Previously: Nineteen-year-old Qadira, a recently initiated Red Hawk Wise Woman, or Nuha, is, without warning, summoned to meet with the renowned Great Prophetess. After a bit of chit-chat, the Prophetess abruptly announces that Qadira is a notable figure in prophecy, which, of course, stuns the young woman to her core.
Nexus of Prophecy: Episode One || Episode Two
“You meant to shock me, I think,” Qadira said, still reeling from the Prophetess’ declaration that she was a central figure in prophecy.
“I did, I admit it,” the Prophetess answered, her tone frank. “I wanted to see your character in that moment. And I approve. Your surprise was genuine, and I saw not one hint of pride or selfish ambition. That is good. Do not let those two devils in your home.”
Exhaling, Qadira sat back in her chair. She did not know what to think, but a deep unease welled up within her as she realized that, in her experience, most who became enmeshed in the net of prophecy fared poorly. She wiped suddenly sweaty palms on her skirt.
“I think I know what you’re feeling,” the old woman said, a compassionate expression once again on her face. “You are a smart girl, brilliant and wise in the ways of this world. And now you are suddenly concerned—may I say worried? fearful?—that your life will soon take a turn in an unfortunate direction. You believe there will be no way to avoid it or step off the path. Do not be troubled, my dear. I will not say you will never encounter heartache or the hurt of sacrifice, but it will not be nearly as tragic as you imagine.” She offered her a kind, grandmotherly smile.
The young Nuha tentatively returned it, sitting up and shakily taking another sip of her cooling tea. She cleared her throat. “I am not a student of prophecy, but I know enough to make me wary of it. Honestly, ma’am, I find it confining, a tyranny of words, if you will.”
The Prophetess barked a laugh, clapping her hands. “What a wonderful turn of phrase, young Qadira: ‘a tyranny of words’!” She chuckled, shaking her head. “You are exactly right and exactly wrong! Oh, we could talk for days about the philosophy of prophecy, which would suit me fine, but you have struck at the mark with one little phrase. ‘A tyranny of words’! I like it!
“You see,” she went on, suddenly serious, “there is true prophecy and false. Prophecy speaks both of wonders and woe. There are unconditional prophecies and conditional ones. Then there are the hordes of various interpretations of said prophecies, and they run the gamut from impossible to plausible to probable to, most rarely, certain. And finally, there is the matchless gift of human choice that throws a fox among the chickens, making havoc of the barnyard!
“It is not so simple, is it?” she asked softly. When Qadira shook her head, the Prophetess continued, nodding vigorously. “Prophecy is not only complex, but it is also fraught with uncertainty and human limitations.”
The old woman sat quietly for a long moment, deep in thought. Then, she leaned forward and looked directly into Qadira’s eyes. “Oh, I hear the rumors: ‘The Prophetess knows what will happen. She is a true prophet.’ Well, I am a true prophet, but I do not know the course of things over the next years, much less what will happen in the next hour! At best, I feel fairly confident about a few junctions of prophetic paths—‘nodes,’ I call them—and about the general course of events, but apart from that, all else blurs quickly. It is maddening for a prophet, believe me! And some have indeed gone mad!”
To Qadira, the aged woman’s cackle seemed to verge on the edge of such madness, but the Prophetess merely took a sip of her tea and calmly proceeded in a soft, confidential voice. “But you, my dear Qadira, are one element of prophecy I believe I see with near-certainty, which is why I asked you to visit me today. I needed to test your mettle, for one, and two, I need to advise you about a choice you must soon make between two staggeringly significant paths. There, there. I don’t mean to frighten you, sweet girl! I ask you to be serious and calmly consider what I have to tell you.”
As the old woman had spoken, the young Wise Woman had begun to grip the chair’s arms with whitened knuckles, her breaths coming in quick and ragged succession. Closing her eyes, she sat back against the leather cushion, forcing herself to breathe deeply and regularly, descending into the quiet peace that she found best suited her when she reached out to connect to the creatures around her. By reaching for her gift, she instantly found dozens of nearby animals, including an old owl perched under the eaves of the Prophetess’ house. Her skin-changing awareness and her confidence in her gift produced a sense of peace that stilled her fears.
She took a deep breath, opening her eyes and sitting with a rigid back. “I think I’m ready to hear what you have to say.”
“Good!” the Prophetess said, returning her teacup to its saucer. She nodded. “I admire how you took hold of yourself, Qadira, and controlled your emotions and reactions. That is a sign of strength! You’ll need it.”
Standing on creaking knees, she grabbed a poker leaning against the fireplace. For a moment, she stared into the glow of the embers, lost in its mesmerizing display of yellow, orange, and red light. Finally, coming to herself, the Prophetess stirred the fire until the flames rose and heat billowed out from the hearth. She soaked up the heat for long moments, deep in thought, the poker almost forgotten in her hand. Qadira hardly noticed the passage of time, entangled in her own darting suppositions about what the Prophetess had revealed.
After a while, the old woman sighed and returned to her chair, crossing her legs and resting her hands in her lap. Seeming to make a decision, she finally spoke. “Qadira, I will be blunt. As I said, you are a prophetic figure—what I call a ‘nexus of prophecy.’ Possible, even probable, significant events swirl around you, and the paths that run from you lead in every direction. At this point, while you are young and have done little, it is hopeless to perceive what will happen. There are some probable outcomes that in my mind’s eye look like stone highways, as well as some possible paths that look like well-trodden dirt roads. And then, there are very improbable, indeed laughable paths, like old, faint goat trails in the mountains. I place little stock in those, but they could happen. Who knows?
