CHAPTER 27 
CHAPTER 27 As a furry snake, longer than a shower rod, rippled across his path, Jason decided that he liked the jungle even less than the Sunken Lands. The tropical chaos of ferns, fronds, vines, and towering trees was much hotter than the swamp and just as poisonous, and the journey was taking much longer.
They followed the remnants of an ancient stone road that survived mostly as a jumbled mess overgrown with shrubs and creeping plants. For much of the way, the broken paving stones seemed more likely to turn an ankle than to provide solid footing. But the vanishing roadway still provided access through dense portions of steaming jungle that appeared otherwise impenetrable. And according to Galloran, the archaic thoroughfare led directly to the Temple of Mianamon.
Galloran had not removed his blindfold since the battle at the Last Inn. He shuffled forward with one hand on Corinne’s shoulder, the other using a walking stick to tap the ground ahead. Drake had tried to convince him to abandon the blindfold during the journey, stressing that Maldor must have already assumed where they were headed, and that views of the surrounding vegetation would reveal little if anything. But Galloran had maintained that he wanted his enemies to see as little as possible, whether or not the view was considered consequential.
Nedwin led the way, using a bright torivorian sword as a machete to hack through the worst of the verdure. He had commented several times about how the edge never seemed to dull no matter how many obstacles he slashed. Galloran had lent the other captured sword to Jasher.
Jason had spent time in conversation with Jasher as they walked the jungle road. Jasher had been reborn in time to witness Lodan’s First Death, and then had tracked Galloran and the diplomats from the Seven Vales to Felrook. The Amar Kabal had reached a peaceful settlement with the emperor, and Galloran had claimed the eyes that Maldor had offered years before. Following the grafting, the emperor had let him depart with no argument.
Once Galloran and Dorsio left Felrook, Jasher had joined them and traveled southeast until meeting Nedwin in the wilderness near the Last Inn. Apparently, Nedwin had heard a disturbance in the hall and slipped out the window with his bedding an instant before the soldiers had entered his room. He had stealthily made his way across the rooftops in order to sneak away and go for help.
Jasher looked younger, but his mannerisms were the same as ever. Jason felt grateful to be back in the company of the first seedman he had met in Lyrian, but he could tell he was not nearly as grateful as Farfalee.
Murky clouds had threatened overhead all morning. From off to one side of the road came the familiar patter of raindrops on leaves. A moment later, rain came bucketing down, soaking Jason’s hair in seconds.
Downpours tended to come and go quickly in the jungle, but the wetness inevitably lingered. The air was too humid for clothes to really dry, so Jason generally ranged between drenched and damp. He felt certain they would all end up reeking of mold before the tropical trek was complete.
He saw a parrot with feathers like flower petals roosting on a nearby limb, head tucked to hide from the deluge. Thanks to his interest in animals, the staggering variety of wildlife in the jungle had been one of Jason’s compensations for the heat and the danger. Bright frogs, exotic birds, vivid lizards, vibrant insects, and numberless serpents contributed to the local fauna. Nedwin had pointed out a constrictor longer than a school bus, slithering among high limbs in a sinuous series of loops and curves.
Jason’s favorites were the monkeys. The diversity seemed limitless—short black hair; long golden hair; striped hair; tiny round ears; huge pointed ears; two arms; four arms; slender tails; bushy tails; stubby tails; colorful ridges; spurs on the ankles or wrists to aid in climbing—all ranging from the size of squirrels to the size of toddlers.
The plants exhibited comparable variety. Broad fanlike leaves; limp streamers; ferny fronds; corkscrewing tendrils; slim, pointed greenery; clusters of minute leaflets; and seemingly every other conceivable manner of foliage decorated the shrubs and trees. Jason had never pictured flowers of such striking hues—metallic, fluorescent, iridescent. Nor had he imagined such an assortment of carnivorous flora—grasping vines, clutching leaves, sucking tubes, stalks affixed to mouthlike pods, stinging bowls of sweet nectar, and sticky mats that folded around unsuspecting prey.
The pelting rain persisted until puddles had formed at frequent intervals along the ancient road. By the time the rain relented, the delegation had been thoroughly soaked. Even with all the wetness, Jason didn’t feel chilled. Nor did he feel refreshed. The air was too hot and sticky to feel much besides uncomfortable.
