Chapter 4: The Orellen Prophecy

Chapter 4: The Orellen Prophecy

The Orellen Prophecy

There is only one true prophet in the first world -- Hamila of the Lamp who, from the moment of her birth, saw too much for the comfort of the gods.

They feared that her life might steer the future toward unknown courses. They feared more that her death might be the doorway to an even higher power. So, it was written into the fabric of the first world that Hamila would be the last born with the gift of true foresight and that she would sleep eternally.

Twenty-seven gods cast the spell upon her. But for love of the mortal, one betrayed the others, and by that betrayal, gave Hamila as much of a life as she could safely have.Updated from novelb(i)n.c(o)m

Every thirty years, the prophet wakes for a single day. She walks among the flowers in her eternal garden, and she feasts on foods sent to her from every great king and powerful practitioner in the world. As night falls, before her eyes close again, she speaks a single prophecy.

The prophecies have differed over the past two thousand years. Sometimes, they are nothing more than agricultural predictionsthe kingdom of Teretha will have the best wheat harvest in a decade or a two-headed calf shall be born to a farm in Lemonnale. Other prophecies have predicted the deaths of great leaders or the fall of nations. Often, she predicts the starting or ending of wars.

But every one of Hamilas prophecies has something in common. They are, without exception, accurate.

No festival charlatan is Hamila of the Lamp. She speaks her single prophecy clearly. She has never in recorded history resorted to obfuscation or even metaphor. And she is never wrong.

A trio of scribes, chosen from among those who worship the sleeping prophet and guard her temple prison, record the message. It is the longstanding policy of the temple that if a prophecy concerns an individual, he or she has the right to hear it spoken before it is shared with the world at large.

The recipients are rarely pleased.

Kler City,

Republic of Laen,

(Five Years before Elphs Death)

Lord Iven Orellen and his wife, Atra, had just finished throwing another of their famously luxurious parties. They stood at the front door of their townhouse in Kler, seeing off the last of their guests with the graciousness and generosity they were so well known for.

Here, Chancellor. Here! Take another bottle of this brandy to warm you. Theres more snow on the way before the weeks out, Ill wager." Lord Orellen, a bright-eyed man in his late thirties, laughed heartily. He slapped the chancellor on the back, tucked a bottle under the fellow's plump arm, and steered him out the door into the cold night so smoothly that it appeared to happen in a single motion.

Beside him, his wife was chatting with a ruddy-faced young dressmaker. My dear, Miss Halifax, Atra chirped. You simply must invite me to your familys shop before next market day. Ill bring some of the other ladies of the house with me. Weve got samples of silks all the way from the Merinti Islands! Youll faint when you see them, darling. The quality is unparalleled.

The last guest to go was a priest, so thoroughly into his cups that he had to be carried out by two men wearing the crisp, pale blue garb of the familys servants. They tucked him into the Lords own carriage and waved him off. His slurred singing could be heard over the sound of the wheels clattering down the cobbled street.

Lord and Lady Orellen stood in the doorway, posed as beautifully as statuary, the elaborate jewelery they wore gleaming in the golden light that spilled from the townhouse. They smiled serenely until the carriage lanterns disappeared from view, then they turned and swept inside.

The youngest of their servants, a girl whod only just reached her teens, stood in the circular foyer. At Ivens nod, she dug the toe of her shoe under the expensive burgundy rug, kicking it so aggressively out of the way that her skirt nearly cleared her waist.

Beneath the rug, a small runic diagram had been painted in green. The girl squatted beside it and began to trace her fingers along specific runes, carefully imbuing them with her magic.

Oh, very good, Celia, Atra murmured as the runes lit one by one.

Lord Orellen turned to bolt the front door.

A moment later, there was a peculiar ripple in the air. A faint sheen of magic crawled over the walls, the exterior doors, and the windows, before disappearing entirely.

Celia leaped to her feet as soon as it was finished. Cousin Iven! she wailed. Those fuckers ate all the oysters! All of them! I didn't even get to taste one!

