by Fran Jacobs
There, written so calmly, in neat black handwriting, was an outline of exactly what gifts the Shadow Seer would have. Visions and prophecies, which I had expected. Only they would be more like nightmares; violent and graphic images of a dark, tortured future. He would also hear voices. And all of that would, in time, drive him mad.
Voices. That idea terrified me, more than the idea of visions, dreams and prophecies. And madness! Gods, I wasn't surprised that the Shadow Seer was predicted to go mad if he had to deal with all of that. Seeing things that were nightmares, only they weren't really nightmares because they were going to come true, and hearing voices on top of that would be enough to drive anyone mad. And that was what lay in store for me. That was what I had to look forward to. No children, no coronation, no governing the kingdom. There would just be a life of nightmares, madness, and then death. It wasn't fair.
My heart felt heavy as I tried to get to my feet, only to find that my legs didn't want to work and I banged my knees on the underneath of the table with a loud thump.
"Candale," Teveriel whispered. "Are you all right?"
"The book says the Seer is going to go mad," I told him. "Well, that's different." They were both looking at me now, with forced, nervous smiles. I knew they were afraid for me. I gave them a shrug and tried to smile, forcing it to grow until my cheeks started to hurt. "At least I know that I'm going to go mad," I said, "and it's good to be prepared, isn't it?" There wasn't a lot that they could say to that and the look in their eyes was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. I turned and flipped the book on the table shut with a grimace. Once the volume was closed and the picture of that boy, of me, was hidden from sight, I felt better, as though closing that book was closing my mind to what the book had said, to what it had confirmed. And I wouldn't allow myself to think about it anymore. I wouldn't think about what my visions would be like, those images of death and destruction, because if I did I knew that I would think about the madness that would follow. And I couldn't allow myself to think of that for fear that I wouldn't be able to function at all.
"You are not going to go mad," Teveriel said. "Things like this, stories like this, change over time and this story, this Shadow Seer, is clearly very old. You can't believe everything that you read."
"Not even when this book confirms what others already believe?"
"We don't know why Mayrila or the Order really believe what they do, or where they got their information," Teveriel said slowly. "Perhaps it came from books just like this one, modern accumulations of older sources. In which case what they read can't be trusted off hand. I know that many of the songs and stories I sing have different versions across the border in another kingdom. I know that things are often changed over time and are lost in various translations. A cat can become a dog in the same basic story, the moon can become the sun, words are mistranslated, misread, miscopied and can become something else entirely! I know that even with something factual, something that actually happened, people can see it in different ways. You, of all people, should know that. You, yourself, are known for telling a story in a different way from the actual event, but that doesn't mean you were lying about what you saw, just that you saw it differently." He took a deep breath. "I'm not saying that books lie, Prince Candale, or that you can't trust what they say. I'm only saying that, before you believe too heavily what you have read and start to worry about madness and voices and the like, you should look into this a little more. Compare this book with other books, talk to people who might have heard about this myth and see what they know. There might be something missing, something more to this than this book can tell us. Perhaps even investigate other reasons for why this might be happening to you now. Perhaps this is part of some plot, I don't know. All I know is you need to look into this a little more and read more books to get a more accurate picture of this Seer."
"Yes!" I said, interrupting him. "Yes! I'll ask to leave Carnia Castle and read the Rose Prophecies, that was the book given as the oldest source, right? Perhaps the writer of his book missed something or miscopied something. Perhaps I won't go mad-"
"Perhaps," Teveriel said, quietly now, "perhaps you're not even the Seer after all?"
I hesitated and then I shook my head. "No," I said, feeling strangely calm now. "No. I think ... I think I am. The boy, he looks like me, and Mayrila and the Order both believe it, too, and I'm sure that they did their research, before they reached this conclusion. A-and there is the child ... the child who left bruises on my arm ... that isn't normal, that has to be something. Perhaps the Rose Prophecies can tell me what. Perhaps it can explain all of this to me-"
"It's doubtful that King Sorron will let you leave Carnia Castle, Prince Candale," Trellany interjected. "Your life is under threat and it's close to winter. I don't think he will let you go."
