Legacy of the Darksword by Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman Page B

There were Nine
Mysteries of Life present in the world, then. Each person born into that world
was gifted with one of these mysteries.”
    Kevon Smythe’s lips parted, he
whispered beneath his breath the number “thirteen” and a chill went over me.
The Four Dark Cults, who had remained behind, would have made the number
thirteen.
    Saryon, unconscious of the
interruption, continued on. “There are Nine Mysteries, eight of them deal with Life or Magic, for, in the world of Thimhallan, Life is Magic. Everything that exists in this land exists either by the will of the
Almin, who placed it here before even the ancients arrived, or has since been
either ‘shaped, formed, summoned, or conjured,’ these being the four Laws of
Nature. These Laws are controlled through at least one of the eight of the
Mysteries: Time, Spirit, Air, Fire, Earth, Water, Shadow, and Life. Of these
Mysteries, only the first five currently survived at the time of the Darksword’s
creation. The Mysteries of Time and Spirit were lost during the Iron Wars. With
them vanished the knowledge possessed by the ancients— the ability to divine
the future and the ability to communicate with those who had passed from this
life into Beyond.
    “As for the last Mystery, it is
practiced, but only by those who walk in darkness. Known as Death, its other
name is Technology.”
    “ Quaint.” Kevon Smythe was amused. “I was told you people believed something along those
lines. And the other two . . . um . . . Mysteries, you called them. Time
and—what was it— Spirit? They are lost? Perhaps just as well. As Macbeth
discovered, looking into the future is dangerous. Are we doing what was truly
destined or is it a self-fulfilling prophecy? I think it is safer—and more
honest—to be guided by one’s vision of the future. Don’t you agree,
Father Saryon?”
    My master was thoughtful,
introspective. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “The tragedy that befell Joram
and all of Thimhallan was, in a way, brought about by a vision of the future—a
vision which terrified. Would we have caused our own destruction if we’d never
heard the Prophecy concerning the Dead child?”
    “Yes, we would have. So I
believe,” said King Garald. “Our downfall began long before Joram was born, as
early as the Iron Wars. Intolerance, prejudice, fear, blind faith, greed,
ambition— these would have destroyed us eventually, with or without Joram and the
Darksword.”
    He looked pointedly at Kevon
Smythe as he spoke, but if His Majesty meant those words for the edification of
Smythe, His Majesty wasted his breath. Smythe’s attention—and perhaps his
magic, if that was what he used to charm—was focused on Saryon, to the
exclusion of all else.
    “To me, Thimhallan was symbolized
by Joram’s mother, the Empress,” said Saryon softly, sadly. “Her husband
refused to admit that she was dead, though all in court knew it. He kept her
corpse animated by magicks. The courtiers bowed, paid homage, gossiped with her
. . . reveled with a lifeless and corrupt shell of something that had once been
alive, vibrant, beautiful. Such a dreadful charade could not have gone on
forever.
    “Joram’s story is really very
simple. A Prophecy was given immediately following the Iron Wars, which stated:
‘There will be born to the royal house one who is dead but will live, who will
die again and live again. And when he returns, he will hold in his hand the
destruction of the world.’ Joram was a child of the royal house, born to the
Empress and Emperor of Merilon. He was born Dead— that
is, he had no magic in him at all. I know,” said Saryon, with a sigh. “I was
present when they performed the tests on him.
    “Bishop Vanya, knowing of and
fearing the Prophecy, ordered that the baby be refused all sustenance. Vanya
took the baby away to die. But the Almin is not so easily thwarted. A madwoman
named Anja found the baby and stole him, took him to the farms near the
Outlands, raised him