Laughter rang out from all over the house.

Iven rolled his eyes at Celia as he began the tedious process of unlatching the gold and sapphire cuffs around his wrists. Beside him, Atra had already started pulling an alarming number of glimmering pins from her dark brown hair.

Celia, the family will never give you any public position with that kind of language, no matter how gifted you are at shielding magic.

Ive told you, I don't want a public position, said the girl, stomping her foot. I want to be captain of the fleet in the Eastern sea! Sea captains can call people fuckers all day long if they want.

Sea captains can, Iven agreed. The captain of our familys merchant fleet, on the other hand, has to display some decorum. They dont just boss around sailors, you know. They actually foster trade deals for us.

One of the men whod carried out the drunk priest stepped into the foyer. He had a prawn covered in sticky brown sauce in one hand and a hunk of cheddar in the other.

The captain of the merchant fleet also has to be a man, he said around a mouthful of cheese. He winked at Celia. Or a woman ugly and clever enough to pass herself off as a man for the long haul. Too many folk in the world wont play the game of coin the way we want them to with a pretty girl. We tried it once before you were born. Ten percent reduction in profit, even though we all know Auntie Fevre is a genius at whatever she puts her hand to.

A woman in a maids uniform appeared behind him, holding a glass of wine. She smiled at Atra and Iven, who were shedding their jewelry and formal layers as fast as they could. Hey, Lan! she called over her shoulder. Bring out the jewel chests. Our pet peacocks have decided to strip their feathers right here in the foyer.

You know I find it stressful to wear a kings ransom on my bosom, said Atra, turning so that her husband could unlatch her enormous diamond necklace. Ill lose this beautiful monstrosity one day, and the Seniors will bill us for it as sure as anything. Well be stuck in this role till were eighty, like Uncle Jones.

Jones enjoyed being Lord Orellen, though, said the woman with the wine. Its not the worst job in the family.

He enjoyed it because he was no good at it, said Iven. The man called Lan had appeared with a large, rune-carved jewel chest. Iven took a velvet cloth from it and began carefully wrapping the diamonds. Done properly, this position is an elaborate form of self torture.

"It's much better to be the Lord's older brother," Lan agreed. "All the fancy food, far fewer of the fancy people."

Iven gave him a shove. "See if I don't convince them that your face is fine enough for this position one day." He looked around at the assembled household. "On a more serious note, I dont like the flow of our dealings here in the Republic this year. The economy is in too much of a slump. Lets head to the house in Kashwin a few weeks earlier than wed planned. One of the cousins there has someinterestingideas about rerouting the wagon trains, and Id like to be on hand to see if hes brilliant or just reckless.

Youll scry it first? asked Lan, nestling Ivens sapphire cuffs in beside the necklace.

Yes, yes, said Iven, annoyed. We all know how jumpy the Seniors council gets if I don't scry every little decision.

Well, your luck scrying is the next best thing to being a prophet, little brother. Lan grinned at him. You're our very own golden goose.

Thank the gods thats not true, said Lord Orellen. Theyd never let me retire. Lets go eat all the leftovers.

A few minutes later, stripped of their finery and considerably more comfortable, the Lord and Lady sat together on one of the sofas in the houses great-room while their half-dozen servants draped themselves over various other pieces of furniture. Celia perched on the piano bench, leaning back against the keys, working her way through a serving platter full of the sauced prawns.

The detritus of the party was scattered around them. Crystal glasses half-full of wine and mead rested on every surface. A ladys scarf had been flung over one of the potted plants. And because it wasnt acceptable in the Republic to ask guests to remove their shoes before entering a home, snowmelt and muddy footprints marred the floor.

Atra stretched her legs in front of her and took large bites out of a buttered roll.

There would be an argument in the morning about who should have to clean up the mess. Her husband would be exempt, since he would be leaving first thing to check up on the familys warehouses and deal with that contract fiasco at the bank.