Galloran slipped and splashed to his knees in a brown puddle. He did not arise any wetter, but he was certainly muddier. His face remained composed, but Jason noticed one hand clenched into a fist, veins standing out on the back.
“You could take off the blindfold, Father,” Corinne said.
“It is better this way,” Galloran replied in his raspy voice. “My borrowed sight comes at a price. I must never rely too much on these eyes. They are a last resort.”
Jason felt a sting on his neck, like the bite of an insect. The tropical bugs had not bothered them so far, thanks to a lotion Nedwin had devised. Slapping the sting, Jason found a small dart, little more than a feathered needle.
Soft hisses came from the surrounding foliage. “Blowguns!” Nedwin called. “We’re under attack.”
Galloran tore the blindfold from his eyes and drew his sword. The others sprang into action as well. Nedwin and Ferrin raced to one side of the path, pushing through tall stalks of reddish wood similar to bamboo. Drake, Jasher, Tark, and Aram ran the other way, slashing foliage when necessary. Farfalee set an arrow to the string of her bow, as did Nollin. Io, Nia, Corinne, Rachel, and Jason all drew weapons, positioned near Galloran on the road.
As part of the group plunged into the jungle and the others scanned high and low, there came no more whispers of blowguns. Nor was there any sight or sound of enemies fleeing. After passing out of view for a few minutes, all of the delegation besides Nedwin returned to the road.
“They moved like ghosts,” Ferrin said. “Nedwin kept after them.”
The group remained alert as more time passed. No further attacks came, and eventually Nedwin returned. “I glimpsed green figures, apparently clad in ivy. They were too swift. Few can outmaneuver me across difficult terrain, but these folk were my superiors. They fled through the trees like monkeys and across the ground like wildcats. I was fortunate to catch sight of them from a distance. I had no hope of reaching them. I was hit by three darts but can perceive no effects.”
“A dart pricked me on the hand,” Galloran said.
Jason, Corinne, Tark, Io, and Drake had all been hit on their skin. Several of the others had little darts sticking to their clothes. Nobody was feeling adverse reactions.
“What were the darts for?” Jason asked.
Galloran inspected the tiny pinprick on his hand, sniffing it and tapping it. “When last I visited Mianamon, I heard tales of treefolk who dwelled deep in the jungle. I never saw them, nor heard of any this far north. But times change.”
“One of the races of Certius?” Ferrin asked.
“Most likely,” Galloran agreed.
“Would they have used a slow-acting venom?” Ferrin asked.
“I sense no irritation,” Galloran said, perplexed, flexing his hand. “None at all. Why risk drawing near and firing darts? We’ll have to watch these injuries.”
Two days later, the first short tufts of moss appeared around the spots where the darts had pierced skin. The dense green growth looked as though it could be carelessly plucked away, but was actually anchored deeper in the flesh than a first glance could discern. A sharp knife could scrape away some of the moss, but it became apparent that a deep incision would be required to root it out. Of all who had been hit, only Io remained unaffected.
Showing no indication of pain, Nedwin rooted out the tiny patch of moss just above his wrist. By the next day, it had not only grown back, but the greenery had spread. Moss that had been trimmed the day before had also returned and multiplied. The untouched patches had spread as well.
The moss inflicted no pain. When Jason stroked the fuzzy circle on his neck, the moss seemed to belong there as much as the surrounding hairs. But who knew what would happen as it continued to spread? At best, he would become a mossy freak. At worst, the moss would overwhelm his body, causing harm or death.
A couple of days later, Jason watched Nia munching on a large, glossy leaf as she walked. Scarcely a few weeks had passed since meeting her, but as promised, she already looked older. When they had met she had looked thirteen or fourteen. Now she looked sixteen or seventeen. She was a few inches taller, having surpassed both Rachel and Tark.
For the past week, the delegation had mostly eaten unusual fruit and vegetables foraged by Nedwin. But Io and Nia claimed food whenever they wanted it. “This jungle must look like one big salad to you,” Jason said.
“I’m a growing girl,” she replied, taking another bite. “Think I’ll pass you up?”
