A gentle breeze rippled his robes as he looked out over the green hills toward the palace. "Not only my gift, but my interest, my hopes, have always involved the prophecies. I've only recently begun to understand them in a way that no one else does, but understanding them is different than giving them."

"It takes time, Warren. Why, when Nathan was your age, I'm sure he was no more advanced in prophecy than you. If you stayed and continued to study, I believe that in four or five hundred years you might be a prophet as great as Nathan."

He was silent for a time. "But there's a whole world out there. I've heard there are books at the Wizard's Keep in Aydindril, and other places, too. Richard said there are sure to be many at the People's Palace in D'Hara. I want to learn, and there may be things to know that can't be found here."

Sister Verna rolled her shoulders to ease their ache. "The Palace of the Prophets is spelled, Warren. If you leave, you will age the same as those outside. Look at what's happened to me in a scant twenty-odd years away from it; even though we were born only a year apart you still look as if you should be thinking of marriage, and I look as if I should be preparing to bounce a grandchild on my knee. Now that I'm back, I will age by the palace's time again, but what has been lost cannot be recovered."

Warren averted his eyes. "I think you see more wrinkles than are there, Sister Verna."

She smiled in spite of herself. "Did you know, Warren, that I was once smitten with you?"

He was so astonished he stumbled back a step. "Me? You can't be serious. When?"

"Oh, it was a long time ago. Well over a hundred years, I would suppose. You were so scholarly and intelligent, with all that curly blond hair. And those blue eyes made my heart race."

"Sister Verna!"

She couldn't hold back a chuckle as his face went crimson. "It was long ago, Warren, and I was young, as were you. It was a fleeting infatuation." Her smile ghosted away. "Now you seem a child to me, and I look old enough to be your mother. Being away from the palace has aged me in more ways that one.

"Out mere, you will have a few brief decades to learn what you could before you grow old and die. Here, you would have the time to learn and perhaps become a prophet. Books from those places could always be borrowed, and brought here for study.

"You're the closest thing we have to a prophet. With the Prelate and Nathan dead, you may know more about the prophecies than anyone alive, now. We need you, Warren."

He turned to the sunlight shimmering off the spires and roofs of the palace. "I'll think on it, Sister."

"That's all I ask, Warren."

With a sigh, he turned back. "What now? Who do you think will be chosen as the new prelate?"

They had learned through their research of the funeral rite that the process of selecting a new prelate was quite involved. Warren would know of it; few knew the books in the vaults as well as he.

She shrugged. "The post requires vast experience and knowledge. That means it would have to be one of the older Sisters. Leoma Marsick would be a likely candidate, or Philippa, or Dulcinia. Sister Maren, of course, would be a top nominee. There are any number of qualified Sisters; I could name at least thirty, though I doubt that more than a dozen truly h» ve a serious chance to become prelate."

He absently rubbed the side of his nose with a finger. "I suppose you're right."

Sister Verna had no doubt that Sisters were already maneuvering to place themselves in contention, if not at the top of the list, with the less venerated choosing their champion and forming rank to back her, doing their best to see to it that she was selected, and hoping to be awarded a position of influence if their favorite became the new prelate. As the field of candidates narrowed, the more influential Sisters who hadn't yet chosen sides would be courted until they were won over to one or another of the leading Sisters. It was a momentous decision, one that would affect the palace for hundreds of years to come. It would likely be a bitter battle.

Sister Verna sighed. "I don't look forward to the struggle, but I guess that the selection process must be rigorous, so that the strongest will become prelate. It could drag on for a long time; we could be without a prelate for months, maybe a year."

"Who are you going to support, Sister?"

She barked a laugh. "Me! You're only seeing the wrinkles again. Warren. They don't change the fact that I'm one of the younger Sisters. I have no influence among those who would count."

"Well, I think you had better try to get some influence." He leaned closer, lowering his voice even though there was no one around. "The six Sisters of the Dark who escaped on that ship, remember?"

She looked to his blue eyes and frowned. "What does that have to do with who will become prelate?"

Warren twisted the robes at his stomach into a violet knot. "Who's to say there were only six. What if there's another at the palace? Or another dozen? Or hundred? Sister Verna, you're the only Sister I trust to be a true Sister of the Light. You must do something to insure that a Sister of the Dark doesn't become prelate."

She glanced to the palace in the distance. "I told you, I'm one of the younger Sisters. My word holds no sway, and the others know that the Sisters of the Dark all escaped."

Warren looked away, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in his robes. Suddenly, he turned back, suspicion creasing his brow.

"You think I'm right, don't you. You think there are still Sisters of the Dark at the palace."

She met his intense eyes with a placid expression. "While I don't think it entirely out of the realm of possibility, there is no reason to believe it is so, and beyond that, it is only one of a great many matters that must be taken into consideration when —

"Don't give me that double-talk that comes so easily to Sisters. This is important."

Sister Vema stiffened. "You are a student, Warren, speaking to a Sister of the Light; show the proper respect."

"I'm not being disrespectful, Sister. Richard helped me to see that I must stand up for myself and for what I believe. Besides, you're the one who took my collar off, and as you said, we're the same age; you are not my elder."

"You are still a student who — "

''Who you yourself said probably knows more about the prophecies than anyone else. In that, Sister, you are my student. I admit that you know more than I about a great many things, like the use of Han, but I know more than you about some things. Pan of the reason you took the Rada'Han from around my neck is because you know it's wrong to hold someone captive. I respect you as a Sister, and for the good you do, and for the knowledge you have, but I am no longer a captive of the Sisters. You have earned my respect, Sister, not my submission."

She studied his blue eyes for a long moment. "Who would have known what was under that collar." At last, she nodded. "You're right, Warren; I suspect there are others at the palace who have given a soul oath to the Keeper himself."

"Others." Warren searched her eyes. "You didn't say Sisters, you said others. You mean young wizards, too, don't you?"

"Have you so soon forgotten Jedidiah?"

He paled a little. "No, I haven't forgotten Jedidiah."

"As you said, where there is one, there could be others. Some of the young men at the palace could be sworn to the Keeper, too."

He hunched closer to her as he knotted his robes again. "Sister Vema, what are we going do about it? We can't allow a Sister of the Dark to become prelate; it would be a disaster. We must be sure one of them doesn't become prelate."

"And how would we know if she was sworn to the Keeper? Worse, what could we do about it? They have command of Subtractive Magic; we don't. Even if we could find out who they are, we couldn't do anything about it. It would be like reaching into a sack and grabbing a viper by its tail."