On
the forest trail, in the colorless world of pale
grey light, criss-crossed with inky shadows of the sleeping trees, we
trust our horses to find the safest way to the ancient tower.
It's
only a couple of miles around up the valley walls to the bridge, but
Karna fills the silence, as she often does, with questions. She
knows
most of the answers to them, but over the years she's been my teacher,
she's formed the habit of constantly testing my thoughts.
"Why do you think that you're the one to open the gates? I thought you didn't believe in prophecy."
"I don't. I just know now that I'm the first one who's actually ready. Who actually knows what it needs."
"Needs? Explain."
I smile in the broken shadows as they pass across us. This is one I had worked out for myself a long time ago, and never thought that it would matter. This is one thing that not even Karna had given enough thought or study to to decipher. "What is the surest way," I reply, "to make a prophecy come true?"
"To bring it about yourself. I taught that to you, child, don't play games."
"Neither of us trust prophecy, do we? And yet, what if the prophecies aren't prophecy at all?"
"What if? What if spirits were waterwheels? Be plain!"
The wind lifts my hair with a cool, unseen hand,
and I laugh as we ride. At last here I now feel a bit of pleasant
revenge for all the years of having her test me, of having to work
every problem out myself each and every time, even though I would beg
for hints and clues to the conundrums and tasks she would set me - all
to no avail. Now I have it, and she, of all people, has not yet
made
the final conclusion. Yet there isn't any point in dragging
it out of
her as she'd done to me on so many occasions. The stakes are too
great
for self-indulgence.
"They're not prophecy, Karna! They're instructions!"
"How so?" she says, even as we come in sight of the
gate itself. I know, though, that she's got it, now. The
wisest, most
learned woman in the entire Moon Tribe? I know she wasn't that
far
behind me on this. The look in her glittering eyes tells me that
now
we both know.
"`The one to master the Silver Tower will be a
Prince Of Erogenia, of the Tribe of The Moon. And in that day when that
one will open the gates and bring the mortal tower of Her Immortal
Radiance Luna back into the world of time that prince shall have
great
need to bring hope once again to the wayward nations of Erogenia.
This
shall be for the hope and future of the peoples of all lands. The
Tower shall accept the one who seeks to balance the cha of the people
and heal the World."
"Yes?"
"That's the standard translation, isn't it?"
Yes."
"But the word isn't `shall,' Karna. If you look at it, it can
also be translated as 'must.' "
"Of course," she smiles.
"It's not going to open for any Moon King or Queen just because she says the proper words! Only a prince who truly wants to change the world can open it. Your intent has to be true!"
"And I am now quite justified in teaching you all that magickal theory. Of course. But are you .. are you truly that one, child? Is your intent truly to balance the ancient cha?"
"Karna," I say, "I have never been more certain. Even if this doesn't work, I know that I'll die trying to lead us from where we are to where we ought to be, as a people." We rein in before the gates, their ageless marble columns gleaming and perfect, even in the wan light from the cloud-cloaked moon.
"Do you believe in destiny, princess?" she says as we dismount.
"Not for one moment."