“I doubt it, since your dad was shorter than me.” He unconsciously rubbed his hand against the lush moss now covering most of the side and back of his neck. It had become a habit.
“How much does the moss bother you?” she asked.
“I kind of like the texture,” he admitted, realizing that he had been stroking it again. “But it’s gross how it keeps spreading. It’s really weird to think of it covering my face.”
“There must be a way to stop it,” Nia said.
Jason shrugged. “Nedwin knows more about these jungles than just about anyone. He has no idea what this moss is or what might cure it. I just hope it doesn’t start controlling us, like the goma worms.”
“What would moss want you to do?” Nia giggled. “Go sit on a rock by a stream?”
“What if I turn into a plant?” Jason asked, trying to keep his voice casual, although he was voicing a deep concern.
“I’ll make sure you get sunlight and water,” Nia said.
Jason tried to smile at the joke.
“It only seems to coat the surface,” Nia pointed out, her tone more consoling.
“After it covers everything, the moss might grow inward.”
“Hopefully, we can get help at the temple,” Drake said from behind. A dart had hit the side of his jaw, and the resultant greenery had spread into half a mossy beard. “The oracle and her people have dwelled in the jungle for a long time.”
They continued in silence for some time.
“Too bad Io couldn’t grow any moss,” Nia said. “He’d have a portable snack.”
Jason forced a chuckle. She was trying to lighten the mood. The effort made him think of her adaptability. She no longer had an accent, and had picked up on the nuances of how he and Rachel spoke and kidded. Under other circumstances, her comments would have amused him more. But the worry of parasitic moss slowly claiming his body was hard to shake. Still, she was trying, so he might as well meet her halfway. “He can always have some of my surplus.”
Nia scrunched her nose. “This jungle gets hot. What if your moss inherits your body odor?”
“You guys eat dead rats,” Jason said.
“We have to draw the line somewhere.”
At the front of the group, Nedwin raised a hand. “Hear that?” he asked.
“What?” Galloran replied.
“A high whine,” Nedwin described. “Perhaps a whistle. Faint. At the edge of hearing.”
Jason heard nothing. But he noticed the vines at his feet had begun to writhe. The entire forest floor came to life at once, inert vines suddenly thrashing like bullwhips. With alarming speed and accuracy, the vines began to curl around legs, arms, and torsos. A strange smell suffused the air, and the ground suddenly seemed to tilt and undulate.
Jason tried to draw his sword, but was too late. He was already on the ground, arms pinioned to his sides. From his position on the ground, Jason watched Galloran, blindfold discarded, slicing vines with his torivorian blade. The vines lashed at him from all directions, but he pivoted and slashed with flawless skill and timing, slowly carving a path away from the road.
Jason felt like the ground was rocking and spinning. Galloran began to stagger drunkenly, not from the onslaught of vines, but apparently in reaction to whatever odor had made Jason unsteady. Finally the tendrils caught hold of Galloran and dragged him down.
Jason struggled against the vines. They tightened painfully as he resisted, then slackened a degree when he relaxed.
“Rachel?” Farfalee asked.
“I can’t,” she replied. “I tried. Edomic won’t work. The commands won’t stick.”
Jason closed his eyes. He had never felt this dizzy. It was like the ground was whirling on multiple axes, not just spinning but flipping and rocking in every possible combination. Eyes open or closed made no difference. The sensation made him nauseated, but before he could throw up, Jason lost consciousness.
Jason awoke, dangling from a horizontal pole by his arms and legs. The pole was in motion, probably being carried between two people. He was bound in place at his wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles. The position was neither comfortable nor intolerable. His eyes were blindfolded.
“Hello?” Jason called.
A blunt object, probably a stick, thumped painfully against his side. Apparently he wasn’t supposed to speak.
“We’re here,” answered Drake. Jason heard a few meaty thumps, presumably the punishment for the reply.
Jason dangled in silence for some time. At least he wasn’t dizzy, and at least he wasn’t dead. They had been captured, probably by the same guys who had shot them with darts. Jason supposed it was better than being strangled and devoured by vines.