“But you are a nexus!” she said with triumph in her voice. “That is a good thing! It means you have choices! In my mind’s map of prophecy,” she tapped her temple with her slender, slightly crooked forefinger, “one choice—even a whim!—darkens the more certain roads and erases those that are no longer possible. Your deliberate choices—the big ones, the life-changing ones—set certain futures in stone.”
She waved a hand as if warding off an objection. “Normal people do this all the time without perceiving the extent they are changing the course of their lives—and a handful of others’ lives—in so drastic a fashion. The effects are limited, often inconsequential beyond their loved ones. Important to them, no doubt, but irrelevant to the rest of us.
“But nexuses! They not only change the map of their own lives, but when they make decisions, they alter the lives of countless people, even entire nations and empires! This profound influence is precisely why I have told you these things: because as a nexus, you will soon make choices that will spell the rise and fall of nations, the life or death of kings and chieftains, and affect the ebb and flow of history itself!”
The Prophetess leaned forward to lay a comforting hand on Qadira’s forearm. “I know, I’m scaring you again, my dear,” she continued with a warm smile. “I’m sorry, but that is not my intent. I only wish to make you aware that, through your choices, you will play a pivotal role in the destiny of this nation and others. I know this is easy for me to say, but do not let this ‘tyranny of words’ become a burden. You have been well chosen for this role. I can see that you have the strength to see it through.”
A silence fell between them as the Prophetess busied herself with pouring another cup of tea, and Qadira took her turn gazing long into the fire.
Finally, the younger woman spoke, her voice trembling. “How will I know if I’m making the right choices?”
“You won’t,” the Prophetess replied flatly, frowning. “I wish I could give you a guide to make the right decisions, but I cannot. No one can. Even nexuses must make their decisions with the wisdom they have, just as everyone else does. This is why I say, ‘Do not let it burden you.’ Live! You cannot choose for anyone else—especially not for an entire nation—but only for yourself and what you deem to be good. So, choose what you understand to be right, and because you are a nexus, the rest will follow. Your conscience, at least, will be clear. You are not accountable for other people’s decisions, even those that may be based on your own. Each must decide for himself.” She nodded decisively, emphasizing the point.
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“So, my dear,” she said with her kind smile, “take it from me and my century of experience: Relax. Breathe. Live. I could have let you return to Harod without this conversation, but I chose not to leave you ignorant of your role. I asked myself whether I would want to know if I were a nexus, and I decided, yes, I would. So, I gave you the same consideration I would have given myself. Now you can act in knowledge. It gives you perspective, and sometimes perspective makes the choices easier.” She gave her a wan smile and a lift of her narrow shoulders. “Every little bit helps.”
Qadira returned the smile. “So, then, you have not told me anything truly useful.”
The Prophetess leaned back in her chair and laughed heartily, which set Qadira to giggling as well, evaporating the tension in the room. “Oh, my sweet girl, you are perceptive!” she said, wiping her eyes with a white handkerchief. “You would make an excellent Prophetess!”
Still chuckling, she rose and tottered on stiffened legs to the hearth again, this time swinging the kettle over the flickering fire. Then, moving to the bookshelf, she returned with a ruddy-brown leather-bound volume and handed it to the younger woman. Shining brass cornerpieces braced the book’s corners, and an ornamented brass clasp kept it closed. A curious black rune dominated the center of the cover.
“This book is for you, my dear,” she said, sitting once again. “It contains a complete collection of my prophecies and a handful of significant others that I have collected from my predecessors over the years. True prophecies all, in my estimation. It is so thick because they are written in both Leitan and Tauranian.” She called for Zibia, asking her to fetch a satchel that Qadira could carry the book in. The nurse returned a minute later with a sturdy, finely crafted leather case, reminding Qadira of one half of a saddlebag except with a long shoulder strap.
“I had three books made—in Angeva, by the way, by the king’s own bookmaker,” the Prophetess said a little proudly. “The Angevans come by their reputation as the best bookbinders honestly, as you can see. I am delighted with how they turned out. Anyway, I made one for me and one for you, knowing you would need it in days to come.”
“And the third?” Qadira asked.
“Ah.” The Prophetess stood again but remained still, one hand on her chin, for a long while. Finally, she nodded and fetched a second book from the shelf. “I might as well do this now. It’s as good a time as any,” she said, almost to herself.
A note:
The Great Prophetess was a legend in her own time and for centuries after she died at the well-preserved age of 113 (1009 AL). The position of Prophetess began with her when, not yet twenty years old and recently inducted as a Nuha, she started having visions about events among the Leitani, and they proved true with stunning accuracy. With little opposition from the Leitan chiefs and other authorities, she boldly occupied the little house beside the Akan Ganda and chose another Nuha to be her caretaker, secretary, protector, and confidante. For many years, she traveled extensively as a kind of ambassador without portfolio, visiting the leaders of other nations to learn about them and their people and to aid her in interpreting the prophecies she received.
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What a shock to hear the Prophetesses prediction about her. What a heavy burden!