"He will," I insisted, reaching down to pick up the book. "When he sees this book, he'll have to!" I could see that Trellany was doubtful but I pretended not to as I clutched the heavy volume close against my chest. "I have to see him now," I told them.
"He will be in meetings," Trellany began, but I didn't pay her any attention as I hurried out of the library, leaving all the books lying scattered around behind me.
She was right, my father and grandfather were in a meeting, but I was fairly insistent about needing to see them and Sorron eventually gave in and brought the meeting to an end.
"This is starting to become a habit, son," he told me, when the last councillor had left the room. "And not a good one. What is it that you want?"
"I found something in the library," I said.
"Oh," he said. "All right. But you could have just left it with me."
"No." I shook my head as I moved to hand him the book Teveriel had found. I opened it to the right page to let him have a look. "Sir, this is really important. It lists five signs and-" I stopped and turned, glancing over at my father, at the look on his face, and, more importantly, at Davn who stood beside him, impassive, as ever, arms folded across his chest. "Can't we talk about this alone?"
"You interrupt our meeting," my father said, "to bring us this book and now you want Davn and I to leave?" I didn't answer him and heard him let out his breath in a heavy sigh. "This is, I assume, to do with the Order and their ridiculous beliefs about you? You have found something about this Shadow Seer?"
"Yes."
"And do you think that your grandfather won't show it to me later? Or that I haven't already discussed it with Davn?" I turned to look at my father's guard and found he now wore a smug, conceited smile. "Yes, Dale. He knows about it. I had to have someone to talk to. We're trying to keep this from your mother at the moment, and Davn has always offered me good advice. So, yes, he knows this nonsense and anything that you feel the sudden need to say, you can say it here, and now, in front of both of us."
I turned back to my grandfather but Sorron only looked at me so, with great reluctance, I told everything the book had said. I left out only one part, that I knew the truth about my mother, even though I knew that weakened my argument, making it look as though only four signs were actually true, not the full five.
"So you can see," I said, "that I need your permission to go to White Oaks, to see this Rose Prophecies and find out what it has to say."
"Why?" my father asked, at the same time that Sorron said, "No."
"Because ... because all the signs, Father, because the boy looks like me, because the Order ..."
"That is exactly why you can't go, because of the Order," Sorron told me quietly.
"These signs are not proof of anything, Candale," my father said. "And even if they were, I don't see why you've taken them to mean you are this Seer. Four of those five signs might be true of you, but as the fifth one isn't, as you're not the son of a witch, you clearly can't be this Seer. It's just a coincidence that you bear such a likeness to this boy, that's all."
I hesitated, staring desperately at Sorron. I was the son of a witch. My father knew that. He didn't know that I knew and I didn't rea
lly want to have to tell him that I did, but I did want to go to White Oaks and see the Rose Prophecies.
"But ... but ..." I floundered desperately, my mind racing trying to think of something, anything, that I could say so to try and convince them without having to admit that I knew the truth about my birth to my father. Finally, it came to me. "Mayrila ... and the Order, they must know of these signs and know that I'm not the son of a witch, yet they still think that I'm this Seer, so ... so there has to be more to it. Something that we are missing, that this library book isn't telling us. If we can see the Rose Prophecies then perhaps we can find out what that is."
"No one is doubting that, Candale," Sorron said. He turned to look at his son. "What do you think, Gerian? I know that you just want to dismiss all of this, but considering what the boy has found out, I do think we need to look into this a little more."
Gerian sighed. "Yes," he said. "So do I. All right, Candale. We will send for this book, for the spring, I think. That will give everything a chance to calm down. If we were to have someone from White Oaks arrive at Court now, so soon after Candale's illness, the attack on his life and then Lykeia's suicide, well, it will lead to all sorts of questions. If we have it brought in the spring we can explain that whoever has brought it has come as a representative from White Oaks for Aylara's betrothal."