How long had he been out? It was impossible to tell. He could feel the sun shining. It could be the same day or a different day. The air felt hot and humid as usual. Whoever carried them moved silently and smoothly.
Where could they be going? Jungles and blowguns made his mind wander to cannibalism and shrunken heads. Would he and his friends become the ingredients to a tribal soup?
Surely Ferrin could escape these bonds. Detach arms and legs, reattach, and he would be free. The poles were not living wood, so Rachel should be able to split them. Perhaps they were waiting for the right moment. Telepathy would be useful right now. He supposed Galloran, Corinne, and Rachel were all engaged in mental conversation. Assuming they had survived the vines.
After a long time, Jason was set down. He could feel plants and roots beneath his body. Fingers crammed paste into his mouth. It didn’t taste too bad, vaguely fruity. He drank from a wooden cup pressed to his lips. After a few minutes, the pole rose into the air, and he moved onward.
After another break, Jason began to sense the light of day fading. What would happen at sunset, when Aram grew?
Jason never got to find out. His pole tilted to a steep angle, as if his bearers were climbing a steep hill. The pole leveled for a short while. Then he was set on a floor of smooth stone tiles.
“Release them,” said a female voice with a casual air of command. “These are the wayfarers we have expected. Please forgive the impolite reception, good travelers. There are many from outside the boundaries of the jungle who mean us harm.”
Nimble fingers unbound Jason’s wrists and feet. He rose to his knees and pulled off his blindfold, finding himself surrounded by his friends at the center of a strange assemblage.
Some of the hundreds of beings around them looked like regular humans clad in fine robes, hoods cast back to reveal curious faces. Most of the figures were humanoids enshrouded by vegetation. Shaggy moss covered the majority, but ivy coated a great number as well. A few were draped so heavily in dark vines that they lost most of their shape and looked more like tall heaps of seaweed than living beings. Another minority were encased by twisted black wood bristling with huge thorns. None of the vegetated people wore clothes, but the plants kept them perfectly modest.
Among the crowd stood tall, white apes with fur-fringed faces and round eyes. With their slender bodies and long limbs, Jason thought they looked like gibbons, although they were much too large. The snowy primates watched the proceedings sedately, a few clutching slim rods.
They were all gathered within an immense room composed of dark gray stone. The walls slanted together at odd angles overhead, forming the inside of an irregular pyramid. The room had several openings. Through one Jason could see the sun poised to set, red rays caressing miles of exotic treetops.
“I should not remove my blindfold,” Galloran said, pushing away the hands of a robed figure who had been trying to unbind his eyes. “I am Galloran, son of Dromidus. My eyes belong to our common enemy. Have we reached Mianamon?”
“You have,” replied the woman who had ordered their release. Short and slight, the speaker wore a silky robe the color of storm clouds. A circlet of purple blossoms adorned her brow. “I am Ulani, daughter of Hispa.”
“Does the prophetess still abide here?” Galloran asked.
“She does,” Ulani answered. “Her Eminence told us weeks ago to expect you, otherwise you would have been slain long before now. Of late we seldom offer hospitality to outlanders.”
“Several of us have been infected by peculiar vegetation,” Galloran said.
“We can reverse the process,” Ulani assured him. “Attar of regent orchids will expel the invasive moss. Please forgive the inconvenience. Such measures are meant to warn and dissuade imprudent pilgrims.”
“I have been here before,” Galloran said. “When I came here last, I beheld no treefolk among you.”
“You behold them now?” Ulani asked, amused.
Galloran touched his blindfold. “I saw them coming for us when we were held fast by vines. They carried us here.”
“The people of the jungle have united against the threat of Maldor,” Ulani said. “The oracle administers to them and offers our services. In return we enjoy their cooperation and protection. Old wounds strain relations between the various tribes of treefolk, but they have agreed to consider the temple neutral ground and to stand together against the pupil of their ancient enemy from the north.”
“This is bracing news,” Galloran said. “We have traveled far at great cost in search of guidance regarding how to resist the enemy you have named.”
Ulani inclined her head slightly. “The oracle is aware of your intent. She has spent weeks preparing for her greatest prophecy. Tomorrow you will have your answer. Today she wishes to meet with you, one by one. Follow me.”