Tevie would probably beg off as well. Fair enough, since shed been on her feet for the past two days cooking everything and putting this party together.

Atra glanced over at Celia. Tempting.

It would be easy to get the others to gang up on the youngest member of their little household. Shed only been with them a few months. It was her first posting, equal parts gift and curse for the rest of them. She was much too young for a proper role, but she was one of the familys few real prodigies, so she was being hurried along. A shielder, especially one gifted in the casting of privacy barriers, was worth her weight in gold for their business dealings.

Iven's brother Lan wasnt a shielder, but he was a mage who had at least made a cursory study of that type of magic. And he was known to be good at guiding the younger practitioners. Celia had been sent here so that she could learn from him and hopefully settle down enough that the Seniors would be comfortable investing more in her training.

It wasn't just the expense of hiring a master outside the familygods knew they could afford to educate whomever they pleased. But to send such a talented young magician off into the world on her own was a risk.

Celia was valuable enough to be lured away by another line. And she was wild enough to entertain the notion.

The Orellens weren't the kind of family who could be crossed easily, but they also werent as untouchable as some others.Theirs was an old and powerful magical lineage. Like the other powerful families scattered across the continent, they had their own Enclave and a ruling council of Seniors who were all at least low sorcerers in rank.

But the source of the Orellens power was somewhat different. Their line had a very dominant tendency toward spatial magic. It was so dominant, in fact, that the majority of blood-related family members had difficulty achieving any meaningful degree of proficiency in other fields.

Spatial magic had limitless potential. Theoretically, once one reached the highest level of mastery, they would be a force beyond any other in this world.

The ninth-born child of the Lord Orellen can become the greatest Magus in the first world.

What? said Iven. He was too stunned at the speed with which his life had just been overturned to find anything like eloquence.

The ninth-born child of the Lord Orellen can become the greatest Magus in the first world.

It was a short, to-the-point sort of prophecy. Hamila was known for them, of course. But Iven was having trouble with a few of the words.

Ninth-born. Magus. Greatest.

These were not small words. These weremomentous, terrifying, and surely not accurate.

Could you repeat it one more time? he asked, his pulse throbbing in his ears. He felt truly unwell. Like a man whod caught sight of a lion in the grass and then lost it in a blink.

The ninth-born child of the Lord Orellen can become the greatest Magus in the first world.

Ninth-born. Magus. Greatest.

Can.

Oh gods. There it was. The lion.

Iven wanted to shriek like a frightened child. Instead, he let Lord Orellen take over for him. Thank you so much for sharing the words of Hamila with me. I am honored to have heard them and blessed beyond the dreams of men to have my name fall from her sacred lips.

Apparently even Lord Orellen could suffer from nerves. He was being downright florid. But the scribes seemed not to think it too much praise for their beloved Hamila.

Our information tells us that you have seven children, said the one who seemed to be the main speaker. Is this correct?

Yes, said Iven. Seven.

The man nodded. Then we will return at the birth of your ninth. The temple has no policy in place for delivering the words of Hamila to an infant, but our high priest believes that some attempt should be made to convey her wisdom to the babe before it is shared with the world. Perhaps the faithful god will grant it understanding.

I see, said Lord Orellen. May the gods grant us all such understanding.

We will hold the prophecy until the child is born. It is difficult, since it may be some years yet. The world does not wait patiently for the words of Hamila. Already, there are those who disrespect our traditions and seek to discover her truths before their due time.

Thats why theyre wearing so much armor under their robes, Iven realized suddenly. They were scribes, not warrior mages. But entire countries would start to get antsy if the prophecy was delayed for years.

Please, said Lord Orellen, thinking quickly, allow my family to be of service to Hamila. I will have a portal readied for you, so that you may travel safely back to her temple without being troubled.

And you can stay there. Stay there forever. Never come out. Never breathe a word of that prophecy again.

The scribes bowed to him.