"Yes, that does sound like a good idea," Sorron said, nodding thoughtfully. "We can even ask for Calran to come. He will have a better idea than anyone else as to what the Rose Prophecies is saying." He turned back to me with a smile. "How does that sound, Dale? The spring? And we ask Calran, the head of the library, to come with and explain it all to us. That should put your mind at ease once and for all." I could see the look in his eyes, the one that was begging me to agree to this, to try and be patient and wait for the spring to see the Rose Prophecies. I could see that he was concerned about the five signs, but matters of state and appearance were clearly more important to him.
"The spring is very far away," I said stiffly. "If I were to leave Court now, I could get there, see the book and be back here before the spring. No one would have to know. We could say that I went to visit relatives to try and get over everything that happened here. We could send half the Guard with me so I wouldn't be in any danger. We could-"
"No!" my father snapped. "No! Candale, you're not this damn Seer. These precious signs of yours confirm that. You're not the son of a witch so there is no reason for you to put your life at risk by riding off to see this book. You will stay here, where the Guard is, where the common soldiers are, where your family is, where we can all keep an eye on you, and you will like it, understand?"
"If I'm not the Seer," I said very slowly, "then what are these?" I rolled up my sleeves to show him the finger-shaped bruises wrapped around my wrists. They had faded a little in the last few days but were still vivid enough that he could see them for what they were. "I had a dream about a child, one that I have seen before-" I shot my grandfather a hard look. "It grabbed me and when I woke I had these bruises! If I'm not the Seer then why did a child grabbing me, in my dream, leave bruises on my wrists when I woke?"
My father caught my hands and turned my arms over to look at the bruises from both sides. "Pretty," he said. "Did you ask the bard to do these for you?" Behind me, Teveriel made a coughing, gasping sound of protest while I wrenched my hands free.
"No," I said, struggling to keep my tone neutral. "I had a dream and when I woke the bruises were there. This isn't the first time I have dreamed of the child either and it called me the Seer. It has to be proof of something!"
"A child, part of a dream inside your own head, will call you anything that you want it to, Candale," Sorron said quietly. "These bruises are not proof of anything more than your own clumsiness."
"Or your desperation to leave the castle and have an adventure like in the stories and songs that you so love," Gerian said. "It's no wonder that you took a bard to be your friend, rather than one of your peers. He can continue to fill your head with all this fantastical nonsense. But you have to realise you're not a prophet, you're a prince. You can't leave the castle whenever the mood takes you and go gallivanting off across the kingdom in search of some ancient book. Nor can you go around creating marks on your skin and then blame it on phantom children."
"It's not a phantom child! It is real! It fears this creature called Ellenessia. It's bleeding, battered ... it-"
"Ellenessia? What in Drakan's name is that?" my father demanded, then he shook his head. "No. No. It doesn't matter. It's just more nonsense. Candale, I have had enough of this. We will send for the book in the spring. If you can shut up and behave yourself until then, we will even let you take a look at it. Although the way you've been behaving this afternoon, I'm not too sure that will be a good idea ... you'll only be distracted and led astray again."
"Led astray?" I snapped. "The child could have killed me, Father! It could have run a blade across my neck and I could be dead now. I have to see the Rose Prophecies. I have to see if it mentions this child. The writer of this book could be wrong about the witch sign, translated it wrong ... or something. Perhaps that sign was something else, something that does make me the Shadow Seer, just as Mayrila believes me to be. Perhaps this child is part of it. We have to find out the answer now. We can't wait for the spring!"