The conversation had afforded Jason some time to massage feeling back into his tingling hands. He walked with the others up some broad steps, and then into a corridor. They arrived in a trapezoidal room where tilted walls rose to a flat ceiling. Abundant furniture upholstered with the pelts of jungle cats awaited in clusters across the wide floor.
Ulani passed through a door set back in an alcove. She returned accompanied by an elderly woman. The woman wore a white robe with gold trim. Wrinkles lined her angular features. The visible tendons and bones on the back of her spotted hands made them appear fragile. Golden charms hung from sagging earlobes.
Despite her age, the woman held herself erect and walked with no difficulty. She came and stood before Jason. “I would converse with you first.”
“Me?” Jason asked.
The woman gave no reply. She pointed to Ferrin next, then Tark, Nedwin, Drake, Aram, Jasher, Nia, Farfalee, Io, Nollin, and then Corinne. She indicated Rachel second to last, and finally Galloran.
Without another word, the aged woman withdrew from the chamber through the same portal she had entered.
“Go,” Ulani told Jason, gesturing toward the recessed door.
“Okay,” Jason said. He went to the portal and found the door ajar. He opened it further, stepped inside, and shut it behind him. Incense burned in sculpted vessels around the room.
The elderly woman sat on a cushioned chair that looked like a curving length of ribbon. She gazed at Jason with fathomless eyes, her expression neither kind nor hostile. “Come take my hand,” she invited.
“Are you the oracle?” Jason asked.
“I am. Give me your hand and relax your mind.”
Jason crossed to her and gently grasped her bony hand. She clasped his hand in both of hers and closed her eyes. Jason sensed no otherworldly powers at play. If anything, he felt a little awkward.
She released his hand and looked up at him. “Sit down.”
He sat on a low, round, cushioned stool. It might have been an ottoman.
“What do you wish to ask me?” she invited.
“You can see the future?”
“At my best.”
“How?”
She smiled. “You wish to understand. Do you think of time as sequential?”
“One thing happening after another? I guess so.”
“Do you consider space that way?”
“Space? As sequential? Not really.”
“Yet when you gaze upon the stars, you see them as they were, not as they are.”
“Okay,” Jason said, trying to make sense of the statement using some of what he knew about astronomy. “The light travels through space. The farther the light has come, the older it is. Some of the light we see tonight could be from stars that have died long ago. It just took the light a long time to get here. So we’re seeing back in time.”
She smacked her lips. “In the Beyond, you have those who gaze deep into space through lenses, who gather light and sound and particles as they seek to understand their place in the universe.”
“We have astronomers.”
“I am like an astronomer.” She said it as if she had fully explained herself.
“You have a telescope that sees through time?”
“In a sense. Time is more like space than you appreciate. You recognize time as sequence only. Beginning and end. Before and after. We dwell in a temporary state, and so this is natural. Your current state began. Your current state will end. But that which is eternal views time differently.”
This wasn’t making sense. “You’re eternal?”
“I try to touch the eternal. You and I move through time like a flame on a string. The ashes behind are the past, consumed, unreachable. The string ahead is the future. But the only moment we inhabit, the only moment where we can act, is the present, the point where the flame burns, the point where time touches eternity.”
Jason nodded. “All right.”
“To the eternal mind, the entire string is ever present, ever burning. No point is out of reach.”
“Are you trying to break my brain?”
She grinned. “Try simpler terms. Before making a particular choice, have you ever endeavored to anticipate the consequences?”
Jason thought about the dungeon at Felrook. Maldor had offered to free him in return for servitude. Jason had known that to deny him would mean long days and weeks and months of torture. He had glimpsed his future. He had also guessed what serving Maldor would mean and how it might change him.
Jason had experienced this same kind of foresight for simpler choices throughout his life. He knew generally what a bike ride with Matt would bring versus a day volunteering at the zoo. “Yes. Is that what you do? Guess at the consequences of decisions? Try to visualize them?”
“It is similar to what I do,” the oracle explained. “Like you, I am a temporal being. I was born. I will die. I am caught up in what feels like the stream of time, my body gradually aging, the seasons changing, each breath keeping me alive. But I am trying to see beyond the present, into the future and the past. I am trying to see beyond the point I currently inhabit in space and time to the infinite points I do not inhabit.”
