Jennsen remembered that name, Nathan Rahl. Althea had said she met him in the Old World, at the Palace of the Prophets. He was a real Rahl, she said. She said he was powerful and inconceivably dangerous, so they kept him locked away behind impenetrable shields of magic where he could cause no harm, yet he sometimes still managed it. Althea had said that Nathan Rahl was over nine hundred years old.

Somehow, the old wizard had escaped those impenetrable shields of magic.

Jennsen seized the Mord-Sith by the elbow. "Nyda, what's he doing here?"

"I don't know. I've not met him."

"It's important he not see us." Jennsen nudged Nyda ahead, urging her to hurry. "I don't have time to explain, but he's dangerous."

At the top of the stairs, Nyda looked both ways before meeting Jennsen's gaze. "Dangerous? Are you sure about this?"

"Yes!»

"All right. Come with me, then."

"I need my things," Sebastian said.

"Here." The captain pointed at a door not far away.

While Nyda stood guard, Sebastian followed Captain Lerner inside. Jennsen, her knees trembling, stood in the doorway watching as the captain set the lamp down and unlocked a second door inside. He and Sebastian went into the room beyond, taking the lamp. Jennsen could hear brief words and the sounds of things being dragged off shelves.

With every passing moment, Jennsen could almost hear the wizard's footsteps bringing him ever closer. If he caught them, Sebastian's weapons would do them no good. If Wizard Rahl saw them, he would recognize Jennsen for what she was-a hole in the world, the ungifted offspring of Darken Rahl. There would be no bluffing her way out of that. They would have her at last.

Sebastian emerged ahead of the captain. "Let's go."

He simply looked like a man in a dark green cloak, the same as before. Few would suspect the collection of weapons he carried. His blue eyes and spikes of white hair made him look different from other people; maybe that was why the guards had stopped him.

The captain caught Jennsen by the arm. "As she said"-he nodded toward the Mord-Sith-"may the good spirits be with you always."

He handed her the lamp. Jennsen whispered her sincere gratitude before rushing to follow the other two down the passageway, leaving the captain of the guards behind.

Nyda led them down dark halls and through empty rooms. They raced through a narrow cleft without a ceiling-at least, when Jennsen looked up she could see nothing but darkness above. The floor appeared to be bedrock. The wall to the right was rather unremarkable fitted stone. To the left, though, the passageway was lined with colossal, speckled pink granite blocks. Each smooth-faced block was larger than any house Jennsen had ever lived in, yet the joints were so tight that no blade could have slipped between them.

At the end of the passageway beside the huge stone blocks, they ducked through a low door and out onto a narrow walkway made of iron and laid with planks to cross on. The thread of a footbridge spanned a wide chasm in the bedrock of the plateau. Jennsen could see by the light of her lamp that the walls of sheer rock to each side dropped straight down, fading away far below. The light of the lamp wasn't enough for her to see the bottom. Standing there on the slender stretch of walkway suspended over the enormous void made her feel as tiny as an ant.

The Mord-Sith, a hand on the iron rail as she moved across the bridge, paused and looked back over her shoulder. "Why is Wizard Rahl dangerous?" It was obvious that the question had been playing on her mind.

"What trouble can he cause you?" The brittle tone of her voice reverberated off the surrounding rock walls.

Stopped there in the center of the walkway over the black abyss, Jennsen could feel the bridge swaying underfoot. It was making her dizzy. The Mord-Sith waited. Jennsen tried to think of something to say. A glance back at Sebastian's blank expression told her that he had no ideas. She quickly decided to mix in some of the truth, in case Nyda knew anything about the man.

"He's a prophet. He escaped from a place where he was held, a place where he couldn't hurt anyone. They had him there because he's dangerous."

The Mord-Sith pulled her long blond braid over her shoulder, drawing her hand down its length as she considered Jennsen's words. She clearly didn't intend to move, yet. "I've heard he's quite an interesting man." In her eyes was awakened challenge.

"He's dangerous," Jennsen insisted.

"Why?"

"He can harm my mission."

"How?"

"I've already said it-he's a prophet."

"Prophecy could be a benefit. It might help you in your mission to protect Lord Rahl." The Mord-Sith's frown darkened. "Why wouldn't you want such help?"

Jennsen recalled what Althea said about prophecy. "He might tell me how I'll die, even the very day. What if you were the one who had to protect Lord Rahl against an approaching threat, and you knew that the very next day you were going to die in some horrifying fashion? Knew the exact hour, the agonizing details. It might put you in a state of paralyzing fear, and in that panic of knowing exactly when and how you were to die, you would naturally be ill suited to protect Lord Rahl's life."