He bowed to the scribes.

Then, he fetched Lan and sent him to find and wake their portalists in the city. An hour later, they were all gathered in the great-room--Ivens household, seven additional mages and magicians, and the scribes of Hamila.

The prophecy had not been spoken a fourth time. It was still rattling around in Ivens head, as of yet unshared. But everyone knew the matter was serious. The portalists and Celia kept staring at the scribes like theyd just arrived from the moon.

The portal team painted the gate runes right on the floor of the great-room. Not too long after that, the scribes disappeared in a swirl of white light.

Everyone stood there, looking at the place where they had just been, the two magician-ranked fellows breathing much harder than the mages.

Thank you very much for coming on such short notice, Lord Orellen said to the portalists. Please return to your homes. Ill be in touch with you again soon.

Sir? said one of them.

If you breathe a word about what happened here tonight, the Seniors will excommunicate you from the family. After you are excommunicated from the family, Lan will come for you.

Everyone gaped at him. Especially Lan. Ivens older brother might have been a little scary, but he was no assassin.

Goodbye, Lord Orellen said. He glared pointedly at the portalists.

They hurried to obey.

When they were gone, Celia set the privacy barrier back up, protesting only a little when she was sent to her room afterward. Then, the adults gathered around the fireplace.

Is it bad then? Lan said gruffly.

Technically, its good, said Iven, his voice bitter. Wonderful. Miraculous. The most extraordinary thing ever to happen to the Orellen family in its long history.

The Seniors would want him to keep it to himself until he could consult with the council. But that sounded like a terrible idea.

So he told them.

Atras face, always so expressive, shifted from delight to wonder to the same gradually dawning fear that Iven felt deep in his gut.

Lan scratched his stomach with one hand. Thatsa lot to take in, he said. Im not much of a politician, but Im guessing youre worried about how the other families will react. Im sure they wont be too happy, but

Can, Tevie interrupted. She was gazing into the dying flames in the hearth, her graying copper hair limned in firelight. Youre sure the prophecy said your future child can be the greatest Magus. Not will? Or shall?

I assure you, Ive remembered the damn thing verbatim. When I die, my ghost will probably still be muttering it.

He saw Tevies shoulders shake.

Theyre going to destroy us, she breathed, lifting a hand to her mouth. Theyll burn us to ash then dig up the roots.

Now hold on, said Lan. Lets not get ahead of

Its that one word, Lan, Iven said quietly. That one word will ruin the whole family. If Hamila had said will, theyd never move against us. A Magus, the greatest Magus, possibly a specialist in spatial magic. The other families would be at our door the day after hearing it, ready to offer us their sons and daughters on a plate. But--"

But can means its not certain, said Tevie. It means its only a possibility that well one day have a power greater than any of them. The possibility of a Magus in the family is only good for us if we can protect it. And we cant. Not from everyone. Theyll all be out to kill the child from the moment he or she draws breath. Hellstheyll be out to kill Iven and everyone he might have slept with and every single Orellen young enough to conceivably be his child. Because whos to say he hasnt already fathered three dozen offspring on various members of the family?

Lan shook his head, but the grimace on his face said he was beginning to understand.

And you think, Oh, well, maybe it will end there!" Tevie continued. "Once Ivens dead and all the women he might have possibly slept with and all the children he might have possibly fathered, maybe theyll let everyone else live in peace. But wait! If Ivens dead, then who is the new Lord Orellen? What if he has a ninth child?

Lan looked ill.

We wont name a new one of course. Well swear not to. Well say 'There is no Lord Orellen from now on. We promise.' And they wont believe us. Because they wouldnt give up on having a Magus in their line, so why would we? At that point, three or four of the big families will get together and decide, for the good of the world, that we have to be exterminated.

Were fucked, said Iven. Maybe Celia was onto something. Decorum just didnt work in every situation.

We are, Tevie agreed.

Atra took a deep, shuddering breath. Iven, Im pregnant.