“How?”
“By tapping into senses beyond the five most obvious,” she replied. “By striving to access the eternal mind. Viewing the future is more difficult than seeing the past. The past is singular, definite. The future is also singular. Something definite will happen. But since what will happen shifts with every choice made, there are kaleidoscopic possibilities when the future is viewed from the present. Instead of looking for truth through a telescope, try a kaleidoscope. It is a challenge. The farther you dare to look, the more destinies involved, the more difficult it becomes.”
“So you make educated guesses,” Jason said.
She shrugged. “Some forecasts are more certain than others. Maldor’s rise has eclipsed most possible futures. Sometimes we oracles try to see the future in order to influence it. We do our best to nudge the coming years toward prosperity and away from disaster. I searched for many years to find some way to avoid Maldor’s dominion. In all those years, scouring every reality open to my awareness, I only glimpsed a single path that might lead to his premature downfall.”
Jason felt chills. “That’s why I’m here.”
“That’s why you’re here.”
He swallowed dryly. “Have I already played my part?”
“I believe we are on the proper path. I knew that you, Rachel, and Galloran would need to come here for success to be possible. I will be sure tomorrow.”
“Why me?” Jason asked.
“Imagine standing on a mountaintop. Imagine stones scattered at your feet. Imagine you have been tasked with selecting a stone or two and then throwing them for the purpose of causing an avalanche that will devastate the surrounding wilderness.
“Simeon of the Giddy Nine came to me. I considered all of the possible stones. I elected to throw him at you and Rachel. You both impacted Galloran. I hoped that you three would in turn collide with other key targets in precisely the right way. I believe that your arrival here means I selected good stones and estimated correct trajectories. But the avalanche is just beginning. Tomorrow I will know more about the possibilities.”
“How did you find us?” Jason wondered.
“I’m aware of the Beyond,” she said. “Yours is not the only other reality besides this one. Of everywhere I looked, only bringing you and Rachel here allowed me to glimpse success. Not probable success. But possible.”
“So now I wait until tomorrow?”
“I will meet the others. Then I will entomb myself in clay. To prophesy I must consume substances harmful to my health. This time I will heavily poison myself with fumes and liquids and minerals, and exert myself to touch the eternal as never before. I will search for the path to depose Maldor and share all the insight I can acquire.”
“Poison yourself? Will this kill you?”
“Not until after I deliver the prophecy.”
Rachel sat beside Galloran, lost in thought. After the others had communed with the oracle, they were escorted elsewhere. Some had remained with her for a long time. Rachel assumed the oracle was reading their futures. Should she ask to know her future? Should she ask whether she would ever return home?
Corinne had been with the oracle for some time. Rachel had considered asking her a telepathic question, but had worried that it might cause some sort of psychic interference.
She glanced at Galloran, blindfold over his eyes, arms folded, head bowed, mouth frowning. Could he be asleep?
I am awake, he conveyed. You would not be able to communicate with Corinne from here. That room is shielded from prying minds.
You’ve talked to the oracle before. Should I be nervous?
Do not be afraid of her. She means to help. If you are nervous regarding what future she will see, you are not alone.
Rachel laughed softly. I can’t picture you nervous.
Good.
Rachel laughed again. I’ve wanted to ask you something.
Go ahead.
Rachel hesitated. How did you defeat that torivor? I mean, I know you’re a great swordsman, but that seemed impossible.
His lips bent into a smile. Can you keep a secret?
Sure.
I’m not sure that the secret must be kept. But I want it kept just in case.
I’ll never tell anyone. I swear.
Galloran shifted in his seat. I wouldn’t tell you, unless I thought the information could become relevant for you someday.
Okay.
You know that I can hear your mind, even thoughts you do not intentionally send.
Yes. You did it a moment ago.
To an extent, I can do that with torivors.
She thought about the implications. The realization hit her hard. You know what they’re going to do before they do it!
He nodded. When we fight, I watch what they are about to do. I’m moving to counter them before they are moving to strike. I watch how they adjust, and I adjust accordingly. It requires focus and expertise with a sword. Even knowing each movement in advance, one small miscalculation would destroy me. I have always been a student of the sword, but fighting my first lurker was how I learned to fight as I do. I saw the duel as the lurker saw the duel, and learned to fight as it fought.
