There Comes A Prophet by David Litwack Page B

know what they are?"
    The old man let the thought sink in, backing off and returning to the peephole.
    "She was right. They lie about the darkness. The darkness wasn't like that."
    His voice had become less scattered. Nathaniel sat up and listened for more. When more failed to come, he slid to the edge of the cot and whispered.
    "How do you know?"
    He heard muttering from the other side and moved closer to the wall. The man seemed to be having an argument with himself.
    "It's time to tell, Samuel. He may be the keepers' last hope."
    Nathaniel put his mouth to the hole. "Who's Samuel?"
    He peered through the opening and saw the old man standing erect with the look of someone who'd made a decision.
    "I am Samuel," he said. "Yes, there's still a man here after all these years, a man with a name. And you're Nathaniel? I heard her call you that."
    "Yes, I'm Nathaniel."
    "Pleased to meet you. You want to hear how I know? Because the Temple has failed to destroy the past. Everywhere you look, bits remain. Haven't you seen it in your village, things the Temple hasn't ordained?"
    Nathaniel thought of wassail and festival, of Orah's name from a forbidden language. He nodded, then, realizing the man couldn't see, said "Yes."
    "The darkness is nothing more than our past," Samuel said, "but they only show us the worst of it."
    Nathaniel had to ask. "Have you had a teaching?"
    Samuel let out a laugh. "A teaching's a trifle compared to what I've been through. I know what they show in teachings-and yes, it's evil and true. But I also know what they don't show, the good they've erased. Like a foolish parent, to save us from wickedness, they've given us a world of limits and not a world of possibilities. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
    "I don't know. Nothing's as it seems." He was beginning to feel dizzy. "I have a lot to think about."
    The old prisoner moved so close Nathaniel could smell his breath.
    "Yes, Nathaniel. And so do I."
    Nathaniel checked through the peephole and saw Samuel sitting on the chair staring at his hands. He began to return to his cot, but stopped and went back.
    "Samuel, one last thing. What's a keeper?"
    Samuel glanced up. "A story for another time, my boy. For another time."
    ***
    Time passed swiftly but cruelly. At breakfast the next day, Orah begged and then threatened for Nathaniel to reject the offer, but he refused to send her back to the teaching. Her parting stung more with each meal. As the cell door closed after the second lunch, he was filled with dread.
    Samuel watched everything through the peephole but said nothing. At last he spoke.
    "It's another time, Nathaniel."
    "What did you say?"
    "Come close so I can whisper and you can hear every word. I'll tell you about the keepers."
    Nathaniel was curious about the keepers since hearing the term the day before. But what should he make of his fellow prisoner? Who knew what fantasies he'd concocted over the past twenty years? He approached the wall skeptically.
    "I'm here."
    "There once was an age of wonder," the old man began, "a time of magic and strife. When the Temple came to power, they preferred order to wonder. The darkness they screamed from their pulpits, a time of chaos and death. The glories of the past must be erased, forgotten forever. But the wizards of that age hoped to preserve their treasures for the future. So they hid them in a place called the keep."
    Nathaniel pressed his ear to the wall. It was like listening to his father telling tales before bedtime. The old man continued.
    "A new age would come, they believed, when the treasures would again be embraced. But the Temple was ruthless in eradicating the past. The keep would need to stay hidden till then. So they created a puzzle that led to the keep and divided it into pieces, one piece to one person, with directions to find the next in the chain. These few, entrusted with the secret of the keep, were called keepers."
    Nathaniel's heart was pounding. "How many keepers are there?"
    "Each