Nyda's frown eased only slightly. "Do you really think that Wizard Rahl would tell you such a thing?"

"Why do you think they had him locked away? He's dangerous. Prophecy could be dangerous for those like me who protect Lord Rahl."

"Or maybe it could help," Nyda said. "If you knew that something bad was going to happen, you could stop it."

"Then it wouldn't be prophecy, now would it?"

Nyda ran her hand down her braid as she considered the implications.

"But if you knew of some dire foretelling, then maybe you could turn the prophecy aside and avert the disaster."

"If you could turn prophecy aside, that would make it wrong. If it were wrong, if it were prophecy unfulfilled, then it would just be the foolish empty words of an old man, wouldn't it? Then how could prophecy be distinguished from the ranting of any lunatic who claimed he was a prophet?"

"But it's not empty ranting," Jennsen insisted. "It's prophecy. If this prophet wanted to harm my mission, he might tell me something terrible about my future. If I knew something terrible, I might fail Lord Rahl."

"You mean," Nyda asked, "that you think it would be like if I were to jab my Agiel at someone? It would make them flinch?"

"Yes. Only if we know a prophecy, and flinch, as it were, it's Lord Rahl who would be put at risk because of our weakness and fear."

Nyda released her braid and put her hand back on the railing. "But I would not flinch, knowing how I was to die, especially if it was Lord Rahl's life I was saving. As a Mord-Sith, I'm always prepared to die. Every Mord-Sith wishes to die fighting for the Lord Rahl, not old and toothless in bed."

Jennsen wondered if the woman was mad, or if she could really be that dedicated.

"A brave boast," Sebastian put in. "But are you willing to bet Lord Rahl's life on it?"

Nyda looked him in the eye. "If it were my life on the line? Yes. I would not flinch knowing how and when I was to die."

"Then I admit that you're a better woman than I," Jennsen said.

Nyda nodded grimly. "I would not expect you to be the same as I. You may carry the knife, but are not Mord-Sith."

Jennsen wished Nyda would move on. If she couldn't convince the woman, and had to fight her, this would be a very bad place to have to do it. The Mord-Sith was strong and quick. With Sebastian behind, he could be little help. Besides that, hanging on to the swaying bridge over the chasm, Jennsen's head was spinning. She didn't like high places, and had never prided herself in her sense of balance.

"I'd do my best not to fail Lord Rahl in a situation like that," Jennsen said, "but I can't swear I wouldn't. I'd not like Lord Rahl's life to hang on the answer."

Nyda nodded in resignation. "That's wise." She finally turned and started out once more across the footbridge. "I would still try to change the prophecy, though."

Jennsen let out a silent sigh as she shuffled along, following close behind. In some manner she didn't understand, her words were swaying the Mord-Sith more than seemed possible.

She glanced over the edge but still saw no bottom. "Prophecy can't be changed, or it would cease to be prophecy. Prophecy comes from prophets, who are gifted with it."

Nyda had her braid over her shoulder again, stroking it. "But if he's a prophet, then he knows the future, and, like you said, that can't be changed or it wouldn't be prophecy-so he would only be telling you what is going to happen. He can't change it, you can't change it. It's already going to happen whether he tells you or not. If telling you would make you fail to protect Lord Rahl, then he would already see such an event, so it is preordained to happen and would be part of the prophecy to begin with."

Jennsen pulled a strand of her hair out of her eyes as she advanced along the bridge, gripping the rail tightly. In her mind, she furiously raced to come up with a logical answer. She had no idea if the things she was saying were true or not, but she thought they sounded convincing and seemed to be working. The problem was, Nyda kept asking questions Jennsen had more and more trouble answering. She felt almost as if she were descending into the void below, each attempt to climb out only letting her slip deeper. She did her best to keep any trace of desperation out of her voice.

"But don't you see? Prophets don't see everything about everyone, as if the whole world and every single thing that happens is some grand play to be acted out according to a script the prophet has already read. A prophet would only see some things-maybe even some things of his choosing. But other things, things he doesn't see, he might try to influence."

Nyda frowned back at them. "What do you mean?"

Jennsen sensed that her only safety was to keep Nyda worried for her Lord Rahl. "I mean, if he wanted to harm Lord Rahl, he might tell me something that would make me flinch, just to make me flinch, even if he didn't see such an event."