Rachel stared at the faint scars on his strong hands. I noticed that you seemed to know shortcuts or something. You defeat people so easily.
I have now bested three lurkers. Each battle has been easier than the one before. That is not to say that the fourth won’t kill me. But I have learned much. I learned during this fight that I can engage a lurker more effectively with a single sword than with a pair.
You can’t read just any mind, Rachel sent.
I can’t read most minds. Sometimes I’ll catch unpredictable glimpses of what an opponent means to do. But if I couldn’t reliably spy on the minds of lurkers, the first one who came for me years ago would have slain me in an instant.
Corinne emerged from the portal that led to the oracle. Ulani gestured to a servant, who led Corinne away. “Come,” Ulani told Rachel, motioning toward the door.
See you later, Rachel conveyed. I’ll keep your secret.
You’re the first to know it, Galloran replied.
Rachel entered the room, and the oracle asked her to sit. The woman stared at her in silence for an uncomfortable length of time. Rachel wondered if the oracle was looking into her future.
Are we going to talk? Rachel conveyed.
“Not that way, child. I must conserve all of my strength. Let me have your hand.”
“Are you going to read my future?”
“I just need to get a clearer sense of you. Information to use when I do try to penetrate the future.”
The oracle took one hand in both of hers. She closed her eyes, nodding faintly, her whole body rocking slightly, then let the hand fall. The oracle kept her eyes closed. Her upper lip quivered.
“I’ve waited my whole life for one who could replace me,” the oracle said.
“What do you mean?” Rachel asked.
“None of my acolytes have sufficient talent. Ulani is the closest, but she will never be more than a shadow of me, as I am but a shadow of the greatest seers. You, however, could surpass me.”
“You know I’ve been practicing Edomic?”
“Even when you were far away, in the Beyond, I could sense potential in you. I gave Erinda the task of drawing you here for that reason. Potential is not always realized, but, Rachel, you are more than I expected. I can feel the power in you. You have come a long way very quickly. Many options will be open to you.”
Rachel braced herself. She didn’t want to ask the question. The words escaped as a whisper. “Will I ever get home?”
“Do you still wish to go home, child? Consider all you could do here. All you could be.”
“I want to help Galloran. I want to stop Maldor. But if we succeed, I want to go home.”
The oracle considered her. “Part of me wishes to keep you here, whether you choose it or not. I don’t mean here in Lyrian. I mean here in this temple. Under my guidance, your skills would grow. You would learn how to gain the knowledge needed to guide this world.”
“But you won’t keep me here?”
“Galloran needs you. And I need Galloran. Should he fail, Lyrian will fall. Despite the best efforts of the children of Certius, this temple will be overrun. Darkness will reign from the northernmost tundra to the southernmost jungle.”
“The treefolk were made by Certius, right?”
“As was this temple,” the oracle said. “Certius built two strongholds in the jungle: Mianamon in the north, and Paggatar to the southwest, in the heart. He shaped these walls with his words, raised them with his will. At Mianamon he established my order and taught us how to enhance our sight. He lived and worked at Paggatar. But Zokar came and destroyed him, much as Maldor seeks to come here and destroy us, the descendants of those who escaped the prior invasion.”
“Can we stop him?”
“I will know more tomorrow. You must continue to increase your abilities. Some here can assist you. Learn all you can while you remain with us.”
“Okay,” Rachel said.
“You want to know if you will go home. I have spent considerable time studying our respective realities. Five years and nine weeks from tomorrow our realities will be properly synchronized. I cannot speak for any other time. If you survive, and if you so choose, that would be the day I recommend for your return.”
Rachel felt a violent surge of relief. Five years might be a long time to wait, but it was much preferable to uncertainty and despair. Tears sprung to her eyes. She had not expected this particular hope to resurface. “If I go home on that day, I should be able to find my parents?”
“It should get you close to your proper time. Now leave me. I must speak with Galloran.”
“Thank you so much.”
The oracle gave her a sad smile. “My dear girl, please do not thank me yet.”