’m wrong, ‘The Creator has given us prophecy. It must be heeded.’ So you see, it is not me,

but prophecy that calls for this. If anything, by your insistence on adhering to prophecy, you have condemned your child.”

Kahlan turned her back on the crowd and started away.

“Do you mean to say that you really intend to have us beheaded?” the frantic chancellor called out. “You’re serious?”

Kahlan turned back. “Deadly serious,” she said, as if surprised he would doubt her. “We tried in every way we could think of to convince all of you that prophecy was meant for those who understand its arcane nature, but none of you would have it. I had the execution teams assembled just in case my last attempt to convince you failed and everyone instead demanded to hear prophecy and have it followed. You all did— every one of you— therefore I have no choice but to carry out your will. You all made this choice yourselves.”

The crowd went crazy again, protesting that they hadn’t meant to usurp the rule of Lord Rahl, or the Mother Confessor.

And then the chancellor pulled away from the grip of a soldier and dropped to his knees. He placed his forehead to the ground. When other people grasped what he was doing, they jumped to join him. Soon the whole roomful of representatives and rulers, even the pregnant Queen Catherine, were on their hands and knees with their foreheads pressed to the floor. The soldiers standing among them didn’t do anything to stop them.

“Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

It was the devotion to the Lord Rahl that until a few days before had been recited twice each and every day in the Palace of the Prophets for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. At Cara’s wedding Richard had told everyone that their lives were their own, not his, and that they should no longer bow to him or to anyone else. They all had, after all, just defeated tyranny.