"Candale, I have done my best to try and get it through to you that you're not leaving this castle, but it's clear that you're not prepared to listen to me, so perhaps you will listen to this." My father leaned forward in his chair, his eyes flat and very dangerous. "If you don't stop your whining you will be leaving this castle, but not to go to White Oaks. No, instead, you'll be heading off to spend time with Silnia's parents. And there you will stay, for one whole year, while we wait for your precious Seer gifts to materialise and, when they don't, and it's finally proved to you, and to this damn Order, that you are nothing but my clumsy and over-excitable son, I will let you come home again." He smiled at me, coldly. "I'm sure that Silnia's parents will knock some sense into you."
That was no idle threat and was a clear sign of just how annoyed with me Gerian really was. My father did not get on with Silnia's parents; they differed on just about everything - politics, morality, and more importantly, the upbringing of Aylara and me. Gerian had never made this threat before; neither Aylara nor I had ever done anything so bad that he couldn't find a way to punish us himself. My words, my request to leave, this whole Mayrila and Seer affair, must have upset him more than I had thought, or could even guess, but, as much as I hated to upset him, I had to keep on at this. I had to argue for some leeway, for some boon. I couldn't be left hanging like this, not after the dream I'd had, not when that child could have killed me. I had to look in the book, I had to read it for myself what the signs were and what I could expect as the Seer, and I couldn't wait until the spring.
"It won't change anything, Father," I said. "If you send me away, it won't change what I am. And ... and I'm sorry that my request is hurting you, but this is important to me. Can't you understand that?"
"No!" he snapped. "No I can't! I can't understand why you would cling to this story so desperately, to the point of hurting yourself to try and give weight to it. It's all nonsense, Candale. You are not the Seer!"
"Father-"
"No! I have had enough!" He turned away. "Davn, please escort Prince Candale to his rooms."
"No," I gasped. "You can't just send me away like that. We have to talk about this. You have to listen to me. I know you don't want to face it, but you have to, Father-"
"And Trellany," Gerian continued, as though I hadn't uttered one more word. "Lock him in. The boy is not to leave his chambers until he has calmed down and I say otherwise."
I stared at him, my eyes wide and unblinking. "Father," was all I managed to say, just as Trellany said, "Yes, your Highness," in a soft, sad voice.
Davn came up behind me and laid a hand on my shoulder, hard and heavy. Just having him touch me like this
was an added shock to the way this meeting had turned out and for a moment I couldn't breathe as it all hit me. My father had just denied and ignored everything I'd had to say. Even knowing the truth about me, that I was the son of a witch, that all five signs were correct for me, he had still denied it, even to the extent that he had threatened to send me from the castle when I had continued to insist. Did he want to avoid facing up to the truth that much, or was it simply that he still couldn't bring himself to admit that Mayrila was my mother? It made no sense to me. My father was an intelligent man. He had to see that there were no other possibilities for all of this, that Mayrila had to have been telling the truth about me from the start, yet he was still denying it, just to avoid admitting what the woman who had saved my life really was to me.
"Come with me, Prince Candale," Davn said, in a hard, firm voice, interrupting my thoughts.
"Don't touch me," I snapped, shrugging off his hand, trying to move forward, towards my grandfather to make a desperate plea for clemency. Sorron would be more understanding, more forgiving. He would see the bruises and know that it confirmed what I had said about seeing the child in my rooms before and he would know that it had to mean something. Sorron would understand. He had to.
Davn grabbed me again.
"I said, 'don't touch me'," I snapped at him.
"Make that his bedroom he is not to leave," Gerian said calmly, his voice stopping me instantly in my tracks. His eyes met mine. "Wish to protest any further, Candale? Because if you say anything more about this, or refuse to leave this hall, I will have you packing your bags for your grandparents before you can draw another breath!" He waved his hand at the silently watching Davn and before I had the chance to react, Davn had grabbed my arm and twisted it up behind my back, pulling me firmly back against him.
"Let go!" I gasped, and he twisted it a little harder until fire shot through my arm, racing into my back and along my spine.
"You have your orders, Prince Candale," Davn said, firmly into my ear. "And I have mine. To your chambers I will take you. With a broken arm, if I must."